Family Man

Normally he entered the clean, clear world of computerized data with a sense of profound relief. He could lose himself in the universe of disembodied information that was always at his fingertips.
    There was no pain in this world, no past and no future. When he was working he moved in an eternal present, correlating facts, aligning data, making decisions. For the past three years Luke had spent almost all of his waking time in this computer universe. He had learned to manipulate the information he found there the way a sorcerer manipulated the words in an incantation.
    But today he could not seem to get into his work. He kept feeling as if he were crouched over a pile of gold instead of his keyboard.
    So he made money at what he did. So what? Making money was second nature to him. It was like swimming or riding a bike. Once he had learned the trick of it, he never forgot it.
    His mother had always claimed the talent was in his genes. She called it the Gilchrist curse and claimed it had descended from his grandmother to his father and then to Luke.
    There was no denying that, as a team, Luke and his father had been unbeatable. Together the banished Gilchrists had built a restaurant empire in California that had outstripped the Northwest-based Gilchrist, Inc.
    And then, in one terrible instant three years ago, Luke's whole world had been shattered. The jet that had crashed on the Los Angeles runway had carried everything that had been important in his life. Ariel and his parents were gone in the blink of an eye.
    Afterward there had not seemed much point in owning an empire.
    But the habit of making money was hard to break. Luke had gone north to Oregon and found a place where he could retreat from the world and all he had lost. He sat alone in his house on the cliffs overlooking the sea, went into his computer, and made money. It gave him something to do with his days, which would otherwise have been intolerably bleak.
    Unfortunately, it did not fill up the nights.
    Two hours later Luke got up from the computer and went into the kitchen. Zeke picked up his dish and ambled along to watch Luke scrub a couple of baking potatoes, stab them with a fork, and put them into the oven.
    Luke liked baked potatoes, which was fortunate, because his cooking skills were extremely limited. He could heat a can of soup, microwave frozen vegetables, scrub potatoes, and that was about it. Not particularly impressive accomplishments for a man whose family had been in the restaurant business for three generations.
    But then, as his father had once explained, no Gilchrist ever cooked any more than was absolutely necessary. It was a family tradition.
    The word “family” caused Luke's back teeth to clamp together. He closed the oven door, poured himself a glass of cabernet, and wondered if the official Gilchrist guardian angel could cook. He figured she probably could. She looked like the wholesome type who would be at home in the kitchen.
    Luke smiled as he recalled the way Katy had clutched her briefcase in front of her as if it were a battle shield. No doubt about it, Ms. Wade was perfect personal assistant material: faithful, loyal, and devoted to the end.
    Luke sipped his wine and contemplated Katy's future with moody fascination. She did not stand a chance of holding Gilchrist, Inc. together by herself. Not even with the help of Fraser Stanfield, whoever the hell he was.
    Gilchrist, Inc. was a true family business in the old-fashioned sense of the term. If no other Gilchrist was smart enough or strong enough to step into Justine Gilchrist's shoes, the end was in sight. That was why the company's upper management was getting nervous. They knew damn well the five Seattle restaurants and Gilchrist Gourmet would have to be sold if Justine had indeed lost her grip.
    Selling off the assets was the only reasonable course of action the guardian angel and her friend Stanfield could take. Luke wondered if Katy understood that.
    Of course, even if she did, Justine Gilchrist would undoubtedly forbid the sale. Luke remembered his father's description of Justine: Boadicea in her knife-wheeled chariot ready to take on the Romans and anyone else who got in her way.
    Justine Gilchrist had fought long and hard to build Gilchrist, Inc. And she was just as stubborn as Luke's father had been. She would never consent to selling the business to outsiders.
    Which meant there was no good alternative available to Katy Wade.
    Which meant disaster for the