© 2015 by Dr. Kevin Leman and Jeff Nesbit
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-4578-6
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
“To those who are given much, much is required” is a paraphrase of Luke 12:48.
Edited by Ramona Cramer Tucker
To all those curious enough to seek, question, and forge their own path in life.
And to those who choose to do the right thing, no matter the consequences.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Glossary of Acronyms
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
Bonus Feature: Birth Order Secrets
Firstborn
Onlyborn
Middleborn
Lastborn
Acknowledgments
About Dr. Kevin Leman
About Jeff Nesbit
Resources by Dr. Kevin Leman
Back Ads
Back Cover
Glossary of Acronyms
AF: American Frontier
AIA: Aleut International Association
AP: Associated Press
API: American Petroleum Institute
ATF: Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms
BP: British Petroleum
CEQ: Council on Environmental Quality
COEB: Center for Ecological Biodiversity
CryoSat: Cryogenic Satellite
DA: District Attorney
DHS: Department of Homeland Security
DNC: Democratic National Committee
DOE: Department of Energy
DOI: Department of the Interior
DOJ: Department of Justice
DSCC: Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee
EPA: Environmental Protection Agency
FBI: Federal Bureau of Investigation
FCC: Federal Communications Commission
GOP: Grand Old Party (Republican Party)
INS: Immigration and Naturalization Service
IPO: Initial Public Offering
NASA: National Aeronautic and Space Administration
NCAR: National Center for Atmospheric Research
NGO: Nongovernmental Organization
NOAA: National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration
NSA: National Security Agency
NSF: National Science Foundation
NYPD: New York Police Department
ODNI: Office of the Director of National Intelligence
SEC: Securities and Exchange Commission
1
CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION, WESTERN NEW YORK
The sun didn’t have a chance to set on the lake by the Worthington family’s summer home before Will’s father put him on the hot seat.
“Why haven’t you seized control of American Frontier yet?” William Jennings Worthington V demanded. “That CEO position has your name on it.” His dark eyes burned into Will’s as he gripped the arms of the patio chair.
Will sighed. His mother, Ava, simply exchanged a glance with him at the well-worn topic, then got up from her seat where all three were supposed to be enjoying the beginnings of a radiant Chautauqua sunset.
“Think I’ll go check on dinner,” she announced. Pausing midstep, she placed her hands on slim hips and shot a look toward her husband. “Bill, William hasn’t even been here an hour. Give him a chance to breathe before you hit him with the grand inquisition, will you? This is supposed to be a break . . . a family time.”
He waved her off. “I know, I know. But the boy’s got to think about his future.”
And upholding the Worthington family name, Will told himself. Like he didn’t feel that every day of his life. Not to mention he was now 39 and the successful head of Worthington Shares Equity, far from a “boy.” But that was just the way his father talked to his firstborn son.
To avoid his father’s eyes, Will scanned the meticulously manicured wood-framed and stone home with the large front porch. The structure went back generations and carried lots of fond memories.
But the old house also harbored secrets—secrets of a blue blood family that stretched back six generations of unimaginable wealth, with its roots even farther back to the era of monarchs and royalty in Ireland, Scotland, and parts of Europe. Their family crest, Royal Blue, included a picture of the Tara Stone, the Lia Fáil—once known as the Stone of Destiny, which was thought to have been the inauguration stone for Irish kings and later for Scottish kings, and ultimately became the coronation stone in Westminster Abbey.
The Worthington family had vacationed in Chautauqua every summer while Will was growing up. They’d spent other holidays and weekends here as well whenever the family could get away.
But Will’s father, a financial tycoon who had built an even greater dynasty of wealth on the foundation of the previous Worthingtons, was rarely ever home. Vacationing in Chautauqua with his family meant he was there for a dinner or two before he received an urgent phone call and had to head back to New York City or somewhere else to defuse a crisis.
That he was semiretired now merely made his laser-like focus on Will even more intense.
Will leaned forward. “The current CEO is pretty well entrenched and comfortable.”
“But it’s the next step for you,” his dad argued. “The Worthingtons have always won in the financial world, and you’re no exception.”
So there it was again. His father was never satisfied with enough. There always had to be more. Will had to admit, though, that most of the time he was the same way—a cookie cutter of his father regarding the Worthington drive to make his own mark on the world in the largest way possible. But lately he had started wondering when enough was enough.
Will clasped his hands in front of him. “Dad, you know it would take a financial meltdown, a huge drop in stock, or some other kind of disaster to threaten the CEO’s position and open the door for me to enter. And until or unless that happens—”
“It will—destiny works that way,” his
father interrupted. “And when it does, you need to be there, ready to take control.” When Will didn’t respond, his father said more softly, “Son, I only want the best for you.”
“I know.”
Bill Worthington loved his kids, even though his public image of “family first” didn’t always play out in his private life. But he had made sure Will, his brother, Sean, and his sister, Sarah, had never lacked for anything. And he had gone out of his way to provide adventures and opportunities for each of the kids, to encourage them to follow their natural talents. But it had been Ava O’Hara Worthington who kept them all connected. That was why Will’s memories of the family home in Chautauqua were so warm. His Irish-heritage mom, with her light auburn hair and vibrant sea-green eyes, made their summers fun and lively, not to mention educational. She’d insisted on no kitchen help or maids when they came to Chautauqua, claiming that the kids needed a taste of “normal life” and that she liked to cook but rarely got an opportunity to do it at their home in New York City. A debutante well sought after by admirers and schooled at Harvard, where she fell in love with Bill, Ava seemed happiest in the kitchen with a smudge of flour on her cheek.
She poked her head out of the kitchen door now. “Okay, you two,” she said, “it’s time to come inside for dinner. And your brother and sister better not be late. They promised.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You know they won’t be on time, Mom. They never are.”
She laughed. “I keep hoping.”
At that moment, a rapid clicking of heels resounded behind his mom, and an enthusiastic voice called through the door, “So, what’s for dinner?”
A second later Sarah Katherine Worthington, dark curls bouncing, exploded onto the scene. She hugged her mother profusely, then stepped through the patio door with a dramatic flourish. “Ta-da! I’m here.” She checked the time on her watch, and then, green eyes sparkling as she looked directly at Will, she teased, “And exactly 10 seconds early too, big brother.”
“Wonders never cease,” their mother proclaimed.
“And Daddy, don’t you look comfortable!” Sarah hurried over to envelop him in an embrace. “All you need is one of your infamous cigars, and . . .”
Will had never been so glad for the interruption. His bouncy sister always shaved the edge off their father’s driven nature. And now was no exception. She’d had him wound around her little finger since the day she was born.
The Worthingtons were already past the soup and salad and on to the delicious main course when Sean Thomas Worthington arrived. Dressed in khakis, hiking boots, and a “Save the Polar Bears” T-shirt, he kissed his mother on the cheek, then slid into the one remaining empty seat next to Sarah at the expansive oak table.
“Nice of you to join us,” Bill noted wryly.
Sean stuck a fork in the seafood pasta and took a bite. “I was packing up. I’m heading out right after this.”
“Where to this time?” Bill asked.
“The Arctic Ocean.” Sean grinned at his sister. “I’ll get to check out the beluga whales firsthand.”
“Cool,” Sarah replied. “I read that—”
Their father cut them both off. “Glad you’re able to have some fun on Worthington money. But someday you’re going to need to focus, decide what you want to be all about . . . and get a haircut and shave.” He swept a hand toward Sean’s slightly awry reddish locks and stubbled chin. “Now your brother here”—he swiveled toward Will—“has got some big decisions to make while you play around in the Arctic.”
“Bill,” their mother chided, “you know what Sean does for the company and how important it is.” With her eyes she aimed an apology in Sean’s direction, but he only shrugged.
It was like every family discussion where their dad was involved. Bypass Sean and Sarah and zero back in on Will. Like what he did in this family was the only thing that mattered.
In his best moments, Will was flattered by his dad’s attention. He wanted to please his dad, make him proud. But the majority of the time, Will felt the pressure, as he did now—it ricocheted off every wall in the room, and each family member’s head pivoted toward him.
“Oh, you mean he doesn’t make any big decisions every single day as the head of Worthington Shares? Come on, Dad.” Sarah speared a shrimp with her fork and waved it around. “We all do. It’s in our DNA. Worthington stock 100 percent.” She elbowed Sean. “And this handsome one does a pretty good job as the public face of Worthington that everybody loves to love, don’t you, bro? Even if you’re looking a little scruffy right now, I doubt the whales will care.”
Leave it to his baby sister to try to lighten the dinner conversation. She had a way of bringing everybody together. Not that she was any slouch herself, working long hours as the deputy assistant attorney general in the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division. But it still grated on their father that she’d removed all her legal obligations to Worthington Shares Equity Fund when she took her job. Now she was like any career person in the trenches, he said—only with a lot more money in her trust fund and bank account.
Their father had assumed all three kids would fall in line like ducks and be a part of Worthington Shares. Without even blinking an eye, Will had. As the sixth-generation Worthington male heir, he’d literally been born to it. From the time Will was able to talk, Bill and their good friend and financial advisor, Drew Simons, had groomed Will to take the helm of Worthington Shares when his father announced his retirement. Will had looked in the mirror that day of the transition and had seen a reflection of his father, only younger. Dark, curly hair, intense dark eyes, and a six-foot-one build. The realization had both excited and scared him.
From that moment on, Will had commanded the ebb and flow of the family effortlessly—except when his dad stepped back into the picture.
“So, son,” his father continued, eagle-eyeing Will, “the CEO position at American Frontier may not be yours yet. Then what’s your next step? No Worthington has made a run for president for six generations. It’s about time.”
Will held a hand up. “I’m not sure a White House run is right for me—”
“Well, somebody in this family’s got to take control of the broken political system and fix it. And it’s sure not going to be your brother or your sister. Now you—you’ve got the skills, the natural talent to turn this country around.”
“Like he’s not busy enough anyway.” Sarah laughed, but there was a brittle edge to it.
Will knew that tone of his sister’s and that a steely determination lay behind her bouncy exterior. Like the time when she was eight and she’d caught the neighbor boy swinging a cat by its tail and had given him a sound scolding. That day had sparked her interest in going to law school. Sarah was a fighter, always championing the underdog, whether it was one of her brothers, herself, or anyone else. It was why the job she was doing now made sense to Will, even if it didn’t to their father.
“But hey,” she told Will, “if you ever decide to do it, you can count on me for support. I might even have a few ideas of my own.” She caught her dad’s eye and said pointedly, “Since I’m not like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, and I do have a brain.”
“Why don’t we sit outside for dessert?” their mom cut in quickly.
Dear Mom, Will thought. She just wanted them all to get along. Wanted the waters of life to be smooth. Good luck with that in this clan.
Sean sat silent, pushing the remaining food around on his plate as their father got up and stepped out the patio door.
Will could feel the tension and aggravation radiating from his younger, middleborn brother. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but he loved his brother with all his heart. From the instant four-year-old Will had held Sean and touched the red curls on his tiny head, he knew he would do anything to protect his brother. Anything.
Yet even after 35 years, Will couldn’t stop the barbs their dad threw Sean’s way. He also couldn’t miss the sadness on his mom’s face every time that happened
. Will wished he could fix it, like he fixed things in the financial world, but he couldn’t. No wonder Sean went out of his way to avoid family dinners or to shorten his time at them. Who could blame him?
Sean had always walked to the beat of a different drummer, and it drove their dad crazy. Sean found uses for the Worthington money, mainly in start-ups and in ecological and conservation causes, but he didn’t feel the same drive to grow their wealth that Will and their father did.
Sean also thought and acted differently from the rest of the Worthington clan. He had a touch of the fiery Irish spirit their mom had, but hers had mellowed over the years, except for when she felt the need to defend Sean. It was no wonder Sean didn’t even bother answering their father when he got in moods like this. He simply rode out the waves of conversation until he could head out the door.
The sooner, the better.
Like now.
Sean pushed back his chair. “If you don’t mind, Mom, I’m going to skip dessert. I really have to get going.” With a nod at Will and a hug to Sarah and their mom, Sean strode out the front door.
Their mom got up quickly and started to follow him.
Sarah turned to Will. “Well, bro, if you’re going to make a bid for president, you’re really going to be in the eye of the media hurricane. And they’re going to dig deep. Hope you don’t have any skeletons in your closet that none of us know about.” She laughed as she moved toward the patio. “Because somebody is going to find them and announce them to the world.”
Will heard a slight intake of breath behind him and glanced back. “Mom, you okay?”
She had stopped, frozen, several steps from the table. “Uh, yes,” she murmured, but her fingers played with the scarf at her neck, the gesture she used when she was nervous. When she looked up, he saw a flicker of fear in her sea-green eyes before she forced a smile. “Go ahead, dear. I need a few minutes in the kitchen to finish up the dessert.”
“I can help if you want,” Will offered.
But she shooed him out the patio door.
Will stepped over the threshold, then swiveled back toward his mom. She still hadn’t taken a step toward the kitchen. Instead, she was positioned stiffly toward the front door and the driveway, where Sean’s Jeep was revving up.
A Perfect Ambition Page 1
