Fortune's Cinderella. Karen Templeton

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      “I see.” She thought a moment, then said, “Well, then, I suppose someone will have to pick up something for me to wear on the trip home. Since I certainly can’t be seen in public in this!”

      Scott smiled. “Not to worry, Victoria and I will take care of it.”

      Her eyes lifted to his. “Do you suppose they have size twos in San Antonio?”

      “If not, I’m sure we can find a box of safety pins somewhere.” When she pulled a face, Scott chuckled, then said, “And by the way, if Dad gets his way you’ll be back in your own bed by tomorrow night.”

      Virginia smirked. “And since when has he ever not?” Then she sobered. “Any word from Jordana yet?”

      “No.” He squeezed his mother’s hand. “Sorry.”

      She nodded, then pressed Scott’s hand to her soft cheek. They’d gotten her cleaned up, but without makeup she looked even more frail. “Thank you for not spewing out some platitude, telling me not to worry. Worrying is what I do.”

      “No kidding,” he said, and she softly laughed, then lowered their hands.

      “You know why I do, don’t you? Because your father doesn’t. Or won’t let himself, in any case. So I have to do his worrying as well as my own.” She shrugged. “’Tis my cross to bear.”

      Smiling, Scott leaned over and kissed her forehead, getting a faint whiff of her familiar perfume, as though after using it for so long it was permanently embedded in her skin. “Get some rest, and I’ll check in again later. As he turned to leave, however, Virginia called him back.

      “Your father and I … I know how our relationship must seem to you kids at times—”

      “Mom, this isn’t the time—”

      “I watched a woman d-die in front of me, Scotty. I thought we were going to die. That has a way of making you … think about things. About what matters. And what matters to me, right now, is that you and your brothers and sisters understand that, for all the … stuff your father pulls, I love him. And I know he loves me. Yes, there are times I want to smack the man senseless, for taking me for granted, for making me feel I come in a distant second to the business …”

      She struggled to sit up straighter. “But I knew who he was when I agreed to marry him. Just like he knew I was a tenderhearted fool who jumped at the sight of her own shadow,” she said with a smile. “I also see a side of him he refuses to show to you kids, for whatever reason. Yes, your father’s the most stubborn human being on God’s earth, but deep down, he’s a good man who’s always only wanted the best for his children. And don’t you ever forget it.”

      Virginia sagged back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering. For a long moment Scott simply stood there, stunned, until her breathing slowed into a deep, easy rhythm—she was asleep.

      Nurse Ratchet was still at her post at the nurse’s station, sparing Scott the merest glance as she handed off a folder to another nurse.

      “Your parents are being moved upstairs in about a half hour—”

      “Not why I’m here.”

      She sighed. “Still can’t tell you about Miss Hastings—hospital policy.”

      But before “Screw hospital policy” could leave Scott’s lips, another nurse strode past, calling out, “Dr. Karofsky says to call County General, tell ’em we’ve got an orthopedic transfer.”

      “Name?” she barked to the other nurse as she snatched up the phone.

      “Hastings. Christina.”

      Scott lunged across the counter to grab the phone out of her hand.

      “Mr. Fortune! Don’t make me call security, now—”

      He waggled the phone. “I’d like to see you try,” he said, and she huffed out a breath. “Why are you transferring her?” His gut twisted. “Is she … does she need some kind of special care?”

      “No! She’s—” Apparently realizing she’d stumbled right into his trap, the nurse sighed heavily. And held out her hand for the phone, which Scott relinquished. “She’s fine. Broken foot, some bumps and scrapes, that’s it. But she’s uninsured. And we’re a private hospital. Although we’ll treat anybody who comes through that door, once they’re stabilized we transfer them to a public facility. She’ll be well taken care of there, I assure you—”

      “She’ll be taken care of right here,” Scott said, yanking his wallet out of his pants pocket and throwing down his American Express card. “Consider her bills paid.”

      With a Mama told me there’d be days like this eyeroll, the nurse picked up the card, slammed it back onto the counter lip. “Then go settle it with Admitting. Right on the other side of those doors.”

      “Thank you.” He snatched his card and stormed back to the E.R. lobby, barely stating his case to the gal behind the glass when he heard a shrieked, “Scott!” behind him. He spun around to see a breathless, disheveled Jordana rush across the lobby, an equally disheveled Tanner Redmond right on her heels, Jordana’s luggage in his hands.

      “Jordy! Thank God!” Scott said, all the air punched out of his lungs when Jordana threw herself into his arms, then launched immediately into a disjointed narrative about her changing her mind at the last minute and Tanner giving her a ride, except the car ended up in a ditch when he swerved to avoid flying debris, something about a shed, and the weather, that the National Guard guys who’d helped them pull the car out of the ditch had been at the airport and knew the family was here.

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