Jane Kennedy stashed her carry-on in the overhead compartment and settled into her seat with a sigh. It was going to be a long flight from New Zealand back to the U.S., and hopefully a quiet one. With any luck she’d sleep most of the way.
She was exhausted physically, emotionally and mentally drained. The past few months had been a hell she never wanted to relive, fraught with one traumatic event after another. In the midst of trying to launch her newest beauty-and-fitness boutique in Australia, the third in a fledgling chain, she’d been forced to deal with a messy divorce. Three weeks ago, with the ink not yet dry on the divorce petition, she’d flown from phoenix to Sydney, leaving the smoldering ashes of her marriage behind her, hoping to find some sort of relief from all the heartache and anger.
It hadn’t worked out that way. Simply fleeing the scene of the disaster hadn’t been enough. Even with all that distance, and the rigors of getting the new store ready to open, of ironing out last-minute problems, she’d kept bumping up against the residue of her failed marriage. The wounds were too fresh yet, and would take time to heal. Mentally, rationally, she knew that. Emotionally, she kept hoping for a miracle cure, some type of super-injection that would jerk her off of this endless, energy-robbing treadmill of misery and rage, recriminations and tears.
But for now, it was back to phoenix, via Auckland, Hawaii, and San Francisco back to sorting out the strange mix of his-and-her friends, relatives, and acquaintances that were arising in the wake of the impending divorce. Back to listening to well-intentioned advice she didn’t want to hear, back to attempting to adjust to the role of the single female after five years of playing doubles, God! It was simply too wearisome to contemplate!
She was staring out of the small, dingy window, trying to muster the energy to buckle her seatbelt, when a strident voice at her elbow claimed her attention and everyone else’s.
“Seat four A! That is what my ticket says! This woman is in my seat! I demand that you make her move!”
Jane looked up, recognized the indignant pain-in-the-ass Mexican starlet, and gave an inward groan. Geez! Once life decided to dump on you, it just wouldn’t quit!
“Miss Gomez, please understand,” the harried airline attendant said, “when a person doesn’t arrive prior to half an hour before boarding, his or her seat is allotted to someone else. Especially in the case of an unconfirmed reservation, such as yours. If you read the instructions with your ticket, you should have been aware of this. There are seats at the rear of the plane…..”
“No” Diana Gomez stamped her spike heel in demonstration of her ire. “I paid for the first class, and that is what I will have! How dare you think you can treat me this way me! You useless, dumb waste of energy and time! I could cause you to lose your little job with a mere snap of my fingers! Do you know this?”
Jane was in a lousy mood at the moment herself, and miss Hot-to-trot was the last straw. “I didn’t think it was possible to snap your fingers with nails that long and weighted with that many layers of enamel,” she piped up, drawing Diana’s regard back to her. “You might not want to chance it. Those claws of yours might break off all the way back to your wrist.”
“Oh, it’s you!” Diana sneered. “The manager of that hole-in-the-door beauty salon at the hotel. I cannot imagine why such a highly rated hotel would allow you to set up your shabby little shop there.”
Jane smirked back. “Probably because it’s such a treat to annoy snobbish clientele such as you, and it’s not a hole-in-the-wall salon.”
“Well, you won’t last long,” Diana predicted airily. “Whoever heard of combining a fitness center, a beauty salon and a boutique in one business? Bah!” her nose rose in disdain.
“If you gave us a chance, Attila, even you could benefit from our services. For one thing, we could teach you how to apply your make-up without a trowel.”
Just across the aisle, Zack Goldstein didn’t even try to hide his grin. What had promised to be just another boring trip was starting off to the contrary. Here he sat, with a ringside seat at a cat fight between two irate beauties, one hot Mexican tamale and one cool, tart mouthed blonde. He’d never considered himself a womanizer, but the thought crossed his mind that if they started yanking hair and tearing at each other’s clothes, it would be almost as good as a female mud-wrestling match!
Personally, he was rooting for the strawberry blonde with the long French braid and big green eyes. She really was quite attractive, with a clean, naturally pretty look about her. Of course, Diana Gomez was no slouch either, but Zack had always been drawn to a less flamboyant type of beauty, more wholesome, less artificial.
Like Alex. Alex had been his concept of the ideal woman, the perfect mate. Somewhat shy in public, a little bold in private; more prone to listening than speaking, though she didn’t hesitate to take a firm stand on issues important to her Zack used to tease her about being a closet zealot. He’d give his right arm to be able to do so again.
God he missed her! Three years since her death, and that soul-deep ache still lingered. There seemed to be no escaping it, especially when, with each passing year, their daughter was maturing into Alex’s mirror image. Same huge brown nose, same nose, same stubborn chin. Belle was twelve now, teetering on the threshold of a woman, but still young enough to be daddy’s little girl at least half the time. Mostly when she wanted her own way.
His job as an architectural engineer kept him away from her more than he’d have liked, but his mother and dad and two sisters helped fill the gap so that Belle could remain at home with family and friends. He tried to schedule time off from his work to coincide with breaks in her school term, and in summer she’d often join him on the site for several weeks. It was rough going but somehow they were making it work. As soon as he got settled in Las Vegas and got his latest project off the ground, so to speak, he would send for her again. In the meantime, his telephone bill would soar to new heights, and he’d continue to worry his baby would soon be wearing lipstick and developing a figure and, God-forbid, dating! Every father’s worst nightmare.
HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS BOOK, TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOT IT AND IF YOUR MISSING ME (VERY SMALL AMOUT OF PEOPLE) I WILL BE BACK ON WATTPAD ON CHRISTMAS, February AND IN BETWEEN AND IF I AINT IT MEANS I NEVER COMING BACK BUT (PPL WHO MISS ME PM YOUR DETAILS AND WE'LL BE IN TOUCH) BU-BYE
