Carol Finch - The Family Feud - The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!

The feud was about to enter another dimension now that Janna Mitchell had arrived on the scene to resolve the rift between her parents. Morgan wasn’t sure it would be easy because John and Sylvia were both stubborn and set in their ways. John was dead-set on having his terms met. Ditto for Sylvia. This feud could get ugly, especially since Morgan’s mother had decided to work her wiles on John.

“I better round up the hardware I need for your mother’s new kitchen cabinets so I can get the hell outta Dodge before Janna comes gunning for me,” John grumbled as he glanced at his watch. “Soon as I get the door pulls, drawer sliders and hinges counted out and bagged up, I’m outta here.”

When John wheeled like a soldier on parade and marched toward the cabinet hardware section of the store, Morgan followed on his heels. “I’ll help you set Mom’s new cabinets in place when I get off work this evening.”

John smiled gratefully. “You don’t know how many times I wished for a son to help me with my moonlighting projects and to take my side against my wife and daughters. It would’ve evened the odds. If I could pick a son you’d definitely be him.”

“Thanks, John. The feeling’s mutual,” he said affectionately. “I would’ve liked having you for a dad.”

“You could’ve used one as a kid,” John agreed, then winked. “Maybe it isn’t too late to make that wish come true, if you know what I mean.”

Morgan didn’t reply, just scooped up cabinet door pulls and then crammed them in another sack. If his mother had her way, John Mitchell would become husband number four. John thought he had marriage problems now! Morgan inwardly winced at the prospect of John getting tangled up with Georgina Price and her ever-changing whims.

Although Morgan loved his mother he was aware of her flaws. She was fickle and flirtatious by nature and by choice and she’d yet to remain in a relationship for more than five years—she’d only lasted three years with Morgan’s dad. Marriage, as far as Morgan could tell, was worse than shooting rapids on a raging river. It was risky at best. He had firsthand experience at how divorce could cause upheaval in a person’s life, since he and his mother had been through three of them. Morgan wanted no part of it, and he sympathized with John’s emotional pandemonium.

“Hurry up and help me gather the rest of the stuff I need for your mother’s remodeling project,” John requested, casting a wary glance toward the front door. “I’m not in the mood to deal with Janna right now.”

Morgan quickened his pace, amused by John’s determination to avoid his older daughter. If Morgan didn’t know better he’d swear John was afraid Janna would grab him by the collar and drag him to the bargaining table to negotiate a compromise for the feud. Janna? That five-foot nothing of a female? Intimidating? Morgan couldn’t satisfactorily link that characteristic to the timid, unassuming teenager he’d known in high school.

THE MOMENT Jan Mitchell entered Sylvia’s Boutique her mother shrieked in delight and dashed forward to envelop her in a smothering hug. “Thank God, you’re here! I knew you’d come!” Sylvia gushed. “You’ve got to do something about your father. He’s driving me crazy and embarrassing me in front of my friends and customers.”

When Sylvia stepped back, Jan appraised her mother’s stylish linen dress and perfect hairdo. Except for the hint of tears in Sylvia’s striking blue eyes she looked as vibrant, sophisticated and youthful as ever. The only thing missing was John Mitchell at Sylvia’s side. Jan still couldn’t believe her parents had split up. It was inconceivable there could be trouble in paradise after three decades of marriage. How did this happen?

Sylvia grabbed Jan by the shoulders and spun her toward the door she’d just entered. “Get over to the hardware store and talk to your father,” she commanded. “He won’t be there much longer.”

“Why? Where’s he going?”

Sylvia shoveled Jan out the door. “He’s going out to Georgina Price’s house to remodel her kitchen. Or so he claims,” Sylvia said scornfully. “They’re having an affair.”

“What?” Jan chirped in astonishment.

“I told you that your father has gone middle-age crazy,” Sylvia muttered sourly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be going through the change of life and he’s the one who’s impossible to live with!” She flicked her wrist to shoo Jan on her way. “Hurry over there and talk sense into him before he scurries off like the rat he is.”

Resigned to a confrontation before she even had time to catch her breath after her long drive from Tulsa, Jan jaywalked across the yellow brick street the Chamber of Commerce had painted to draw tourists to this small town of Oz in western Oklahoma. Jan sorely wished there were a wizard in residence that could magically wave his arms and settle this feud.

Was it only yesterday that Jan had been holding a conference meeting with her staff at the corporate office to set up a new data processing system? Suddenly, here she was back in peanut country, walking the newly painted yellow brick road that symbolized the division line between her mother and father. According to her mother, neither she nor John would cross the street to confront each other. Someone else had to be the go-between and that duty fell to Jan. It seemed she’d played mediator in minor family skirmishes all her life. While living with a stubborn father and a flighty, emotional mother and younger sister, someone had to be the stabilizing force. Maybe that’s why Jan had ended up as a troubleshooter for the corporate firm in Tulsa. She’d been troubleshooting problems for her family for years.

“Well, it’s your own fault for landing in the middle of this mess,” Jan chastised herself halfway across the yellow brick road. She’d always had a weakness when it came to her family. By nature she had an overwhelming tendency to fix things—hence her job at Delacort Industries.

The moment Sylvia called—wailing on and on about John storming off and camping out in his brand spanking new Winnebago camper that was parked at Price Farm—Jan had dropped what she’d been doing and come to save the day. Never mind that her younger sister Kendra lived here in Oz, managed the travel agency and should’ve handled the situation. However, Kendra possessed Sylvia’s temperamental nature and was prone to panic first and then seek help from someone else, rather than solve the crisis herself.

Jan never had a flair for the dramatic—like Sylvia and Kendra, thank goodness. She prided herself in being calm, collected, organized and reliable in difficult situations. And so, here she was, back in the Land of Oz, hell-bent on mending family fences. Of course, Kendra couldn’t be bothered because she was planning her wedding and had last-minute arrangements to make before the grand affair in less than a month.

Discarding her unproductive thoughts, Jan pushed open the door at the hardware store. A small electronic device overhead played: “We’re Off To See The Wizard.” Jan stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes popped when she spotted her father, wearing a trendy red polo shirt and cargo pants that had more pockets than Captain Kangaroo’s. Even worse, her father could’ve been the poster model for Grecian Formula hair coloring. There wasn’t a gray hair on his dark head and he’d used some kind of gel that made his hair shiny and stiff. Why was he trying to recapture his youth? He looked ridiculous!

“Daddy?” Jan croaked in disbelief.

John whipped around so fast that he knocked one of the paper sacks off the counter. Hinges skidded across the tiled floor. Hurriedly, he scooped them up and crammed them in the sack. “Hi, hon. I knew your mother would call you. I’m surprised that you didn’t show up a month ago.”