Fortune's Family Secrets

by Karen Rose Smith

  Cassie took a church bulletin from a stand by the door. Then he opened the outside door for her and they stepped into the sunlight and a beautiful Sunday morning in Austin.

  They walked down the steps together, their arms brushing. That touch of skin on skin felt right, and Nash kept his thoughts from going further than that.

  On the sidewalk once more, heading toward the bed-and-breakfast, Nash couldn’t stop the question that echoed in his mind. She’d asked him some personal questions; now it was his turn. “Did you light a candle for your parents?”

  Cassie seemed to take a deep breath before she answered. He guessed she still missed them. Instead of answering him, she simply nodded.

  He remained silent as they passed a mixture of apartment houses and single-family dwellings, some in brick, some in stucco, some in stone.

  “Do you have a busy day planned?” he finally asked her.

  “I do. After making breakfast—we’re having quiche and homemade bread if you’re interested—I’m going to bake cookies and fruit breads to freeze. That way if I’m too busy during the week, I can pull them out. I’m also going to have guests checking in today. So there are rooms to get ready and freshen up as well as towels to put out. The Warners are leaving so I’ll be cleaning their room. It will be a busy day.”

  “Do you have help?”

  “Help? Such as a maid?” Cassie laughed. “There isn’t any money in the budget to hire a maid. I’m it. Do you have a busy day planned?”

  “Actually, I do,” he said. “I’ll be out most of the day.” He didn’t tell her he had a list of addresses where Fortunes lived. He was going to scope out their living arrangements and maybe get a glimpse of their lives.

  When they reached the B&B, Cassie waved to Mrs. Garcia, who was out on her front porch. She was wearing a flowered dress and carrying her purse. Nash accompanied Cassie as they walked over to the widow’s porch.

  “Good morning,” Mrs. Garcia said. “Were you two out for a stroll?”

  “We were at church,” Cassie said.

  “That’s where I’m headed now.”

  The day was already warming up and Nash remembered what Mrs. Garcia had said about her arthritis. “Why don’t I drive you,” he said to Mrs. Garcia.

  “But aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” the older woman asked.

  “It won’t be ready for about half an hour,” Cassie said. “Maybe a little longer. I have to put the bread in to bake.”

  “If you make them into rolls, they won’t take as long to bake,” Mrs. Garcia said.

  “That’s a great idea,” Cassie agreed. “And when you get home, I’ll bring a couple over to you.”

  Mrs. Garcia beamed. “That would be lovely. And, young man, I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  Nash went up Mrs. Garcia’s steps and offered her his arm. This wasn’t exactly the way he’d intended to spend his Sunday morning, but right now, it seemed like the best way to start the day.

  After he drove Mrs. Garcia to church, he had breakfast with Cassie and the Warners. The couple was checking out after breakfast and he knew Cassie had a busy day, so he didn’t linger.

  What he did do caused feelings to roil inside of him. He drove past where several of the Fortunes lived. That took well into the afternoon. But then he went where he probably shouldn’t have. He parked down the street from Gerald Robinson’s estate. It had a stone wall surrounding it and an iron gate. According to what Nash had found about it online, the house looked like a Mediterranean castle. It was easy to see the Robinsons had an elevated lifestyle. So elevated that Charlotte never wanted to lose it. That had been one of the reasons she’d kept his mother from getting in touch with Gerald, or Jerome, or whatever anybody wanted to call him. The whole name change idea irked Nash. Supposedly Jerome wanted to change his name to build a life on his own. Really? He couldn’t even keep his first name? None of it made sense to Nash.

  During Nash’s stakeout, no one came and went at the Robinson house. Nash felt the bitterness he had always pushed away rise up in his throat. He knew anger and bitterness weren’t good for him, and he realized that maybe he was following this money trail of Charlotte’s for revenge’s sake. If he took her down, he took Gerald down.

  Did he want to do that to his biological father? He’d told himself over and over again Gerald Robinson had been no more than a sperm donor. Yet his mother considered the man much more. She said she understood why he’d stayed with Charlotte. But did she really?

  What if bringing Gerald and Charlotte down put a wedge between Nash and his mom? Would all of this have been worth it?

  * * *

  Cassie handed the Stengles their keys. They were an adorable couple on their honeymoon. They were from Kansas but they were taking a road trip to San Antonio, wandering here and there along the way. They were about her age, and she was happy to see two people who had found each other.

  Cassie told them, “If you need anything, just call the front desk. My cell phone is also on the information sheet, so if you can’t reach me at the desk, then call my cell. Will you be staying in for supper tonight?”

  “Oh, no,” they both said at the same time. “We’re going out on the town,” Tom Stengle told her. “We want to see everything we can see.”

  “You’ll find a list of restaurants and attractions in your room near your phone.”

  Tom said, “I’ll carry our bags upstairs.” Cassie offered to help but he brushed her help away.

  As Tom went up the stairs, his wife Annabelle leaned close to her. “We’re going to spend some time in our room until dinner tonight. I hope there’s a Do Not Disturb sign.”

  Cassie gave the newlywed a nod. “There certainly is.”

  Cassie had noticed Nash had come in while she was checking in the Stengles. He looked tired. Something about his expression bothered her. The lines around his eyes cut in deep. Maybe troubled was a better word than tired. He’d gone into the guest lounging area and drawn a cup of coffee. He was just sitting there on the couch now, broodingly staring into his mug.

  She thought about their conversation at the church that morning and about his kindness to Renata. She didn’t like to see anybody going through troubles.

  The bed-and-breakfast was quiet now. The Stengles were in their room and she had a feeling they’d be there awhile. The other couple who had checked in had gone right out again. Cassie had finished everything she’d intended to do today. The way it looked, she might not even have to cook supper except for herself.

  Crossing to the sitting area, she sank down on the couch beside Nash. “Rough day?” she asked.

  He took a gulp of his coffee. “Rough enough.”

  “Anything you want to talk about? I hear talking relieves stress.” She kept her voice light, hoping to get a feel for what was going on with him.

  He just shook his head.

  She realized she was prying and she had no right to do that. “As a financial adviser, I guess you have to be discreet. I shouldn’t be asking any questions. I’m sorry.”

  But as she started to rise to her feet, Nash caught her hand. She felt his touch throughout her whole body. When she looked into his eyes, she didn’t know what she saw. It looked remarkably like guilt. Why would Nash feel guilty?

  “I’m going to trust my gut on this,” he mumbled.

  “Trust your gut?” She didn’t understand at all.

  “Can we go someplace more private?”

  If any other man had asked her that, she’d refuse. But it was easy for her to see Nash’s request had nothing to do with a line or romance.

  She had a dilemma. She could offer to go out on the screened-in porch with him. That would be private. But even more private would be the sitting area in her room. She’d never asked a man into her room before.

  “How are you at lighting fires?” she asked.

/>   He looked perplexed.

  “It’s cool tonight and I have a fireplace in the sitting area in my suite. I never seem to stack everything right to get it started. We could light a fire and talk there. I might even be able to rustle up a cinnamon roll or two.”

  He studied her face for what seemed to be a very long time. Then he nodded. “I’m good at lighting fires.”

  She walked him down the hall into her suite, which was really just one big room with an en suite bath. But she had it divided into a small sitting area with a love seat and rocking chair at the fireplace, and a bedroom area with its single bed, nightstand and small dresser.

  She pointed to the fireplace, where, on the hearth, kindling and a few logs lay in a basket.

  He gave her a half smile. “You’re making this easy.”

  “Matches are on the mantel,” she told him as she left the room.

  In the kitchen, as she took the cinnamon rolls from the tinfoil packet, she realized her hands were shaking. That was silly. Nash was just going to unburden himself. She shouldn’t think anything of it, not anything at all. But as she carried the rolls and another cup of coffee for herself back to the sitting room, she knew she was going to get in deeper with Nash and wasn’t sure about that at all.

  Nash had a glow coming from the fireplace and he was sitting on the love seat with his mug of coffee. She settled next to him, setting the rolls on the small coffee table.

  As he looked around her bedroom, he asked, “Is everything in your life in 3-D and color?”

  She laughed. She liked bright colors and used them everywhere. There was a bright blue bedspread crisscrossed with violet and lime on her bed and matching curtains. They stood out against her lemon-yellow walls. A mobile with abstract colorful shapes hung above a file cabinet where she kept folders for each of her art students.

  “Do you have something against color?” she joked.

  “Not at all,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m just not sure how you sleep in here.” Her love seat was also a shade of violet, and the armchair was lime green.

  Cassie sat a little sideways and looked at him. “You don’t really want to talk about the color of my room, do you?”

  His brow furrowed. His eyes looked pained as he frowned. “No. I want to come clean with you.”

  Come clean? About what? She felt frightened for a few seconds, maybe even panicked. Then she remembered there was nothing to fear. She kept silent.

  “I’m not in town as a financial consultant,” he revealed, watching her carefully.

  She must have made a little gasp.

  He quickly went on, “I’m a cop on independent assignment.”

  A cop. Now she felt a bit of panic all over again. She remembered cops taking her mother away. She’d never forget it. “What does that mean?” she asked, totally taken aback. She didn’t know how she felt about Nash being a member of law enforcement. After all, her mother was in prison...and he didn’t know.

  Nash set his mug on the coffee table. “I’m following up on a case that my boss didn’t want me to pursue. I took vacation time to do it.”

  “Is the work dangerous?” she asked.

  “No, it’s not dangerous. It’s mostly research. I’m not carrying a weapon if that’s what you’re worried about.” When he turned to face her more directly, their knees were touching. “I’m supposed to be incognito. I guess you could say undercover. But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth up front.”

  The truth. Her life wasn’t completely honest and she hated that. “You didn’t know me. Why should you trust me? Besides, you didn’t have to tell me now, either. You’re entitled to your secrets. Everybody is.”

  “I suppose,” he said begrudgingly.

  Their knees were still touching and neither of them had moved away. The fabric of his jeans rubbed a bit against the cotton of her skirt.

  “Why did you tell me now?” she asked softly.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” he admitted. “I don’t trust people easily. That’s an occupational hazard. But I do believe you can be trusted.”

  Cassie felt honored that he thought so. But she also felt guilty because she was keeping secrets from him. However, especially now that she knew he was a cop, she couldn’t tell him about her mother.

  “I don’t trust easily, either,” she confessed, but she didn’t volunteer why.

  Cassie was still trying to absorb everything Nash had said as they stared into the fire. Moments later, she turned to glance at his face. His jaw was set and his mouth was a thin line. She suspected there was a lot more to his story than what he’d told her.

  “Is that all you want to tell me?” she asked.

  “I should just shut up,” he muttered.

  “Why? I’m certainly not going to tell anybody anything. If you need to get it off your chest, feel free.”

  “Off my chest isn’t off my mind. I’m personally involved in this.”

  “In the investigation?”

  “Yes. And I’m sure that’s part of the reason my boss wants me to drop it. We’ve had resolution in the main part of the case, but I stumbled on this other thread.”

  “What you’re saying is hard for me to understand because I don’t know the basics.”

  “The basics are—the suspect that I’m investigating is quite possibly my biological father’s wife.”

  So many questions ran through Cassie’s head, she didn’t know what to ask first. “Do you know your biological father?”

  “You mean ‘know’ like he lived around me or I lived around him?”

  “Yes. Have you spent time with him?”

  “Never.” Nash’s voice was firm and there was more in his tone that she was sure he didn’t want her to hear.

  “He left?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. He definitely left. He was married, but my mother loved him anyway. She thinks more highly of him than I do.”

  “Did you know him at all?”

  “We’ve never had any contact, and that’s a good way to keep it, especially now.”

  “He’s in Austin?”

  “Yes, he and his wife.”

  “You know, don’t you, if you do get the goods on your biological father’s wife, you might be ruining any chance you have of getting to know your dad.”

  Nash went rigid and snapped, “He’s not my father.” There was so much bitterness in Nash’s voice that Cassie recoiled.

  Nash saw it. “Cassie, I’m sorry. I don’t talk about this. I never talk about it. And this is why. This man is not a good man. He’s had other affairs. My mother tried to contact him about me, but his wife intercepted her. She threatened her and my mother isn’t the type to push.”

  Cassie realized this was only the tip of the iceberg. The fact that he was both professionally and personally involved in this case had to be tearing him apart.

  When Nash reached a hand out to her, she took his.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry I involved you.”

  “I’m not sorry.” She wasn’t. Something about Nash touched her deeply.

  Reaching out, he stroked her cheek and then he pushed her hair behind her ear. “You are so sweet,” he murmured, and then he leaned in.

  Cassie didn’t move away. Moments later his lips were on hers, creating a fire much more dangerous than the one that was snapping at logs in the fireplace. She knew this kiss could get her in big trouble, but she still responded to it, responded to him. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and Nash brought her closer.

  Suddenly, however, reality seemed to hit them both. As Cassie tore away, Nash leaned back, too, and rubbed his hand down over his face.

  Then he gazed at her with questions in his eyes. “What was that?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered.

  Nash rose to his feet. “I’d better
go, for both our sakes. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” she said with determination, knowing that was best for both of them. But as Nash left her room and the fire still burned, she knew they weren’t done with each other yet.

  Chapter Six

  That night after dinner out, Nash went to his room. But he was restless. He didn’t feel like staring at his laptop screen, either to work or to stream a movie. He couldn’t forget about that kiss with Cassie. It had practically melted his boots.

  He decided to search her out because maybe they should talk about it. He’d seen a lot of denial in his line of work, and it didn’t solve anything. Sure, he could deny the kiss and Cassie could deny the kiss and they could walk around like it had never happened. But whenever they looked at each other, whenever they were around each other, it would be there.

  First he went downstairs to find her. But she wasn’t in the kitchen or the guest area, or out on the porch. Should he go back to the scene of the crime, so to speak?

  But the door to her suite was closed and when he rapped, she didn’t answer.

  He called softly, “Cassie?”

  Either she wasn’t inside or she was ignoring him. Still, from what he knew about her so far, he didn’t think she’d do that. There was one other place she could be. After he jogged up the stairs, he took time to notice what he’d been in too much of a hurry to see before. Down at the end of the hall the attic stairs were pulled down. She’d probably escaped for a while to paint. Should he bother her?

  At least they’d have privacy up there to talk without him entering her suite. That might be good.

  The stairs creaked as he climbed them, so she heard him coming. She had a white craft light positioned over her painting. When she looked over her shoulder and saw him, she didn’t smile. Was she remembering their kiss?

  Once again, he glanced around the room at all of the paintings. The landscapes were different from anybody else’s he’d ever seen. They were bright and cheerful and would warm up any room. There were a few abstracts and he had to smile at the riot of colors. They reminded him of her house.