A Fortune in Waiting

by Michelle Major

  Once some of her initial tension had disappeared, she’d been funny and flirtatious. He wanted more of that. He wanted to know the name of anyone who had dared to call her fat, when her body was perfect in every way. He’d wanted to hear about how she’d been raised and if being the child of a single mother had made her into the person she was today, as it had him.

  “Would you like a tour of the project site?” he blurted, trying to think of something—anything—to keep her with him. Yes, he had plenty of work he was ignoring. But right now all he cared about was convincing Francesca to give him a few more minutes of her time. As she mulled over how to answer, he moved behind the desk and grabbed the 3D model of Austin Commons off a shelf. “We’re not too far on the building process, but this will show you the overall vision.”

  She stepped forward and drew in a small breath. “It’s cool,” she whispered, “like a real-life dollhouse.”

  Keaton smiled. If she wanted to compare hours of developing renderings in order to transfer the computer-aided design files to scale to be printed with the firm’s highly detailed 3D printer to building a child’s dollhouse, he’d let her. “A really precisely scaled dollhouse,” he murmured.

  “I sound silly,” she said, making a face. “I know it’s not as simple as a dollhouse.”

  He pushed the pie box to one side of the table and set the model in the center. Francesca picked up their two empty plates, forks and napkins and dumped them into the trash bin before returning to his side.

  “Can I touch it?” she asked then gave a muffled laugh. “The model, I mean.”

  He managed to keep a straight face as he answered, “Of course.”

  “Did you always know you wanted to be an architect?” She placed one finger on the edge of the paper roof and bent so that she was at eye level with his design.

  “For as long as I can remember, I liked to build things. My mum worked in a manufacturing plant and she’d bring all different sizes of cardboard boxes home for me. I created elaborate cardboard cities that spanned the length of the living room. Mum was quite patient.” He crouched down so he had the same view as Francesca. “I didn’t play with dollhouses, but those boxes were an early version of what I’m doing here.”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “Yes,” he answered but Keaton wasn’t talking about the model.

  She turned her head, so close that he could see the golden flecks around the edges of her eyes. It would be so easy to lean in and brush his mouth against hers. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip and he had to stifle a groan.

  “I’d like to see the rest,” she said softly.

  Keaton figured he must be the biggest pervert on the planet, because everything that came out of Francesca’s mouth sounded like sexual innuendo. He did his best to tamp down the need for her that surged through him like a raging river. If she was spooked by an off-hand comment about dinner, all the other things he wanted to say would terrify her to pieces.

  He forced himself to straighten and held out a hand. “Let’s find you a hard hat and we’ll begin the tour.”

  Chapter Five

  “You asked him if you could touch it?” Ciara asked later that afternoon, stifling a laugh.

  Francesca groaned. “Everything that came out of my mouth made me sound like I was desperate for sex.”

  “Did you tell him how big it looked?” Ciara giggled. “Men like to talk about size.”

  “Stop,” Francesca shouted, even though her friend was sitting right beside her on the sofa. Francesca was working the dinner shift at Lola May’s so she had stopped home after the tour with Keaton to change clothes and grab some food. “You’re making it worse.”

  “It doesn’t actually sound too bad,” her roommate answered. “You brought him one of your scrumptious pies and engaged in a little harmless flirting.”

  “He kind of hinted that he’d like to cook dinner for me.”

  “Did you say yes?” Ciara asked. “A thousand times yes?” she added, quoting their favorite Jane Austen movie remake.

  “Not exactly,” Francesca admitted. “I kind of almost bolted for the door.”

  She let out a yelp when Ciara gave her a hard shove. “That man likes you with a capital L. I’d even use the other L word.”

  “Ciara, stop.”

  “Lust, Frankie,” Ciara clarified with a wink. “I’m talking about lust. You’ve got to pull your head out of your—”

  “My head is just fine where it is,” Francesca argued.

  Ciara sniffed and flipped a lock of glossy hair over her shoulder. Francesca had given up comparing her mass of blond curls with Ciara’s silky straight mane years ago. They were opposites in looks, but Francesca knew her friend had similar issues with men, so Ciara understood Francesca’s reluctance to get involved in a relationship again.

  “I’m not talking about heavy-duty commitment,” Ciara continued, as if reading Francesca’s mind. “I mean a few fun dates and maybe a little swapping of spit for good measure.”

  Francesca cringed. “That’s gross.”

  “I can guarantee nothing about it would be gross with Keaton.”

  Francesca thought about the moment in his office earlier today when their faces had been so close she could make out the beginning hint of the day’s stubble across his jaw. She’d wanted him to kiss her but had also been terrified that he might and she wouldn’t measure up.

  “Lou is the only man I’ve ever...you know.” She didn’t regret her inexperience but could almost guarantee Keaton normally dated women far more worldly than her.

  “Lou the Louse was a boy,” Ciara answered. “Or at best a man-child. He could barely blow his nose if you weren’t holding the tissue. Keaton is a man. He’ll know how to treat a woman. He’d be good for you, Frankie. Having some fun would be good for you.”

  Ciara liked to throw the word fun at Francesca like she was drowning in an ocean of boring and fun was her only lifeline.

  “Doesn’t it sound like fun to spend four years traveling the country with an indie-rock band?” Francesca asked, picking at a loose thread in the sofa’s seam. “My time with Lou was supposed to be a great adventure, but there was precious little fun in it for me.”

  Ciara pressed her lips together then whispered, “That is not your fault.”

  “It was my fault that I stayed for so long,” Francesca argued. “Now I’ve got my head on straight and my life together. Finally. I have a plan, Ci. Fun is all well and good, but it’s not going to give me a stable future.”

  “You’re too young to be thinking about stability.”

  Francesca almost laughed at that comment. She’d been thinking about stability since she was a young girl. Her mom had had a difficult time holding down steady work, and as a result, for several years they’d bounced around to several low-rent apartments in shoddy neighborhoods. Francesca had attended five different schools before landing at the high school where she’d met Lou. She’d been blinded by his reputation and appeal for far too long but now she knew the only way to true happiness was depending on herself.

  “At least promise you won’t shut him down without giving the two of you a chance,” Ciara pleaded.

  “Fine,” Francesca agreed. “It’s not like I have a ton of free time, anyway.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to get downstairs. Have fun tonight.” She gave Ciara a quick hug and stood. “Wear your heaviest jacket. The temperature was dropping fast when I came home.”

  “What would I do without you to take care of me?” Ciara asked with a laugh. “Miles, Jaycee and I are going to dinner, then hitting that new dance club over on Martin Street. Why don’t you join us after you close?”

  “I need to study,” Francesca answered automatically.

  “Not every night.” Ciara frowned. “You can take a little time off.” />
  As close as the two women were, this was an ongoing argument, and Francesca knew better than to think she could win it. “Maybe,” she said.

  Ciara nodded. “One of these days maybe is going to turn into yes.”

  After Francesca head toward the stairs, she dabbed on a bit of lip-gloss. She didn’t usually bother with makeup when she worked—or at all—but the thought that Keaton would be eating at the diner tonight gave her an extra incentive.

  It was almost eight before he walked into the restaurant. She was taking the drink order of a party of four, but felt his gaze and glanced over. He went to a corner table in her section and raised a brow, as if asking her permission.

  She gave a small nod and returned her attention to the foursome. A few minutes later, she approached Keaton’s table and set down a glass of water.

  “The special tonight is lasagna,” she told him, “so I’ll try not to spill tomato sauce all over you.” She tested out a grin, feeling her smile widen as Keaton returned it with one of his own. “That stuff stains.”

  “It would be worth it if I got another pie for my trouble.” He reached out and placed one finger on her wrist. “And an afternoon with you.”

  The butterflies were back in full force at his touch. They swooped and fluttered around her belly and up into her chest, making it difficult to gather a breath.

  “Maybe we’ll have to arrange that without the mess,” she told him. Maybe with Keaton meant something different than it had when she’d said the word to Ciara. It meant yes.

  He ordered the lasagna and a salad. Francesca managed to bring both to him without incident. She also brought him a slice of Lola May’s Dutch apple pie, and he lingered over the dessert until the restaurant was empty except for him.

  Just before Lola May was ready to lock the front door, Ciara burst through with her posse of friends. Francesca had hung out with Miles and his girlfriend, Jaycee, several times when they’d come up to the apartment before a night out. They were boisterous and energetic, always on the lookout for the next good time.

  They were like a lot of people Francesca knew in Austin. The town was a unique mix of cowboy culture, a hip urban vibe and a bit of the eclectic strangeness that gave the town its famous slogan—“Keep Austin Weird.” To Francesca it had always been home, but sometimes she felt like she wasn’t quite cool enough to deserve the label of Austinite.

  “It’s freezing out there,” Jaycee said, jumping up and down.

  “It feels more like Chicago than Austin,” Miles agreed, clasping his hands together and blowing on them.

  Ciara walked up to Francesca and wrapped her in a frigid hug. Normally the temps hovered in the midfifties during the winter in Austin, so it was a big deal when it dipped to the freezing mark. “We stopped by to see if you want to come out with us.”

  Francesca shook her head. “I’m going to help Lola May close up and...” She darted a glance at Keaton, who was casually watching the scene with Ciara and her friends.

  “Maybe you’ll get a better offer.” Ciara wiggled her brows. “I won’t be late,” she said and gave Francesca another hug. “Wait up because I definitely want to hear what happens.”

  “Be safe,” Francesca said and realized she sounded more like Ciara’s mother than her best friend. She really had forgotten how to have fun.

  “Lola May,” Ciara shouted. “Is it okay if I grab a couple cookies?”

  “You betcha, sweetie.” Lola May came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “The chocolate chips will keep you warm tonight.”

  Ciara laughed and took two individually wrapped cookies from the covered cake stand on the diner’s counter. “Dancing the night away is what’s going to keep me warm.”

  After blowing Francesca a quick kiss, she followed her friends out into the night. A moment later, Miles poked his head back into the diner. “Y’all have to see this,” he shouted. “It’s snowing!”

  Lola May let out a joyful cry and practically ran to the door. “I lived the first five years of my life in Michigan,” she said as she passed Keaton’s table. “I never stopped missing the snow.”

  He slowly stood and turned to Francesca. “I take it Austin doesn’t see a lot of snow?”

  “Hardly ever. What about London?”

  “Very little, although it snowed on Christmas right before I moved here. Maybe it’s a sign.” Sparks zipped up and down her spine at the way he looked at her.

  “We’d better go out with everyone,” she whispered. “Wouldn’t want to miss this.”

  “No indeed.” He held out a hand. “Shall we?”

  Swallowing back her nerves, she slipped her fingers into his. He held her hand gently, but she felt the contact all the way to her toes.

  The cold air took her breath away as they exited the restaurant. “It’s real,” she whispered then giggled as she watched Lola May spin in a circle in the middle of the street.

  Ciara and her friends were already halfway down the block, cheering and laughing as they walked in a tight group. The whole neighborhood had an otherworldly quality to it tonight. Residents and business owners from nearby buildings filed out into the street to take part in this rare occasion. A dozen heads tipped up to the sky, and Francesca’s was one of them. She lifted her face and closed her eyes, loving the feel of the icy flurries melting on her skin.

  Keaton interlaced their fingers and lifted her hand to his mouth, gently kissing her knuckles. “You are so gorgeous,” he murmured.

  Francesca’s face heated in response to the compliment and she could almost feel the snowflakes sizzle as they landed on her.

  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he told her. “But I can’t not say it. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  Maybe it was something about the rareness of a Texas snowfall, but a thrill of anticipation—as opposed to nerves—shot through her at his words. “Thank you.” She went onto tiptoe to brush a quick kiss against his cheek. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share this moment with than you.”

  Someone opened a window in the storefront next to Lola May’s and a soft country ballad spilled out into the night.

  “May I have this dance?” Keaton asked. When she nodded he spun her under his arm and then pulled her closer.

  Francesca loved the feeling of his hand splayed across her back, the heat radiating off him warming her in the cold night air. They didn’t speak for several minutes, only swayed under the streetlight. The rest of the neighborhood moved around them, but Francesca felt like she and Keaton were suspended in time, alone in their own intimate bubble.

  The song ended and another—a fast-paced country anthem—took its place. Francesca and Keaton broke apart as Lola May walked over to them.

  “It’s sticking,” she said, pure joy in her tone.

  The street and sidewalk were clear, but snow lay like a thin, white blanket over the patch of grass in front of the apartment building a few doors down.

  Francesca laughed. “This almost counts as a blizzard in Austin.”

  “I’m going to finish in the kitchen,” Lola May told her. “I don’t want to be driving home too late. People in Texas lose their ability to steer when the weather gets bad.”

  “I’ll be in early tomorrow to help you prep,” Francesca told her, and Lola May patted her shoulder before returning to the diner.

  Already the flurries were coming down slower. “I think the blizzard is almost at an end,” she said with a sigh.

  Keaton leaned close to her. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  Fun.

  Tonight had been fun.

  Francesca felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She had a momentary urge to chase after Ciara and reveal to her friend that Francesca hadn’t totally forgotten how to have fun.

  Ins
tead she lifted her gaze to meet Keaton’s light eyes and asked, “Would you like to go for coffee with me sometime?”

  His eyes widened for a second and she quickly added, “I know you’re busy with work and the Fortunes so—”

  “I’d love to,” he interrupted. “How about tomorrow? I can make time tomorrow.” He let out a soft laugh. “I can make time whenever you want.”

  Oh. Well. That was something.

  Her heart raced in her chest at his words. She was used to fitting in to other people’s lives and schedules. But this man wanted to make time for her.

  “I have an early class,” she told him, “but I’ll be free around eleven. Could you meet me on campus? We can take a tour, and I’ll make you an unofficial Longhorn.” She paused then added, “It will be fun.”

  “Sounds like it,” he answered. “Eleven works. Text me where to meet you.” Once again, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too,” she breathed then glanced over her shoulder. “I should go and help Lola May finish up.”

  Keaton nodded. “Until tomorrow then,” he said and waited for the front door of the diner to close behind her before turning and heading down the sidewalk.

  Francesca could hardly wait for tomorrow to arrive.

  * * *

  Keaton checked his watch. 10:45. He was standing at The Tower, the colloquial name given to the Main Building in the center of the University of Texas at Austin campus. It was only a short walk from the corner where he was supposed to meet Francesca in fifteen minutes. He didn’t want to seem too eager and take the chance of making her nervous.

  Her unexpected invitation to coffee had been the best thing to happen to him in as long as he could remember. It was still difficult to know exactly why spending time with the adorable waitress had so quickly become entwined with his happiness, but he didn’t bother to pretend otherwise.

  Maybe it was her unique combination of spunky and shy that had taken hold of him. She was a breath of fresh air, someone who didn’t want anything from him. Most of the women he’d known in London had been quite forward in their advances. As word spread about his connection to the Fortune family here in the States, he wasn’t sure whom to trust. Coming from his simple background, he found it sometimes a challenge to sort out his newfound notoriety. Talking to a reporter like Ariana Lamonte was straightforward enough, but it was the new supposed friends that worried him. It was difficult to know what motivated them to make claims on his time.