Texan Seeks Fortune

Chapter Two

“One question.” Kenneth moved to the edge of the sofa he was sitting on, raising his hand as if he was a student in a classroom instead of the former CEO of Fortunado Real Estate.

“Only one?” Connor asked, unable to keep the amused expression off his face.

“One’s enough,” Kenneth responded sternly. “Charlotte Robinson seems to have done a disappearing act—”

“I know that,” Connor answered, anticipating his father’s question. “Which is why I’m planning on finding her.”

Kenneth waved a hand at his son’s declaration, for all intents and purposes dismissing it.

“And therein lies my question,” Kenneth replied. “There are countless people trying to track this woman down, from the local police to the FBI to even our illustrious matriarch herself, Kate Fortune, who you might remember, despite being in her nineties, is one exceptionally formidable woman. With the boundless resources that are at Kate’s disposal, if she can’t find Charlotte, what in hell makes you think that you’re going to be able to do anything different?” his father wanted to know.

“I’m not an egotist, Dad,” Connor replied mildly. “I don’t think that I’m the only one who can find Charlotte. It’s just that,” he continued despite the cynical look on his father’s face, “sometimes I wind up getting results by thinking outside the box. Besides, the more people putting their heads together and working on locating Charlotte Robinson, the greater the chances are of actually bringing her to justice.”

Kenneth blew out a breath. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Give him time,” Valene said to Connor with a wink. “He’ll find a way.”

She went on in a louder voice, clapping her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, now that we’ve all been told about Connor’s new career and all agreed that Connor should try to find that awful woman before she does anything else, possibly even more reprehensible, to the family, let’s get back to our favorite topic.”

Connor looked at his sister quizzically. “And that would be—?”

“An engagement party,” she answered him gleefully, her eyes dancing as a broad smile slipped over her lips, curving them.

Connor closed his eyes. Engagements and weddings. His least favorite topics of conversation in the world. “I think that’s my cue to exit, stage right.”

But before he could take a single step to make that happen, Maddie linked her arm through his.

“Not today, brother dear. Mother told me that you’re spending the night at the old homestead,” she said, gesturing around the area, which couldn’t by any stretch of the imagination be referred to as “the old homestead,” at least not if accuracy was a factor.

“Looks to me like you’re trapped,” Zach told his brother-in-law, traces of amused compassion in his voice.

“Trapped? No, no offense, Zach, but that’s one thing I’m never going to be.” Connor shook his head as he glanced at his sisters and thought about his missing siblings, all of whom were undoubtedly with their “significant other” at the moment. “You know, I really can’t get over how domesticated everyone’s gotten over this past year and a half.”

“Yeah, yeah, your time’ll come,” Valene predicted, letting Connor know that she wasn’t buying into this act of his.

However, Connor remained steadfast because he honestly believed that his status was never going to change. “Sorry, not going to happen. Not to me.”

“Just because you’re the last man standing, brother dear, doesn’t mean you’re going to stay that way,” Maddie told him.

“You’re right,” Connor answered his sister. “I am the last man standing. And I intend to keep on standing for a very long, long time.”

“What do you have against being happy?” Zach asked Connor as he slipped his arm around Maddie’s shoulders and drew her closer to him.

“But that’s just my point,” Connor told the other man. “I am happy. I like being free and not accountable to anyone except for myself. And you people on occasion,” he added as an afterthought, looking around at the others in the living room.

Barbara Fortunado merely smiled at her son as she reached over and patted his cheek affectionately. “Your time will come, dear,” was all she said before she turned her attention to her daughters.

A moment later, she became fully immersed in finalizing plans for the wedding—which at this point was only a month away.

Connor turned to look at his father, who from what he could determine was also standing on the outskirts of this conversation, the way he was.

Yes, he thought, romance was all well and good, but when that faded and the day-to-day business of living had to be addressed, that was where it all fell apart. He liked keeping things fresh, not facing the same old stale fare day in, day out. In his opinion, marriages were about routines and he liked to mix things up.

“You understand, right, Dad?” Connor asked the man sitting across from him.

“Do I understand how you feel right at this moment? Yes, I do,” Kenneth admitted freely.

Connor was glad to hear that he had his father’s support. “Well, at least you can see that—”

“I also understand,” Kenneth went on as if his son hadn’t said anything, “that all that’ll change the moment the right woman comes into your life.”

“Lots of women have come into my life, Dad,” Connor pointed out. That was part of the joy of being unattached. “And I’m still free.”

“I said the right woman,” Kenneth emphasized. “And it’s not something anyone can convince you of until it actually happens to you,” his father said knowingly. “Until then,” he counseled, “just enjoy thinking that you’re happy.”

Connor merely offered his father a smile. He knew he couldn’t change his father’s mind any more than his father could change his. But he was happy, Connor thought with conviction. He knew that. And he intended to remain that way no matter what anyone else might think to the contrary.

But because the upcoming wedding seemed to make his sister so happy, he remained in the room and pretended to listen to all the plans that were being made for the anticipated nuptials.

He even nodded and smiled in the right places while his thoughts were elsewhere.

* * *

“Do you need anything, Connor?” Barbara Fortunado asked her son much later that evening.

Talks regarding the wedding plans had gone on much longer than anyone had thought they would and time had just gotten away from them. To his credit, she thought, Connor had feigned interest and even contributed a word or two, which made his sisters happy. It was nice seeing her children getting along.

She paused now to look in on her son, who was spending the night in what had once been his bedroom.

“No, I’m good, Mom,” Connor told her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked around the room. It had been a long time since he’d been here. “Although I have to admit that it feels a little strange to be back here after all this time,” he confessed.

Barbara nodded. Like all good mothers, she realized that her children had to make their own way in the world and she was proud of each and every one of them. But there were times when their very success at forging their paths out in the world made her feel just a little sad. There were times, fleeting moments actually, when she longed for the days that they had all been together, under one roof, and needed her.

She smiled at Connor now. “It’s nice to have you back, even if it is for just a little while and even if the reason you’re here is because this nasty business was what drew you back.” Her mouth quirked a little. “No matter what the reason, you’re here and that’s all I care about.”

Connor crossed the room to the doorway where his mother was standing. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You were—and are—the primary draw that brought me back, Mom. You always have been.”

Barbara laughed softly. “You always did have a way with words. Not always a truthful way, I grant you, but always sweet,” she concluded. And then she became his mother again as he crossed back to his bed. “Get some sleep, dear.”

Connor couldn’t help grinning at her. “I am thirty-one, you know.”

Barbara nodded, as if she had heard all this before and was prepared for it. “And you’ll always be my little boy no matter what age you are. Good night, Connor.”

Connor inclined his head obligingly. “Good night, Mom,” he replied.

He waited until his mother had closed his bedroom door behind her. Getting up off the bed, he crossed over to his desk and took out the folder he had slipped into the top drawer. Pulling out his chair, he sat down at the desk and began to go through the folder. It was filled with notes he’d made to himself regarding Charlotte Robinson’s dealings, as well as her possible current whereabouts.

He reviewed his notes slowly, rereading everything as if it was the first time he was seeing it. In his compilations, he’d come across the name of a freelance researcher, a Brianna Childress, who had handled some work for Charlotte Robinson over the course of the previous year.

He looked at the papers thoughtfully. Whatever this Brianna person had been doing for Charlotte had to have been sent to some address, even if that address turned out to be a PO box. That PO box in turn had to have been paid for, which meant that there’d been a check that could be traced to a bank account.

In addition, this freelancer had to be paid for her trouble. That brought him back to the bank account again, or at least a traceable credit card. All this meant that there was a possible paper trail. One he intended to follow.

It was a start, Connor told himself.

“You don’t know it yet, Brianna Childress, but you are about to be paid a visit tomorrow morning,” he said aloud. He closed the folder but went on holding it in his hands a little longer, as if the act connected him to the woman he was pursuing. “You just might be instrumental in helping me find the elusive Charlotte Prendergast Robinson before she can do any more damage.”

Connor doubted that it would be that easy, but at least it was a lead, and who knew—maybe he’d get lucky. At the very least, this Childress woman might be able to provide him with the name of someone else who could in turn give him some clue as to where Charlotte Robinson was currently hiding.

He’d had less to go on before, he thought as he rose from the desk and got ready for bed.

* * *

Connor was up early the following morning and got dressed quickly.

He looked at the address he’d left out on his desk. It was the address where he was going to find this Childress woman. Initially, for about a minute and a half, he considered calling her to tell her he was coming to see her today.

He decided against it.

A face-to-face meeting would be the better way to go. He needed all the help he could get and the element of surprise might very well be useful in this case. If this woman turned out to be as nefarious as Charlotte, calling her might cause her to flee. If this Childress woman was actually involved with Charlotte, the last thing he wanted to do was tip her off.

He knew nothing about Brianna Childress, which meant that there was no reason to suppose that she wouldn’t warn Charlotte that he was looking for her. That in turn would send Charlotte into even deeper hiding.

He wouldn’t put anything past Charlotte no matter how innocent his parents, especially his mother, thought she was.

Since it was rather early, Connor decided to just slip out of the house without waking anyone.

The sooner he was on the road, the closer he would be to possibly bringing all this to a satisfactory conclusion.

He had another reason to get out of the house without being noticed. He didn’t want to get involved in a possible discussion with his mother about Charlotte Robinson. Barbara Fortunado seemed reluctant to think badly of the other woman, but then, his mother had a tendency to view everyone in a good light.

However, there was no doubt in his mind that Charlotte was behind everything that had gone wrong in his family lately. She was a dangerous woman. The very fact that she had either tried to burn down Gerald Robinson’s estate or had hired an arsonist to do it for her said it all in his book.

The woman was evil and the sooner he found her, the sooner he would rest easy.

Connor made good his escape and got to his car without anyone seeing him. Loading the address he’d found for Brianna Childress—the location was unfamiliar to him—into his car’s GPS, he got started.

He turned on his radio but hardly heard any of the music coming out of it. He was completely focused on the encounter that was ahead of him.

* * *

Connor expected the address of the research company he was looking for to lead him to an office building somewhere in Houston. Instead, the address wound up leading him to what appeared to be a rather small, homey-looking cottage.

Puzzled, he stopped his car a few hundred feet away from the house, wondering if he had made some sort of a mistake copying the address down.

Still, he thought, he was here so he might as well check it out.

Who knew, maybe this Brianna Childress ran her business out of her house. She wouldn’t have been the first person to start out that way. The names of several computer companies and software firms came to mind.

Making up his mind, Connor started his car again. He brought it up closer to the cottage, then stopped a second time and parked.

Getting out, he made his way up the front walk. He noticed that there were some sort of bushes planted in the front yard. He wasn’t very good at recognizing plants, although to his credit he did know a rose from a lily, he thought with a disparaging smile.

He saw neither in the yard.

Walking up to the front door, he noted that it was in need of a fresh coat of paint. Shrugging, he rang the doorbell. In his mind, he rehearsed what he planned to say to Brianna Childress in order to get her to let him come inside her house.

His finger had no sooner pressed the doorbell than the front door flew open.

A rather frazzled young woman with reddish-brown hair and heart-melting brown eyes looked up at him as if he was her personal savior. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, both of which lovingly highlighted all of her curves and nearly made him permanently lose his train of thought.

He recognized the woman from her online photo. But to be honest, she could use a new head shot. That one didn’t do her justice.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here!” Brianna cried, a look of relief washing over her features. “It’s right in there!”

She pointed toward the back of the house where “it,” whatever that referred to, was.

Without waiting for a response from him, Brianna grabbed his hand and pulled him in her wake, quickly leading him toward the back of the house.

Given that she had rather a good grip for such a delicate person, Connor realized that at the moment, he had no choice but to follow her.

“I was at my wits’ end,” Brianna confided unabashedly. “Luckily, I saw your ad on TV the other day and remembered the phone number. Actually, I copied it down,” she confessed. “I had a feeling I was going to need you sooner rather than later and I was right. If you hadn’t come, I’d probably be underwater before noon.”

“Um—”

At a loss, Connor got no further. He had followed the woman into a bathroom. The “it” she was obviously referring to was a toilet. The water was rising precariously high within the bowl. It looked as if any second, the water was going to overflow and go all over the floor.

The sprightly redhead was standing in front of the toilet, her hands on her hips. “Kids,” she said to him by way of an explanation.

“Kids?” Connor echoed, unable to understand what she was telling him.

“Every time I turn around, one of them has decided that one of their stuffed animals or trucks or figurines is dirty and needs to be washed. I guess the toilet’s like a bathtub to them.” She sighed and looked at him plaintively. “So, can you fix it?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.

It was a face, Connor realized, that he couldn’t bring himself to say no to.

Chapter Three

Connor forced himself to focus on something other than Brianna Childress’s very expressive eyes. He knew that he couldn’t very well lie to the woman, not if he needed her help and wanted her to be truthful with him. If he lied, or omitted telling her the truth, that wouldn’t exactly be starting off their relationship, however short it might turn out to be, on the right foot. Lies just begat lies.

“I’m afraid that you’ve made a mistake,” Connor began.

Dismay washed over Brianna’s face as she took in what he had just said. “You can’t fix it like the commercial said?” she asked.

“It’s not that, it’s—”

Connor got no further in his explanation than those first four words because right at that moment there was a bloodcurdling scream followed by a wail and then the sound of things either falling or being thrown.

The jarring noise went clear down to the bone.

“Oh dear lord, now what?” Brianna cried in exasperation.

Before Connor could venture a guess, she made an abrupt about-face and dashed out of the room, heading toward the scream. That left Connor standing alone in the bathroom with a toilet that looked as if it was about to blow at any moment.

“There’s obviously never a dull moment around here,” he commented under his breath.

Left to his own devices, Connor looked around the small, blue-and-white-tiled bathroom. From what he had gathered, this wasn’t the first time the toilet presented a problem. Judging from the tools that were scattered on the floor, Brianna had the right things to deal with the situation.

The fact that she hadn’t dealt with it told him that she’d never learned how to put any of these tools to use. She’d probably just seen the plumber using them and had thought ahead—or wanted to be prepared for the next time. Next time had obviously arrived.

He gave the woman an A for observation. Too bad her execution was sorely lacking.

Connor had no desire to follow the woman into the other room, given the high-pitched screaming that was coming from another part of the house, but on the other hand, he was never much for standing around gathering dust, either.

Looking around again, he took inventory of the tools in the room. There was a long, thin metallic tool expressly made for breaking through the debris that gathered in clogged pipes. Whimsically dubbed a “snake,” it was lying beside a standard plunger. There were a couple of other tools, as well, but in his opinion, they were just overkill.

Connor prided himself on being rather handy. He decided that he might as well do something while he waited for the woman to come back.

Assessing the problem one last time, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

* * *

The job turned out to be easier than he had expected. The reason for the clog was a miniature toy train that had been wedged in the bottom of the toilet’s evacuation pipe. The train had been covered in what appeared to be a massive wad of sopping wet toilet paper that had wound itself around the toy. It had been a little tricky getting the train free, but in the end, he managed to get it loose—all without breaking the toy.

He looked down at the item that was now safely nestled in his hand. Such a little thing, so much trouble, he thought.

It was only when he finally rose back to his feet again that he realized the knees of his pants had gotten quite wet. He looked around for a mop to at least dry the floor, but it appeared to be the one thing that the woman hadn’t brought out with the other equipment.

Shaking his head, Connor muttered under his breath. “It figures.”

“What figures?”

The voice startled him. Swinging around to face the doorway, he saw that Brianna had finally reappeared.

She was not alone. She was carrying a squirming, very vocal preschooler on her hip. A boy.

The slightly surprised look on her face gave way to a wide, relieved smile when she saw the toy train in Connor’s hand.

“You fixed it,” she cried, delighted.

The little boy on her hip saw the toy at the same time that his mother did.

“Mine!” he cried, eagerly putting his hands out as if that would somehow cause the toy to levitate out of the stranger’s hand and into his own.

“Then what’s it doing in the toilet?” Connor asked, pretending to be serious as he presented the train to the little boy after rinsing it off in the sink.