A Fortune Wedding Page 5

  Cindy swallowed. “I…I did what was best for you.”

  “What was best? Look at this picture. Look at it,” Frannie demanded. “Do I look happy to you? Do I look like I’ve had a good life?”

  Cindy’s gaze skated away. “That Mendoza boy would never have stood by you or been able to take care of you, especially when you were—”

  “When I was what? Pregnant with another man’s child?”

  “Yes,” Cindy whispered. “I did what I had to. You needed someone to provide for you. You were in trouble and Lloyd had a promising future.”

  “So promising he bankrupted me,” Frannie said bitterly. “The Fredericks have been broke for years, apparently. I guess I was the last to know. Or you were. Lloyd blew through my trust fund and left me with more debt than you can imagine. So if you came here to hit me up for a loan or a place to stay, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” The words dripped with scorn. “The two of you were quite a pair. You bled off all the initial money when I was growing up and then he took care of the rest. And don’t even think for a minute you’ll get a penny from Josh. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Frannie—”

  “Get out of here, Mother.” She rounded on her. “I mean it. I can’t even look at you right now.”

  “But…” Cindy protested. “Roberto Mendoza was just a man. He didn’t matter. And it was so long ago. It would never have lasted.”

  “You made sure of that, didn’t you?” Frannie’s voice shook with anger. “Why leave it up to chance when you can lie? Especially when you’ll never have to live with the consequences.”

  “It was for your own good,” Cindy defended.

  “For my own good?” Frannie repeated incredulously. “It was for your good, it always is.” Whirling, she flung the Hawaiian picture into the fireplace, the glass shattering into shards.

  Cindy jumped. “Frannie. I…I only…”

  Abruptly, Frannie’s fury was gone and in its place was only exhaustion. “Just go, Mother. Now.” And she turned to the kitchen, leaving Cindy standing there.

  Frannie had never been any good at fights. Part, she supposed, of why Lloyd had kept the upper hand. He’d relished them, going for blood every time. She’d always felt faintly sick from the roiling emotion, as though anger and hostility were toxic fumes that could overwhelm.

  So she drifted from room to room after Cindy left, feeling shaky and unsettled, not finishing anything. Instead of continuing with the books and knickknacks, she found herself stopping at the long refectory table in the kitchen to pack up some of the dozens of albums of photographs she’d taken. But packing them turned into leafing through them, losing herself in the images the same way she lost herself behind the lens.

  Next to riding her quarterhorse mare Daisy, photography had always been Frannie’s truest escape. Lloyd might have done everything he could to block her from getting an education, but in this area alone, he hadn’t managed to stop her. She’d joined a local darkroom coop to perfect her processing skills, quietly taken what he’d ridiculed as hobby classes. She hadn’t minded; she’d welcomed his derision—as long as he was making fun of her, he wasn’t paying attention.

  He’d never registered that she carried a camera with her nearly everywhere she went. He’d never heard about the handful of local exhibitions she’d been involved in. And he wouldn’t have dreamed of escorting her to any event given by her friends, so he’d never discovered that she’d begun to photograph weddings and christenings. Outside of Josh, it was one of the few aspects of her life that brought her joy.

  Too bad she couldn’t make a living at it.

  Or could she?

  Eyes narrowed, Frannie began sifting through the images afresh, this time looking at them with an independent eye. She had a substantial body of work and a large amount of amateur experience. Could she turn that into a portfolio, put the word around to get work? Was it worth trying?

  Could she afford not to?

  A sound had her glancing over to see Josh walk into the kitchen. He was growing up, his once blond hair darkening, the face of the man he would become beginning to emerge. Somehow, when she hadn’t been paying attention, the days had turned into months, the months into years and he’d become an adult. Just days before, she’d photographed his graduation. In another month or two, she’d be seeing him off to college.

  Frannie swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “Did you sleep all right?” He looked tired now, she realized as she asked, drawn somehow, thinner in his jeans and muscle shirt.

  He shrugged. “Something woke me up. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Lyndsey and I are going to the lake today.”

  “Again?”

  Ignoring her, he walked over to study the photos she’d laid out. “Hey, those are my graduation shots.” Interested now, he sat. “Man, you caught it,” he said, pointing to a shot of the class flinging their mortarboards into the air. “And I like this one of everybody lined up in their robes with no one’s faces showing. It looks kind of like abstract art or something.”

  And then he fell silent.

  Frannie didn’t have to ask what picture he was looking at—she knew. It was a shot of him with his girlfriend, Lyndsey Pollack. Waiflike and blond, Lyndsey clutched Josh’s hands in hers and gazed up into his face with that singular intensity that always made Frannie a little uneasy. Granted, teenage girls tended toward the dramatic, but Lyndsey seemed more prone to it than most. Never in all the time the two had been dating, as far as Frannie knew, had a day gone by without the girl calling Josh at least two or three times.

  He pulled out his phone, and Frannie suppressed a sigh as she heard the simulated click of the device’s camera, followed by the tap of his fingers on the keyboard.

  “Isn’t it a little early to start texting?”

  She heard the bleat his phone made for an incoming message, followed by more tapping. Then he glanced over. “Sorry, Mom, what did you say?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Lyndsey’s coming by in a few.” He went over to the counter to pour himself some coffee, doctoring it liberally with cream and sugar. “She wants to know if you’ve got any more pictures of us at graduation. She’s making a collage.”

  “I’ll look.” Frannie watched him walk back over to sit at the table. “You’re going to the lake. This is the third time this week, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t you think you’re spending a little too much time together? She’s only seventeen. And you’re going off to college next year.”

  “Maybe.” He took a swallow of his coffee.

  “Maybe what?”

  “Maybe I’m going to college. Or maybe not. I’ve been thinking about sticking around here, instead. Take some classes at Red Rock Tech.”

  Frannie stared. “You’re talking about giving up a full-ride scholarship to Texas A&M for a community college? And just when did you decide this?”

  He flushed. “A couple of weeks ago.”

  “With Lyndsey.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not Lyndsey’s decision.”

  A stubborn light entered his eyes. “Maybe it is. We’re together.”

  “Josh…” Frannie bit back a sigh. “You’re only eighteen.”

  “That’s right,” he shot back. “I am eighteen. That means I’m an adult. You’re still treating me like I’m some middle-schooler with a crush.”

  Frannie blinked at her usually easygoing son, the tension in his face, the sharpness in his voice. “Take it easy. I know you’re an adult. But trust me, I was eighteen, too, and I can tell you for a fact that you don’t know nearly as much right now as you think you do. Going to college will open up your whole life—change it in so many ways.”

  “Yeah, like taking me away from Lyndsey,” he retorted. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You and Dad have been trying to break us up since practically the day we got together. You don’t take us seriously. You’ve never taken us ser
iously.”

  For the hundredth time, Frannie cursed Lloyd. They’d shared misgivings over Lyndsey’s intensity, but true to form, Lloyd had tackled Josh head-on. And not surprisingly, the more he pressured Josh to give up Lyndsey, the more hell-bent Josh was on sticking with her. Frannie’s instinct had been to gamble that Josh would eventually begin to chafe at Lyndsey’s neediness. Now, though, with him threatening to give up his plans for a four-year college program—and she knew how quickly plans for community college could turn into dropping out—she had to say something.

  “I’m not trying to break you and Lyndsey up, Josh. I’m just trying to get you to think about your future.”

  Josh’s expression turned stormy. “This isn’t about my future, it’s about you not liking Lyndsey.”

  “I think Lyndsey is a lovely person,” Frannie said carefully. But there was something about the girl that had made her uncomfortable from the beginning, an almost desperate drive to intertwine herself with Josh. Maybe Lyndsey was just an insecure high-school girl, but her expression in the photo had less a flavor of love than desperation. “Think about it, Josh. College Station is only a couple of hours away. If you go to A&M you can still be home on weekends and holidays and during the summer break. And who knows what happens after?”

  He thumped down his coffee cup. “I’ve got a better idea. I start here and go to Red Rock Tech. Lyndsey and I can be together all the time and then we can go to Texas A&M later if we want to.”

  “But you’ll lose your scholarship,” Frannie protested.

  “Who cares about the scholarship? I inherited my trust fund. I’ve got all the money I need.”

  All the money I need. “You’re right,” she responded. “You do have a lot of money now. And that means being more careful. You’re going to have all sorts of people wanting a piece of you, coming to you with all kinds of deals to invest in. Or wanting to get involved.”

  He flushed an angry red. “Are you saying that Lyndsey’s after me for my money? You’re out of your mind. She didn’t even know about it when we met.”

  “I’m just trying to get you to think about—”

  “You’re treating me like a little kid,” he shouted, jolting to his feet. “Everything’s changed, now. But you don’t know what I’m dealing with, you don’t know the spot I’m in and I’ve got to—”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting the tirade. The silence rang.

  Frannie’s lips felt cold. “What have you done, Josh?” she whispered.

  For a moment he stood, jaw working, and then he turned away. “I have to get this,” he muttered. “Be there in a sec, Lyns,” he called.

  It couldn’t be, Frannie thought numbly. He couldn’t mean what it sounded like, he couldn’t. She heard the snick of the dead bolt unfastening.

  “Boy, you sure got here in a hurr—” Josh stopped. “Can I help you?” The words were flat and unfriendly.

  “Is your mother here?”

  Not the police again, Frannie prayed. She just didn’t think she could take any more, not right now, not after all that had happened. She forced down the roil of emotions and headed toward the front door where Josh stood. It tugged her heart to see how protective he looked, holding it nearly closed, standing in the gap. He couldn’t have done what she feared, not the boy she’d raised.

  She stepped up behind him. “Who is it, Josh?”

  And over his shoulder she saw Roberto Mendoza.

  Nerves, pleasure and above all reassurance surged through her. It wasn’t fair, not when she was still struggling to stand on her own feet. She couldn’t afford to start leaning on someone. No matter how much she was tempted to.

  Roberto wore jeans and boots and a snap-button denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up. With his black Stetson and his five o’clock shadow, he carried a flavor of, if not danger, then power and unpredictability, an ability to dominate any situation that came up.

  No wonder Josh had gotten protective.

  “You’re the guy who was downtown yesterday,” Josh asked, “weren’t you? What do you want?”

  “Josh,” Frannie protested.

  “You’re not the only one who has to be careful,” he shot back at her, then turned to Roberto. “In case you haven’t heard, there’s a lot going on around here right now. My mom and I are busy.”

  “Roberto, this is Josh, my son,” Frannie said with a glare at Josh.

  Roberto nodded. “He’s right, you know. You do have to be careful.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Roberto Mendoza. My father runs Red and my uncle Ruben used to run the Double Crown. Your mom and I are old friends.”

  “Roberto Mendoza? The guy who—”

  “Was helping out the police,” Frannie interjected.

  Josh gave him a swift, uneasy look. Behind them a horn sounded as Lyndsey drove up in her little red Toyota. “Josh,” she called. “Come on.”

  Josh glanced between Roberto and Frannie, then grabbed his hat and backpack from the table by the door. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Josh, we have to finish this,” Frannie began, but he was already bounding down the steps.

  She let out a long breath and watched him get into the car.

  Roberto studied her. “You okay?” he asked.

  Frannie sighed. “I could use a cup of coffee. How about you?”

  Chapter Five

  Roberto knew he had no business coming over. She’d asked for space; by all rights, he should have given it to her. And he’d tried. He’d waited as many days as he could, but somehow that morning, he’d left the house to go to Red and instead found himself turning into her driveway.

  “How did you find me?” Frannie asked as she stood back to let him in.

  “Red Rock is a pretty small town. I made a good guess.” Based on what he knew of Lloyd Fredericks, not Frannie. Certainly, the neighborhood wasn’t the Frannie he remembered, this gated community of sprawling, pretentious, badly designed homes with security even a child could get around. In his case, he hadn’t even needed a child. “A guy I went to high school with works the gate, so he let me in.”

  She was looking calmer, the high color fading from her cheeks.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  She gestured at the packing mess. “I’m getting ready to put the house on the market. With luck, I’ll make enough to pay down some of my debt.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the boxes,” he said quietly.

  She shot him a hunted look. “Coffee first.”

  He trailed her into a kitchen that looked more like an operating theater with its glossy white cabinets and brushed-steel appliances. Hard, cold and soulless. Not Frannie, not even close. Then he glanced over the breakfront to see the photographs strewn over the kitchen table.

  “Yours?”

  At her nod, he walked over to get a closer look. There was a picture of a row of blooming cacti before a deep orange wall, a study in color and geometry and serenity. Underneath was a shot of groomsmen at a wedding. Instead of lining up stiffly, they’d gathered in a couple of pews of the church, some sprawling in the front row, some leaning over from behind, one standing. It felt like a moment captured in time rather than a staged picture. “Hey, some of these are pretty good.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Her voice was dry as she reached into a cabinet to pull out a pair of mugs.

  “No, I mean really good. You’ve got an eye for it.”

  She gave him a speculative look. “You think?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you?”

  “Maybe,” she said as she picked up the coffeepot. “I’m toying around with the idea of maybe trying to get a business going. You know, weddings, birthdays?”

  “And graduations?” He held up the picture of Josh and Lyndsey.

  She flushed. “I’m sorry you had to overhear that spat with Josh.”

  “I just caught the tail end. It happens. I remember having it out with my folks a few times at that age myself. Black,” he added when she raised a mug with a questioning glance.


  Frannie carried the coffee to the table. “Can you believe he’s talking about giving up a full scholarship to Texas A&M for community college here so he can be close to his girlfriend?”

  Based on what he’d felt for Frannie all those years ago, he could. “I guess you’re not thrilled with the idea. Or with her.”

  Frannie sighed. “She wants to be with him every waking minute, share his every thought, even wear his clothes. Sometimes I feel like she just wants to, I don’t know, absorb him.”

  “Sounds like high school to me.”

  “It’s hard to explain. I just think they’re too involved. They’re still young. And don’t look at me like that,” she defended. “I’m fully aware of the irony. It’s a different situation.”

  “But not to Josh.”

  “Of course not. It’s part of what we were fighting about.”

  “Only part? You looked pretty upset when I got here.”

  She added sugar to her cup and stirred. “It’s just all so crazy and it never stops coming. Every time I turn around it’s something else. I was a widow, then a jailbird, then bankrupt and now I’m a single parent. Who knows what’s next? I couldn’t hear your voice clearly at the door. All I heard was someone asking for me. My first thought was that it was the police.”

  “Not likely.”

  “How can you say for sure?” she challenged. “Lloyd’s murderer is still out there. They’re still looking for him. What if they haul me back in? What if they decide to arrest you? What if they decide to arrest—”

  “Who?”

  She closed up. “Anyone. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Chica, if there’s anybody on earth it matters more to right now than you and me, I’d be hard-pressed to name them.” Roberto reached out for her hand. “You never came out and told them you were innocent, even though you are. Why?”

  She pulled away. “How did you know that?”

  “Not much stays secret in Red Rock for long. Tell me.”

  “I can’t. What if I’m wrong?”