Nancy Robards Thompson

Fortune's Prince Charming


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he said. “Wouldn’t a mother know if her son died?”

      “I know, right? Apparently, Ben located Jacqueline in a memory-care unit of a nursing home. I think she is suffering from some form of dementia.”

      Joaquin was a good listener and Zoe appreciated it. He drew in a breath the way people do when they’re weighing whether or not to say something.

      When he didn’t speak, Zoe asked, “What?”

      “I can see that you are one hundred percent convinced that your father is telling the truth. But I still don’t understand why you are asking me about the Fortunes.”

      “I’m not trying to dig up more evidence, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

      “No, of course not.”

      Zoe shrugged. “I guess I’m just curious. But, you know, let’s just say even on the very far-flung chance my father was related to the Fortunes and for some reason he wanted to keep it from us... A—why would he hire you with your connection to that family? And, B—I mean, he’s clearly made a new life for himself and he’s asked his kids to drop it. I don’t see why they’re going against his wishes, continuing to doubt him and trying to dig up new evidence that proves he’s lying. If he says he’s not a Fortune, I think the family should respect that and leave the past in the past. What difference does it make who he used to be?”

      As Joaquin sat back in his chair, his eyes darkened a shade.

      “Are you asking my opinion or are those rhetorical questions?” he said.

      “I’d love to hear your opinion,” Zoe said.

      Joaquin took in a breath and let it out slowly, as if weighing his words. “Personally, I believe a family has a right to know their roots and where they came from, even if one person thinks he has a good reason for hiding the information. I think it’s better to get everything out into the open.”

      Now there was a faraway look in Joaquin’s eyes. His expression and his words hinted that there might be something personal going on there.

      “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” she ventured.

      “Me?” He shook his head. “We’re not talking about me. I’m just saying I believe it’s not right to withhold important information like that.”

      For a moment he looked as if he was going to add something, but the moment came and went. Instead he said, “I also think it’s nice the way you look out for your father. Everything else aside, your dad must have done something very right to raise a daughter like you.”

      Her heart did a strange little cha-cha-cha in her chest. Had Joaquin just complimented her? Maybe this thing she felt for him wasn’t hopeless, after all.

      * * *

      Friday morning Joaquin arrived at Cowboy Country USA, a Western-themed amusement park that had opened a year ago in Horseback Hollow, ready to meet his coworkers at the Sagebrush Pavilion inside the park.

      He’d made the six-hour trip from Austin to Horseback Hollow after work yesterday evening. He’d arrived at his father, Orlando Mendoza’s, house around eleven o’clock, spent the night and had made it to the team-building retreat as everyone was finishing breakfast.

      His coworkers had boarded a bus at the office just after noon the day before and had spent the night in Cowboy Country’s Cowboy Condos. Joaquin had been relieved when Steffi-Anne hadn’t hassled him about skipping the overnight portion of the trip. Sometimes the woman could be bossy and just this side of relentless, but at least she seemed to know when to back off and recognize that he was meeting her in the middle.

      Inside the park’s gates, he made his way down Cowboy Country’s Main Street, past the old-fashioned restaurants and themed refreshment stands and gift shops. As he approached a rough-hewn wooden gate indicated on the map that Steffi-Anne had provided with the invitation, he heard gunshots and a loud round of whooping and hollering. About twenty yards down Main Street, a couple of cowboys, one dressed in white from his hat to his boots, the other clad in all black, tumbled out of the saloon, the doors swinging behind them.

      “That’s the Main Street Shootout show,” said a park attendant who was dressed like a cowgirl and standing at the gates. “Right on schedule. Feel free to get closer if you’d like, but I must warn you, partner, they take innocent bystanders hostage from time to time.”

      He wondered if everyone who worked here had to stay in character day in and day out.

      “Actually, I’m here for the Robinson Tech event. According to this map, I’m supposed to meet someone here who will point me in the direction of the Sagebrush Pavilion. Am I in the right place? Are you the person?”

      “You certainly are and I certainly am. May I see your invitation, please? And I will direct you the rest of the way.”

      He scrolled up on his smartphone to the invite page and handed it to the woman. Finding it satisfactory, she handed him a map of the park that had his route sketched out with arrows. She opened the gate and ushered him through.

      “Just follow the map and it will take you where you need to go. The Sagebrush Pavilion is right behind the executive office buildings. You can’t miss it.”

      She shut the gate behind him and he was transported from the nineteenth-century cowboy town to the more modern backstage area. There, people not in costume went in and out of flat-roofed white buildings that looked like the portables that had served as extra classrooms when he was in elementary school.

      In the distance he could still see the top of a huge roller coaster and hear the delighted screams of revelers as it turned a cart full of people upside down on a loop-de-loop.

      Better them than me, he thought.

      Then again, even though he hated roller coasters, maybe he would rather be upended on a theme-park ride than jump through the hoops of team-building exercises.

      He hated rah-rah sessions like this. The forced proximity to coworkers with whom he had nothing in common had him grinding his teeth. Did retreats like this really work? Did people really grow closer after being strong-armed into mandatory fun and games?

      Steffi-Anne had organized a full day of obligatory amusement for the Robinson Tech crew. She’d provided him with a schedule when he’d changed his RSVP to yes on the condition that he was released from the bus ride and overnight portion of the program. Actually, she’d thrown him a bonus when she’d told him he could arrive after breakfast because it was only provided to those who were staying in the Cowboy Condos. He certainly hadn’t argued.

      His dad had been glad to see him, even if it had been late when Joaquin had rolled in. They’d chatted for a few minutes before making plans to meet for dinner tonight at the Coyote Steak House just outside the Cowboy Country main gates. By that time, his coworkers would be on the bus and headed for home.

      Cowboy Country was probably a fun place, but it was quite a haul from Austin. He wondered why Gerald had chosen it for the retreat.

      He thought about what Zoe had told him about her father’s possible Fortune connection. Since Horseback Hollow was full of Fortune family members, it really didn’t make sense that Gerald would agree to have the event here if he had anything to hide. Then again, the boss probably hadn’t coordinated the event, and if the Fortune connection bothered Gerald, he probably wouldn’t have hired him, either, given his own ties to the family. In addition to Cisco marrying into the family, his father was involved with Josephine Fortune Chesterfield. In fact, she would be joining them for dinner this evening. She was a wonderful woman and since his father seemed pretty serious about her, Joaquin was eager to get to know her.

      However he also had some things he wanted to discuss with his father. Matters he had pushed under the rug for far too long. Funny, Zoe’s confiding in him had actually brought his own family issues to the forefront.

      What was behind his father’s decades-long estrangement with his brother