He’d been attentive and interested in everything she’d had to say about her business, giving her the same kind of courtesy he would a captain of industry. Her mother had told her later that he was seventy, but he certainly hadn’t acted it or looked it. Athletic, five-ten, with mostly red hair, he’d been charming and infinitely reassuring. After talking to him, she’d known that bringing her business to San Antonio was going to be a lot easier than she’d thought. He’d even proposed backing a loan for whatever she’d needed.
Their encounter had been reassuring. There was no reason in the world to be nervous. And yet, she was.
It had been a good thing, coming home, she decided, shifting to the side as she allowed three people to get off, grateful for their departure.
Now that she had returned, she didn’t know why she’d hesitated for so long. Instead of everything falling apart, the way she’d once thought, things were finally coming together. Maybe it had taken her leaving home to make her appreciate everything she actually did have, she mused as the climb to the thirtieth floor continued.
Whatever it was, she was glad she’d heeded her mother’s call to come home when she had instead of deliberating a few more days. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten to meet Patrick Fortune.
But then again, she mused, a smile curving her mouth, knowing her mother, she probably would have run into the man sooner or later. Maria Mendoza didn’t leave much to chance if she could help it.
She’d do well to take a page out of her mother’s book, Gloria decided.
The elevator finally came to a stop on the thirtieth floor. Gloria was alone in the car. She stepped through the steel doors, taking a deep breath as she did so, relieved to be out of the box.
And then she took in her surroundings.
She felt a little like a mortal reaching Mount Olympus, seeking an audience with Zeus.
As she walked to the receptionist’s desk, she again thought about the man she’d met the other night. She’d found Patrick Fortune extremely easy to talk to. Like a kindly uncle. She would have expected him to be driven, anal, like that man who’d just scowled at her in the elevator.
Her thoughts going there, she pitied anyone having to deal with that one. The next moment, she put him out of her mind.
The walls that led to the receptionist’s desk were lined with paintings—bright, colorful landscapes and seascapes that were extremely uplifting. Just looking at them made her feel empowered.
She wondered if Patrick Fortune had selected them himself. Probably. He didn’t strike her as a man who delegated very much.
Reaching the long, ivory-colored desk, Gloria smiled and nodded at the receptionist. “I’m Gloria Mendoza Johansen. I have an appointment to see Mr. Fortune.”
The woman behind the desk flashed her a studied smile that disappeared a moment after making its appearance. Her small, stubby fingers flew over her keyboard with the flair of a piano virtuoso playing a well-beloved concerto.
“Yes,” the woman whose nameplate proclaimed her to be Doris Wells verified in a thick Texas accent, “it looks like you do.”
Before she could reach for her telephone to notify her boss about this newest arrival, the door behind her opened. Patrick Fortune, wearing an iron-gray suit and light salmon shirt with a gray tie stepped out. He smiled warmly at her as he stepped forward.
“Gloria, right on time.” He glanced at his watch. “A few minutes early, as a matter of fact. I like that in a person. Always get there one jump ahead.” He took both of her hands in his. “You look lovely.”
And then, as if aware that he was suddenly a source of interest, he glanced toward the receptionist. The woman had raised her brow at the friendly display.
“Stop frowning like that, Doris. I’m not putting the moves on Ms. Johansen, I’m just making a very obvious observation. Besides, I’m old enough to be her gr—” He cleared his throat and amended, “Father.” A twinkle came into his eye as he tucked Gloria’s arm through his and led her toward his office. “Come in, come in.”
His office took her breath away. She was vaguely aware that he’d left the door open, as if to leave a connection with reality.
Patrick Fortune inclined his head, conceding, “It’s a little large.”
A little large? Obviously the man had a gift for understatement. Her observation came out in an awed whisper. “I’ve seen smaller golf courses.”
Her words were rewarded with a deep, booming laugh.
“Your mother warned me that you always say what you think.”
She flushed, wondering if she’d offended him somehow, or shown him the small, frightened girl who lived behind the larger-than-life dream and words.
“My mother always told me to think of what I say before I say it.”
That had been the source of more than one lecture she’d been forced to endure. Always her own person even when she didn’t know who or what that person might be, Gloria had always felt driven to do her own thing, not to try to conform to anyone else’s image of her. Now, she realized that her image of herself was what her mother had had in mind all along.
Another sign that her homecoming was a good thing. She took heart in that.
“Your mother is a lovely woman. I’ve known her and your father for almost as long as I’ve known Rosita and Rueben Perez.” Her parents’ best friends, Gloria thought, not to mention that Rosita and her mother were cousins, as well. Rosita had worked for the Fortunes, taking care of their children, since what felt like the beginning of time. She supposed, in part, she had the other woman to thank for this opportunity, as well.
Maybe, Gloria mused, she was finally due for some honest-to-goodness good luck.
Rather than resist the way she would have even five years ago, insisting that her mother was meddling, she now gladly left herself open to “be meddled with.” Heaven knew that no one could do a worse job than she had with her life up to two years ago.
Maybe, if she’d left herself open to suggestions earlier instead of resisting them, her life would have laid itself out differently. Better.
This wasn’t the time for reflections, much less regrets, she admonished herself. The past was just that, something to remain in the background. She was here to take advantage of the present and to hopefully, finally, build a very solid future.
This was the new, improved Gloria whose roots were firmly entrenched in the Gloria who had once been, before the drugs and alcohol had interfered with the direction her life was taking.
She offered the older man her best smile, the one her mother claimed lit up her whole face. “She speaks very highly of you, Mr. Fortune. Both my parents do.”
He gestured her toward the chair that was in front of his desk and waited until she sat before he took his own seat. “And they speak highly of you.”
She knew how much heartache she’d caused both her parents. Their loyalty took her breath away. And made her ashamed all over again for what she had done to them. “They do?”
Patrick had five children himself, just like the Mendozas, and he could well guess what she was thinking. Maria hadn’t gone into detail, but he knew there was a black period in Gloria’s past.
She was about Violet’s age, he judged. “Just because our children temporarily ‘mess up,’ doesn’t mean that we suddenly are blind to their good points. Sometimes, that’s all we parents have to hold on to while we ride out the turbulence.”
She smiled ruefully and shook her head, rising to her feet. “I can’t imagine any of your children giving you a problem.”
He laughed, the sound echoing within the large room. “Then I fear that you have far less imagination than I have been given to believe you possess.” He winked at her.
Which was exactly when his son walked in.
Jack stopped just half a step past the threshold, stunned. His father had just winked at what appeared, at least from the back, to be an attractive woman.
She was wearing a trim-fitting jacket and short skirt, the latter of which h
ugged hips the way, he judged, most men of her acquaintance probably would have wanted to. Her head came up to his father’s shoulder. Since the man was about five-ten, that placed her in the neighborhood of petite. She had deep-black hair that was pinned up. Even so, she didn’t appear to be here on business, not if that wink he’d just witnessed was any indication of what was transpiring.
He’d obviously interrupted something, but his father had told him to be here at this time, so here he was.
Jack couldn’t help wondering if this was the reason for his father’s change in attitude over the past few months. Was he advocating smelling roses because there was now a mistress to receive those roses?
For a second Jack debated stepping out again. But his father looked in his direction.
“So, you’ve finally gotten here.” The greeting was accompanied by a wide smile.
His father didn’t look like a man who’d just been caught in a transgression. But then, Patrick Fortune was the most self-assured man he had ever met. To his recollection, his father had never made any apologies for himself or his actions.
Aware that he was actually a few minutes late, something he abhorred, Jack found himself on the defensive. “I, um, had to catch another elevator car. There was this obnoxious woman—”
The rest of his statement faded into the light blue walls. The woman his father had just winked at turned around and looked at him.
A feeling of déjà vu shot through him with the velocity of an iron-tipped arrow.
He hadn’t recognized the woman’s clothes, or even the color of her hair, but then she turned to look at him and, well, that wasn’t the kind of face a man easily forgot.
Not even if he tried.
Gloria stared at the man framed in the doorway, recognizing him instantly. It was the man who’d been so rude he’d managed to bring out the worst in her at an incredibly fast speed. Mr. Fortune obviously knew him. More than that, he seemed to have been waiting for him.
Why? What did this mean?
Suddenly there was a distinct sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her fingertips felt moist again, the way they always did when she felt the walls closing in around her.
Was it a premonition?
Holding her breath, Gloria turned away from the younger man in the doorway and looked at Patrick Fortune, a silent, formless prayer echoing in her brain.
Patrick’s eyes shifted from his son to the woman in front of him and back again. He had gotten to his present station in life through hard work coupled with very keen instinct. Instinct that was at times sharper than others’, but even at its worst was never dull.
Right now his instincts told him that there was something going on here between Maria’s daughter and his son that he wasn’t quite aware of. Something he might be able to capitalize on.
He adopted an innocent expression as he looked from one to the other again. “You two know each other?”
“No.” Gloria shot the word out like a bullet.
Jack, Patrick noted, hadn’t taken his eyes off Gloria since he walked in. “We rode up together in the elevator.” The words were ground out.
A slightly puzzled note entered into his expression. “If you rode up together, then why—”
Anticipation had Gloria interrupting. “He got off early,” she supplied.
Jack set his jaw hard. Not adding, as he wanted to, that he’d gotten off because he hadn’t felt like riding up all those floors with an obvious shrew.
This couldn’t be the woman his father wanted him to work with, Jack thought. His luck didn’t run that bad.
Chapter Three
His father was looking at him, obviously still waiting for some kind of good, believable explanation as to why he’d gotten off on another floor rather than arrive here with this annoying woman.
Jack was sharp when it came to matters in the boardroom. But personal things, such as his reaction to this woman, were another matter. The only excuse he could come up with was, “I forgot something.”
Patrick nodded, wise enough to let the matter drop. Jack doubted that his father really believed him, but was clearly willing to let it go. For now.
“Nothing important, I trust,” Patrick said, eyeing his firstborn.
“Excuse me?”
“That ‘thing’ you forgot, it was nothing important, I trust,” Patrick repeated. Just the slightest hint of humor curved his mouth as he continued to look at Jack.
“No, nothing important,” Jack murmured. Just my sanity.
Patrick’s eyes never left his son’s face. Jack was so much a chip off the old block that at times it was positively scary. He saw himself in Jack’s eyes, in Jack’s actions. Which was why, when Maria Mendoza had approached him for help regarding her daughters, the first thing he’d thought of was to get Jack involved in Gloria’s business transfer. He knew that, given Jack’s business acumen, it was a little like offering a building contractor a set of rubber blocks. But he wasn’t necessarily looking to challenge Jack. Not professionally, at any rate. The challenge he offered was to the inner man, the one whose development had been arrested all these years. Ever since Jack’s college days.
It was high time that Jack stop playing the one note he was so exceptionally skilled at playing and fill out the other corners of his life.
Patrick was aware, although Jack never spoke about it, that his son had had his heart set on marrying Ann Garrison, a girl he’d known in college. When she was killed while driving under the influence one night, nearly taking Jack with her, his oldest had withdrawn from the world. But then slowly, with the support of his family, Jack had crawled back out and thrown himself into the family business.
In the beginning he’d been very grateful that Jack had found a way to help himself heal. But after a while, it had become apparent that this was the only path his son would take.
Nothing mattered but the banking business and that was wrong. He’d learned that the hard way himself. It was a lesson he meant to pass on to Jack even if Jack resisted. He didn’t want his son looking back at the end of his years and seeing nothing but cold accomplishments to have marked his passage through this earth.
A man needed a family. His own family. And children. Gloria might not be the one Jack ultimately wound up with, but considering the fact that his son wasn’t out looking at all, Gloria seemed more than capable of getting him interested in pursuits other than business.
Patrick had a knack for reading people and Gloria didn’t look the type to be intimidated. At the very least, he doubted if his slightly larger-than-life son would plow the woman under. She could probably go ten rounds with Jack and still hold her own.
And if he read between the lines of what Maria had told him about her daughter, Gloria could use the stimulation, as well.
Right now, though, silence was hanging extremely heavily in the room. Patrick felt as if he was the impromptu referee at an unofficial bout.
Mentally he rubbed his hands together. Let the games begin, he thought.
“Well, then, let’s get on with it. I suppose formal introductions are in order. Jack, I’d like you to meet your, um, new ‘project.’” Patrick flashed a smile at the young woman. “Gloria Mendoza Johansen. Gloria, this is my oldest son, Jack.” He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his voice. Life was too short to scrimp on praise when it was due. “Next to me, I’d say that Jack is the most savvy businessman I know. He’ll be handling your affairs.” His smile widened. “So to speak.”
She’d never seen eyes that twinkled before. But there was definitely a twinkle in Patrick Fortune’s eyes. Why?
And his words caused alarms to go off in her head. “You mean that you’re not going to be overseeing the shop?” She’d thought that was why he’d asked her here. But he was palming her off on his son, Mr. Charm-and-Personality.
It was the last thing she wanted. Recovering from the jolt, her first instinct was to say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” After all, she’d originally started the business in Denver al
l by herself and it had been doing very nicely, thank you very much. Over the two years that it had been in existence, the store had gained a small but loyal and solid following. And she had contractual work in Hollywood, as well. An actress on a popular sitcom had fallen in love with one of her necklace designs and suddenly she was getting calls from the west coast, asking her to create the jewelry for the whole show.
All of this had come about on the strength of her skill and by word of mouth. There was even a man in New York City who’d flown out to buy his wife a Christmas present. His wife had seen her work while vacationing in Denver and had fallen in love with it. And he knew some people who knew some people…Whatever it took to build up a clientele, she mused.
There was absolutely no reason why she couldn’t do that right here in San Antonio. After all, this was only a stone’s throw from where she’d originally started out, Red Rock. She already knew people here.
But there was no denying that the Fortunes were a power to be reckoned with and when one of them offered to show up in your corner, you didn’t suddenly throw up a brick wall to keep them out. Especially not the head of the clan.
But this is the son, not the father. A scowling son at that, she reminded herself.
There were times when Gloria was certain that fate had it in for her. One moment it looked as if things were only going to get better, the next, the rug beneath her feet was being frantically tugged on. As of yet, it hadn’t been pulled out, but it did provide just enough turbulence to throw her off balance.
She didn’t like being off balance. She’d spent enough of her life that way already.
Patrick’s expression was disarming. It left no room for argument.
“I’m afraid I’m going to be too busy to offer you the personal attention that you deserve.” He let his words sink in properly, then looked at Jack.
Oh, and I won’t be? Jack thought. His father had never minimized his contribution to the business or his importance in the company before. Just what was going on here?
“Would you excuse us for a second?” Jack said, addressing Gloria.
Fortune's Heirs: Reunion Page 3
