Sweet Fortune (29 page)

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, it is damn sure right.” David leaned forward. His hands circled his cup in a crushing grip. “I went out for football because of him. Spent eight weeks in a cast when I broke a leg because some idiot linebacker fell on top of me. I got a job on a fishing boat one summer because Benedict said I was a wimp and needed to toughen up. I hated it. The smell was awful. And the endless piles of dead and dying fish made me sick to my stomach. I still can't bring myself to eat fish.”

“David—”

“I've studied karate for years, trying to prove to Uncle Vincent I was made of the right stuff. Mom and the old bastard decided I should get to know the family business, so I tried working construction one summer.” David shook his head at the bitter memory. “Should have seen my coworkers. Their idea of a good time was getting off work and heading straight for the nearest tavern. Their idea of intellectual conversation was a detailed discussion of the tits on the latest Playmate of the month.”

“I know the type,” Hatch said dryly, thinking back to his own younger days.

“Then, in sheer desperation, Mom convinced Uncle Vincent to let me try working in the head office.”

“I take it that didn't work either.”

“Hell, no. I couldn't do anything right. The old bastard was always yelling at me. Said I lacked the instincts for running a company like Benedict Fasteners. I started taking business-administration classes so I could develop the instincts, and he just laughed. He said no fancy college classes would ever give me what I needed. He said I just wasn't tough enough to follow in his shoes. And you know something? He was right.”

“Benedict can be a little rough on people,” Hatch admitted. No wonder Jessie had wound up running interference between David and her father. With her soft heart, she must have felt sick about the failure of that relationship.

“Yeah, well, as far as I was concerned, that last bit was the end. I walked away from Benedict Fasteners without a backward glance. Told Mom to forget trying to make me into a chip off the old Benedict block. Hell, I didn't even have any Benedict blood in me. I was a Ringstead. Why should I go out of my way to please the old man? Jessie was right.”

“About what?”

“She told me I wasn't meant for the business world. She said I should go off and do what I wanted to do, not what someone else wanted me to do. I'll never forget the night she sat me down and said that to me. It was like she'd set me free somehow, you know? Everything was a lot clearer after that.”

“So you switched your major from business administration to philosophy?”

“You got it.” David swallowed the last of his latte.

“You're no longer interested in trying to please Benedict,” Hatch observed slowly. “But you're more than willing to take money from him to finance your education?”

“Damned right. Bastard owes it to me.”

“How do you figure that?”

David looked at him in disgust. “Don't you know? My father helped him build Benedict Fasteners.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“My father used to work for Benedict back in the old days. He was an accountant. He pretty much set up the business, got it on its feet. He virtually created the little empire Uncle Vincent owns today.” There was a hint of pride in David's voice now. “If it hadn't been for my father, Mom said, Benedict would have gone under back at the beginning. The old bastard didn't know anything about business in those days. All he knew was construction.”

“He knows a hell of a lot about business now,” Hatch observed.

“So he learned. Mostly from my father, the way I see it. Took advantage of my dad. And when he didn't need Dad anymore, he fired him.”

“Fired him? Are you sure?”

David gave him a disgusted look. “Of course I'm sure. Mom told me all about it. Benedict used Dad up and got rid of him rather than make him an equal partner in the business, the way he should have. My father wasn't like Benedict. He was an intellectual type, you know? Not a shark. Getting fired was hard on him. He just split.”

“You remember all this? You couldn't have been more than a small boy.”

“Of course I don't remember all of it. I've figured most of it out from little things Mom and Benedict and Connie and Lilian have let slip over the years. The bottom line is, Uncle Vincent owes me, just like Mom says.”

“Christ,” Hatch muttered. “Nothing like airing a few family secrets.” He sat in silence for a while, thinking.

“You finished with this little man-to-man chat?” David asked. “If so, I've got another class in fifteen minutes.”

“Just one more thing, David.”

“Yeah?”

“I happen to think you're a lot tougher than your father was. The fact that you put up with all the hassle from Benedict over the years and then chucked the whole scene to find your own path tells me that.”

“So?”

“So I think you've got what it takes to go to Benedict yourself and ask for the loan for grad school.” Hatch swallowed the last of his coffee and got to his feet. “You want to make the old bastard pay for what he did to your father? Go ahead. Make him pay through the nose. Take every last dime you can pry out of him and spend it on a degree in philosophy. You couldn't ask for a better revenge, believe me.”

“Yeah, that did occur to me. He really can't stand the idea of me getting a degree in philosophy,” David agreed with grim satisfaction.

“Just make sure you take your revenge all by yourself,” Hatch concluded quietly. “Don't involve Jessie in it.”

David looked up swiftly. “Mom always said it was easier for Jessie to get the money from Benedict.”

“Not anymore. I'm in the way now. Besides. Take it from me, David, vengeance is a lot sweeter when you take it in person. That's my little bit of philosophical wisdom for the day. Based on a lot of real-life experience. Think about it.”

Hatch went out the door and walked to where he had parked the Mercedes.

I
hope you did the right thing. I'm not so sure about this, Hatch. I just don't know.” Jessie twiddled her fork in her penne pasta and sun-dried tomatoes and gazed uncertainly at Hatch.

“Stop worrying about it. It's done and that's the end of it.” Hatch tore off a slice of bread from the loaf in the basket and sank his teeth into it.

The noise from the evening dinner crowd sharing the cozy restaurant with Jessie and Hatch was a contented hum. The food being served at the tables was typical Northwest-style cuisine, which meant intriguing and innovative combinations of fresh fish, pasta, and vegetables.

“I don't know.” Jessie gazed moodily down into her pasta as if it were a particularly cloudy crystal ball. “Maybe you shouldn't have been so hard on him. I've told you David's very sensitive.”

“I don't give a damn about his sensitivity,” Hatch muttered. “I just want to make sure that from now on he does his own dirty work.”

“He and Dad don't get along very well. I've told you that. They barely even speak to each other.”

“You of all people should know it's not necessary to get along well with Vincent in order to deal with him. You've just got to have some staying power. It's up to David now. If he wants the cash for grad school, he can ask for it himself. You're out of it. No more rescue operations on behalf of the family.”

“You're making up new rules for me and the others based on the way you like to do things. That's not fair, Hatch. The rest of us don't work the same way.”

“I don't care how the rest of the clan works. I just want you out of the loop. At least for a while.”

“What gives you the right to interfere in my life this way?”

“I don't see it as interference. I see it as cutting through a few of the knots in which you've got yourself tangled.”

Jessie was speechless for an instant. “You have an incredible audacity, Hatch. Cutting through the knots, my foot. As if you knew what you were doing. You're not some kind of professional family counselor.”

“Damn right I'm not. But I learned a long time ago that it's usually easier to cut through a knot than it is to unravel it.”

“Stop talking about knots,” she snapped.

“All right. What would you like to talk about? Our forthcoming engagement?”

She tensed instantly, the way she always did when he mentioned marriage. “We don't have any concrete plans for an engagement.”

“Maybe we'd better make some,” he mused. “I'm beginning to think we've been fooling around long enough.”

Jessie felt goaded. “Maybe I like fooling around. Maybe I'd be content to fool around forever. Did you ever consider that possibility? The situation isn't bad the way it stands now. Not for me, at any rate. I'm getting the best of both worlds. All the advantages of an affair and none of the disadvantages of marriage.”

“So you're just using me, is that it?” He gave her a thoughtful look. “Should I start withholding sex in order to prod you into marriage?”

Jessie flushed warmly. She glanced quickly to the right and then to the left, trying to ascertain if anyone at a neighboring table had overheard the remark. Then she glowered at Hatch. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“No. I have no sense of humor, remember?”

Jessie stopped fiddling with her fork and picked up the knife instead. She began tracing small agitated triangles on the tablecloth. “I'm not so sure about that.”

“Is that right?” Hatch munched on a clam. “What changed your mind?”

“I haven't changed my mind. Not yet, at any rate.” She raised her chin. “But I am reconsidering the issue.”

“How about doing something a little more productive?”

“Such as?” she asked.

“Such as setting a date for a wedding.”

“So you can get it on your calendar?” she retorted. “Get the big day properly scheduled into your busy life? Are you sure you can make time for a honeymoon? We're talking two whole weeks here, Hatch. That's the traditional length of time, I believe. Are you sure you can stay away from the office that long?”

“It's amazing how much work you can get done in a hotel room if you bring along the right equipment,” he said seriously. “What with fax machines and modems and laptop computers, a man can take his office with him these days.”

“
There isn't going to be any wedding
.” The knife Jessie had been using to draw little patterns in the tablecloth suddenly jumped out of her fingers and teetered on the edge of the table. She watched in dismay as it toppled over the edge. It landed on the carpet in merciful silence. When she glanced up to meet Hatch's gaze she thought she saw a cool satisfaction in his eyes.

“It's not funny,” she muttered.

“I know.”

She was incensed. “I'll bet you do think it's funny, don't you?”

“No. How could I, with my nonexistent or, at best, extremely limited sense of humor?” he asked reasonably. “Forget the knife, Jessie. The waiter will bring you another one. Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Do you still think I'm incapable of giving our marriage the amount of attention it would need?”

“After that crack about bringing along a fax machine and a modem on your honeymoon, what else am I supposed to think?”

“I give you my word of honor they won't get in the way,” he said earnestly. “I work very efficiently.”

Jessie stared at him. He
was
teasing her. She was almost certain of it. And she was rising to the bait like a well-trained little fish. She forced herself to relax before she dropped anything else on the floor.

“Come on, Jessie. Tell me the truth. I'm not nearly as much like your father as you thought back at the beginning. Right?”

“Okay, I admit it. You're turning out to be a very different sort of man, even though you've got a lot of the same workaholic tendencies. My father would never have helped me figure out what's happening to Susan Attwood.”
Or gone out of his way to keep Elizabeth from being disappointed at the science fair. Or worried very much about my motives for marrying you
, she added silently.
Not that I
am
going to marry you
, she corrected herself immediately.

“So I'm not such a bad guy, after all? I think we're making some progress here.”

“Maybe we are. I have to tell you something, Hatch. I'm not sure you're right to try to yank me out of the family loop, as you call it, but I will say that no one has ever tried to rescue me from anything before. It's kind of a novel experience.”

Hatch started to smile slowly, but before he could say anything else a bird-faced woman with frizzy gray hair and tiny half-glasses perched on her beak of a nose stopped beside the table.

“
Jessie
. Jessie Benedict, it is you. I thought it was when I saw you from over there.” She nodded toward a booth on the other side of the crowded restaurant. “Haven't seen you in ages. How is everything going? Did you find another job?”

Jessie looked up, recognizing the woman at once. It was hard to forget someone who had once fired you. “Hello, Mavis. Nice to see you again. Mavis, this is Sam Hatchard. Call him Hatch. Hatch, meet Mavis Fairley. You and Mavis have a lot in common, Hatch.”

“We do?” Hatch was already on his feet, acknowledging the introduction with grave politeness.

“Do we, indeed?” Mavis echoed brightly, waving him graciously back into his seat. “And what would that be, I wonder? Are you by any chance in the health-food business?”

“No. I'm in nuts and bolts.”

“Hatch is the new CEO at Benedict Fasteners,” Jessie explained. “And what you both have in common,” she added with a benign smile, “is that you've each had occasion to fire me.”

“Oh, dear.” Mavis looked instantly concerned. “Not another unfortunate job situation, Jessie?”

“Afraid so.”

“She was wreaking havoc in her father's company,” Hatch said matter-of-factly. “What kind of damage did she do to your firm?”

“To be perfectly blunt, she was driving off customers right and left. She managed my downtown store for a while. I'm in health foods, as I said, and sales began plummeting almost immediately after she took over. She was being a bit too straightforward with the customers, if you take my meaning.”