Nancy came rushing in. “Dr. Mallory, are you all right?”
“I don’t recommend a daily dose of him,” Lara replied, forcing a smile. “But, yes, I’m fine.”
The nurse disappeared and returned seconds later with a glass of ice water. “Drink this. Probably ought to be something stronger. Key has a knack for turning people inside out.”
“Thank you.” Lara drank greedily. “Just so you’ll know, Nancy, he was here last night. He had sprained his ankle and came here expecting to find Dr. Patton.” To protect Key’s privacy and her own culpability, she didn’t tell her nurse about the gunshot wound she had declined to report to the authorities.
Without being invited, Nancy plopped down in the chair facing Lara’s desk. “Key Tackett always has been meaner than sin. I remember he once brought a live rattler to school in a tow-sack and terrorized all us girls with it. God knows how he kept from being bit himself. I guess that snake had better sense than to tangle with him.
“He’s drop-dead gorgeous, but I’m sure he knows it. Those blue eyes and lazy smile have admitted him to many a set of parted thighs. I’m sure he’s good at it, too. God knows he’s had plenty of practice. Scores of women would line up to prove me right, but personally I’ve always thought he was a prize asshole.”
Forcing a professional-looking smile to her lips, Lara said, “Give me a few minutes, please. I need to collect my thoughts and freshen up, then I’ll resume seeing the patients.”
“Dr. Mallory,” Nancy said kindly, “one by one your patients suddenly remembered ‘important’ things they had to do.” Dropping the formality, she sympathetically added, “Honey, there’s not a soul waiting out there to see you.”
Chapter Five
Janellen was seated behind her desk in the business office of Tackett Oil and Gas Company. The square brick building had been designed by men, built by men, and furnished for men back in Clark Senior’s heyday. Jody hadn’t given a flip about decor. Most of the men who worked for Tackett Oil had been employees for years and they were accustomed to the office, comfortable with it. So even though Janellen spent more time there than anyone else, it never occurred to her to renovate or otherwise enhance the appearance of the office merely to please herself.
The only personal touch she had added was an ivy plant that she’d potted in a clay container shaped like a bunny. It was crouched on the corner of her desk, partially hidden by correspondence, invoices, and other paperwork.
Managing the office with unstinting efficiency was a matter of pride for Janellen. She opened it every weekday morning at nine sharp, checked the answering machine for messages and the FAX machine for overnight transmissions, then consulted the large calendar on which she jotted down notes to herself ranging from “call church re: altar flowers”—to commemorate her late father’s birthday—to “dentist appointment in Longview.”
This morning, however, she was preoccupied with her mother’s health and the pervasive antagonism between Jody and Key. They hadn’t raised their voices to each other since the morning following Key’s unexpected homecoming, but the atmosphere crackled with hostile static whenever they were in the same room.
Janellen did her best to act as a buffer but was largely unsuccessful. Through Eden Pass’s active grapevine, Jody had heard about Key’s return visit to Dr. Lara Mallory’s office. She accused him of flagrantly disobeying her; he reminded her that he was no longer a kid who needed to be told what to do and what not to do. She said he’d made an ass of himself; he said he’d learned to do that by example.
And so it went.
Mealtimes were torturous. The burden of carrying on a conversation fell to Janellen, and it was an exhausting challenge. Jody never had been an avid conversationalist at the dining table and was even less so now.
To his credit, Key made an effort. He regaled them with anecdotes of his adventures. Jody didn’t think his stories were funny. She shot down all his attempts at humor and consistently turned the topic back to Dr. Mallory, which never failed to inflame Key’s short temper. As soon as he finished eating, he invented an excuse to leave the house. Janellen knew he went out drinking because he rarely returned until the wee hours of the morning, and his tread on the stairs was usually unsteady.
He probably was womanizing, too, but the town grapevine was stumped when it came to who might be receiving his favors.
He’d been home a week, but his return had fallen far short of Janellen’s expectations. Instead of brightening Jody’s outlook, Key’s presence in the house had only made her more short-tempered. Which was puzzling. When he was away, Jody fretted over not hearing from him and worried for his safety. She was never demonstrative, but Janellen had seen the relief that registered in her face whenever they received a card from him letting them know that he was all right.
Now that he was home, nothing he did pleased her. If he was taciturn, she rebuked him. If he attempted conciliation, she rebuffed him. She took issue with the slightest provocation, and, Janellen conceded, her brother could be provoking. Like oil and water, his moods never seemed to mix with Jody’s.
Things had really turned nasty the evening he’d confronted her about the codicil to Clark’s will. “Why wasn’t I informed that he’d bought and deeded that property to Lara Mallory?”
“Because it was none of your business,” Jody retorted. What Clark had done was incomprehensible, especially to his mother. Janellen knew she had agonized over it. She wished Key had never learned of it. Barring that, she wished he’d never raised the subject with Jody.
“None of my business?” he repeated incredulously. “Don’t you think such a stupid decision on his part should have been brought to my attention? It affects all of us.”
“I don’t know Clark’s reasons for doing what he did,” Jody shouted. “But I won’t have you, of all people, calling your brother stupid.”
“I didn’t. I said his decision was stupid.”
“Same difference.”
Their heated argument had lasted for half an hour and only left Key furious and Jody’s blood pressure skyrocketing. No one would ever know what had prompted Clark to do what he’d done. Janellen thought it futile to surmise his motivations. What she knew for certain was that her older brother would have been greatly distressed by the friction he’d unwittingly caused. Their home was a gloomy, antagonistic environment that Janellen wished desperately and vainly to change.
“Ma’am?”
Janellen had been so lost in thought that she jumped at the unexpected sound of a man’s voice. He was standing just inside the doorway, backlighted by the sun, his face in shadow.
Embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, she surged to her feet and ran a self-conscious hand down the placket of her blouse. “I’m sorry. Can I help you?”