you can open this letter on your twenty-sixth birthday in the event that I’m not there to talk to you in person.
Remember when you were little and I used to warn you that you could only trust in your luck so far? Well, I was dead wrong to tell you that. That was what your mother always told me. She was afraid that some day I’d take one risk too many, and because you were always so impetuous, she worried about you, too. I hope that you will listen to me now. Trust in your luck all the way—and be willing to push it. And never be afraid to take risks. You can do anything you want if you dare to take a shot at it. Most important of all—don’t be afraid to stay in the game.
If I’d followed that advice, I would never have left you and your sisters. I will always regret that I didn’t dare to stay in the game.
Love,
Harry
Rory forgot to breathe as she reread the words. Had he really thought of her as his darling daredevil? The thought had her heart swelling a bit. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Well.”
“Look at the pictures,” Sierra urged.
Rory pulled three photos out of the envelope. There’d been three in Natalie’s letter, too. Moisture pricked her eyes again as she noted that one picture had been taken at one of the races she’d run in high school, and another was at her senior prom. The third was one of her on horseback jumping a fence.
Memories stirred in her mind. When she was little, Harry had encouraged her to ride. He’d seen to it that she’d had lessons, and he’d never failed to be there on the sidelines, telling her that she could do anything she dared to do.
She’d forgotten all about that. Perhaps she really had inherited a daredevil trait from him. Studying the picture more closely, she pinned down the time to her freshman year in college. The equestrian team had won a blue ribbon at the state finals that year, and the meet had taken place less than a year before Harry’s fatal accident.
He’d been there, just as he’d been at every other important event in their lives. An old familiar ache settled around her heart. “I miss him.”
“Me, too.” Natalie sighed.
“Ditto,” Sierra added.
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Finally, Natalie cleared her throat. “Okay. Now we want to know why you need Harry’s advice tonight of all nights. Did you and your boss at Celebs come to a parting of the ways?”
“No.” Rory shook her head. “This isn’t about another career change. I still want to be a reporter. I think I can be good at it. But my current job hasn’t turned out to be what I expected. What it boils down to is I’m really just a research assistant to Lea Roberts, one of their star reporters. I’ve written some pieces, but I haven’t gotten a byline yet.”
Even as she explained the situation to her sisters, Rory recalled the scene that had taken place in Lea Roberts’s office that morning.
Lea was a tall, stunning brunette with a slender build who was always relaxed and perfectly controlled. But that morning, Rory’s boss had been pacing behind her desk.
“You’ve been asking to do some fieldwork,” Lea had said, waving her into a chair.
“Yes.”
Lea circled the desk and rested a hip on its corner. “I’m going to tell you up front that I’m not sure you’re ready to handle this. But I’m desperate. I can’t do it myself because I have to interview Elizabeth Cavenaugh, the chief justice’s wife, at her apartment in New York City tomorrow morning, and I can’t postpone it. All you have to do is snap a picture. That’s it.”
“I can handle it,” Rory said, wishing that Lea didn’t sound so much like she was trying to convince herself of that fact. “Who is the person I’m supposed to take a picture of?”
Lea leaned closer. “You’re not to mention this to anyone, understand?”
Rory nodded.
“I’ve received a tip that Jared Slade is going to be checking in to Les Printemps tomorrow morning. I want you to get a picture of him. One picture. Can you do it?”
“Sure,” Rory said, a surge of excitement moving through her. She knew just about everything there was to know about the reclusive businessman who ran Slade Enterprises. She’d been researching him for Lea for two weeks, and the thought of meeting him in person…well, the man just plain fascinated her. “Is that all? Shouldn’t I try to get an interview?”
Lea stared at her for a moment. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “An interview?”
Emotions tumbled through Rory. Beneath the hurt and the humiliation, she felt a little flame of anger begin to burn.
“An interview,” Lea repeated as she struggled to get her laughter under control. “Slade has never granted an interview—to anyone. He loathes all reporters. You’ll be lucky if you can get a picture. Just focus all your attention on that. This could be a real coup for the magazine, and I’m depending on you. If you can get the photo, I’ll recommend you for a staff position.”
The staff position had been her dream from the moment she’d accepted the job at Celebs. She should have been thrilled. But try as she might, Rory hadn’t been able to forget that Lea had laughed out loud at her idea to get an interview with Jared Slade. Even now as she waited for her sister’s reaction to her story, she wondered if her boss was aware that her laughter had been tantamount to a dare. Pushing the thought temporarily aside, Rory focused her full attention on her sisters.
“She offered you a staff job? That’s wonderful,” Sierra said.
“And it doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Natalie added.
When her sisters raised their glasses, Rory shook her head. “It’s not a done deal yet. First I have to snap a picture of Jared Slade.”
Frowning, Natalie tapped her fingers on the table. “Jared Slade…isn’t he that mysterious business tycoon, the recluse?”
Rory nodded. “I’ve done some research on him. The Wall Street Journal calls him the twenty-first-century version of Howard Hughes. He’s also been dubbed ‘the man with the Midas touch’ when it comes to business. His companies run the gamut from five-star hotels and golf courses to high-end retail clothing stores. He’s absolutely fascinating.”
“He’s had his share of trouble lately,” Natalie said. “There was a food-poisoning incident at his hotel in Atlanta and a fire at a factory of his in upstate New York.”
Rory stared at Natalie. “How did you know all that?”
“He’s been in D.C. twice in the past month. Part of my job is to try to keep tabs on high-profile people who might bring trouble here with them. His office always refuses to let us know where he’s staying.”
Rory picked up a strip of green pepper and gestured with it. “He’s like a phantom. No one knows what he looks like. I’m beginning to wonder if he even exists. Maybe he’s just a made-up figurehead like Betty Crocker.”
When her sisters aimed two blank stares at her, she said,
