“Zoe, Rachel tells me you had dinner with Josephine Fortune Chesterfield this weekend?” Ben Fortune Robinson set down his fork and looked at Zoe expectantly.
The private dining room at Señor Iguana’s suddenly became so quiet she could almost hear the questions swirling around in Ben’s mind as her siblings, Wes, Graham, Kieran, Olivia and Sophie, gazed at her eagerly.
The only one whose attention wasn’t trained on Zoe was Rachel. Her head was down and she was focusing on her enchiladas as though they were the most fascinating special in the world.
Yeah, thanks, Rach. That’s the last time I share anything like this with you.
She tried to catch Rachel’s eye, but her sister wasn’t looking.
“I did,” Zoe said. “But that’s not why you called us together, Ben. Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind? I need to leave in a few minutes. So can we please get started?”
Ben pushed away his plate and leaned forward. “I’ll get to my thing in a minute. How did it go with Josephine?”
Zoe frowned and tried to dam a wave of irritation that was cresting and threatening to break.
“It went fine, Ben. How else would it go? It was strictly a chance meeting because Joaquin Mendoza and his father, Orlando, were gracious enough to take me in after I missed the bus in Horseback Hollow. I certainly wasn’t going to barge in on their dinner and dominate the conversation by quizzing her about her family tree. Classless, Ben. Even the thought is classless.”
Ben didn’t seem to hear her or maybe he simply didn’t care because he clamped down on the topic like a bulldog with a meaty bone.
All this talk about her father having a secret identity and being part of the Fortune family had become boring. Their dad denied it and Zoe chose not to believe it because it was yet another example of secrets harming relationships. Only these secrets belonged to her siblings, who kept on digging into their father’s past behind his back and against his wishes.
Her words rolled right off her brother.
“You all are aware that Josephine Fortune Chesterfield was adopted and only found out a few years ago that she was a Fortune, right? I believe the same could be true for Dad.”
Zoe sighed loud enough that everyone turned to look at her. Even Rachel, who was the one who’d started this whole mess last year when she’d discovered evidence that she thought suggested their dad’s real name might be Jerome Fortune. That’s all it had taken to get Ben started on this “Fortune hunt.” Never mind the way their father had denied the allegations, and the fact that the rest of the Fortune family claimed it was impossible. Ben was determined to uncover this so-called truth.
Zoe wished he’d put as much effort into his job as chief operating officer at Robinson Tech. The way he’d been going against their dad’s wishes, bird-dogging this issue, she was surprised their father didn’t fire him, or at least demote him.
Each new lead seemed to turn into a stone wall at a dead end. Most recently, after much wasted time and energy, Ben had located a woman named Jacqueline Fortune, who was this Jerome’s mother and, as Ben insisted, their grandmother.
Never mind that the poor woman, who was in her nineties and living in a memory-care unit of a nursing home, suffered from dementia. Ben just kept pushing.
He almost took this one too far because when he brought up Jerome’s name, poor Jacqueline had completely freaked out and started yelling that Jerome Fortune was dead.
Wouldn’t he think that would be a sign that it was time to close this ridiculous case? Nooo. Ben still wouldn’t let it go. He had to keep raking up the muck.
His latest allegation was that their father might have illegitimate offspring scattered all over the world. This stemmed from a British guy named Keaton Whitfield whom Ben had come across on this odyssey to drag their father through the mud.
The wave of anger that Zoe had tried to contain finally crested and crashed.
Until this point she had tried to stay out of the fray and do what she could to be the peacemaker. She attended these monthly meetings Ben insisted on holding to be the voice of reason. As a general rule, she preferred to take the kind approach and focus on the positive things in life. But now Ben had gone too far.
Zoe stood, her chair scraping loudly across the wooden floorboards. “Okay, Ben, if we’re just going to rehash false starts we already know have led to dead ends, then I’m going to say good-night.”
She grabbed her purse and fished out her phone, looking at the time...and to see if Joaquin had texted her to say that he was there.
He hadn’t. Probably because he wasn’t due to meet her for another half hour. But she had to get out of there. She couldn’t stand one more minute of hearing her brother’s desperate attempt to turn their father into a liar and rehash the rumors of his infidelity.
Even on the far-flung chance that their dad was this Jerome Fortune in another life, what difference did it make? He had always been a good parent. He had provided for his family, making it possible for his kids to not only have every material possession a person could ask for but also careers for each and every one of them if they wanted to be a part of the family business. He also gave them the freedom to not be part of it—with no prejudice—if they so chose. Rachel was a good case in point.
“Sit down, Zoe. That’s not why I’ve asked everyone to be here tonight. I have a new lead, and it just might be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for.”
Zoe rolled her eyes.
Here we go again.
The only reason she sat again was that she wanted to know what inane tree Ben was barking up now. Since he had gone so far as to produce someone who claimed to be a half brother—and was making noises that there might be more—she needed to stay to make sure her siblings hadn’t done something stupid like invite him to move into the Robinson estate. At this point, nothing would surprise her.
“I have found an old friend of Jacqueline Fortune’s. Her name is Marian Brandt. She was Jacqueline’s neighbor. She and I talked at length.”
Zoe glanced at Ben. He was holding up a small photograph. Zoe squinted, but she couldn’t tell what the image was since he was at the head of the table and she was toward the other end.
If he went to the trouble of bringing props, he would certainly show and tell. Zoe took one last look in her compact mirror, snapped it shut and put away her cosmetics.
“Her late son, Eddie, and Jerome Fortune used to play when they were very young. She even shared this photo.”
Ben gave it to Olivia, who sat to his right.
“Jacqueline and Marian have a lot in common. Both of them were widowed at a fairly young age and both lost their only sons. It’s no wonder that they bonded over their tragic losses.”
The picture had made its way around the table to Zoe. Of course, it was hard to tell if one of the boys was their father because they were so young in the picture. Zoe realized she couldn’t recall ever seeing a picture of her father as a child. But that didn’t mean anything.
As she passed it to Wes, she considered asking him if he’d ever seen pictures of their father as a kid, but quickly decided not to because if he hadn’t, it might give Ben more fuel for his fire.
“Even now that Jacqueline is bedridden, Marian is still a good friend and goes to visit her several times a week. When she heard that I had been to visit Jacqueline, she got my number from the nurses and called me and agreed to meet me for lunch.”
“Did she give you this picture?” Kieran asked.
“She brought the original and allowed me to snap a shot of it with my phone. I had it printed out.”
Of course, he would. Zoe wondered if Ben had a big evidence board similar to ones the FBI used when they were trying to solve a crime. Because he certainly was trying his best to turn their father into a criminal.
“Was she able to tell you anything new?” Sophie asked.
Ben grimaced and gave a palms-up shrug. “Technically, no. She said Jerome mailed his mom a suicide note and that the boat that had washed ashore without him in it was registered to the Fortune family. But, remember, even though he was presumed dead, Jerome Fortune’s body was never found.”
“Really, Ben?” Zoe groaned. “The neighbor woman confirmed what the police have already told you—that Jerome Fortune took out his family’s boat and committed suicide—and that’s still not enough to convince you it’s time to end this ludicrous obsession?”
He ignored her.
“I’m going to see if the police have a copy of the suicide note in the evidence file. I’ll get a graphologist to compare it with a sample of dad’s handwriting.”
“Jerome Fortune has been dead for more than thirty years,” Sophie challenged. “Do you really think they’ll still have his file?”
Again, Ben shrugged. “I’ll never know unless I check into it. My gut still believes Jerome Fortune is very much alive and that he is our father. I will keep looking until I find irrefutable evidence to prove it—one way or the other.”
That’s enough.
Zoe slid her purse onto her arm and stood. “I think you’re ridiculous and you need to stop this nonsense right now. It’s your business if you want to waste your time chasing the ghost of Jerome Fortune, but until you have that irrefutable evidence, this is the last meeting I will attend. You all should be ashamed of yourselves for dragging our father through the mud when he has been nothing but generous to each and every one of you.”
This time she ignored her siblings’ attempted justifications and explanations and walked out of the meeting. They each had their own reasons for doing this to their father, but she didn’t want to hear it. It was hurtful and disrespectful.
Sure, some might have considered Gerald Robinson a tyrant, and, yes, she knew she had always been his favorite, but they were a family. Even though she was aware of her father’s indiscretions, she didn’t want to know the gory details. That was between him and her mother. She knew their parents’ relationship was strained enough. If Ben kept it up, they would eventually hit the breaking point. If her brothers and sisters would stop looking for trouble, it would go a long way toward strengthening family relations. Families stuck together; they didn’t try to tear each other apart, because when one went down, they all went down.
Zoe wasn’t going to sit there and watch them destroy the people who had given them life.
She made her way to Señor Iguana’s crowded cantina area. It buzzed with the noisy music and energy of a beloved night spot. She squinted as she scanned the dimly lit room, past its neon signs and perennial Christmas-tree lights strung in draping swags, to see if Joaquin was waiting, but it was still a little early. She was tempted to leave and come back, but a quick glance at her phone revealed they were due to meet in fifteen minutes. She couldn’t go anywhere and get back in that short amount of time. So she might as well stay.
She needed to change gears so that the irritation her siblings had stoked up in her was not rolling off her in waves when Joaquin arrived. Normally she didn’t drink much, but right now nothing sounded better than a great big frozen-lime margarita. It would surely take the edge off.
She marched up to the bar and ordered, “One Iguana-rita, please.”
In less than a minute the bartender set something the size of a fishbowl in front of her.
“Oh! This is enough for four people,” she said as she handed him the cash to pay for it. “I didn’t realize it was so large.”
The bartender, a good-looking guy despite his man-bun and tattoo sleeves, said, “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
Or maybe his bohemian look was what made him attractive.
“I have. I love this place.”
“I thought I’d seen you around.” He lingered, leaning his elbows on the bar. The tat on his right forearm was a skull with a clock face in one of its eyes. The more she looked at it, the more she saw how the individual images played into the bigger picture. It was a mesmerizing in a freaky Where’s Waldo sort of way.
She’d never dated a guy with a tattoo. She wondered if Joaquin had any hidden pictures on his gorgeous body. Mmm. She’d like to find out. It would be like a treasure hunt.
“Have you never ordered the Thirsty Iguana?” Man-Bun asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve never ordered one. I asked for an iguana-rita. I think that’s the much smaller version of this fish tank.”
“My mistake,” said Man-Bun. “It’s on the house since I screwed up your order.”
“No, that’s okay. I can pay for it.” She took her first sip. It was cold and delicious, and went down way too easy. Probably way stronger than it tasted. She’d have to be careful or she might be picking herself up off the floor.
While she was no stranger to the club scene and she certainly enjoyed partying on the weekends, she was not a big drinker and never did drugs. Some might say she didn’t like to be out of control. She liked to think of it as being high on life.
Someone at the other end of the bar flagged down the bartender. “Enjoy it—what did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” she said.
“We’ll enjoy it, I Didn’t. May I call you I for short?”
Zoe laughed and sipped her drink. “Suit yourself.”
“After things slow down, maybe I can help you finish that iguana?” he said.
“She won’t need your help,” Joaquin said as he slid onto the vacant stool next to her. “But thanks.”
* * *
Joaquin didn’t like the looks of that guy, with his tattoo sleeves and his long hair piled on top of his head. What kind of a guy wore his hair like that? He had player written all over him. He’d probably helped a lot of women finish their drinks. Probably a different one every night.
“He won’t bother you anymore,” Joaquin said. “But, hey, how are you doing? How was the meeting?”
Zoe frowned at him. “What makes you think he was bothering me?”
Her words and sharp tone made Joaquin do a double-take. “He was hitting on you.”
She pursed her lips and her right brow shot up. That expression was starting to become a familiar challenge, even though her tone was a lot more intense than the Zoe he knew.
“And it bothers you that he was hitting on me?” she asked.
“What? You like him?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question.” She took a long sip of her margarita.
“He doesn’t seem like your type.”
She put her hands on her hips. “What is my type, Joaquin?”
Their gazes locked and for a moment something electric passed between them. It was all he could do to keep from saying, “I am. I’m your type.” But that was such a bad idea.
When he didn’t answer, she said. “It seems like you’re the one who is bothered by his flirting with me.”
True. It did bother him. He knew he had no right because he had made it perfectly clear where they stood. He was probably worse for her than the tattooed bartender.
He glanced down the bar. The dude was talking and laughing with another woman. Zoe deserved better than that.
Better than the flirting bartender or better than a guy who kissed her and backed the hell up?
Better than both of them.
That guy was a player. But Joaquin was nine years her senior. She needed someone young, someone who was not preoccupied with his own issues.
When he turned back to look at her, he saw that she was watching the bartender, too. He couldn’t tell if she looked disappointed or resigned.
“I thought I was doing you a favor by rescuing you from that one,” he said.
“Thank you, but just because I missed the bus in Horseback Hollow doesn’t mean I need you to keep rescuing me.”
He nodded.
“No, you don’t. You’re a strong, smart, capable woman.”
He almost added beautiful to the list, but he bit back the word before it escaped.
“Thank you for that.” She sighed and looked a little defeated. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m in a mood and I don’t mean to take it out on you. The family meeting didn’t go very well. Why don’t we start over?” She took a deep breath and extended her hand. “Hi, Joaquin. I’m glad to see you.”
This was a different disposition for her. She was usually so happy and full of good spirits that her kindness and effervescence were contagious. But no one was perfect. She was allowed an off night.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She looked at him for a long, silent moment filled by the loud salsa music playing in the background. He thought she was going to decline.
“Actually, yes, I would. I think that would help.”
A four-top in the corner was just opening up. “Why don’t we go grab that table over there?”
As soon as they sat, a server approached and Joaquin ordered a beer.
“Would you like anything else?” he asked Zoe.
She toasted him with her large glass. “Thanks, I think I’m all set for tonight—and possibly into next week. This drink is huge. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish it. So, please, help yourself.”
“Why don’t you bring us an order of chips and salsa?” Joaquin said to the server. Then he turned back to Zoe. “It might come in handy to soak up some of that alcohol.”
As she pushed the drink aside, Joaquin felt an irrational satisfaction that he would be the one sharing Zoe’s beverage, not the bartender.
After the server walked away, Joaquin said, “What’s going on with your family?”
Her pretty eyes darkened a shade and she lowered her lids as she traced a crack in the Formica tabletop.
“I don’t understand why Ben is so determined to prove that our father is lying about his identity. Now he’s alleging Dad has illegitimate children scattered all over the place. Can’t he see how humiliating this is for our mother? Though I don’t think she’s aware of this allegation. It seems like Ben is determined to tear our family apart. He keeps trying to dig up a past for our dad. When he doesn’t find anything, he invents something. Ben just needs to hop off.
“But let’s say by some fluke my dad is this Jerome Fortune person. He obviously doesn’t want anyone to know. He has asked Ben time and again to stop. Why does Ben keep digging? What difference does would it make if our father actually did have a past that he isn’t proud of? What good is it going to do if Ben uncovers buried skeletons and drags them out for everyone to see? What difference is that going to make except to hurt everyone involved?”
Joaquin wore his best poker face. He knew that Ben was on a mission to prove a Fortune connection, but he hadn’t realized until this very moment how closely Zoe’s family issues overlapped with his own. It gave him pause.
“I don’t know Ben very well, but I can’t imagine he’s purposely trying to tear apart your family.”
Zoe looked at him as if he’d spit in her drink.
“So, you’re saying he’s right to do this, even though my dad has asked him to stop?”
Joaquin shook his head. “I’m not saying anyone is right or wrong. What I was getting at is that I think it’s natural to want to know your roots and where you came from.”
“Well, he is tearing us apart. Or at least he’s headed in that direction.”
When there were issues—tough issues—that needed to be discussed, someone was bound to get hurt. But it didn’t do anyone any good to ignore it.
“Before it gets any later,” Zoe said, “we better start the interview. Since that’s why we came here in the first place.”
Good idea. Since they seemed to have opposite opinions about a similar family issue, it was bound to cause hurt feelings. As if to second the motion to change subjects, the server approached the table with his beer.
Since Zoe didn’t want anything else, he paid for his drink rather than run a tab. Once that was taken care of, he said, “What’s the first question?”
She pulled a small tablet out of her purse. As she typed, pink nails clicking on the built-in keyboard, her earlier tension seemed to ease.
“What do you like best about working at Robinson Tech?”
“The project I’m working on is interesting. I love the creative freedom I have at Robinson.”
She glanced up at him and nodded before recording his answer.
“Favorite color?”
“How is that work-related?”
“Favorite color,” she repeated. “I didn’t promise that this was strictly about the professional you. That’s boring, Joaquin. We have to spice it up with a little bit of personality. So, favorite color?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Blue.”
“Really?” Zoe said as she tap-tapped away, typing up his answer. “I had you pegged for a green man, but blue works. Favorite food?”
“There’s not much I don’t like. Everything from steak to sushi to all ethnic cuisines. I love good food. It’s something I’m passionate about.”
She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I think it’s very sexy when a man is adventurous.”
He laughed. “Are you going to put that in your article?”
“Maybe. How would you describe your perfect day?”
It had been so long since he’d had a perfect day that he had to think about it for a minute.
“Spending it with someone special. Maybe exploring new places, or if there was a somewhere we both liked, we could go there.”
He remembered days spent on the beach and in a boat out on the ocean in Florida. He remembered the cruel way Selena had let him know their relationship was over. Funny, it was a fading memory now. He had been humiliated at the time, cut to the quick, but the pain was gone. He hadn’t realized it until now.
“I haven’t made it to the Driskill Hotel yet,” he said. “I hear it’s a quite a place.”
Zoe reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Oh, my gosh. It’s one of my favorite places in Austin. Maybe we could meet there for drinks some time?”
“Yeah.”
And there it was again, that energy that coursed between them. If he wasn’t careful, he might mistake it for chemistry. Aw, hell, who was he kidding? This was chemistry and it was undeniable. Admitting it was the best safeguard against crossing that line. That damn line. It kept tempting him closer and closer.
“What are you most grateful for?” she asked.
He was grateful she’d changed the subject. “That’s easy—my family.”
“See, you do know that family is most important over everything. Everything.”
The episode with Selena had underscored that. A lot of women had come and gone in his life, but his family was the one constant.
“Have you ever been married?” she asked.
“I agreed to answer five questions. That’s number six.”
She closed the tablet’s cover and slid it into her purse. “That one is for me. Not for the newsletter.”
He took a swig of his beer, debating whether he wanted to talk about this or not. But one look at Zoe’s pretty face and he was putty.
“I was engaged once.”
“Was?” Zoe asked.
Joaquin nodded.
“What was her name?”
“Selena Marks.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “As in Marks Telecom in Miami? That’s where you worked, right?”
“How did you know that?” he asked.
“I have my ways. Does your broken engagement have anything to do with why you won’t date people you work with?”
For all of her fun-loving ways, she was pretty astute. He drained the last of his beer and set the bottle on the table.
“It has everything to do with that. On that note, I think it’s time to call it a night. Do you want me to give you a ride home?”
“No, of course not. I have my car here.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’ve had maybe three sips. I’m a lightweight. It was way too strong for me. So, I’m fine to drive.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you out to your car.”
They navigated their way to the front of the cantina and he held the door for her.
When they got to her car, a sporty little red BMW convertible, she turned to him, her voice soft and little shaky. “I don’t know what happened that caused your engagement to end, but I hate that it caused you so much pain. And I’m sorry that it may be keeping you from potentially good relationships.”
A moment passed between them. She looked vulnerable and angelic standing there backlit by the glow of the streetlight. She was right. He had been letting Selena keep him from moving forward, but tonight Zoe had helped him see that he’d moved further ahead than he’d realized.
“May I be perfectly honest with you?” he asked.
“Of course. I’d expect nothing less from you.”
He nodded. “The thing is, I like working at Robinson. I didn’t realize just how much until I realized that this project is almost finished and I’m not ready to go.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you saying you want a permanent position?”
“I have a meeting with Gerald later this week and I was going to talk to him about it.”
“I have an idea,” she said. “What are you doing Thursday night?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“My dad is hosting a dinner for a handful of high-level employees. You should come.”
Joaquin laughed. “You are something else. I cannot crash your father’s party. He didn’t invite me. Thanks, but I’ll talk to him when we meet at the office.”
“He’s going to invite you. So, be prepared to clear your calendar on Thursday night.”
Joaquin shook his head. It was more of a head-clearing gesture than a negative response to her promised invitation.
“Just like that, your father is going to invite me? Because you said so.”
She shrugged and nodded, making a face as if he’d just asked the dumbest question ever.
Joaquin couldn’t help but smile at her self-assurance. It was one of the things he loved about her. She wasn’t arrogant or mean; there wasn’t a cruel bone in her body. She simply knew what was what and she wasn’t afraid to own it.
“You always get what you want, don’t you?”
She cocked her head to the side. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Mr. Mendoza.”
“No, actually, it’s not. I was thinking that you’re pretty amazing.”
“Really? You think so?”
It took everything he had not to lean in and taste those lips again. But he knew better and he pulled himself back from the edge.
“You’re a good friend, a good daughter, and you’re great at what you do. I’d say all that adds up to amazing.”
“I’m a good friend, huh?”
He tried to ignore the way the disappointment in her eyes belied the smile curving up the edges of those tempting lips. “Well, Joaquin, you keeping me in the friend zone proves I don’t get everything I want. You need to know I won’t give up on you.”
God, she was killing him.
“You also need to know that people have told me that I’m passionate and persistent.” She let the words hang between them. “So I’m not letting you friend-zone me, Joaquin.”
He bent down and kissed her on the forehead.
“Good night, Zoe.”
“Seriously? Is that the best you can do?”
“Were you expecting something else?”
“Joaquin, that was like getting a kiss from my brother.”
“Since your sister is married to my brother, doesn’t that make us related in some way?”
She put her hands on her hips. “No, it does not. You’re a hot Latino from Miami. I expected more from you than a kiss on the forehead. You have no game.”
Joaquin laughed. “You think I just made a move on you? That shows just how innocent you are. Because when I make a move on a woman, she knows it.”