“No offense, but you’re even acting differently. Just remember, I know where you came from.”
Awkward silence the likes of which he had never known with Toby hung in the air. He didn’t want to fight with him, and it seemed every time he opened his mouth he said the wrong thing.
That was the story of his life when it came to family. But Christopher wasn’t about to sit here in his own office and let family drag him down to feeling bad.
“How was the wedding?” Christopher asked, hoping for neutral ground. He directed the question to Angie, who had been remarkably quiet.
“I would say it was the happiest day of my life, but each day I wake up seems to take that title,” she said. “We wish you could’ve been there.”
“Yeah, well, it’s better that I didn’t come. That way the focus was on the two of you. All sunshine and happiness. No dark clouds, you know?”
Angie looked at him with big blue eyes.
“Well, we certainly did appreciate your generous gift. A thousand dollars was...” Angie shook her head as if at a loss for words.
“It was too much,” said Toby as he leaned forward and plucked a business card out of a brass holder sitting on the coffee table. “Ten crisp $100 bills. Leave it to my little brother not to miss an opportunity to show off— Wait. Christopher Fortune?” he read aloud from the business card. “Did they forget to print your entire last name on here?”
“No,” said Christopher.
Toby held up the card. “Where’s the Jones?”
Christopher shrugged, but didn’t feel the need to explain himself.
“So, that’s why the receptionist was having a hard time helping us.” Toby gestured with his thumb toward the reception area. “It’s true, then? They don’t even know who Chris Jones is?”
“Don’t take it personally, Toby,” Christopher said. “I just needed to make a fresh start.”
“How can I not take it personally? I mean, I get that you and Dad don’t see eye to eye on your moving to Red Rock and working here at the Foundation, but come on, Chris. What the hell? Aren’t you taking this a little too far?”
“Is that a question or an accusation?” Christopher challenged, holding his brother’s gaze until Toby leaned forward again and put the card back where he’d found it.
This life was exactly what he wanted.
He wanted what the Fortunes had: money, power, respect. He had gotten none of that back in Horseback Hollow. What was wrong with claiming it now?
“I figure the family can’t be any more disappointed in me now than they’ve always been. I never was any good to anyone around the ranch, anyway. Don’t you think they’d consider the new and improved Christopher Fortune a vast improvement over Chris Jones, the son who couldn’t do anything right?”
Toby looked down at his hands, then back up at Christopher. A somber expression crept into his eyes. “I don’t even know what to say to that, except that Mom asked me to tell you she loves you.”
Touché.
That was just about the only thing that Toby could’ve said to hit Christopher where he’d feel it.
The thing was, he didn’t even sound mad. Just...disappointed. A look that said, remember where you came from and don’t let the Fortunes change you into something you’re not.
He hadn’t forgotten and the Fortunes hadn’t changed him. He would be the first to admit that embracing the Fortunes’ world and starting on a desk job had taken some getting used to. He was surprised by how he sometimes missed not getting outside between the hours of nine and five. This indoor, sedentary job has been a challenge, but every time he looked at the view outside the windows of his executive’s office or at his bank account balance, it got easier and easier.
“Y’all must be hungry,” Christopher said. “Come on, let’s go get a bite to eat. I’ll treat you to lunch.”
* * *
“Excuse me, darlin’.” Kinsley Aaron frowned as she looked up from the notes she was taking while manning the third-floor reception desk for Bev. Christopher Fortune stood outside his office door, smiling broadly, no doubt thinking he was God’s gift to women.
Darlin’? Excuse me?
Had they somehow time traveled back to the 1960s?
“My name is Kinsley,” she said, doing her best to keep the bristle out of her voice. He may have been young and good-looking and a Fortune, but how dare he call her that?
“I know what your name is,” Christopher said.
“Then why did you call me darlin’?” She didn’t smile.
The man and woman who were with him looked a bit sheepish, perhaps a little embarrassed for him, before they ducked back inside his office. Actually, Christopher should’ve been embarrassed for himself. But did the guy do anything for himself?
The only reason he worked at the Foundation was because his uncle was James Marshall Fortune.
“Where is Betsy?” he asked
“Who is Betsy?” she returned.
“The new receptionist?” he answered with a tone better suited for talking to a small child.
Well, Mr. Man, two could play that game. “Nobody by the name of Betsy works here. Do you mean Beverly?”
Christopher shrugged. “Yes, the one who was here earlier.” He motioned to the desk where Kinsley was sitting. “Where is she?”
If Bev was smart, she’d handed in her resignation and left.
Kinsley blinked away the snotty thought. She hadn’t meant it. The Fortune Foundation was a fabulous place to work. Even though Christopher Fortune was full of himself, other members of the Fortune family had been very good to her. Not only did they pay her a decent salary to work as an outreach coordinator, a position she considered her life’s work, but also she would be forever grateful that they had taken a chance on her.
She’d come to them with little experience, having not yet earned her degree. She was working on it, but with a full-time job and going to school part-time at night, it was going to take her a while before she completed her coursework.
“I’m covering for Beverly while she’s on her break,” Kinsley said. “She should be back in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, is there something I can help you with?”
Christopher smiled and looked at her in that wolfish way he had that made her want to squirm. But she didn’t. No way. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
What was with this guy? Better question, what was with her? Kinsley had always subscribed to the Eleanor Roosevelt philosophy: nobody could make you feel anything unless you gave them permission. Actually, the quote was nobody could make you feel inferior, but this adaptation felt just as authentic.
“Yes,
