Page 5 of Ms. Fortune

One thing is for sure, tomorrow is going to be interesting.

Chapter 4

HEARTS HARD TO FIND

NORMANDY

What the heck was that all about? Asking me to dinner? And who knew my dad was friends with one of the wealthiest men in the world? He never said a word about it. But then again, he never talked about his business. And now I have said rich man showing up tomorrow, and I don’t know what to expect with him asking me to dinner. I hope he got the hint that I am not interested. I’ve got enough to handle with the business, funeral, and estate and no time to worry about the hot-shot billionaire Brandon Carmichael, who may or may not be a white-collar criminal chasing my tail.

The outpouring of sympathy we’re receiving from the community since my dad’s death is mind-blowing. The overwhelming number of cards, flowers, calls, donations, and even people stopping by the business to express their condolences has been a lot to take in. And that is just the locals. Tomorrow, a slew of people will be here to pay their respects. While Mischief is a reasonably small company, my father built up an elite client base, including some big named people from around the world. It’s surprising but also genuinely touching to see how many lives my father impacted.

My face is starting to hurt from the smile I constantly force when I meet these people. I want to go back to my dad’s house, where I’m staying, drink a large glass of wine, and think about something else for a minute. Anything else. Hell, maybe I should have taken Brandon up on his offer for dinner. The thought makes me laugh out loud to myself. Me and Brandon Carmichael. It’s preposterous.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” my half-sister Chelsie grumbles as she walks into the office I’ve temporarily taken over here at Mischief Motors and falls back into one of the chairs across from me. She looks like she’s having a rough day, though I can’t imagine why. It’s not like she’s doing anything productive to help with any of the problems around here. But then, I took everything over when I arrived like the idiotic control freak I am, so being angry about any of it is equally dumb.

“Oh, I’m having a mental breakdown. You want some?” I give her the smile I’ve plastered on my face for a few days. I’m sure it completely lacks any real emotion at this point.

“You are definitely wearing some Eau de Psycho with that crazy grin on your face.” Chelsie always looks put together in that Vegas kind of way. Her hair is tousled perfectly, and her makeup is just on this side of heavy-handed but is still gorgeous. Her outfit, while totally age-appropriate, is a tad more revealing than anything I would wear. “How many people came by today?” She leans back and crosses her stilettoed feet on the desk. Someone could put an eye out with those things. I don’t know how the hell she walks in them.

“Not that many today. Tomorrow will be the big one.” I’m trying to sound more confident about everything than I am. As if I have everything under control when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Between the two of us, I need to take command of this sinking ship and right it. “Did you know Brandon Carmichael and Dad were friends? He’s coming for the service tomorrow.”

She blinks at me like I’ve grown a second head, her brows raising in surprise.

“I did not know any of that. Wow.” Her feet slide off the desk, and she leans forward, suddenly excited. “How do you know he’s coming? Have you talked to him?”

I’m almost pushed back by the force of her excitement rushing at me.

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with him.” I scrunch my nose to show my distaste. “He asked me out to dinner. Can you believe that? We’re burying my dad, I mean, our dad tomorrow, and he wants to go on a date? That’s just plain weird. I don’t care how rich the guy is, that’s just wrong on so many levels.”

Chelsie’s expression tells me she might disagree with my assessment of the billionaire.

“He asked you to dinner? And wait, you said no? To Brandon Carmichael?” Her shock and disbelief at my rejection of him baffle me. How can she think what he did was okay?

“Yes. Brandon Carmichael. The creeper who thinks it’s appropriate to go on dates after funerals. What aren’t you getting about that part?” I shake my head at her, still not sure if I’m communicating the wrongness of it all properly.

“Norm, it’s freaking Brandon Carmichael. What aren’t you getting about that?” She throws her hands up in exasperation. She’s the only one who gets away with calling me ‘Norm.’ Since we were kids, she’s called me that, and it’s too late to ask her to stop now. Everyone else either calls me ‘Mandy’ or uses my full name.

“I’m sorry, my father just died, and the company he left is on the brink of bankruptcy. Maybe that’s why I’m not thinking about dating right now.” I can’t help the angry tone of my voice.

This pulls her up, and her eyes go wide. I have to turn away from her. I’ve not told her how bad things are because I’ve been hoping to find a solution sooner rather than later.

“Are you serious, Norm?” She swallows hard, and guilt takes over her features. Her shoulders drop under the weight. “Is it as bad as that? Bankruptcy?”

I stare down at my hands on the desk, fidgeting with a pen. I really didn’t want to get into this with Chelsie if I didn’t have to. I guess I have to now.

“It’s pretty bad, Chels.” I sigh heavily, looking around our dad’s office at the pictures on the wall of some of his favorite cars over the years. Some real classics, and some rare ones as well. He sure did love his cars. Enough to build a business out of driving them. “Maybe not bankruptcy bad, yet. But it’s close. We might have to sell off some of the classic inventory if things don’t get better soon.”

She gasps, and a hand flies over her mouth.

“No. Don’t say that. Dad loved those cars. Hell, I love those cars.” She turns to study the pictures on the wall along with me, her eyes tearing up. If she starts crying, I really will have that mental breakdown I mentioned a little while ago. “What can I do to help?”

I stare at her blankly for a minute, not sure I heard her correctly. Did she just offer to help with the business? I can’t even imagine how she could. She’s only worked casino jobs, and mainly as a waitress. I don’t see how those skills could translate to a car service.

“I don’t know….” I stammer, still shocked she’s even offering. “How do you think you can help?”

She straightens in her seat, pushing her shoulders back, and clears her throat, ready to make her case. I’m all ears. She nods at the pictures on the walls.

“I know cars.” She pauses. “Well, I know those cars. I would go with Dad to buy them, and he would tell me all about them, what to look for in the different makes and models, what was a reasonable price, etc., and how not to get screwed over by the sellers. It was kind of our thing.” The tears are back in her eyes and now in her voice too.

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