Chapter Two
About a week after Rachel had started as his admin, Oakley Fortune considered himself a happy camper.
Not that he’d been a Boy Scout when younger or actually gone camping, except for that one time with his best friend’s family, and they’d roughed it in a lodge.
But he was truly satisfied and content with his new administrative assistant.
Rachel was a gem. She was thorough and knowledgeable and could anticipate his needs, even bringing him coffee before he needed a cup.
While it wasn’t in her job description to serve him coffee, she’d said that since she was making a fresh pot anyway, it wasn’t that big of a deal.
He’d taken her at her word, especially as her actions had made it clear she wasn’t using it as an excuse to talk with him like the previous Emerald Ridge admin.
He’d learned that Rachel said what she needed to say and then returned to her desk, their conversations having revolved around business and nothing more.
She was curious about how to best manage his office and his schedule, and within a day she’d taken over.
Clark Adams, Oakley’s executive VP and best friend, had remarked how professional Rachel had been during her interactions with those in the Dallas office.
In a literal sense, she was a godsend. Unlike her immediate predecessor, Rachel didn’t flirt or ask personal questions.
He didn’t either, although he found himself curious.
Minus what Jenny at the employment agency had told him, he didn’t have much intel on his admin.
He knew Rachel had a baby and two parents, but only because she’d set photos of each on her desk.
There was no photo of a boyfriend, but Rachel had mentioned Taylor was watching Allie, so he assumed that was his admin’s partner.
She had also brought in two houseplants that added a pop of green to the windowsill.
When he’d asked about her daughter’s name, her face had brightened, and he’d liked her smile.
Oakley stepped out into the exterior office. “I’m off to meet my father for lunch. I’ll be back later on today. If anyone calls, please take a message.”
“Sounds good. Mail should be here soon. I’ll open it and put it on your desk.
” She didn’t even glance up from the email she was typing, which slightly disappointed him.
She had beautiful blue eyes and he enjoyed gazing into them and trying to guess what she was thinking.
She’d taken the business casual to heart, wearing dress pants and short-sleeved sweaters to the office.
Her long dark hair was normally in a ponytail or a knot of some sort, the latter revealing a long, smooth neck.
“Thank you. Appreciate it.” He also liked how she sorted his mail, making it easy for him to get through the dreaded daily chore. “Unless the world is ending, no need to contact me until I get back.”
“See you then.” Without breaking her concentration from the work on her computer, she gave him an offhand wave.
Oakley left the office and headed out of the building.
At the corner, he crossed the boulevard and strolled through the city park until he reached the entrance to the river promenade, a concrete waterfront path that followed the curve of the Emerald Ridge River.
Built ten years prior, the promenade was akin to Austin’s hiking and biking trail around Lady Bird Lake or the San Antonio River Walk, but without the size or scale of either.
It did, however, give an excellent view of the river below.
As he strode along at a rapid pace, Oakley passed by couples sitting on the benches and people reading the historic markers telling the town’s story.
The walkway meandered under heritage trees that provided shade.
A few paths led to dedicated fishing spots often used by anglers or those seeking selfies.
He stepped aside as a mother pushing a stroller jogged by him.
Two people cruising at top speed in motorized wheelchairs followed her.
He passed the adjoining sidewalk that led to the Victorian-style gazebo and took the next set of stairs.
These led to the Riverside Café, which featured farm-to-table dining and excellent river views from both the inside tables and those on the deck.
He found his father inside by the windows, in a prime spot.
“There you are,” Clemons Fortune grumbled as Oakley sat across from him. “Was about to give up on you.”
“I said I’d be here at noon and I am.” Oakley shifted and reached for the water glass.
“Harrumph.” Clemons turned to watch someone walk past. Today he wore his favorite white linen suit, the one that Oakley’s younger sister had said made their dad look “dapper.” Clemons’s custom Stetson, which sat atop a head of unruly silver hair, completed the look.
In contrast, Oakley was in khakis and a polo, something that elicited another deep disapproving frown.
“Son, you can buy fancier clothes. We’re Fortunes now. Need to look and dress the part.”
“Uh-huh,” Oakley murmured noncommittally. As the oldest male sibling, he’d been managing his father for the better part of his life. Best to let the old man say his peace so they could move on to better topics.
“We wouldn’t be here had I not taken the DNA test,” Clemons continued.
“No, we would not,” Oakley agreed before he ordered a lemonade from the server who brought him a menu.
Because their family was tight, and so they could stay close to their widowed dad, he and his siblings had made a conscious decision to follow him to Emerald Ridge.
Hence Oakley’s satellite office and his need for a new admin.
“Who would have thought I had a long-lost older half brother?” Clemons mused.
“Not me,” Oakley said as he did each time.
“Strange thing,” his dad added.
“Uh-huh.” Oakley knew the entire story. His father had been adopted as a baby by a rich Dallas family, and he’d had a privileged upbringing. However, his adoptive parents believed in hard work. Clemons hadn’t received a financial handout and wouldn’t until they passed, if then.
As for his birth family, DNA had revealed a long-lost older brother, Archibald, who’d struck it rich in the airline industry as a young adult after getting a small loan from Kate Fortune, a distant relation who’d recently turned one hundred.
Clemons had crashed her big birthday soiree when he’d first arrived in Emerald Ridge.
Oakley hoped his dad hadn’t asked her for a handout, too.
“So, I was looking into some business opportunities,” Clemons began.
This made Oakley pay better attention. Even before the death of his wife, Randa, mother to Oakley and his siblings, their father had often started a series of dopey businesses, all of which had failed.
He’d also had a few justifiable lawsuits, but after her death, Clemons had kept going with even more frivolous suits, realizing he could line his coffers by being sue-happy.
As his dad talked, Oakley didn’t believe his newest harebrained scheme would merit him actually following through. No need to worry on that account—yet.
“Took the liberty of ordering a meal for you since you were so late,” his dad said as the server returned with Oakley’s lemonade. “Got you a grilled chicken sandwich.”
“I was not even three minutes late,” he protested. Oakley resisted clenching his fists in frustration and instead placed them flat on the table.
His father’s steely blue gaze pinned him with the full weight of his fatherly disapproval. “If you’re not five minutes early, you’re late.”
“Not in Emerald Ridge.” Time moved slower here than it did in Dallas, which was something Oakley had discovered and already enjoyed.
People in Dallas had been friendly with full-on Texas hospitality, whereas folks in Emerald Ridge were ten times as warm—a feat Oakley would have thought impossible had he not seen and experienced it firsthand.
Partly because he and his siblings had wanted to get to know their long-lost family and partly to keep watch on their dad, they’d joined Clemons in changing their surname from Frost to Fortune when following him to Emerald Ridge.
Their server returned, carrying two plates. Each contained fries, a small house salad and a loaded chicken sandwich. Clemons lifted the artisanal bun and scowled. “Look at the size of this chicken breast. There’s nothing there. What am I paying these ridiculous prices for?”
“Dad,” Oakley warned. He prayed no one had overheard.
Already his father had thrown a fit in The Style Lounge over his “imperfect” haircut and refused to pay.
He’d also sent back three very expensive bottles of Leonetti Vineyards wine the other night at Captain’s, the town’s swankiest restaurant.
He’d said they tasted “off.” While not a sommelier, Oakley knew enough about wine to know the bottles had been fine, perfectly palatable and eminently drinkable.
“Dad, relax. It’s organic, free-range chicken.
It’s not bred to have breasts the size of your hand. ”
Clemons rolled his eyes and took a bite. “See,” Oakley said after he finished his own morsel. “It’s delicious.”
Being stubborn, Clemons didn’t acknowledge that assertion. Instead he said, “So, business stuff aside, I thought you’d like to know I found a new attorney, one local to Emerald Ridge.”
“Dad, no.” Oakley’s condemnation was quick. His father was always suing someone, and it had gotten tiresome, not to mention embarrassing.
“No, what?” Clemons replied. He dangled a thick-cut fry from his fingertips as if it, too, wouldn’t suit. “I need a lawyer.”
“No, you don’t. We moved here for a fresh start. I’ve got my offices in the same building as some of the other Fortunes. You need to rein it in. You have more than enough money.”
Clemons snorted at that statement. “Our branch of the Fortunes is not rich.”