Sweet Fortune

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  She shot him a suspicious glance, uncertain, as usual, whether or not he was trying to joke with her. He looked perfectly serious sitting there, leaning against the counter. She decided to humor him. “Did you have a hard day at the office, Hatch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Must have been a real pain having to stop by here and put in some additional overtime working on the big courtship, hmmm?”

  “You're determined to make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?”

  “I'm trying to stop it before it gets going,” Jessie said bluntly. “There's no future in it.” She picked up her own glass of wine and took a sip. “For either of us. We'd frustrate, irritate, and generally annoy each other to death.”

  “You're wrong, Jessie. I think we have got a future. And I think we can learn to coexist, provided you make some effort. Be careful with that glass. It's going to fall off the counter if you don't watch out. I don't have the energy to go over there and rescue it.”

  She glanced down to see that she had set the wineglass right on the edge of the white tile. Cautiously she moved it to safety. “Whew. Another disaster narrowly averted. Let's hope I don't accidentally set fire to the apartment or something equally dramatic while you're here.”

  “I told your father that the fact that I make you nervous is a good sign.”

  “Is that right? I consider it a sure indicator that we weren't meant for each other.” She picked up the pot of boiling ravioli and started to dump it into a colander that was sitting in the sink. Steam gushed upward toward the ceiling. Jessie yelped as she suddenly realized just how warm the handles of the pot had gotten. “Damn.”

  “Here. Let me take that.” Hatch was there beside her, moving with surprising speed for a man who claimed to be exhausted. He deftly removed the pot from her fingers. “Why didn't you use hot pads?” He set the empty pan on the stove.

  “I was in a hurry.” Jessie held her fingers under a stream of cold water. “I got a little careless, that's all.” Because you have a way of turning me into a nervous wreck, she fumed silently.

  “You sound as if you're blaming me. It's not my fault you forgot the pads. You ought to stop and think before you pick up a hot pan, Jessie.”

  She lifted her eyes heavenward. “Lord help us, he's an authority on kitchen management too. Is there no end to this man's talents? Tell me about following the money, Hatch.”

  “After dinner. I'm tired and I want some food before you start grilling me.”

  “You're just stalling,” she accused as she turned off the tap and started ladling out the small salad she had made earlier.

  “Right, I'm stalling.” Hatch sat down at the counter again and picked up his wine. “What's that stuff?”

  “Pesto sauce. I made it myself.”

  “I'm in luck. You can cook.”

  “Look, Hatch…”

  “After dinner, okay?” He smiled his faint, unreadable smile. “I give you my word I'll tell you what I can after I've had a chance to relax.”

  She frowned. “Promise?”

  “Word of honor.”

  Jessie decided she would have to be satisfied with that much. She went to the cupboard to pull down two octagonal black china plates. “All right,” she continued, determined to be conciliatory now that she was going to get what she wanted. “Just how bad was your day at the office?”

  Hatch narrowed his gaze in surprise. “Bad enough. We've got trouble on a construction project down in Portland. Your father and I spent the afternoon getting briefed by the engineers and the on-site manager. On top of that, your father has decided that we have to bid on a job in Spokane simply because a company called Yorland and Young is also bidding on it. I've told him the job is too small for us and not worth the effort of undercutting Y and Y's bid.”

  “Dad sees Yorland and Young as a competitor.”

  “Yeah, well, it's not. Not any longer, at any rate. We're starting to play in a different ballpark. Vincent shouldn't be fooling around with a small contract bid like that one anyway. Your father's problem is that he gets too involved in the details and doesn't pay enough attention to the big picture. That's the main reason Benedict Fasteners is still small.”

  “I know.” Jessie shrugged. “Dad built that company from the ground up. He can't stand letting go of all the details.”

  “He's going to have to get used to the idea. No point hiring other people to handle things if you don't let them do their jobs.” Hatch rubbed the back of his neck as he surveyed the plate being set in front of him.

  Jessie sat down across from him and forked up a large ravioli. “Dad's old-fashioned when it comes to management techniques. Just like he is about wanting to keep the firm in the family.”

  “You don't think the company should stay in the family?”

  “I don't mind the idea. I just wish he wasn't leaving it to me. I wish he'd give equal chunks of it to my cousin, David, Elizabeth, and me when he retires. But Dad won't even listen to that idea.”

  Hatch narrowed his eyes. “You've tried to get him to divide up Benedict Fasteners among the three of you?”

  “Oh, sure. Lots of times. A lost cause. He thinks it would lead to the ultimate destruction of the company.”

  “He could be right,” Hatch said slowly. “None of you three has the foggiest idea of how to handle the firm, which means that, inevitably, you'd have to hire someone from outside, someone who would then get his fingers into the pie. And that could spell the beginning of the end.”

  “I agree that none of the three of us knows how to run Benedict,” Jessie snapped. “So why leave it to me?”

  “Because you'll do what's best for the company and the family, won't you?” Hatch murmured. “And you won't have to hire an outsider. You'll have me to run it for you.”

  “You don't want to just run it, though, do you, Hatch? You want to own a chunk of it.”

  “You're right. But in turn, I'm willing to let you adopt me into the clan.”

  “Adopt you?” Jessie put down her fork with a clatter. “Adopt you?”

  “Figure of speech.” Hatch took another sip of wine. His long, elegant fingers slid along the tapering stem of the glass as he set it back down on the counter. “You don't have to be afraid of what will happen once your father allows me to buy into Benedict, Jessie. I'll take care of you and the company. You have my word on it.”

  Jessie stared at him, unable to tear her glance away from the intensity in his topaz eyes. She could almost feel his hand gliding down the length of her spine. She shivered and wondered if Mrs. Valentine was right about her having some faint smidgen of untrained psychic awareness. The very air around her seemed to be vibrating with an almost palpable aura.

  The downstairs door buzzer broke the spell. Jessie jumped and her elbow struck the fork she had just put down. The implement bounced off the counter and clattered onto the floor.

  “Now see what you did?” Jessie glowered at Hatch as she leapt off the stool and went to answer the summons.

  Hatch ignored the fallen fork.

  “Who is it?” Jessie asked into the speaker.

  “Jessie, it's me. David. Got some good news.”

  Jessie smiled. “I think I already know what it is. But come on up and tell me anyway.” She pushed the button to let him into the building and turned her head to speak to Hatch over her shoulder. “It's my cousin, David. Aunt Glenna told me he's been accepted into graduate school. Parkington College, no less.”

  Hatch's brows rose. “Ah, yes. David, the philosopherwimp.”

  Jessie rounded on Hatch furiously. “Don't you dare call David a wimp. That's what Dad calls him and I will not tolerate it from either of you.”

  “Take it easy, Jessie. I only meant—”

  “It makes me sick the way you wheeling-and-dealing corporate types look down so condescendingly on the academic world. As if your way of making a living was somehow superior and more manly than teaching and studying. I swear, Hatch, if you say one insulting word to Da
vid under my roof, I'll kick you right out the door, in spite of what you may or may not know about investigating cult finances. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you. The neighbors probably do too. For the record, I don't have anything against the academic world. When I called David a wimp I was referring to his habit of asking you to go to your father for financial assistance. I'll bet graduate school is going to cost a bundle. Naturally he's come straight to you. That's what everyone else in the family does, isn't it?”

  Jessie glared at him, her cheeks burning because he was hitting close to home. “I'll have you know David hasn't asked me to go to Dad for more money.” Mentally she crossed her fingers and prayed that was not the reason David had decided to visit her.

  “He will.” Hatch forked up another ravioli just as the doorbell chimed.

  Jessie swung around on her heel and marched to the door. She threw it open to reveal her cousin, an intense young man of twenty-two.

  Even if one did not know about David's aspirations to pursue an academic career, one could have guessed his future from his attire. He favored jeans, slouchy tweed jackets, and black shirts. He wore round tortoiseshell frames that enhanced his look of earnest, insightful intelligence, and his unkempt blond hair gave him an air of ivory-tower innocence. Glenna had always stressed to everyone else in the family that David was a very sensitive individual.

  “Come on in, David. You know Hatch, don't you?”

  “We've met.” David nodded tentatively at Hatch, who inclined his head coolly in return.

  Neither man made an effort to shake hands. Hatch did not even get off the stool. He went back to eating ravioli, looking faintly bored.

  “Glass of wine, David?” Jessie offered quickly. “To celebrate?”

  “Thanks.” David accepted the glass and glanced around rather diffidently for a place to sit. “Sorry to bother you, Jessie. Didn't know you had company.”

  “That's all right. Hatch wasn't invited either.” Jessie smiled serenely, her eyes sliding away from Hatch's mocking gaze. “We were just talking business, weren't we, Hatch?”

  “In a way,” Hatch agreed.

  “We were definitely discussing business,” Jessie said tartly. “What else would you and I have been talking about?”

  “I can think of a wide variety of subjects. But they'll keep.”

  David glanced quickly from Hatch's face to Jessie's. “Well, this is certainly interesting. I take it the Big Plan is on track?” He sat down on the stool next to Jessie's.

  “What's the Big Plan?” Jessie asked as she resumed her seat.

  David raised one shoulder in an eloquent manner. “You and Hatch get married and Benedict Fasteners grows into a Giant in the Industry and the whole clan lives happily ever after. Come on, Jessie. Everyone knows the Big Plan. It's all your mother, my mother, and Elizabeth's mother talk about these days. So how's it going? Is romance in bloom?”

  “To be perfectly honest, we were at each other's throats before you walked in the door, weren't we, Hatch?” Jessie tore off a slice of sourdough bread.

  Hatch's gaze rested briefly on her throat. “Not quite, but it's a tantalizing thought.” He turned toward David. “I hear you're going on to graduate school in philosophy.”

  David nodded, looking distinctly wary. “Parkington has one of the most respected philosophy departments in the nation. It was one of the first to offer a doctorate in the philosophy of science and technology in Western civilization.”

  “That's your field of interest?

  “Yes, as a matter of fact it is.” There was a defiant note in David's tone now. “Modern science and technology is in the process of changing our world in fundamental ways. It could easily be destroying us. Just look at the depletion of the ozone layer and the effects of acid rain. Most of our thinking on the subject is straight out of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the age of the machine. That kind of outmoded thinking has to change because we desperately need new perspectives on man and nature. That's the task of philosophy.”

  “And you think you can change our outmoded thinking?” Hatch asked.

  “Well, maybe not yours,” David admitted sarcastically. “But I have hopes for other people, like Jessie.”

  Sensing disaster, Jessie rushed in to divert the conversation. “David, I was absolutely thrilled when Aunt Glenna told me you'd been accepted at Parkington. I'm so pleased for you.”

  “Parkington's one of those fancy private colleges back East someplace, isn't it?” Hatch picked up a chunk of bread, took a bite that showed his strong white teeth, and leaned his elbows on the counter as he chewed. “Expensive.”

  “Well, yes, as a matter of fact.” David shot an uncertain glance at Jessie, as if asking for guidance.

  “David,” she said firmly, “tell me something. Do you know anything about a group that calls itself DEL? It stands for Dawn's Early Light. Some sort of environmental extremist group, I think. They supposedly recruited some students from Butterfield College. Did you ever see any of them on campus?”

  “DEL?” David looked thoughtful, an expression he did very well. “Yeah, I think I did hear something about it a few months ago. Led by a so-called climatologist, I think. I didn't pay too much attention. They held a couple of small group lectures and talked to some people, but they didn't hang around long. We get that kind of thing all the time around a college campus. Why?”

  “I'm looking for a student at Butterfield who apparently joined DEL. Her name is Susan Attwood. Know her?”

  “No. What year?”

  “Sophomore, I believe.”

  David shook his head again. “Haven't run into her.”

  Jessie sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you might have known her.”

  “There are a few thousand students at Butterfield,” David pointed out. “Why are you looking for this Susan Attwood?”

  “Jessie's pursuing a new career option,” Hatch said. “Psychic cult-buster.”

  “What?” David wrinkled his intelligent brow. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  “Got it first try,” Hatch told him. “It's a joke. Unfortunately, Jessie's taking it seriously. No sense of humor, our Jessie.”

  Jessie shot Hatch an annoyed glance. “Ignore him, David. This is a serious matter. I'm trying to research DEL for a client of Mrs. Valentine's whose daughter ran off and joined the cult.”

  “What are you supposed to do? Get her back?”

  “If possible. The client believes this Edwin Bright person has hypnotized her daughter and others somehow. She assumes he's claiming some psychic ability to forecast disaster. She wants Valentine Consultations to prove the guy is a phony.”

  “Sounds a little out of your line, Jessie,” David remarked, helping himself to a chunk of the sourdough.

  “Very observant of you,” Hatch said approvingly. He was apparently surprised by such a show of intelligence. “It's way out of her line.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Jessie ordered. She leaned forward and folded her arms on the counter. “David, could you do me a favor and see what you can find out about DEL's activities on campus? What I'd really like is an address. There's nothing in the local-area phone books and I couldn't find anything at all in the newspaper indexes. Your mother gave me some books to read on cults in general, but I need specific information on this one.”

  “Well, I suppose I could ask around and see if anyone knows someone who talked to the DEL people when they were on campus. But I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Jessie.”

  “It's not,” Hatch agreed.

  “Sounds more like a job for a real private investigator,” David said.

  “It is,” Hatch said.

  “Pay no attention to him, David,” Jessie instructed. “He and Dad are being extremely tiresome and depressingly downbeat about my new career. Only to be expected, I suppose. The corporate mentality, you know.”

  “Uh-huh. I know. Very narrow thinkers.”

  “How true.” Jessie st
ifled a smile and ignored the impatient glance Hatch gave her. “Will you give me a hand, David?”

  David smiled. “Sure. I'll see what I can do. But don't count on much, all right? Most of the people I know don't get involved with cults and related crap.”

  “Anything at all would be useful.”

  “All right.” David glanced at his watch. “I'd better be on my way. I only stopped by to give you the good news, but since you already know it, I might as well leave you two alone.” He got to his feet and flashed a quick glance at Hatch, who was finishing the last of his ravioli. “Uh, Jessie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you mind walking downstairs with me? I wanted to talk to you in private for a minute if that's okay.”

  “Sure.” Jessie got down off the stool.

  Hatch gave David a hard look. “Why don't you ask him yourself, instead of using Jessie as an intermediary?”

  David flushed. “I don't understand.” His glance flickered to Jessie.

  “Ignore him, David. It's all one can do. I'll go downstairs with you.” She hurried toward the door, chatting excitedly about Parkington in an effort to cover the awkward moment.

  David was silent as they started down the stairs. “He's right, you know,” he finally said on a long, drawn-out sigh.

  “Who?”

  “Hatchard. I did want to ask if you'd feel out the old man for me on the subject of a loan. Think he'll spring for another one? He's already made it pretty damn clear what he thinks about my going for a doctorate. Hell, he gave me a bad-enough time when he found out I'd changed my undergraduate major from business administration to philosophy.”

  Jessie nodded sympathetically. “I know. I'll talk to him, David. I can't promise anything.”

  “I realize that. But he listens to you more than he does to anyone else in the family. You're the only one who seems to be able to beard the lion in his den with any real success.”

  “Probably because I just keep pounding on him until his resistance is finally worn down. It's very wearing, you know. On me, I mean. I get so tired of it.”

  “Why bother to do it?” David asked reasonably.

  “In the beginning, when I was much younger, I think I started doing it just to get some attention for myself. Later, in my teenage years, I was naive enough to think I could actually change him, make him want to pay more attention to his family.”