A Date With Fortune

by Susan Crosby

  “Family business.”

  “Can you stick around after the shoot? We could catch a drink, although I’d kind of set my sights on the candy maker and thought I might tempt her away from her shop for dinner.”

  “She’s busy.”

  Morris nodded. “I figured this wouldn’t be the right time. I know she’s got a lot to do, but I could set up something for the weekend.”

  “Let me clarify. She’s taken.”

  He frowned. “By you?”

  “That’s right.”

  His jaw went hard. “Well, they do say opposites attract.”

  “Clichés are born out of truths.”

  Michael couldn’t decide whether Morris was jealous, angry or frustrated. “Well, she’s a sweet young thing. Congratulations.”

  Was he trying to imply she was too young for Michael? Maybe she was. Twelve years was a big gap.

  “Why are you here, Morris?” Michael asked as the man was about to move on.

  His brows drew together. “I’m doing a story on your girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend. That was a title he hadn’t used before. “How did it happen?”

  “The usual way. Press release, do a little research, decide she’d make a good subject this time of year. What’re you getting at?”

  “My father had nothing to do with it?”

  Maybe because Michael was looking for it, he saw a flicker of guilt in Morris’s eyes, but he said, “I don’t work for your father.”

  “Which isn’t an answer. He does own a major telecommunications company, after all. He has contacts everywhere, but especially in Atlanta. I could see where an ambitious young journalist might want to find a home there.”

  Morris stayed silent.

  “Just make sure she doesn’t find out,” Michael said, low and harsh. “She thinks her particular skills are what drew you here. Don’t ever imply otherwise to her.”

  “Hi, Morris,” Felicity said, walking toward them, preventing Morris from responding.

  But Michael had his answer. His father was trying to interfere in his relationship with Felicity, no matter how many assurances he’d given the man that he wasn’t leaving the company or the city.

  “You look none the worse for wear,” Morris said, taking the necessary steps to meet her.

  “I have my schedule and great help. I understand you and Michael know each other.”

  “A small connection through his brother....”

  They went into the prep room, out of hearing range, the cameraman following them. Around Michael, the coffee shop customers eyed him curiously, then looked at the closed kitchen door and back to him again. He hadn’t hidden his anger well enough, he supposed. The warning he’d given Morris had been quiet but direct, his words not going beyond Morris, but his expression open to public viewing.

  Michael pushed his hair back, then walked out and kept walking, deciding he needed to cool off. He wouldn’t call his father now because he’d be back in the office tomorrow morning anyway.

  Why had he interfered? Had he offered Morris an incentive to woo Felicity away from Michael?

  After a few minutes he ended up at The Stocking Stitch. Unlike True Confections, it was open on Mondays. Sarah-Jane sat in front of a computer but no customers were in sight. He pushed open the door, feeling so far out of his element he stopped just inside, not wanting to go farther.

  “Michael!” She jumped up, started around the counter. “Is something wrong? Felicity—”

  “Is fine. She’s having her interview. I figured it might make her more nervous for me to be there.” He glanced around the store with its colorful displays of yarn, then was drawn to a photograph hanging on the wall, a superstar actress wearing a bikini. The photo was autographed to Sarah-Jane from her friend, Adriana St. Clair, with gratitude.

  Sarah-Jane came up beside him. “I crocheted that for her movie, Texas Made. Custom fit.”

  “Most men would consider custom fitting a bikini on Adriana St. Clair the best job in the world.”

  “So I’ve heard. I’ve had a lot of requests for special orders since then, and while the money is good, I decided it wasn’t something I wanted to do. Too much time away from home.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You and Felicity are both homebodies.”

  “Yes.”

  He knew she was waiting for him to come to the point. Why had he stopped in? She had to know he had a purpose, even though he hadn’t realized it himself until he was inside the shop.

  “I’ll make things easier for you, Michael,” she said, “because you’re obviously struggling. Wyatt told me he told you about what Felicity said, about wanting to marry you.”

  “I wondered if he would.”

  “Uh-huh.” She came closer, looked him in the eye. “I was thinking I should tell Felicity that you know. To even the playing field.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “I haven’t. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I asked her the other night if she still felt the same and she said she didn’t know.”

  Her words landed like a hard blow to his stomach. What had happened to change her mind? What had he done?

  “I see that bothers you,” she said, a kind of relieved satisfaction, although not triumph, in her voice and expression. She was looking out for her friend, that’s all. Michael not only approved, he appreciated it.

  “You’re armed with information, and she isn’t,” Sarah-Jane went on to say. “Because Felicity has gotten to know you in a way I haven’t, I have to trust that she’s seen an admirable side to you. Therefore, I’ve chosen to believe you are an ethical man, one who does the right thing. I’m counting on that.”

  “I can’t guarantee she won’t get hurt.” Nor that he wouldn’t.

  “We all get hurt at some time or other. As long as it’s not intentional....”

  She left him to fill in the blank.

  “She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.

  “‘Different’ can be fun for the short term.”

  The shop bell rang, indicating someone’s arrival.

  “Saved by the bell,” Sarah-Jane murmured.

  Michael decided to head back to True Confections, figuring the interview would be done by now. The TV station van was still parked out front, the cameraman stowing his gear in the back.

  “It’ll air during the seven o’clock hour tomorrow morning,” Morris was saying to Felicity when Michael went inside. “Let me know what you think. I’d especially like to know if your business increases as a result.”

  “I will. Thank you for making it painless for me.”

  “You’re a natural.” Morris glanced at Michael then as he came up and slipped an arm around Felicity’s waist.

  “Good to see you again, Mike. Please tell Scott I said hello.”

  “I will.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Felicity went limp. “I am so glad that’s over.”

  “But it went okay?”

  “It felt good actually.” Her eyes sparkled. “He bit into one of the cayenne truffles and his eyes watered. He couldn’t talk for a few seconds.”

  “Wimp.”

  She laughed. “I need to keep packing boxes. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got a flight in a couple hours.” He hoped to get home in time to have a conversation with his father.

  “Oh, I hadn’t realized you were leaving so soon.” The disappointment in her eyes made him think about Sarah-Jane’s words, how Felicity had changed her mind about him being the man she wanted to marry. Maybe she’d just been getting Sarah-Jane off her back about it. Maybe—

  He stopped the thought. He shouldn’t want her to feel that way, because marriage wouldn’t happen.

  “You’re going to be busy morning to night,” he said. “I figured I’d just be in the way.”

  She took his hand and walked him to the kitchen. She’d sent Liz and the helpers on their lunch break.

&nb
sp; Felicity looped her arms around his neck. “So, I won’t see you until Thursday? Valentine’s Day?”

  “That’s the plan.” He couldn’t stay, even if she asked. He had work to do, plus he needed to confront his father. “May I ask a favor of you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you pack a small box of assorted truffles for me to take to my mother?”

  “I’d be glad to. Anything else?”

  He slid his arms around her, bringing her closer. “On Thursday, would you wear the red dress you wore on our first date?”

  She smiled slowly and nodded. “What else should I bring? What kind of weather should I expect?”

  “It doesn’t matter much because we’ll only be there overnight. Any chance you could leave before your five-thirty closing?”

  “Actually, I could. Liz could oversee the last-minute crush of sales, and I’ll get help for her. The deliveries will all be made by noon, so that’ll be done.”

  “Let’s plan to leave here around one, then.”

  She kissed him as her answer. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, dropping onto her heels again.

  “Not more than I am.”

  She packed a box for him, then he gave her one last kiss. “I’ll call you later.”

  Chocolate and mint, he thought, pressing his lips together as he walked out, tasting her. He’d taken his pillow mints home with him, indulging in one per night, thinking of her as he ate it.

  During the flight home to Atlanta he shifted mental gears, leaving thoughts of Felicity behind and focusing on his father. They’d gone toe-to-toe before many times, but not over his personal life.

  “Is he in?” Michael asked his father’s executive assistant when he reached the office. He didn’t wait for an answer, figuring she would stop him if his father was busy or gone.

  “The wandering son returns,” his father said.

  Michael kept walking until he reached the desk. He leaned on his fists, looming over his father. “Stay out of my personal life or I will quit.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Cut the crap. You sent Morris Sheffield to try to derail my relationship with Felicity. He wasn’t successful, by the way.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  I’m not wrong, Michael thought. Morris had guilt written all over his face. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh, I sent Morris, all right. He always was easily manipulated. Got him an interview at CNN for his trouble. But I didn’t send him to break up your relationship. I did it for her. To increase sales. To help her become successful.”

  Michael straightened. “What?”

  His father shrugged. “I had to check out someone who had you so hot and bothered. Figured her little business could use a boost, and I had the means to arrange it.”

  “Why would you be interested in her success?” Or failure, he added to himself. That could be his plan, too. Overwhelm her with business she couldn’t handle.

  “Because she’s important to you.”

  Michael still didn’t buy it. There was more his father wasn’t saying.

  John Michael came around his desk. He put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Don’t you think your happiness matters to me?”

  “I do, but—” How could increasing Felicity’s business result in more happiness for him? Michael thought. He needed to figure it out, try to think like his father.

  “There’s no but. You’re my oldest son, my heir.”

  But how would increasing Felicity’s business make a difference?

  His father dropped his hands and returned to his desk. “Are you ready for the negotiations tomorrow?”

  Shifting gears took a moment. “I am.”

  “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we succeed.”

  “I’ve got it, Dad. It’s under control.” Michael wondered briefly what it would be like not to be doubted. Not to have his abilities questioned. He’d successfully negotiated the buyouts of three companies. That should count for something.

  He headed for the door, turning around when he reached it. “Are you planning on retiring, Dad?”

  “I’m only sixty-three.”

  “I mean, ever.” He had no hobbies, no desire to take long trips with his wife as far as Michael knew.

  “I’ll probably die at my desk, son. Are you worried about how long you’ll have to wait to assume command?”

  He wanted to be in charge, wanted to make decisions he hadn’t been allowed to make on his own. Resentment over that had been brewing for a while, he realized. “Yes, I am worried about it. Wondering.”

  “You have a lot to learn yet.”

  Did he? Or did he just have a lot to learn about his father’s way of doing business? “I’ll see you later.”

  Michael didn’t go to his office but to his parents’ house to deliver the box of truffles.

  Michael had always thought Virginia Fortune was elegance personified. Her once-blond hair was now a stunning silver. She was as soft-spoken as John Michael was blunt. She gave unconditional love and provided a safe haven to all her children.

  “Well, hello, darling. What a wonderful surprise.” His mother hugged him. The scent of her perfume alone comforted him.

  “I brought you a gift. Happy early Valentine’s Day.”

  “Oh, my. Truffles. How lovely. Do you have a favorite?”

  He pointed to the triple chocolate. “Although I like them all.”

  They moved to the sofa to sit. After she raved about the chocolate, she settled back and eyed him thoughtfully. “So what brings my eldest child here? What’s troubling you?”

  He didn’t wonder how she knew that. She could read her children’s faces.

  “When you married Dad you’d just started a teaching career a thousand miles away. Was it hard for you to give that up? To leave your family?”

  “Things were different then. We didn’t have partnerships like so many couples have today. Men were heads of the families, and women went with them, wherever they went.”

  “You didn’t answer the question, Mom.”

  She smiled. “Yes, it was hard to leave my family, but I hadn’t been teaching long enough for it to be my career, so that wasn’t really an issue. Why do you ask? Are you in love, Michael?”

  “I’ve met someone I like a lot, but I can’t see it becoming more. She has her own business that she loves. I couldn’t ask her to give it up to move here. She would have to start over.”

  “And you wouldn’t give up yours for her?”

  He looked straight into his mother’s eyes. “I don’t know. If I left it would be because I wanted to do something different, not because of her.”

  “I see.” She put her hand in his. “Your father can be difficult. Challenging.”

  Understatements, both. “I guess I want to know if you have regrets.”

  “I have six beautiful children, and now I have grandchildren. I live in luxury, never having to worry about anything. How can I regret that?”

  She hadn’t answered his question, but maybe she couldn’t. To admit to regrets would make them real, when keeping them tamped down kept them at bay. She did have regrets. He could see that.

  “If you could go back and change anything, what would it be?” he asked her.

  “Oh, I’d probably make him be home with all of us a little more.”

  “He was an absentee father, even though he lived here.”

  “You know, Michael, if someone is doing the best they can, we can’t criticize them because they don’t meet our expectations. He provided, and he loves you all.”

  But he didn’t make memories, not like Felicity’s parents made with her. The stories she told—

  “I hope I get to meet this young woman who’s got you reflecting on your life,” his mother said. “Can you stay for dinner?”

  He saw it then, her loneliness. She would never admit it, nor would she beg him to stay, even though she wanted him to accept her invitation.

 
“I’d love to have dinner with you.”

  She fixed him melt-in-your-mouth pork tenderloin, rice pilaf and asparagus. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Felicity in the kitchen, her pleasure in making dinner for him, her ease, her happiness when he told her how good it was. His mother was the same, taking pride in her work as a homemaker.

  Taking pride. That was the major common trait he and Felicity shared. They both took pride in their accomplishments. The biggest difference, perhaps, was that she’d created her own business, built it from a part-time specialty business of her aunt into a full-time, poised-to-go-big company.

  Michael envied what Felicity had done, but could he do the same? Did he really want to or was it a passing whim?

  He had a feeling he would have to make some big decisions soon.

  Chapter Nine

  On Tuesday morning, Felicity, Sarah-Jane and Liz propped themselves shoulder-to-shoulder on Felicity’s prep table to watch the interview on her tiny television. Liz provided the breakfast, Sarah-Jane provided the commentary and Felicity provided the nervous energy. She was in the middle, hands clenched and legs bouncing enough that Liz and Sarah-Jane each put a hand on her back, hoping to calm her.

  “It’s going to be fine, sweetheart,” Liz said.

  “Or you’re going to look like an idiot,” Sarah-Jane put in. “Either way it’ll be over.”

  Felicity laughed—a little. They’d already watched two short promos, during which Felicity groaned. “I look ridiculous. I never should’ve worn that hair ribbon. Why did you let me do that, Sarah-Jane?”

  “Because you would’ve told me to mind my own business. You’re the one with the fashion sense, not me.”

  “You look gorgeous,” Liz said. “The camera loves you.”

  “I don’t—”

  “It’s starting,” Sarah-Jane said.

  “Welcome to Red Rock, home of True Confections, a candy shop nestled inside Break Time, which is a local coffee house. Master confectioner Felicity Thomas recently won a statewide competition for two of her truffle creations.” The camera panned the display case, then focused on Felicity standing behind it.