Chapter 4 - The Unraveling of Ryan Mercer
By Monday morning, the fallout from the Springfield High Class of 1995 reunion had spread through the local business community like wildfire.
In a town the size of Springfield, news doesn't travel through official channels; it travels through country club locker rooms, church pews, and car dealership sales floors. And Cheryl Benson had spent all of Sunday afternoon on the phone.
I was sitting in my sunlit office at Whitaker Events & Planning on Cherry Street, reviewing a floor plan for an upcoming charity gala, when my assistant, Sarah, walked in holding two piping-hot lattes and a look of absolute scandal on her face.
"Boss," Sarah said, setting a latte on my desk. "You are never going to believe what happened at the Ford dealership on North Glenstone this morning."
I looked up from my iPad, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"
"Ryan Mercer got suspended."
I paused, setting my pen down. "Suspended? Why?"
"Apparently," Sarah said, leaning across the desk, her eyes wide, "he got into a massive, screaming match with his wife right in the middle of the showroom floor at eight o'clock this morning! Customers were there, Dana! She threw a cup of hot coffee at his car, accused him of wanting to leave her for his ex-fiancée, and screamed that he was a broke loser who ruined her life!"
I leaned back in my leather chair, rubbing my temples. "In front of customers?"
"In front of the general manager!" Sarah squealed softly. "The owner of the dealership had to come out of his office and have security escort Melissa off the property. Then he pulled Ryan into his office, and five minutes later, Ryan walked out carrying a box of his personal stuff!"
I sighed, feeling a strange mix of emotions. A small part of me—the hurt, thirty-year-old woman who had wept on her kitchen floor seven years ago—felt a brief flash of satisfaction. But the grown-up fifty-one-year-old mother felt mostly sadness for how pathetic two people could make their lives.
"Karma moves fast in southwest Missouri," Sarah added with a grin.
"Karma just gives people what they’ve been building for years, Sarah," I said gently. "Ryan and Melissa built their whole relationship on a foundation of betrayal and vanity. It was always going to collapse. They just ran out of lies to hold it up."
Before Sarah could respond, my desk phone rang.
I looked at the caller ID. It was a local number I didn't recognize.
"Whitaker Events, this is Dana," I answered.
"Dana... please don't hang up."
It was Melissa.
Her voice wasn't shrill or angry anymore. It was ragged, slurred slightly, and sounded like she had been crying for hours.
"Melissa," I said, my tone flattening into professional coldness. "I don't think we have anything left to discuss."
"Please, Dana," she sobbed into the phone. "I’m at the Starbucks on National. Can you please just come talk to me for ten minutes? I don't have anyone else to call. Everyone in town is laughing at me."
"You have friends, Melissa," I reminded her.
"No, I don't!" she wailed. "I traded all my real friends for Ryan! And now he’s telling me he never loved me! He said he’s filing for divorce today! He said he’s going to sue me for alimony! Dana, please... you’re the only person who actually knows who he really is!"
I sat in silence for a long moment.
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Seven years ago, if someone had told me Melissa Grant would be begging me for help while weeping over Ryan Mercer, I would have thought it was a miracle. But listening to her now, she just sounded broken, pathetic, and utterly alone.
"Ten minutes, Melissa," I said firmly. "And if you raise your voice once, I walk out."
