Her Good Fortune

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Okay,” she murmured to the telephone. “I’m going to make this really easy for you, Jack.”

  Picking up the receiver, she began to dial another number.

  Patrick Fortune thoughtfully regarded the young woman walking into his office that Tuesday afternoon. She looked pale, but other than that, even more exceptional than the last time he had seen her. There was a fire in her eyes that had been missing then. He wondered if it had to do with his son. He certainly hoped so.

  “I’ll call you back, dear,” he told his wife. “Yes, I love you, too.”

  Hearing him, Gloria found herself wishing that Jack had taken after his father in the most important things.

  Patrick gestured to the antique chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat,” he invited, then peered more closely at her. “You look a little pale, Gloria, would you like some water?”

  “No, thank you. It was just the ride up in the elevator,” she explained.

  Although, if she were being honest, she’d have to admit that she’d been feeling out of sync before she’d even set foot in it. She blamed it on Jack. He’d thrown her entire system off ever since the elevator incident.

  With the carelessness of a man who was accustomed to being the center of female attention, he’d wantonly yanked her into a space where she was utterly vulnerable, dreaming dreams that would never come true.

  Patrick filled in what he felt she’d left unsaid. “Afraid of another blackout? I assure you that it’s not going to happen again. I’ve seen to it that we have a new, state-of-the-art generator as backup, the kind they use in hospitals.” He studied her expression for a moment. “But you don’t really care about that, do you, Gloria?”

  “No, sir.” She took the box that contained Jack’s watch out of her purse and placed it on the desk. She saw Patrick eyeing it, though he made no attempt to reach for the box. “I was wondering if you could do me two favors. First, would you please give this to Jack?” She pushed the box farther toward him.

  Patrick raised a brow and Gloria nodded, silently permitting him to open the box. A quizzical expression came over his face. “This is his grandfather’s watch.” He knew how much the watch meant to his son. Had Jack given it to her as some kind of token of his affection? Was she breaking it off between them now for some reason?

  “I know,” she acknowledged. “He told me. I replaced the crystal for him. It broke,” she tagged on, hoping Jack’s father wouldn’t think to ask how his son had come to break it.

  It was obvious that he still didn’t understand why she was asking him to act as a go-between. “Why don’t you give it to him yourself?”

  Okay, here we go. “That’s the second favor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather go it alone from here on in. Meaning, without Jack,” she added in case he thought she was turning down his generous loan, as well. “I have enough business experience—”

  “No one’s doubting that, Gloria. I just wanted to take some of the burden off your shoulders.”

  She sat up a little straighter. “My shoulders are fine, sir. They’re stronger than they look.”

  A smile curved his thin lips. “Yes, I know.” When she looked at him, a confused expression on her beautiful face, he explained, “Your mother’s been filling me in a little about what you’ve gone through. And how you fought your way back. It couldn’t have been easy.” He looked genuinely impressed. “You’re to be commended.”

  Gloria looked down at her hands. “Thank you,” she murmured, embarrassed. And then she realized that Patrick had given her the perfect way out. “So you understand, I want to do this my way.”

  He understood more than she thought. Patrick shook his head. “Been giving you trouble, has he?”

  She began to protest, then thought there was no sense in it. The man could probably see right through her. “Yes.”

  Patrick laughed softly to himself. “He’s very stubborn. I’m afraid he gets that from me.”

  The difference was, when Jack’s father was being stubborn, he made you think it was your idea and not his that he was sponsoring. A rueful smile slid across her lips. “Someone forgot to give him your charm.”

  The compliment brought a smile to his eyes.

  Patrick could already envision the young jeweler as his daughter-in-law. The more he saw her, the more he learned about her, the more convinced he was that Gloria was just the kind of woman Jack needed in his life. His equal, an independent woman who could stand on her own two feet and yet could complete a union by her very presence. In a way, she reminded him a little of his own wife, Lacey. Jack could do a lot worse.

  His smile was warm as he regarded her. He’d been flattered by the best. But in this case, she sounded sincere. “Exercising a little of your own charm right now, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t know about that, I just—” She stopped abruptly as she saw Patrick Fortune raise his eyes to look at someone behind her. Shifting in her seat, for a split second she felt just the slightest bit dizzy. What she saw didn’t help any. Her eyes narrowed. “Traffic clear up for you?”

  “‘Traffic’?” Patrick echoed, looking from one to the other for an explanation. The expressway beyond his window was moving rapidly without a mishap in sight.

  “Yes.” She never took her eyes off Jack. “He missed our appointment this morning because he said there was too much traffic.”

  Now things were starting to make sense, Patrick thought. Right now, he was standing hip-deep in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel and if he didn’t leave quickly, he might be hit in the crossfire.

  Rising, he addressed his son although he was nodding at Gloria. “Gloria came to me, asking that you be removed as adviser.” He wasn’t about to cite her reasons. “I’ll let the two of you sort this out.”

  Removed as adviser. It was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he’d come by to propose—again—to his father. But the fact that she had asked for it stung, wounding his male pride.

  He felt as if he’d just been pushed away. Rejected. It wasn’t a pretty feeling.

  “There’s no need for you to leave—” Jack began to protest, only to have his father wave a hand at him. He didn’t notice the uneasiness on Gloria’s face.

  Patrick gave his son a meaningful look. “Oh, but I think there is. I think there’s plenty of need.” And then he smiled again. “Until later, Gloria.” With that, Patrick began to take his leave. As he walked past his son, he paused to say, “Oh, by the way, she wanted me to give you this.” He thrust the dark-blue box into his son’s hand and walked out of the office.

  Gloria couldn’t take her eyes off Jack. Pinpricks of anticipation ran along her body, jabbing at her. Jack was staring down at the box in his hand. And then, as he flipped it open to examine the contents, she saw anger crease his brow.

  He looked up at her. “You didn’t have to come here to leave this.”

  She was still feeling as though someone had borrowed her personality and left ashes in its wake. Hurt warred with anger and she let go of the temper she normally kept curbed.

  “Why shouldn’t I come here to drop it off? You certainly weren’t going to stop by to pick it up anytime soon. You were stuck in ‘traffic.’ Just where was this mythical traffic, Jack? I got here without encountering any. I guess they must all have been following you around because they certainly weren’t out on the road when I got on it.”

  Annoyed over being caught in the halfhearted lie he’d given her, Jack made an attempt at an explanation. “Gloria—”

  But Gloria was on her feet, her hands raised in front of her, ready to bat away anything he said.

  “No. I get it. I do,” she insisted. “You’re uncomfortable over what happened in the elevator.” Once she started, the words she’d been harboring in her heart just poured out. “I don’t know if you’re just ashamed of letting your guard down, or ashamed because you’d let it down with me—”

  “Gloria—”

  “B
ut it doesn’t matter. The end result is that you’re ashamed, or unnerved, or whatever you want to call it. Bottom line, being around me makes you uncomfortable. Well, you don’t have to be around me any longer. I just took care of that for you.”

  “I am not ashamed,” he finally managed to snap at her.

  That gave her absolutely no solace. “But you are uncomfortable.”

  He thought of lying, but she would probably know he was. “Yes.”

  That hurt more than she’d expected, even though she’d been the one to say it first. “Fine, so we understand each other—” Turning on her heel, her stomach churning and her head pounding, she headed for the door.

  Jack knew he should just let her go. In the long run, that would be easier and they’d both get a little peace. But something inside him wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t want her going, not like this. Not without some kind of an explanation. It was important that she understand why he was uncomfortable.

  The thought almost made him laugh. Hell, how could she understand any of this when he was having trouble understanding it all himself?

  But even so, he moved swiftly, catching up to her at the door. His arm went out across the opening, barring her way. “No, we don’t. We don’t understand each other—”

  She gritted her teeth together. It occurred to him that he had never seen a woman look as magnificent as she did at this moment.

  “Get out of my way.” When he made no move to lower his arm, she told him, “I warn you, my brother taught me a lot of self-defense moves.”

  “Good for him.” Jack took a deep breath. If he didn’t say it now, he never would. “I was engaged once.”

  “What?” The idea was utterly foreign to her. She just couldn’t picture him making any kind of an emotional commitment.

  Couldn’t she?

  When she’d made love with him, she’d made love with the man she’d discovered beneath the gruff exterior, the man who didn’t ridicule her fears, but held her and tried to make her feel safe. And she had. For a short time, she had felt safe.

  Something told her she wasn’t going to want to hear what he had to tell her. Still, she couldn’t make herself push her way out. She had to hear what he was going to say. “Go on.”

  Each word felt as if he was pulling it out of some deep abyss. “It was while I was in college. Her name was Ann Garrison and I loved her.”

  Jealousy flashed through her like a pan fire. She clamped down a lid on it. “A lot?”

  Why was she torturing herself like this?

  Maybe it was because she needed him to say this to help her walk away, to make herself realize once and for all that there was no future with him.

  “A lot,” he echoed. She watched his eyes soften as he spoke of the woman he’d wanted to share his name. “She had this zest for life, this way of plunging into things.” He looked at her. “A lot like you.”

  The comparison both warmed her and chilled her heart. He’d loved someone. And it wasn’t her. Wouldn’t be her. “What happened?”

  “Along with her zest, she liked to party.” He paused, looking for the right words. He didn’t find them. The words that emerged from his mouth were blunt. And so was the pain. “And drink. She said that drinking just made her feel even happier.” The shrug that accompanied the words was helpless. “I was young, I figured she could handle it. I did.” Although, looking back, he’d consumed a great deal less than Ann had. “She, um, wanted to go for a ride one evening after having more than her share of margaritas at a local restaurant.”

  Each word was painful, filled with thorns that ripped at his throat as he uttered them. “At first, I told her no. I even tried to take the keys away from her, but she insisted she was fine and that I was worrying too much. I did worry when it came to her,” he admitted. He should have stuck to his guns instead of indulging her. That was always his mistake, indulging her. “So I went with her, thinking that my being there would somehow protect her.”

  How stupid could he have been? Jack upbraided himself. But when you were twenty-two, you thought you were immortal. He learned differently.

  He took a deep breath, then released it. “It didn’t. It didn’t protect her, or the driver in the truck she hit.” His voice quavered. “I doubt if she even saw it coming.” He remembered shouting a warning, but it had been too late. “She slammed into the truck head-on. I was knocked out.” As he spoke he relived the moment. Jack felt as if someone was sitting on his chest.

  “When I came to, the paramedics were putting her in a body bag. They put me in an ambulance. I was too hurt to stand up. I couldn’t get to her, couldn’t hold her one last time.” His voice threatened to crack and he paused, trying to gather himself together. He looked at Gloria. Were those tears in her eyes? He couldn’t tell. “Something died inside of me with Ann that night.” This was what he wanted her to understand. What couldn’t happen between them wasn’t her fault, it was his. “I can’t feel anything.”

  He was lying to her, she thought. She heard what he wasn’t saying. That the woman he loved had had a drinking problem. Just like her. Having her tell him that she’d had one, too, had brought back all his fears. In his own way, he probably hated her for stirring them all up again. For making him think of Ann.

  “I see.”

  Her words were almost inaudible. And strained. “I’m not sure you do,” Jack countered. He tried again. “I want to care about you, but—”

  “You’re afraid I’m going to get drunk and plow my car into someone.” She forced herself to freeze the anger she felt, afraid that it might spill out, red-hot, burning them both.

  “No,” he protested.

  She shook her head, stopping him from continuing. “I could always spot a liar, Jack. Maybe because I told so many lies myself while I was bingeing. Lies to spare other people. Lies to spare myself. In the end, they all come back to haunt you.”

  She looked at Jack, wishing he could see inside of her. Wishing she could make him believe what she was saying.

  “I’ve been sober for two years now and I have it under control. Cured? No. Tempted? Yes. When I’m stressed, upset, the craving comes back, whispering that if I just have this one drink, everything’s going to be all right, going to be rosy. But I know it’s not. And if I have that one drink, I know that I’m going to have to start all over again. I’m going to have to start counting again from day one. That’s too hard, too demeaning.” A small, sad smile curved her lips. “I’m a very competitive person, Jack. Ask anyone in my family. I don’t like starting all over again.”

  He caught her in a lie. It didn’t make him happy. “But you relocated your shop—”

  Gloria shook her head. Was he trying to trip her up? The thought stung.

  “Not the same thing. Relocating doesn’t mean starting from scratch. I’ve got my clientele via the Internet and all those customers out in Hollywood. They’d do business with me if I relocated to the moon.”

  She knew they had no future, but she wanted him to understand this much about her. About the woman his father was backing.

  “I’m not going to drink again because I didn’t like myself then. I was weak, unable to handle things. Unable to stand up without a crutch. That wasn’t really standing, it was leaning.” Her eyes held his. “I like myself sober a lot better.”

  She believed what she was saying, he thought. He wanted to believe her, as well. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk being burned again. “Still, you could slip—”

  “And tomorrow might never come,” she countered. “We live in dangerous times, Jack. Everything we see around us might be gone in a matter of hours, you never know. It’s up to us to take our happiness where we find it.” She wasn’t getting through, she realized. The armor plating around his heart was too thick. She had to stop beating her head against it.

  “I’m sorry you lost Ann, really sorry you went through all that, but I’m not about to spend each day trying to convince you that I’m not Ann. That’s not a battle I’m ready to ta
ke on.”

  His face hardened. “I’m not asking you to.”

  “Good, then we understand each other—finally,” she added. She looked at the arm that was still barring her way. “Now, are you going to lower your arm or do I have to crouch to get under it?”

  He said nothing for a moment that stretched out so long she thought it was going to snap like a thin thread. In her heart, she kept hoping that Jack would pick a third alternative to the ones she’d given him. That he’d tell her she was right, that he was wrong and that he wanted to try again. That she meant enough to him for him to want to try again.

  When he dropped his arm, allowing her to leave, she thought her heart was going to drop into her stomach. She could feel it tying itself up into a huge, unmanageable knot.

  With her head held high, she walked out. Biting her lip to keep the tears back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  G loria had been carrying around the small, innocuous-looking box in her purse for almost a week now, unable to open it and put it to use. Unable to face what might be the possible results.

  But it was time to face things now.

  Yesterday had marked the grand opening of her store and Jack hadn’t come by. Not at all. He hadn’t even bothered to call. Oh, he’d sent her flowers, big, beautiful pink roses, two dozen in an overwhelming arrangement. They’d been accompanied by a generic note that read “Good luck” and could have been sent to his shoemaker with the same amount of warmth it generated.

  A single flower with a handwritten note would have meant infinitely more.

  Everyone else she knew had stopped by. Her parents, her sisters and brother, old friends, even Patrick Fortune—and she knew his schedule was packed to the limit.

  So when Jack didn’t even bother to pick up the phone to call her with some lame excuse as to why he couldn’t make it, she knew she had to face the fact that whatever was between them was over before it had ever had a chance to really take root.

  Except, perhaps, for one thing.