Family Man

redoubtable Ms. Wade, because she clearly was not one who would quit.
    Not that it was any concern of his, Luke decided. If Katy could not see the writing on the wall, that was her problem. Too bad she felt indebted to Justine Gilchrist. A smart personal assistant in Katy's position would abandon ship real fast at this point.
    But something told Luke that Katy was the type to go down on the bridge.
    She would go down fighting all the way, too.
    He strolled back down the hall to the study. The computer was humming softly. The sound soothed Luke. He got rid of the calculations he had been doing for his client and punched up a familiar file.
    He was not certain why he had started keeping tabs on Gilchrist, Inc. a few months ago. Curiosity or sheer boredom, probably. After he had started getting the messages from Katy Wade he had paid more attention to the information he had quietly been collecting.
    Luke sat down and propped his heels on the desk. He leaned back, took a swallow of wine, and contemplated the facts displayed on the glowing screen.
    He wondered how long it would take the angel and her friend Stanfield to figure out that the losses they were suffering at two of the restaurants were due to more than just a temporary downturn in the Northwest economy.
    The pattern that was taking shape was an old and familiar one. Someone was systematically and cleverly bleeding cash out of Gilchrist's Grill and Gilchrist's of Bellevue.
    Things looked and felt wrong at Gilchrist Gourmet, too, although the problems there did not fit a pattern yet. There were just problems . Far too many of them. The kind that crippled a business. If Gilchrist Gourmet kept sliding downhill the way it had been doing for the past six months, Justine would be lucky to sell it at a fraction of its original value.
    No doubt about it, Katy Wade was going to need more than a pair of wings and a halo to save Gilchrist, Inc. She was going to need the devil's own luck.

CHAPTER

THREE
    K aty stood at the window of Justine Gilchrist's glass-walled living room and watched the fog roll silently in off the ocean. The gray mist crept inevitably closer, slowly but surely consuming the world. In another few minutes the beach below the window would disappear. Then the magnificent old mansion that was Justine's home would be lost in a gray void.
    Normally Katy enjoyed the drama of incoming fog, but today it disturbed her. The relentless approach of the gray void made her think of the disaster that was threatening to overtake Gilchrist, Inc.
    “You tried, Katy,” Justine Gilchrist said. “It was good of you to do so, but the outcome is not entirely unexpected. It's obvious my grandson is just as proud and unforgiving as his father was.”
    Katy turned her head to look at the regal, silver-haired woman seated in the wingback chair. At eighty-two, Justine Gilchrist was still a striking member of the clan.
    In spite of her recent problems her shrewd green eyes were young in her patrician face, and her figure was trim. Today she was wearing a black silk blouse and a black skirt. A simple strand of pearls graced the neckline of her blouse.
    Lately an assortment of ailments had begun to plague Justine. None of them appeared to be imminently life-threatening, but during the past two years they had robbed her of the driving energy that had enabled her to build and guide Gilchrist, Inc. for nearly six decades.
    “I'm sorry, Justine. I don't think I handled the interview with Luke very well. I'm afraid I lost my temper.”
    “Don't blame yourself.” Justine smiled wearily. “You are so very open and forthright, my dear. Just like your grandfather, Richard. He always said exactly what he thought, too. You always knew where you stood with him. I have missed him these past few years. I owe him more than I can ever repay.”
    Katy thought wistfully of her loud, laughing, boisterous grandfather. Richard Quinnell had been a self-made man in every way.
    Lacking a formal education, money, and family, he had come west to make his fortune. He and his wife had opened a fish-and-chips restaurant on the Seattle waterfront and had prospered quickly. The Quinnells had been in a position to help the young Justine Gilchrist when she had been left widowed and alone in the world with her two small sons and her husband's failing waterfront café. The Quinnells had kept her afloat financially until Justine, working night and day, had managed to turn a profit.
    The friendship between the