Society Bride

“You can take the Fortune jet,” Kate interrupted breezily, as if she were offering the use of a bicycle and nothing more. She rose from her chair, evidently forgetting that she had come to the spa for some reason other than taking charge of Renee’s life. “I’ll call and take care of all the arrangements for you. Just be at the Fortune hangar at the airport in two hours—I’ll write down the directions for you—and you can be at the ranch in time for dinner.”

She withdrew a pad and pen from her handbag, quickly jotted some instructions, then tore the slip of paper off and handed to Renee. “And, Renee,” she added with a sweet smile, “do enjoy yourself, dear.”

Three

“Reggie? Kate Fortune calling. It’s been ages since we spoke—how are you?”

“Kate! It has been a long time. How nice to hear from you. I’m doing well. You?”

“Couldn’t be better. Listen, I have to talk to you about Renee.”

“What about Renee?”

“I ran into her this morning, and we had a very interesting conversation.”

“Did she tell you she’s getting married this month? To Lyle Norton, no less?”

“Oh, I can just hear the pride and joy in your voice when you say that, Reggie. Yes, we did discuss the fact that she’s getting married soon.”

“I couldn’t be happier about the arrangement.”

“Oh, I’ll just bet you couldn’t. That Lyle Norton is something, all right. But listen, here’s the thing. Renee looked awfully tired to me so I offered her a place to retreat to for a few days, so she could get a little rest.”

“Retreat to? What do you mean, ‘retreat to?’”

“Just that. A small retreat I have at my disposal, a place where I go for a little while when I need to rest or sort things out.”

“Sort things out?”

“You know…make big decisions, think about the repercussions of my actions, that kind of thing.”

“Think about the reper—”

“And I gave the key to Renee and told her to take a few days off from the wedding plans, so that she could get some rest and clear her head.”

“Clear her—”

“She won’t be gone long. But circumstances being what they were, she had to leave in a hurry.”

“And just what were the circum—”

“So I told her I’d call you and let you know where she is so you wouldn’t be worried.”

“And just where is she?”

“Wyoming.”

“Wyoming?”

“If you need her, call me, and I’ll get in touch with her and tell her to contact you. And don’t worry about her—she’s by no means alone where she is. If she needs anything—anything at all—there’s someone there to take care of her.”

“Kate, what are you up to?”

“Up to? Me? Why, nothing. But just between you and me, Reggie, I think if Faye were alive to see what you’ve done, she’d be appalled.”

“What I’ve done? What are you talking about?”

“Arranging a marriage for your daughter this way. It’s archaic. Faye would have a fit if she were here to see it. She was always such a romantic dear. You were, too, once upon a time. You should be ashamed of yourself now, for making Renee feel as if she has an obligation to marry a man she doesn’t love simply to save a business you’ve managed badly.”

“Kate, this is none of your—”

“Renee will be fine. You needn’t worry. Not about her welfare, at any rate. She’s perfectly safe. She’ll be home in a few days. You have my word. But right now, I think she needs some time to herself. Alone. Well, pretty much alone, anyway.”

“What she needs is—”

“I’ll call her and let her know I spoke to you. Ta ta, Reggie. Do have a nice day.”

With a purr of delight, Kate Fortune dropped the telephone receiver into its cradle, folded her arms over the top of her desk and sighed contentedly. There. Let Reggie Riley stew over that for a few days. See how he liked having control taken out of his hands for a change.

Honestly. Sending your own daughter on a guilt trip and making her feel obligated to marry a man to whom she was completely unsuited—not to mention a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her in return—just so you could save your floundering company. Reggie really should be ashamed of himself. Faye Riley must be spinning in her grave over this one. There was no way Kate could turn her back on something as wrong as all this.

Renee Riley was a sweet, kind child who deserved better. And if Kate had any say in the matter, better was exactly what she was going to get. Thank goodness Kelly had seen fit to tell Kate what was going on.

She glanced at her watch and grinned with much satisfaction. Right about now, Garrett would be outside the main house on the Final Destination, taking care of the numerous afternoon chores that never seemed to end. There was no way he’d be able to hear his telephone ringing. So Kate picked up the phone again and began to punch the first of eleven long-distance numbers that would contact him.

And when his answering machine picked up at the other end, she said, “Oh, Garrett, dear, you know how much I hate to talk to your machine. Ah, well, there’s nothing else for it, I suppose. I’m sorry for calling at the last minute this way, but I’ve been absolutely swamped with work. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sending a friend of mine your way who’ll be staying at the cabin for a few days. I do hope you’ll make her feel welcome. She has some extremely serious life choices to work out….”

“Aunt Kate, I swear to God, I’ll get you for this.”

Garrett Fortune uttered the words aloud—even though there was no one around for miles to hear them—and glared at the answering machine on his desk as if it were to blame for the message he’d just played from his great-aunt. The last thing he wanted or needed was the arrival of some flaky grande dame of Minneapolis society. There was no way he had time to play houseboy to one of Kate’s high-society friends.

He didn’t care if she did own the damned cabin. The ranch was his. He’d received the deed just last week.

Of course, there was nothing he could do about it now, seeing as how the woman would be arriving in…oh, about fifteen minutes.

Extremely difficult life choices, he repeated to himself, disgusted. Yeah, right. The only kind of life choice his great aunt’s friends probably ever had to make was whether to serve bouillabaisse or bisque for an appetizer.

He could picture his guest already, some high-society matron with overly coiffed hair and overly manicured nails, trailing a half dozen oversize suitcases and at least that many of those irritating undersize dogs in her wake. She’d be suffering from some major trauma—her daughter was marrying a gas pump jockey, for example, or her son had decided to study hairdressing instead of medicine—and she’d be beside herself with self-pity because her life was going to hell in a handbasket. Then she’d start calling Garrett at the main house day and night, as if he were Julie-your-cruise-director and room service at the Ritz-Carlton all rolled into one.

Damn. This was to have been the week Garrett started turning what had always been Kate’s weekend getaway into a working ranch. For too long the Final Destination’s potential had been completely wasted. Hundreds of acres of prime grazing land had provided little more than a beautiful backdrop for a house that had served as a vacation home for the Fortune family and sundry friends.

When Kate had set Garrett up to manage the place a little over a year ago, he’d looked forward to finally having the chance to install all the improvements necessary to make it the working ranch he’d envisioned since he was a kid. But wanting to have a real stake in the operation, Garrett had offered to buy the place from her instead. Kate had agreed to go along with the deal, provided she kept the guest cabin and surrounding property.

And now Garrett was about to see a childhood dream come true. He would make the Final Destination a ranch that could turn a tidy little profit year after year. Eventually, he planned to retire from what was already just part-time legal consulting to run the place full-time. He was itching to get started on his improvements. The last thing he needed this week was a houseguest ruining what little free time he’d planned to give himself.

“Dammit,” he muttered to no one in particular. Then, just for good measure, he kicked the desk.

At least the woman would be staying at the cabin, he thought, which would put a good half mile between them. Maybe he had enough time to rig the telephone so she wouldn’t be able to call the main house during her stay.