Worth a Fortune
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Nancy Robards Thompson
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15.7K
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12
HarlequinChapter One
To: Haley Perry
From: Edith Moore; features editor, Inspire Her Magazine
RE: A fun assignment for you
Good Morning, Haley,
As one of our favorite single journalists, you immediately came to mind when this story idea crossed my desk.
The bestselling self-help book Five Easy Steps to Love, by Jacqueline La Scala, claims you can make a stranger fall in love with you by doing these five things: 1) Sharing something personal about yourself. 2) Helping with something important to them. 3) Listening without judgment to an issue they’re having. 4) Attending an event together. 5) Kissing after all the above.
We are dying to know if this is true!
I hope you’ll take the story and run with it as only you can do. To that end, I’ve already put a copy of the book in the mail to you. You should receive it within the week.
Who knows—maybe you’ll end up with more than a story.
Best,
Edith
Haley wasn’t sure which part of the woman’s email was more offensive: take the story and run with it like only you can do or maybe you’ll end up with more than a story.
Seriously?
Haley hit Reply and started typing:
My Dearest Edith,
Surely I am not the only writer who could do this assignment. In case you weren’t aware, it is not a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in need of an income must be in want of a husband—
Haley stopped typing and stared at the screen. She was so irritated that she was channeling bad Jane Austen.
She hit the backspace key and watched the words disappear until there was nothing left but the blinking cursor on the blank white screen.
Truth be told, it wasn’t the prospect of being single—or finding love, for that matter—that made her grumpy. It was that once again, Edith was tossing her a puff piece. She could’ve cushioned the blow with a simple P.S. I chose you not only because you’re single, but also because you do great work.
Haley had gone to college in New York City and worked her way up from intern to staff writer at Inspire Her Magazine. The pandemic had hit and layoffs followed. Edith had promised to rehire her once the publication righted itself post-COVID.
In the meantime, the magazine had offered plenty of fluffy freelance pieces, such as this one, test-driving a self-help book that promised the secret formula for falling in love.
While Haley was barely scraping by as an independent journalist, she’d also discovered a keen interest in more serious pieces. When she’d pitched ideas about more meaningful women’s issues to Edith, her former boss agreed that while they had the makings of worthwhile articles, they were keeping those types of stories in-house for the moment. She continued to toss Haley the equivalent of cotton candy when she was starving for a thick, juicy steak.
“How will I ever become an investigative journalist that people take seriously if I keep writing empty-headed fluff?” Haley complained to her cat, Nellie Bly. In response, the feline purred and wound figure eights around her legs. Haley reached down and stroked the animal’s silky fur. “I know, I know. Pieces like this keep you in kitty treats—but did you ever consider that the more time I spend researching and writing pieces like this, the less time I have to devote to the work I want to do?”
However, Inspire Her Magazine had a great circulation, and it paid well. Plus, it kept her in touch with Edith. If she turned down assignments, plenty of writers would be lined up behind her, ready and willing to graciously accept the work...and possibly her former job, should it ever become available again.
She recalled what her former boss had said about them willing to do more meaningful pieces with their full-time staff. If she was able to get back on with the magazine, it would mean a steady salary and benefits while she proved herself a reliable investigative journalist.
Until that happened, Haley would have to work on her serious stories in between the fluffy pieces, which would not only pay the bills but also finance the research required for the big articles.
With that in mind, she took a deep breath and typed:
Thanks for thinking of me, Edith. I’ll look for the book in the mail. You’re right, maybe it will turn out to be more than just a story—
If the email had a soundtrack, that part would’ve been a needle scratching over vinyl.
She deleted the last line, then replaced it with a query about word count and the deadline before closing with a businesslike, All my best, Haley.
As she hit Send, she had the fleeting thought that if this crazy piece actually did lead her to love and she got married, at least Edith would no longer have a reason to give her the single-girl drivel . Of course, if she married anyone around here, it would mean she’d have to give up on her hopes of moving back to New York City.
Chatelaine, Texas, wasn’t so bad. Her sisters were here, and she enjoyed spending time with them, and..., well, that was about it. Maybe true love and a family of her own would fill the void that yawned inside her as she tried on the idea of living here indefinitely.
The problem was, love seemed so far out of reach right now, she couldn’t really imagine it.
Instead, she pulled up her web browser and typed in the title of the self-help book Edith was sending and read the description, which told her nothing more than what the features editor had included in her email.
Haley suspected, at a steep $24.95 for the thin hardcover, Five Easy Steps to Love was nothing more than a good gimmick aimed at separating the lovelorn and lonely hearted from their hard-earned money.
She scoffed at the duplicity of the promise. If it only took five easy steps to fall in love, the entire world would be head over heels.
She knew from personal experience how foolish it was to trust the heart’s fickle promises. She’d been a believer once and bore the scars to prove it. Now, she took care to be on her guard.
Immediately, she came up with her angle. She would disprove Jacqueline La Scala’s theory. In fact, she’d find the hottest, most eligible bachelor in Chatelaine to test the bogus concept.
As she leaned back in her chair and considered her options, Nellie Bly jumped up in her lap. Haley stroked her. “I need to think about this, but right now, I’m going to work on the story I want to write before I get bogged down with the one that will pay the bills.”
She opened the computer file titled Chatelaine Mine Disaster.
In 1965, fifty people died when a silver mine owned by the Fortune family collapsed. Rumor had it that two of the four brothers who owned the mine—Edgar and Elias Fortune—were to blame, but they lied and pinned the blame on mine foreman, Clint Wells, saying he was the one who’d ignored signs that the mine was unstable. The brothers claimed that Wells had neglected to keep them abreast of the situation. They swore they never would’ve let the miners work under such dangerous circumstances. Since Wells had died with his crew, he couldn’t dispute the accusations.
From what Haley could piece together, the brothers had lied. She’d heard from numerous reliable sources that Edgar and Elias had known the mine was unsafe yet insisted on business as usual. They’d turned the story around, stirring up the sad and angry citizens of Chatelaine, and made the late foreman their scapegoat, ruining his reputation and leaving his grieving family to shoulder the blame. Out of self-preservation, Wells’s wife, Gwenyth, and their eighteen-year-old daughter, Renee, had left town, never to be heard from again.
She scanned her list of facts and questions:
Four Fortune brothers had been involved with the mine. From what she could gather, Edgar and Elias Fortune were the ones who had pinned the blame on Clint Wells. The other two siblings, Walter and Wendell, had each held a stake in the mine but were less hands-on.
Walter had passed away in the year 2000.
Edgar had died of a heart attack fifteen years ago. He had left his good-sized fortune not to family members or the locals who had lost loved ones when the mine collapsed, but to every animal rescue in the state of Texas.
In a strange twist of fate, Elias Fortune’s wife of the past ten years had arrived in town with the news that Elias had recently passed away. She had come to Chatelaine not only to make amends with the community and restore her late husband’s good name, but she had also summoned Elias’s grandchildren, nieces and nephew to Chatelaine to execute his will, which granted their most fervent wishes.
Why Chatelaine since they had been from all over? Maybe it was because the only living brother, Wendell Fortune—who had lived under an alias for decades as Martin Smith—had settled in town.
Another question was, what had happened to Gwenyth and Renee Wells?
And, on top of that, no one seemed to know where Elias and Edgar Fortune had gone after Gwenyth and Renee had left town. Haley had discovered that the Fortunes had thrown a lot of money at the problem, trying to make it go away, but it didn’t happen as fast as they’d hoped, and eventually Elias and Edgar Fortune quietly slunk out of Chatelaine. There were rumors that claimed that after the fallout of the mining tragedy, Edgar and Elias had become estranged. Other rumors had the brothers dying in a boating accident in Mexico.
The reality was that both men had lived relatively long lives.
Haley was convinced that they’d run to dodge murder and tax-evasion charges. In the beginning, faking their own deaths would’ve been the perfect get out of jail free card, allowing them to escape punishment for their crimes.
That aside, one of the most nagging questions Haley had yet to answer pertained to mysterious notes left in town that said fifty-one—not fifty—miners had died in the disaster.
Haley underlined Wendell’s name in her notebook and, next to it, added the name Freya Fortune.
“I know they could answer my questions,” she murmured. “But the cantankerous old fool refuses to help me out.”
It was true. Every time she tried to approach Wendell, he always had some excuse not to talk to her. Either he was late for an appointment or he’d say no comment—or Haley’s personal favorite was that one time when she had him cornered, and he’d claimed that his hearing aids were acting up and he couldn’t hear her.
Did he think she was stupid?
Because the minute she’d walked away, he was yukking it up with the bartender at the Chatelaine Bar and Grill. Either his hearing aids had miraculously come back to life or he was lying. That was a no-brainer. Those Fortunes would stoop to nothing to protect each other.
Speaking of which...every time Freya Fortune saw her, she turned around and walked the other way.
Haley had to admit that on a personal level, she understood their being protective of their families. A decade ago, she’d been reunited with her sisters, and the love she felt for them was fierce. She would keep them safe at all costs. Then again, Lily and Tabitha weren’t hiding information about a disaster caused by other family members that cost fifty—or was that fifty-one?—innocent people their lives.
Also, the three of them didn’t have extended family, so it was sort of apples and oranges. All they had was each other.
Haley ran her finger down the list of Fortunes who might talk to her or at least point her in the right direction of solving the conundrum of the fifty-first miner. This town was swarming with Fortunes. They were like Baptist churches in the south—one on every corner.
The editor of the Houston Chronicle had said he would buy the story in a heartbeat because it involved the Fortunes. However, because it involved the Fortunes, the facts needed to be ironclad.
There was no room for error.
Her finger continued down the list and stopped on Camden Fortune’s name.
“Well, hello there, hottie,” she said.
Nellie Bly chirped as she nudged Haley’s hand until she petted her.
“I wasn’t talking to you, silly,” she chuckled. “Although you are a beautiful girl. I was thinking of Camden Fortune.”
A tall, dark and green eyed, long and muscular man with the most incredible mile-wide shoulders she’d ever seen.
Yes. If a person looked up the definition of hot in a dictionary, Camden Fortune’s picture would be right there.
“He’s the only Fortune in town who doesn’t run in the other direction when he sees me coming. Well, other than West and Asa...and Bea and Esme. But for the sake of your aunties, I’ve decided they’re off-limits. Now that we’re family, I don’t want to make things awkward.”
She sighed. Her sister Lily had married Asa Fortune, and Tabitha was engaged—again—to her long-lost love, West, a prosecutor who’d faked his own death to protect Tabitha from a criminal he’d put away. After the thug had been killed in prison, West returned home to everyone’s shock and delight.
“Even though our family ties should be all the more reason they’d want to help me,” Haley murmured as she nudged Nellie off her lap and stood up to shower and make herself presentable. “I’m family, too, and the only thing keeping me from selling this piece to the Houston Chronicle and taking a huge leap forward in my career is confirmation of whether or not fifty-one miners died in the 1965 disaster.”
But while she loved her sisters too much to stress the family-bond theory, Camden was her new Plan B.
The two of them had undeniable chemistry. Unless she was imagining it—and she wasn’t—every time they were around each other, the air sizzled.
It was curious, though, that despite all the flirting and chatting-up that had happened between them since Camden moved to Chatelaine after the first of the year, he’d never asked her out. Could it have anything to do with her being deemed a persona non grata by the majority of his family?
A ridiculous scene played out in her head in which there was a mandatory weekly Fortune family meeting where they collectively decided who was in the family’s favor and who was outside the circle.
Haley sighed as she turned on the shower tap. Why didn’t the Fortunes want the truth to come out? They must be hiding something. Because if they weren’t, they certainly wouldn’t be so hedgy and tightlipped about it.
Next year would mark the sixtieth anniversary of the Fortune Silver Mine disaster. Even if it took that long to get to the bottom of the story, Haley refused to give up until the truth came out.
If she had to do a little extra flirting with Camden Fortune, so be it. It was a hazard of the job.
And since she was all about the truth, she had to admit, she was looking forward to it.
“So that’s all I need?” Camden Fortune said into the phone.
“Yes, sir,” Shelia, the agent on the other end of the line, replied. “To recap, in addition to property and liability, the policy we’ve written for your business covers mortality, which essentially is life insurance on your horses. There’s also loss-of-use coverage, which is similar to mortality insurance, but it’s designed to compensate you for the loss of the horse in the event the animal is not able to compete or perform as intended. Finally, there’s medical coverage, which covers expenses like one might insure a family member. Do you have any questions?”
Yes. Why the hell has it been so fuc—er—fricking difficult getting to this point?
Fricking. Yes, fricking.
Not the other word that had so easily rolled off his tongue in the past. If he was going to welcome kids to his camp in a few weeks, he needed to curb the language.
He also needed to watch his temper. It wasn’t Shelia’s fault the premium that covered the policy kept getting lost, waylaying what should’ve been a relatively simple process. Fortunately, it appeared that the money had finally landed in the proper place.
“I don’t have any questions,” Camden said. “You’ve been a big help, Shelia. Thanks so much for working with me to unravel this mess and see it through to the end.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she assured him. “Call if you need anything else. In the meantime, we are in receipt of the wire transfer, which means the policy will take effect at twelve a.m. tomorrow morning. Congratulations on your new business, Mr. Fortune.”
After Camden hung up the phone, he pumped his fist in the air.
This was a dream come true. He considered calling his step-grandmother, Freya, who had made everything possible when she’d emailed Camden and his cousins to introduce herself and report that Elias Fortune, the grandfather he’d never known, had passed away and had named his grandchildren, nieces and nephew in his will. His widow, Freya—someone else they’d never met—was the executor of the will and was in charge of granting each of them a wish.
Camden’s wish had been to open an equestrian school and summer camp that served underprivileged children. He wanted to give the kids the opportunity to learn the proper way to ride a horse, because safety shouldn’t be reserved for the wealthy, who could afford extras.
He’d seen firsthand the dangers of children riding horses when they didn’t know what they were doing. Safety shouldn’t be a luxury. Especially when it came to children.
Now that the insurance debacle was out of the way, he had a lot to do before he could open his doors by August.
The first order of business was to unpack and put away the equipment that had been accumulating. He had decided not to open the boxes until the insurance situation was sorted...in case everything fell through.
He wasn’t being negative—just being practical, given that everything seemed to be working against him, right down to the insurance policy he needed. Even so, he hadn’t given up, and now his perseverance had paid off.
He smiled to himself and set his hat on his head, then left the office for the stables. Never had he ever considered unpacking tack as a way to celebrate, but right now, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do.
He was approaching the paddock when he heard a car’s motor and the crunch of tires on the gravel drive. Putting his hand up to his eyes to shield them from the late-morning sun, he watched Haley Perry emerge from the red older-model Honda Civic.
As she walked toward him, he was already rethinking his declaration about unpacking being his preferred means of celebration. The way she looked in those cropped, low-slung blue jeans and white button-down blouse, which was tucked into the front of her jeans, leading his eyes up to where she’d left it unbuttoned to give an enticing glimpse of her cleavage, was titillating in itself. But the manner in which she’d left the shirt hanging loose in the back set him on fire and had him hungering to pull her close and run his hands along those inviting curves of hers.
The way her collar was popped up, he supposed the ensemble was a fashion statement. Hell, she could’ve been wearing a feed sack and she still would’ve been sexy.
“Hey there, Haley,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He saw the notebook and pen in her hand—the only two things in the world that could’ve been the antidote to his attraction to her.
“I figured I’d find you here,” she said . “I thought I’d pop in and say hello.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The simple elegance of it accentuated her cheekbones and pretty hazel eyes. She was something to look at, but he knew she hadn’t come all this way just to say hello.
“What really brings you out here this morning?” He nodded at the notebook. Her gaze dropped to look at it as if she’d forgotten she’d brought it.
She smiled that smile that made her dimples wink.
“I was hoping you would answer some questions for me.”
Under any other circumstances, those dimples would have been all it took to totally disarm him—but Camden knew better, so he strengthened his resolve.
“Haley, we’ve already been through this. I’m not answering any questions about my family.”
He turned for the stables. Not entirely sure if he heard her footsteps or just sensed her following him.
“Camden, you’re my only hope of getting to the bottom of this story, and—”
“No.” He stuck out his hand behind him like a backward traffic cop. He felt kind of dumb for making such a dramatic gesture, but drastic times called for drastic measures.
“Look, I’ve got to get these boxes unpacked and all this tack put away,” he said without facing her.
When she was silent for a few beats too long, he turned around and saw her clutching her notebook in both hands and staring down at it like she might start crying or something equally dramatic.
Oh, good lord.
“Haley, I’m sorry, but I’ve told you more than once that I don’t want to answer questions about my family or the past. The Fortunes have finally come together again, and we don’t need old scandals and terrible tragedies reviving the black mark on the family name.”
She looked deflated as they stood there in awkward silence.
“What if I made it worth your while?” she asked, her right eyebrow arching. She bit down on her bottom lip.
“And what exactly did you have in mind?” he asked before he could stop himself.
She must’ve read his completely inappropriate mind, because she pulled herself up to her maximum height—which couldn’t have been more than five-five—and glared at him.
“Well, certainly not that,” she said.
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. Yes, his mind had gone there—not that he’d betray his family for something untoward. Not that Haley would offer anything improper. They were friends. Okay, under other circumstances, they could’ve been more than friends. But even though she was hot as hell and exactly his type, he was too busy to get involved with her—with any woman.
He couldn’t let down his defenses. Not when she was bound and determined to dig up a part of the past his family wanted to keep buried for reasons unknown to him.
Now she was looking at him like he’d said her cat was ugly.
“I don’t know where your mind went, but I was going to offer to help you with the boxes. I thought we could talk while we work.”
“Haley, what part of no—”
Now she was the one cutting him off with the traffic cop hand. “Camden, I get it. I understand. Your family is off-limits. But...there’s actually something else that you can help me with. This morning, I got an assignment from Inspire Her Magazine. A self-help author named Jacqueline La Scala wrote a book called Five Easy Steps to Love. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s all the rage right now.”
He shook his head. “Nope, doesn’t sound like my kind of read.”
“Not my kind of book either,” she admitted dryly. “That’s why I intend to disprove her theory that all you have to do is follow the five simple steps she outlines in the book and you can make anyone fall in love with you.”
He must’ve looked horrified, because she said, “What’s that look for? Didn’t you hear what I said? We are going to disprove her theory.”
“Yeah, I know. I heard you.”
It’s not like the self-help book’s claim could possibly be true, and since she’d assured him she intended to prove it wrong...this experiment of hers might be kind of fun.
“Then what’s the problem?”
The problem was, he’d stopped believing in love a long time ago. He sighed. What was it about Haley Perry that made her want to dredge up the past in so many different areas? But to her credit, she knew nothing about his lovelorn history. He intended to keep it that way. It was for the best. The reminder of his most recent disaster of a relationship was better than a bucket of water in the face...more like a cold shower, and it would keep him in check.
He gave himself a mental shake. Haley had been explaining the book’s theory, and he’d zoned out.
“If you think about it,” she said, “all of the steps—except the kiss, maybe—are the basis of friendship, not necessarily romantic love.”
“What was that about a kiss?”
She smiled and a wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “What’s the matter, Fortune? Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little peck between friends.”
