Marrying the Wrong Man (3 page)

“Well, I’ll be … ” Ginger Abbot’s mousy brown hair had been dyed red and cut short and chic, but the splattering of freckles across her wide nose were exactly the same as they’d been in high school. She looked stylish and a lot surer of herself than she’d been all those years ago.

“You look great,” Morgan said, clutching the paper tighter to her chest, feeling uncomfortable and a bit jealous.

Ginger sniffed, and the spring air around them chilled at least twenty degrees. “So you
do
remember me?”

Morgan nodded. She just wanted to sprint to her car and lock herself in.

“I find that so odd, considering you ignored me for years. Really, since you told me in eighth grade that we couldn’t be friends because my daddy didn’t have a job.

Oh, God.
She’d said that. She couldn’t recall the exact scenario, but the words sounded like something she would’ve said in the heyday of Parrish rule. Her father had made no bones about his dislike of unemployed people who contributed to statistics that marred his mayoral term.

Morgan squared her shoulders. “Ginger, I … ”

“Sorry. I can’t be friends with someone whose daddy is in prison.”

Burned.
And in this case, Morgan deserved it. “I shouldn’t have said what I said all those years ago.” Surely they could forgive and forget something that was almost two decades old.

Ginger wrinkled her nose. “No, you shouldn’t have, but you did, and you never regretted it until you were on the other side, did you? You’ll have to forgive me for not feeling very sympathetic, now. I just don’t think a tiger can change her stripes.” She scanned Morgan from head to toe, zeroing in on the peanut butter Charlotte smudged along her hemline. “Looks like you and your family finally got what you deserved.”

Ginger disappeared into the mini-mart and Morgan sighed. She had to get out of here.

She speed-walked to her car, locked the doors, and tore the paper apart until she found the classifieds. With pen in hand, she circled three possibilities. All three were law-related—the only thing she was qualified to do. She wasn’t licensed in Pennsylvania, but maybe she could get hired as a paralegal or a law secretary. Though having the same last name as the embattled congressman wouldn’t get her in the door for many interviews. The pay would be less than what she was used to as well, which wouldn’t make it easy to afford daycare and a decent place to live, but what was the alternative?

Fired or not, she probably should’ve filed for unemployment. Then at least she would’ve had a cushion. Diapers weren’t cheap. And it could take weeks until she heard back from one of these jobs in Pittsburgh.

No, she didn’t have the luxury of being picky and choosy as far as income went.

Five minutes later, she walked into the only law office in Harmony Falls. Heinrich Clark had been a close family friend, but Morgan wasn’t under any illusion he’d be happy to see her. This was a longshot at best.

A bell over the door announced her entrance, and Heinrich glanced up from his laptop. “Good after … ” He blinked, and his mouth shut.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Clark.” She reached a hand over his desk, hoping to keep things as professional as possible despite her sweatshirt and ponytail.

He blinked again, shook her hand, and then stood. “Morgan Parrish. I never thought I’d see you around town again.”

“I never thought I’d be here.” She offered a nervous laugh and a shrug. “But if these last few years have taught me anything it’s to expect the unexpected.”

“Sit.” He motioned to an empty chair. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

Holy hell, he wasn’t going to throw her out? She smiled. “Thank you, but no. No coffee. What I could use is a temporary job.”

His eyes bulged.

“I can be your paralegal. I can file and answer phones. I just need a paycheck, Mr. Clark, until I can find a permanent job somewhere out of town.”

He sat in the nearest chair. “Your mother didn’t give you the money from the credit union account, did she? I told her that was the right thing to do.”

On second thought … Morgan fell into the chair beside her. “You talked to my mother?”

“A couple weeks ago, shortly after your father’s arrest. She called with some legal questions.”

That was around the last time Morgan had spoken to her, too. “What legal questions?”

“Morgan, I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Why not? She’s not your client. She’s just your friend. I’m her daughter—the daughter she stole from! I have a right to know where she is. I want my money back.”

“I don’t where she is. The call came up on caller ID as blocked.”

“She’s with my Uncle Harold isn’t she? He’s missing, too.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well,
I
know. Our last conversation, she told me spousal privilege should protect her where my father is concerned, but she’d rather die than say something that could incriminate Uncle Harold. They ran off together so he wouldn’t get arrested and she wouldn’t have to testify!”

“You’re speculating.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I’ve been completely in the dark about how rotten my family really is.” Which wasn’t really a bad thing considering the strained and limited communication over the last three years meant she’d kept her nose clean and her conscience guilt-free as far as the bribery charges were concerned. “She told me she didn’t have anything to do with this, but if that’s true, then what could she possibly know that could hurt Uncle Harold?”

“I’m sorry.”

Morgan used to be sorry about it, too. Now, she was angry. “Forget it. But if you talk to her again, tell her I’m stuck in Hell, I mean, Harmony Falls thanks to her.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help you, but I barely have enough cases to keep myself afloat.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Working for her mother’s confidant wasn’t all that appealing. After all, she wanted to get away from the legal drama, not be smack dab in the middle of it. But hey, at least he hadn’t thrown her out or taken potshots like the rest of this town would have done. That was a warped kind of progress.

As she drove down Main Street in search of her next move, a huge white house with paint chipping off its stately decorative pillars mocked her from the passenger side window. Her house. At least, it
had
been her house. She didn’t know who owned it now. By the looks of the overgrown shrubbery it could’ve been vacant. God knew how emotionally vacant it was when she’d lived there. Nothing and nobody mattered but her father’s political pursuits.

She thought of him again when she passed the mayor’s office, where she used to sit across from him as a child and listen to his plans for political domination. Later, when she was an adult, he became convinced that Justin, the Mitchells’ golden child, would lead them straight to Pennsylvania Avenue. The minute her father had been successful in breaking her and Charlie apart, he’d started talking about Morgan as the perfect well-educated, polished first lady. By the time law school began, she’d gotten caught up in the power and the plans, too. She glanced down at her sweatshirt and laughed. Boy, did plans change. She was a wreck, at the moment, and Justin walked away from Congress for a quiet life as mayor.

Justin.
Her eyes widened. He ran this town. Surely he could help her out with temporary employment. After all, he’d want her gone faster than anyone else.

Before nerves took hold and froze her in place, she thought about Charlotte. She’d have faced worse for her. So, she tightened her ponytail and marched into the municipal building.

The woman behind the reception desk gasped. Agnes Chase. Only in a town this small would the mayor’s staff remain intact after a change in leadership.

“Hi, Agnes,” Morgan said, lifting her hand in a lilting wave, feeling like a little girl again only with much less exuberance.

“Morgan,” Agnes breathed, oozing pure shock.

“Yep. I’m back. Is Justin available?”

Agnes leapt from her chair. “He is … ” she blocked the door, “but he’s busy.”

Three years apart and a marriage couldn’t keep these people from wanting to protect their precious Justin from the claws of Morgan Parrish. “I’m not here to cause trouble.” She rested a hand over her heart. “I promise. I just have nowhere else to turn.”

Agnes looked at the ceiling as if she expected the word of God to guide her next move.

Justin opened the door instead.

“Holy shit,” he said in a very un-mayor-like way that would’ve made Morgan laugh under different circumstances. “I heard … I thought … ”

“I was trying to send her away,” Agnes stammered right along with him.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Morgan said again.

Justin stared at her. His narrow-eyed scrutiny made it hard to swallow. She’d felt the same tightness at the church on their wedding day, after he’d found out she’d been carrying on with Charlie.

“It’s okay, Agnes. This won’t take long.” He patted the older woman’s shoulder, nudging her aside. “Right this way, Ms. Parrish.”

When Justin didn’t close the door behind them, Morgan allowed herself a small smile. He was no dummy. Without a witness, this town would go crazy wondering what had transpired in this room.

“What can I do for you?” His tone was even-keeled and all business, as if Morgan walking into his office was just another blip in a mundane day.

Meanwhile, her stomach was turning inside out.

She scanned the office that looked much the same as it did when her daddy had been here. Blue carpeting, dark paneling, big cherry desk. She shouldn’t have come. Too many memories. But she needed a job. Suddenly, it seemed laughable and terribly presumptuous of her to expect Justin to help her. “I’m sorry.”
For interrupting your day
, but the minute she said the first two words she realized she’d never apologized for giving him a reason to leave her at the altar in the first place. That was most definitely the right place to start. “I behaved badly while we were engaged—very badly.”

He nodded, but there wasn’t a crack in his business-like veneer.

“At almost thirty years old, I should’ve known better and been stronger, but obviously I wasn’t. I still had a lot of growing up to do. That’s not an excuse, and I don’t expect you to forgive me … ”

“Good,” he cut in, his brows finally dipping low enough to show some emotion. “I don’t think I can. You betrayed me. And you betrayed this town.”

Yes, she had done those things, but she couldn’t change them, now. Even if she could, she wouldn’t—if it meant losing Charlotte. She had a feeling Justin could relate. “I know, and I’m sorry I hurt people, but three years later can’t we say some good came from it? You’re mayor. You have Alice. If we would have kept our promise to our parents—to
this town
—you would’ve been tied to a woman you didn’t love. And you might’ve gotten caught up in my father’s scandal. Isn’t where you are now better?”

He scowled. “Where I am now doesn’t change the fact you cheated on me! And humiliated me! Three years isn’t enough time to make me forget how that feels.”

He glanced at the open door, and she imagined Agnes’s ears trained on every word.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Morgan said. He’d been driven and emotionally distant like her father the entire two years they’d dated, but it didn’t raise enough of a red flag to stop her from crawling into his bed or saying yes to his proposal. She’d had no right to humiliate him. “I wish I had handled things differently.” A lot of things. Things with Charlie, especially.

He stared at her for a moment, until his expression grew inscrutable. Finally he blinked, and looked back down at the papers on his desk. “If that’s all, I have work to do.”

The politically poised, emotionally robotic man returned. That was what her parents had wanted her to be, too. She looked down at the peanut butter smudged on the hem of her sweatshirt.

“Actually, there was something else.” God, did she really have the nerve to do this? Then again, was there another choice? Charlotte needed fed and a roof over her head. “I need a job,” she blurted before she lost her nerve.

Justin’s brows shot high on his forehead and she expected him to swear again. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nothing permanent. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

“You have a lot of nerve.” He shook his head. “I can’t hire you. First of all, we have all the legal counsel we need.”

“It doesn’t have to be law-related. I just need a paycheck.”

He jammed a hand through his hair and huffed. “It’s not going to happen. I don’t trust you enough to hire you. And even if I did, Alice would never be comfortable with you working here. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to come back to Harmony Falls.”

Morgan had only one excuse, and she was worth it. “I have my reasons.”

There was nothing else to say after that, so she left, nearly walking right by the bright red clown car. She didn’t even recognize her life anymore. It would’ve been enough to crush her spirit if there wasn’t a little girl with cherub cheeks and bouncy blonde curls waiting for her at Aunt Phyllis’s house.

• • •

Charlie stomped up the crumbled cement steps that led to the front door of the dilapidated farmhouse. A cat with matted fur scurried past him, and Charlie did an awkward sidestep to get out of the way. What the hell was Morgan doing here? Phyllis was crazy. Rumor had it she kept a loaded rifle propped beside the door to chase off anything that didn’t have four legs.

Glancing down at his legs, Charlie snarled. He should be chopping onions right now, not chasing after Morgan again. But he needed answers.

Before he could knock, Phyllis cracked the front door. All he could see was one oversized eyeball and a slice of wrinkled cheek. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”

“I’m not selling anything. Where’s Morgan?”

“Not here.” She started to close the door.

Charlie stuck the tip of his cowboy boot in the crack. “I saw her in town, and she said she was visiting you. She also said we needed to talk. Well, I’m here ... ” he wedged his foot deeper, “to talk.”

“I told you. She’s not here.” Phyllis slammed the door against his foot.