Fortune's Greatest Risk
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Marie Ferrarella
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Prologue
If anyone would have said to him seven months ago that twenty-nine was far too old for someone to actually feel homesick, Dillon Fortune would have laughed them off. In his opinion, being homesick was an emotion associated with preteens who were spending a month or so away from home surrounded by a bunch of strangers at a sleepaway camp for the very first time.
And yet, here he was, a grown man, feeling a deep, penetrating wave of homesickness.
Granted, he had been in Texas for more like seven months. And, yes, instead of being alone amid a bunch of strangers, he’d come out here with two of his brothers, Callum and Steven, as well as one of his sisters, Stephanie. But, when all things were considered, he had to admit, if only to himself, that he was most definitely homesick.
Very homesick.
Yes, Rambling Rose, Texas, was a beautiful place as well as an up-and-coming, flourishing town. A town that he and his brothers were heavily involved in building up, thanks to the construction company that the three of them owned. But if anyone would have asked him, Dillon would have had to say that his heart was back in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
Dillon wished that the rest of him could be back there, as well.
But he had always been raised to believe that commitments, especially to family, came first and he couldn’t very well just take off for Fort Lauderdale now, even though he really wanted to. He was committed to these various projects. His brothers were counting on him and he knew he couldn’t just leave before all the projects were completed and up and running.
Granted, the new pediatric center and the veterinary clinic were now both open and successful. The pediatric center had even been christened, so to speak, on its very first day. A pregnant woman—Laurel, last name unknown—had gone into labor during the clinic’s ribbon-cutting ceremony. She was quickly rushed to a hospital in San Antonio with a NICU just in time, and gave birth there.
But the same success story couldn’t be written about The Shoppes at Rambling Rose, a collection of high-end stores which were built on the site of what had once been the town’s five-and-dime.
Not that any of the shops had failed—it was too soon to say something like that—but so far, they hadn’t been able to find their dedicated audience yet, people who could be seen as a loyal clientele. He had no doubts that that would happen—Callum had a knack for picking places that were just waiting to become successes. But Dillon had no desire to remain here waiting for that magical moment to transpire.
This part, he thought, could easily go on without him.
Yet here he was, sitting in his car outside of the town’s newly renovated wellness spa, another one of Fortune Brothers Construction’s projects. Paz Spa was going to be opening its doors for the first time this week. Somehow, his brothers had managed to talk him into coming here today for a final walk-through. That way, they said, he could make sure that the spa was all set to go full speed right out of the starting gate. Reluctantly, because he had never been able to say no to his brothers, he had agreed, even though this wasn’t his kind of thing. He was more of a design guy, not a people person. Nevertheless, here he was, trying to get himself to leave the shelter of his vehicle and walk into the spa.
If the spa faltered for some reason, then that might adversely affect their biggest project. The new town hotel—their company’s pride and joy—was still on the drawing board. So many factors could get in the way of it becoming a reality.
Again.
There were two different ways of thinking regarding all these new projects he and his brothers had undertaken. The town’s older local residents weren’t very gung ho when it came to building this new hotel, but the newest segment of the population, the millionaires who had taken up residence within the gated community of Rambling Rose Estates, were definitely all for it. Truthfully, The Shoppes had been built with these people in mind, in the hopes that eventually, with enough prodding, the locals would grudgingly come around. At least they seemed interested in Ashley, Nicole and Megan’s farm-to-table restaurant, Provisions, which was set to open within the next few weeks—barring any unforeseen complications.
His brothers were totally convinced that they could get the locals to change their minds, but as for him, well, Dillon had never viewed things in the same sort of positive light that Callum and Steven did. His take on the matter was that the construction company had done all it could here and they should move on to another town.
Preferably one in Florida.
But then, Dillon supposed he had never been as dynamic or optimistic as either Callum or Steven were. Truth be told, Dillon would have been the first to admit that he had always had a far more cautious view of life.
However, he was a Fortune and his brothers made it clear that they were depending on his clear eye to make sure that all systems were “go” before the spa’s grand opening.
In other words, they had faith in him.
All things considered, Dillon thought, he would rather have a root canal than face what he was about to endure now.
Well, it wasn’t going to get any better or any easier to face with him just sitting here, Dillon thought, finally opening his door.
Swinging out his long legs, he let his boots hit the ground and he got out of his car. The ache he felt in his shoulders reminded him that he hadn’t been exercising lately the way he was accustomed to doing. This project had caused him to let a lot of things in his life slide lately. That was going to have to change.
Closing the car door behind him, he locked it. As he walked toward the entrance of Paz Spa, a line out of an old Tennyson poem he’d once read way back in elementary school suddenly popped up in his head.
“Into the Valley of Death / Rode the six hundred.”
Given the challenge of the task ahead, it certainly seemed to capture his mood appropriately enough.
