Sweet Fortune

sight back when you've recovered from the fall. I know you will.”
    “I hope so, Jessie.” Mrs. Valentine wiped away the tears and smiled mistily. “I feel as if some part of me has been amputated. It's a dreadful feeling.”
    “I can imagine. Do you still think you might have been pushed down those steps?”
    “I don't know what to think. The doctor explained to me about how one loses one's memory after a head injury. And the police were very nice. An officer came around again this morning and assured me there was no sign of any intruder in the house. My sister says nothing was missing or out of place. I guess I just slipped and fell.”
    Jessie nodded. “Well, to tell you the truth, I'd rather believe it was an accident. The idea of someone deliberately pushing you gives me the creeps.”
    “I agree. Best change the subject. How did your date go last night?”
    “It was a disaster, just as I predicted.” Jessie forced a smile. “You see? I may have some psychic ability of my own, Mrs. V.”
    “Yes.” Mrs. Valentine looked very serious suddenly. “Yes, you may, Jessie, dear. I have suspected for some time now that you have a natural, intuitive ability that you have never fully developed.”
    “Really?” Jessie asked, surprised.
    “It's the reason I took you on as my assistant. The thing is, I can't quite figure out what sort of talent you have, dear. No offense, but there's something rather odd about the way your mind works.”
    “A lot of my previous employers have said something along those lines.”

CHAPTER THREE

    J essie looked down at her half-sister who was standing with her in Vincent Benedict's reception area. “You ready, kid?”
    Elizabeth Benedict, curly brown hair in a neat halo around her head, her serious green eyes shielded behind a set of thick-lensed glasses, grinned bashfully. She tugged on the strings in her hand. The strings were attached to several helium-filled balloons which bobbed merrily in the air above her head. “Ready.”
    Jessie glanced at the trim middle-aged woman sitting at the nearby desk. “His calendar's clear for lunch?”
    “I cleared it, Jessie, just like I did last year for you. He doesn't have a clue.”
    “Thanks, Grace. We couldn't manage this without you. All right, Elizabeth, here we go.” Jessie shifted the huge bouquet of cut flowers and knocked on the heavy paneled door.
    “What the hell is it now, Grace?” Vincent called out irritably from the other side of the door. “I said I didn't want to be disturbed for a couple of hours.”
    Elizabeth's grin faded, and behind the lenses of her glasses, her young eyes took on an uncertain expression. She glanced up at her sister uneasily.
    “Don't worry,” Jessie advised. “You know his bark is worse than his bite. He's forgotten it's his birthday, as usual. When he realizes what's happening, he'll lighten up. Come on.” Jessie pushed open the door and marched into the room.
    Vincent Benedict looked up with a ferocious scowl. “What the hell? I said I didn't…Oh, it's you two. What are you doing here?”
    “Happy Birthday, Dad.” Jessie put the huge basket of flowers down squarely in the center of the desk in front of her father. “We're here to take you to lunch.”
    “Good God. Is it that time of the year already?” Vincent took of his glasses and gazed at the mass of balloons and flowers. His expression warmed ever so slightly as he swung his gaze back to his daughters. “Shouldn't you be in school, Elizabeth?”
    “Sure,” Elizabeth admitted. “But Jessie wrote a note saying I had an urgent appointment. The teachers always believe Jessie's notes.”
    “I have a talent for making excuses.” Jessie untwisted the balloon strings from Elizabeth's fingers and reattached them to the nearest lamp. The balloons hovered over the massive desk, looking very much out of place in the solemn atmosphere of her father's office. “Nice touch, don't you think? The balloons were Elizabeth's idea.”
    “I figured no one else would give you balloons. Do you like 'em, Dad?” Elizabeth anxiously awaited the verdict.
    Jessie caught her father's eye. It was automatic. She'd been doing it for years in this sort of situation, she reflected. She was always on the alert to make certain her father understood he was not to casually hurt Elizabeth's feelings the way he had frequently bruised her own when she was younger.
    Vincent pretended to ignore the warning look as he contemplated the balloons with a