No Ordinary Fortune. Judy Duarte

and smoked Gouda that would go bad without refrigeration. Then, armed with a Venti coffee, she’d taken off again.

      She glanced at the clock on the dash. It was late afternoon, and the traffic had slowed to an annoying rate. When her cell phone rang, she again looked at the dash, where her father’s name was displayed on the screen. Kenneth Fortunado didn’t take time out of his busy day for small talk, so she assumed he’d gotten wind of her latest escapade and wanted to voice his disapproval.

      She was tempted to turn up the volume on the radio and let the call roll over to voice mail, but she answered instead. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

      “I didn’t call to chat, Schuyler. What in the hell are you up to this time?”

      “Not much. Just taking a little road trip and listening to some oldies.”

      He paused for several beats, no doubt reminded that she favored the same music her grandmother used to listen to, along with everything else they’d had in common.

      “Where are you?” he asked, and not very nicely.

      “I’m on a Fortune hunt.”

      “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I told you to let that go.”

      “Yes, I know. But I can’t ignore the fact that our family is related to the Fortunes.”

      “That’s not a fact, Schuyler. You have no idea who my biological father was, and quite frankly, I could not care less.”

      He’d already made that clear, but Schuyler was determined to uncover the truth. And, contrary to what her father might think, she was nearly 99 percent certain that his mother’s married lover had been Julius Fortune. It had been an easy conclusion to reach. The dear, eccentric woman Schuyler had called Glammy, thanks to a childhood speech impediment, had all but spelled it out during the many chats they’d had before her death.

      “Daddy,” Schuyler said, “I can’t believe you’re not the least bit interested in meeting your birth father. Or at least getting to know some of your biological relatives.”

      “Forget killing the damned cat, your curiosity is going to be the death of me—and before I get a chance to retire and enjoy life. Can’t you focus on something else? Like going back to that art school or taking another acting class? You could even write that style and fashion blog you told me about.”

      “It’s a vlog, Daddy. Besides, I can hardly concentrate on any of that when I’m so close to solving the family mystery once and for all. And don’t blame this on mere curiosity. This isn’t a personal quest. I’m doing it as a tribute to Glammy.”

      He blew out a ragged sigh that mimicked a grumble. “I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that one of my six children would turn out to be so much like my mother.”

      He said that as if it was a bad thing, although Schuyler wouldn’t take offense. Glammy had been a little too flamboyant and over the top for the successful, straitlaced real estate mogul, but Kenneth had loved his mom. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Daddy.”

      Out came yet another sigh over the line, this one softer and more controlled than the last. “I didn’t mean that badly, Schuyler. It’s just that I’m not a free spirit like my mother was. Or like you are. So I can’t relate.”

      Both Glammy and Schuyler had embarrassed the poor man on several occasions, although never intentionally. But life wasn’t meant to be boring. Nor were people supposed to be left in the dark about their past. “I’d think you’d be interested in meeting your blood kin.”

      “Even if your assumptions are correct, and I’m not saying they are, you do realize there was a confidentiality agreement in effect.”

      “I didn’t sign anything.”

      “Dammit, Schuyler. Your grandmother did, and that’s good enough for me. You need to let sleeping dogs lie—or you just might end up getting bit in the butt when you least expect it.”

      “Aha,” she said triumphantly. “Sounds like an admission to me.”

      “I’m not going to admit or confirm squat.”

      “Maybe not, but I’d bet my trust fund that your father was Julius Fortune.”

      “Speaking of that trust fund, you’re welcome to get a real job and join us at Fortunado Real Estate.”

      Schuyler could almost see him wince while making that offer, although she knew it was sincere and that he’d do whatever it took to make room for her in the family business. But they both knew that she’d never be a good fit, so she would make it easy on him, as well as herself. “I’m really not into office or corporate jobs, so that would never work.”

      Her father didn’t immediately respond, which was just as well. They’d gone round and round on just what it was that Schuyler might actually be “into.” As a result, he’d created a healthy trust account for her, just as he’d done for Glammy. He’d also threatened to cut Schuyler off on occasion, like the time she’d told him she wanted to move to Italy. He’d assumed she’d wanted to find herself, but it was more than that. She’d gravitated toward her college roommate’s parents, who’d owned a villa there.

      There was good reason for that. Calista’s family not only welcomed her as a guest in their home, they accepted her and appreciated her uniqueness.

      Schuyler wished she could say the same for her own parents. It grated on her to be the only Fortunado who was never taken seriously—and just because she danced to the beat of a different satellite radio network.

      She might pretend as if it didn’t bother her, but at times, disappointment rose up and smacked her in the face, taunting her with the fact that she wasn’t like the others in her family. Yet how could she even try to compete with any of them? One of her brothers was a doctor, for goodness’ sake. And her older sister was so determined to move up the company ladder that she’d become a workaholic.

      None of that mattered, though. Schuyler wanted more out of life than that. Only trouble was, she wasn’t quite sure just what “more” was. But she’d figure it out one of these days. It was just a matter of time.

      A heavy silence strained the line. Finally, Daddy said, “Please don’t embarrass me or the family.”

      Schuyler rolled her eyes. It seemed that her family shouldn’t be so quick to be embarrassed. “Believe it or not, I’ve never set out to do that on purpose. And I’ll be extra careful this time.”

      “I know, Schuyler. But...”

      Again with the silence. Then his intercom beeped in the background.

      “Listen, honey. I’ve been waiting for this call, so I have to go.” As usual, Schuyler was saved by the corporate world in which her brilliant, business-minded father had made millions, all without the help of the Fortune family coffers he might have tapped into—had he been born on the right side of the blanket. “Just remember what I said.”

      “Got it, Dad. Don’t embarrass myself or the family.”

      The call ended without a goodbye.

      Schuyler turned up the volume on the radio dial, just in time to catch the beginning of the Beatles song “Can’t Buy Me Love.” She belted out the lyrics she knew by heart and continued her drive, wishing there was some way she could convince her well-meaning father that he didn’t need to use money to keep her in step—or to buy her affection. He already had it free and clear.

      She didn’t particularly like being so different from everyone else in the family. Deep inside she feared that she’d never live up to their expectations, so as a teenager, she learned to embrace her inner maverick.

      And that’s what she was doing now. As she peered out the bug-splattered windshield, she hoped she didn’t hit any more traffic in Austin. If she continued at this pace, she’d reach the Mendoza Winery offices before they closed.

      If truth be told,