Page 1 of Fortune's Control
Prologue
Companies loved to fire people at 4:30 in the afternoon.
I sighed, changing into flannel pants and an old t-shirt before washing the makeup off my face. A scrunchie kept my messy bun from falling apart.
Comfortable at last, I plopped onto my favorite comfy chair, crossed my legs, and dialed a familiar number.
Please pick up. Please go to voicemail.
“Hi, Mom. It’s great to hear from you.” Someone once told me that if you smile during a phone call, it adds false cheer to your voice.
“You’re the one who called. How are you, honey?” Her faint southern drawl warred with her high-pitched voice when she spoke, resulting in a friendly air with strangers that I once envied. She turned strangers in the checkout line into best friends and charmed jaded debt collectors.
The most positive word I could think of to describe our relationship was strained. I loved my mother, but we weren’t close, and I stopped hoping for something different many years ago. “I lost my job today, and it got me thinking.”
“Oh, no, honey. What did you do?”
Her question almost derailed my little speech. “It was a company restructuring. They do that sometimes.” A restructuring of one. I missed a deadline, and my boss missed over a million dollars in revenue.
“Well, their loss, and I’m sure you’ll find another one.”
“Thank you. Well, it gave me an idea. I decided to turn this into an opportunity and take a quick trip.”
“A visit here? Now isn’t the best time. I met the nicest gentleman, and he’s been taking me to dinner every night. You understand.” Sarah Jane Mayberry was nineteen when I was born, and now devoted her time to making up for lost experiences.
I ceased wishing for more a long time ago. “It’s no problem. Anyway, my lost job got me thinking about a short trip.” This was tricky because she might hang up. My foot kept bouncing. “A quick trip to Fortune’s Creek. That’s where you lived, right?”
Painful silence stretched.
“Why would you want to go there?” She made it sound like a personal attack.
“My grandmother lives there. That’s why I called you.”
“To dig up old memories? There’s nothing in that dusty town for you, Deliliah Mayberry. Nothing but horrible memories and misery. Why on earth would you want to go there?”
I searched the names Mayberry and Fortune’s Creek online with no luck. “You’re right, Mom. It was a dumb idea. What’s the new beau’s name?”
Her voice brightened at the change of subject. “George.”
I ended the phone call and considered. A search engine didn’t know everything, and no job required my presence the next day. It was an opportunity. An impulsive adventure. The best kind of adventure. A job search could wait for one week.
It was time to call my best friend. “Emma. I’m planning a trip,” I said as soon as she answered.
“Where are you going?”
“Fortune’s Creek.”
“What’s that?”
“A teeny-tiny town.”
“Charming.”
“There’s more. My boss fired me this afternoon. I’m unemployed.”
“What? Are you joking?”
“Not a joke. Also, I called my mother.”
