Lost in a Stallion's Arms. Deborah Mello Fletcher

his brother’s question. “Carol, tell her I’m in a meeting with Luke and I’ll call her back as soon as we’re free, please.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      The intercom’s soft hum quieted as the woman in the exterior office severed the connection. Matthew turned his attention back to his brother.

      “And to answer your first questions, yes, I do think you sometimes take your wealth for granted. But that’s because you don’t have any memories of when we didn’t have money, not like the rest of us do. It’s all you know. Plus John and Mark spoiled you. You’ve always had everything you needed and most things you wanted.

      “But no, you are not selfish. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, I have a ton of work to get through, and I’m sure you have a long list to complete yourself. I’ll see you at the house later,” Matthew said, dismissing him.

      Luke smiled as his brother moved back to his desk and sat down. Matthew was good, but he wasn’t that good. He’d evaded Luke’s question, but curiosity was a strange beast, always intruding where it was least wanted. The younger man persisted. “So, you’re not going to answer my last question?”

      Matthew focused his gaze on the pile of papers atop his desk, feigning interest in the stack of manila folders. “What question was that?”

      “What’s Vanessa calling you for?”

      Matthew looked up, tossing his brother an easy smile. “I guess once you leave I’ll be able to call her back and find out, won’t I?”

      Luke laughed, heading toward the door, his brother’s smug expression following him out the exit.

      Chapter 6

      Between lending a hand in the recreational room with the younger kids, mentoring their older siblings with homework projects, driving senior citizens to doctor’s appointments and helping parents navigate government aid and applications, Luke spent a lot of time asking questions and familiarizing himself with the issues that were relevant to the neighborhood. And for each question he asked about what was needed and what was wanted, he was asking two questions about Joanne.

      Had Joanne been even remotely aware that so many people were discussing her, Luke knew it would have been a problem. He lifted his gaze to stare at her across the room, watching as she sat in discussion with a group of teen girls about their college options.

      Since their last extended conversation, when Joanne had questioned his moral principles, she seemed to be avoiding him, or at least avoiding any in-depth conversations with him. Initially, Luke hadn’t been sure how to take her aloofness, but he was still intrigued. The woman absolutely fascinated him.

      Clearly, Joanne had issues with his wealth. Luke couldn’t help but wonder if it was because her own history had been so substantially modest. If what everyone said about her was true, Joanne hadn’t been blessed with the privileged life that had been advantaged to him.

      Luke admired that Joanne had risen above the hand that had been dealt to her to be where she was today. Luke understood that without her will and determination and the strength of her convictions, her life could have followed a very different path. It was apparent that Joanne had challenged herself to do better, and failing had not been an option. Instinctively, Luke sensed that he knew exactly how to fix the issues between them. Joanne was clearly a woman who responded to a challenge, and Luke was intent on giving her one. The light-bulb moment had him grinning from ear to ear.

      Mrs. Woodrow, the octogenarian who sat beside him, chuckled into his ear, her voice low as if the two were conspiring together. “Don’t know that she ever been married or nothin’. Ain’t never seen her wit’ no man since I been comin’ here.”

      “Is that right?” Luke whispered back, dealing another hand of gin rummy.

      The old woman nodded. “Hear she live in ’dem apartments over on Fourth Street. You know the ones I’m talking ’bout, ’dem go’berment projects just befo’ you gets to the schoolhouse.”