His Secret Baby

Chapter One

Chapter One

Jag

“Population, two thousand one hundred ninety-two people.” With wide eyes, I stared out the window of my RV as the driver pulled into the small town of Shiner, Texas. “Home of the brewery that I hope to take to the next level.”

Miss Petty, my assistant and an old friend of my late mother’s, chimed in, “If you manage to talk the owners into letting you invest, this will make your fiftieth investment. How proud your mother would’ve been, Jag. Only thirty-five, and you reached billionaire status at the tender age of thirty. If your mother could only see you now.”

“Mom sees me, Miss Petty. I know she does.” As for my father, I’d never known the man. Mom had been a super-independent woman, using a sperm donor and in vitro to produce me, her only child. I had expected my strong and independent mother to be with me forever. Only, cancer doesn’t care what anyone expects. It took her away from me when I was twenty. And at that moment, I had made a promise to my dead mother that I would find a way to do the best I could from then on. And I’d done precisely that.

Investing came easy to me. Mom had a killer life insurance policy that left me with over a hundred thousand dollars. So, I did what came naturally to me and invested it in stocks, then bonds, and then I went for more. I just kept growing that money she’d left me, expanding my areas of investment. And, after a while, I found myself at the top of my game.

Now, I was taking it to small towns. Shiner, Texas, was the first in this new series of investments. They had a brewery that produced a Texas staple—a dark lager beer styled for the American palate but produced in the traditional German way. It was a success in Texas, but I’d also found there were exceptional sales in almost every state in the U.S.

I wanted more, though. I wanted to take this thing right back to where its roots had grown deep and gnarly. Germany.

A tough market, for sure, but I had my bets on the tasty brew making it big in the beer capital of the world. All I had to do was talk the owners into letting me spend some money trying to do that by becoming an investor.

They didn’t have any investors thus far, and from what I’d heard, they had no interest in finding any. They didn’t trade on the stock market either. So, I had my work cut out for me—but only if I decided the business was worth my time and money.

First, I wanted to see what kind of place this brewery was. Would it be able to handle all the extra orders that would come its way if I was successful at marketing in Germany?

I needed to know the quality of the staff. Would they work overtime if necessary? Would the management be up to snuff when the big orders came in? Would they hire more people if it meant production would have to go into twenty-four seven shifts?

I needed to know if the people behind the beer had it in them to step up, or this thing could never be taken to the next level. Not liking to fail—most successful people try to avoid that at all costs—I’d do my research before I would put my money on the line.

“Podunk,” the driver, Tex, called out. “We have arrived, boss.”

The old man I’d hired to drive my new, extremely tricked-out, forty-foot, Class A recreational vehicle was a necessity—the thing was a behemoth that I wasn’t about to even try to drive on my own.

“Please, don’t call every small town Podunk,” Miss Petty chastised him.

“I don’t mean no disrespect. It’s just what I call these small, look-alike towns, Miss Petty.” He drove down the main street. “All the buildings in these little towns look the same to me. Old, brick, and painted in different colors to help each little business try to stand out a bit.”

The buildings, built in the early twentieth century, lined both sides of the main thoroughfare of Shiner.

I’d spent the first years of my life in a small town.

Wyoming, New York, looked like pictures on Christmas cards in the winter months. I still remembered the cold winters and the way they chilled me to the bone. When I was eleven, Mom moved us away from there—all the way across the country to California. The small town was left behind. Modesto became our home for the next nine years—until she was no longer with me, and I had to go it on my own.

Of course, Miss Petty was there with me through all the cancer treatments and then the funeral. She had worked with my mother at the courthouse. Both had been court reporters. Miss Petty only left her job when it became necessary for me to hire an assistant to take care of my expanding business. She insisted on helping me as much as she could.

“The RV park I’ve booked is near the high school. Take a right here, Tex,” Miss Petty directed the driver.

“It says on the website that the majority of the citizens are of German or Czech heritage.” Smiling, I recalled the lively dances the locals in my own small hometown of Wyoming had held on special occasions. “I wonder if there will be any polka dances going on while we’re here.”

Peering at me over her horn-rimmed glasses, Miss Petty said, “We’re not going to be here for any longer than three days. Less, if you can make that happen. You do have the meeting in Fredericksburg on Monday. And after that, we have to get to New York for the christening of your friend’s baby. A godfather is a big responsibility, you know.”

Why my friend from high school had asked me to go to New York to become the godfather of his newborn son, I did not know. I figured he assumed I would shower the child with gifts his whole life. But I wasn’t into babies—or kids, for that matter. I was into me and all things associated with me.

“I’m not about to take any responsibility for Jason’s kid,” I let her know. “I’ll do the little ceremony thingy and be the kid’s godfather. But honestly, that’s all I’ll do.”

Her furrowed brow told me she didn’t understand something about what I’d said. “Then why agree to do it at all, Jag?”

“I don’t know why I agreed.” He’d called, asked me if I’d be his kid’s godfather, and I had just said yes without thinking about it at all. “Impulse, I guess. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be called a godfather? Maybe that’s why I said yes. Anyway, we’ll go to New York, and I’ll do the thing. So, keep me on track, Miss Petty. Do what you do best—keep things moving and me getting to the next place, like you’ve done for the last ten years.”

“I will do as I have always done for you, Jag. I made a promise to your mother that I’ll never break.” Her smile told me she really cared about my success.

“Thanks, Miss Petty.”

“Jag, I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Samantha.”

“My mom would rip me a new one if I ever did that, Miss Petty. I was never allowed to call any grown-up by their first name. You know that.”

“Jag, you are a grown-up now. I’m only fifteen years older than you. I think we can put those childish ideas of yours to rest.”

“Nope. I can’t do it, Miss Petty. It’s ingrained in me now.” Looking out the window, I saw something that interested me. “Look, a diner. I bet they’ve got killer chicken fried steak in there.”

“I can’t eat anything like that,” Miss Petty said as she ran her hands over her slim hips. “I’ve got to watch everything that goes into my mouth. I wasn’t blessed with a thin frame, so I must work to keep myself fit and trim.”

I never could figure out why the woman felt that she had to look as close to perfect as she could get. She didn’t even date anyone. But I never asked or commented. My mother had raised me better than that. “Well, I’m going to walk over there while you guys set up camp.”

“You do that, Jag.” She sat on the sofa, seatbelt buckled, eyes on the road in front of us. “I’ll make sure Tex sets everything up.”

I watched the old man’s shoulders slump and knew he wasn’t super keen on her making sure he did things to her expectations—which would mean everything had to be perfect.

Miss Petty made sure things were always perfect for me. She thought that was her main job. It made life easy for me, so I didn’t ask her to do things any differently. “You do that. I’m gonna stroll down Main Street. I think it will give me a clearer picture of the way the people in this town think. Are they movers and shakers, ready to make some serious cash? Or are they lackluster and lazy and care nothing for money?”

Tex laughed. “You won’t find many movers and shakers in small-town Texas or any small town anywhere for that matter. Folks from small towns are there for a reason. They don’t care for the hustle and bustle of big cities. Money ain’t the be-all and end-all for them.”

“I came from a small town, and then I lived in a big one. I like the hustle and bustle as well as serenity at other times. You never know how people are until you find that out for yourself. You can’t go around making assumptions that all people who live in small towns don’t care about making money.”

“I’ll go with my gut on this,” he said as he pulled into the RV park. “You want me to stop in front of the office, Samantha, so that you can go inside and see where they want us?”

“Yes, please, Tex.” She looked at me, pulling off her glasses. “Want to come with me, Jag?”

“Why?” I asked with bewilderment.

“Never mind.” With a sigh, she nodded. “Okay, I’ll sign in by myself then.”

It was her job. “Okay.”

She left the RV, and Tex turned his chair around to face me. “So, you gonna load up on some of that beer for us to sample this evening? I’ll fire up the barbeque, and we can drink the night away.”

Hanging out with a couple of old people sounded like a nightmare to me. But I could provide the beer for their evening without me in it. “I’ll have some beer delivered in an ice chest for you guys. I’m going to hit the town to get a taste of it. But you two enjoy your time here in whichever way you want.”

“Thanks, boss.” He’d driven the better part of the day, bringing me here from my home in Dallas. I knew he was ready to relax.

I had homes in Los Angeles, New York, Dallas, and Miami. Well, I had given the Miami home to Miss Petty. But it had been one of my original homes.

I had to give her something so she could spend time away from work—she wouldn’t take a vacation for anything. So, I gave her the gift of the Miami home and the cars that I’d bought while there. She’d taken a week off to spend it there when I first gave it to her. But she’d only gone back a handful of times since I’d given it to her, five years ago.

Miss Petty was devoted to her job. I guessed I was lucky that she was that way. I could’ve gone through many assistants, like most people I knew in my tax bracket. With her, I knew I wouldn’t have to look for someone else to take her place for many years until she was ready to retire.

Miss Petty wore a frown when she came back into the RV. “What is it?” I asked.

Shaking her head, she looked at Tex. “It’s the last space on the left.” Her eyes turned to me. “If the staff here is anything like the rest of the town, you won’t find the brewery worthy of your investment or time.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Well, the lady at the desk couldn’t bring herself to get up off her ample behind to do her job of taking the credit card and swiping it to get the payment for the lot rent. I had to walk over to her and hand it to her. And then she pointed out a rack of pamphlets, letting me know that if I wanted to do any sightseeing, I could pick as many of them as I wanted. I assured her that I had no interest in seeing the sights and that we were in town on business.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She didn’t say anything to that. She just pointed at a filthy fridge and told me that we could buy ice from the office before five, when she closes the office for the night. I told her that we have an icemaker in the RV and wouldn’t be needing any.”

“So, she’s a little on the lazy side,” I said. “That doesn’t mean everyone in this town is. You can’t judge an entire population by one person. I’m sure she’s just bored with her job. Who wouldn’t be? Sitting there, waiting for people to come in, and then having minimal time to say anything to them sounds insanely boring to me.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s a dull job. But she could put some pep into it.” Her jaw set, she mumbled, “I told you this was going to be a waste of time.”

“Yes, I know you did.” But she wasn’t always right. “I came from a small town.”

She jerked her head, looking at me with her mouth open as if she was shocked by what I’d said. “Jag! You come from Modesto, California. That is no small town.”

“Originally, I came from Wyoming, New York, and that was a small town. And I want to give back to small-town America. I’ve made something out of myself, and I want to give back to the places and people who are the heart of our country.”

“I’m just afraid that you’re going to be disappointed in the people that you want to help. You’re not like them, Jag. You’re—well, you’re better than them.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I knew that I was an exceptional man. I had a drive that not many people had. I knew my strengths and my weaknesses, which were few. But that didn’t mean that I was better than anyone. Not really. It only meant that I’d found my way in life. I’d found what worked best for me. And if I could help anyone else find that, then I would.

“So, Tex is going to make a barbeque, Miss Petty. And I’m going to have some of that beer sent over here for you two. Enjoy the night. I’ll be out and about.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” she asked.

I wasn’t about to take her with me. “I want to meet people on my own. If I have someone with me, it won’t really work out. So, you guys enjoy your night, and I’ll see you when I see you.”

Now, to see what this little town has to offer.