No Ordinary Fortune. Judy Duarte
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Carlo stole a quick glance at his father, but he didn’t see a need to respond.
“Are you happy you came to Austin?” Esteban asked.
“So far, so good. Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong, mijo. But you have to admit, in the past, you sometimes got bored with a job after a while and moved on to what you’d called bigger and better things.”
Carlo would like to object, to tell his father that he’d always had good reason to make a job change from one restaurant or nightclub to another, but some of what he said was true. Sometimes boredom had played a role. “Don’t worry, Dad. That’s not going to happen this time.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
The two men continued to watch the tasting, as well as the pretty blonde hostess.
“You had a lot of friends in Miami,” his father said. “And a busy social life. I worried that you’d miss all of that.”
“Not really, although I’ll admit it’s been a bit of an adjustment.” It had been six months since Carlo had turned over the keys to his ocean-view apartment and drove to Austin. Yet his enthusiasm for both La Viña and Mendoza Winery was stronger than ever. “I’m still in contact with some of my friends and making new ones. Besides, this position is a good fit, especially since I’m working with family.”
“It’s been a good change for me, too. So was reuniting with my brother. That took a huge weight from my heart.”
“I know.” Carlo, as well as his brothers, had noticed the positive changes in their father ever since he and Orlando had buried the hatchet. After a decades-old riff, everyone had been shocked to learn that Esteban had actually fathered Orlando’s son, Joaquin Mendoza. The man Carlo thought was his cousin was actually his half brother. Recently, Orlando and Esteban had forgiven one another for the past, and Esteban was now getting to know Joaquin as his son.
“You’re watching Schuyler with a keen eye,” his father said. “Are you waiting to see if our temporary hostess makes a mistake? Or are you planning to follow up this tasting with a romantic evening?”
“She’s not going to screw up. Look at her. She’s in her element.”
Esteban chuckled and slapped a hand on Carlo’s shoulder. “Apparently, she’s caught your eye, mijo. And something tells me you don’t plan to thank her for a job well done and then send her on her way.”
“Let’s see how the rest of the night unfolds.” Carlo glanced at his watch. Things would be winding down soon. The chefs and restaurant owners would be heading to dinner, and that left him and Schuyler to debrief following the tasting.
He knew better than to mention that plan. Of all Esteban’s sons, Carlo was the most like their father, a dynamic, charismatic guy who had an eye for pretty women—and a bit of trouble with commitment. Yet none of that seemed to matter. Neither of them had ever had a shortage of dates.
“Schuyler keeps glancing this way,” his father said. “So I’d venture to say that she’s got her eye on you, too.”
It seemed that way. And she wasn’t looking at him like an insecure employee hoping to get her boss’s reassurance. No, Carlo could spot sexual interest in her eyes.
In a few minutes, he’d ask her to celebrate the successful tasting by joining him at dinner. And something about that playful gleam in her pretty blue eyes told him she wouldn’t turn him down.
* * *
Schuyler was having the time of her life. The garden setting was perfect, the evening festive. She’d never sold wine before, but she knew how to talk to people. And she’d soon found those in attendance, all men and women in the culinary industry, to be worldly and interesting. By the end of the tasting, she’d snagged several large-scale orders for the winery, and she’d had a fabulous time in the process.
As the chefs and restaurant owners filed out of the garden and the hotel cleanup crew moved in, Carlo made his way to the linen-draped table where she’d been stationed for the past hour or so.
“You were amazing,” he said. “I couldn’t have asked for a better hostess.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I never realized that work could be as fun as a cocktail party.”
“I suspect you’ve attended your share of those.”
She answered with a flirtatious grin, which he lobbed right back at her. From what she’d seen so far, all of the Mendoza brothers were gorgeous, but she had to admit that Carlo was by far the most attractive—and appealing. She couldn’t pinpoint one single reason for making that conclusion. Actually, there were several—his drop-dead good looks, the playful intensity in his gaze, his confident air. On top of that, she also respected the way he’d orchestrated tonight’s event then stood back and watched it all unfold the way he’d planned.
There was clearly more to him than met the eye. There was something under the surface that also sparked her interest, a sexy yet teasing style that gave her reason to believe he might be as interested in having fun as she was.
Some people shouldn’t expect a romance to last forever, Glammy had said, and I’m one of them. Why compromise my dreams and values just to be accepted? Doing that will only lead to failure, disappointment or heartbreak.
Schuyler had to agree with her grandmother’s philosophy. As the middle Fortunado daughter, she was used to coming up short in her parents’ eyes more often than not.
Admittedly, she wished her father would be proud of her—just the way she was. Not that she’d suffered any lack of confidence because of his disappointment over the years. After all, she’d honed an innate ability to change direction whenever she needed to, something she considered a valuable asset, especially when there were a lot of miserable people in this world who’d do better if they followed their hearts.
“I can’t begin to thank you for stepping up at a moment’s notice,” Carlo said. “You really knocked it out of the park tonight. Would you be interested in pouring wine at our future tastings?”
“Sure. Why not?” Talk about getting her foot in the door with the Mendoza family. Now she wouldn’t have to mention anything about a possible investment, although the idea intrigued her.
Carlo tossed her a heart-strumming smile. “That’s great. Let’s celebrate a job well done.”
“Good idea.” Schuyler didn’t always experience the joy of accomplishment, but she did tonight. Was this how her sister Maddie felt whenever she closed a big deal? She shook off the thought and asked, “Would it be okay if I tried some of the Red River merlot? I told everyone it was my favorite Mendoza wine, even though I’d never had your label. I wouldn’t want my nose to grow and sprout leaves.”
“Like Pinocchio, huh?” Carlo chuckled as he reached for two clean glasses and set them on the table.
“Exactly. I loved that story, especially the cartoon. Besides, I have a thing about being honest.” While that was basically true, a niggle of guilt rose up inside, reminding her that she’d neglected to admit that she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.
Had he been impressed enough with the job she’d done that she could tell him about the mix-up? Would he get angry? Or would he laugh and let her hang around him and his family for a while?
She’d called Nathan Fortune yesterday as a follow-up to a letter she’d sent him last week. But before making a five-hour drive to visit him in person, she wanted to get a better feel for the renowned Fortune family. Who knew what the Mendozas might reveal or what questions she might have after talking to them.
Carlo pulled the loosened cork from one of the half-full bottles and made a generous pour. Then he handed a glass to Schuyler.
She thanked him and took a sip, savoring the hint of black cherry. No wonder some of the chefs had raved