Sweet Fortune

where he picked up basic psychology by listening to the words of country-western music.
    Hatch had liked Benedict right from the start. There had been an immediate rapport between them, probably because their origins were so similar. Vincent Benedict was one of the very few men Hatch had ever met whom he actually respected; he was also one of the even fewer number whose respect Hatch wanted in return.
    “Are you worried about Galloway getting cold feet to-night?” Hatch asked after a minute during which it dawned on him that Vincent was not paying close attention to the figures on the printout.
    “No.” Vincent drummed his fingers on the desk in an uncharacteristically restless gesture and scowled.
    “Did you have some questions?” Hatch prodded, wondering what the problem was. Benedict was usually nothing if not forthright.
    “No. Everything looks fine.”
    Hatch shrugged and opened the second folder to scan the numbers inside. He had seen the potential in Benedict Fasteners immediately when Benedict had hired Hatchard Consulting briefly for advice on doing business with a Japanese company. The company had recently opened up a plant in Washington and had wanted to use local suppliers. Most were unable to meet the quality-control demands of the Japanese. Vincent Benedict had been wise enough to see the future could be even more profitable if he found a way to do so.
    Hatch had shown him the way, and in the process concluded that Benedict Fasteners was precisely the ripe, cash-rich little business he had been looking for to use as a springboard to an empire. Vincent had refused to sell outright, but had hinted there was a possibility of a deal.
    Benedict had given Hatch a one-year contract as chief executive officer, during which time both men agreed to size up the situation and each other as well as the future.
    The ink had hardly dried on the CEO agreement before Benedict had started playing matchmaker.
    It had quickly become clear that the price tag on a share of Benedict Fasteners was ensuring the firm stayed in the family. There was only one way to do that, but by then Hatch had met Jessie Benedict and had decided the price was not too high. In fact, the whole deal appeared very neat and satisfactory all the way around.
    The Galloway contract was in the bag, of course. The dinner tonight was just a social touch. It would cement the relationship and emphasize to Galloway that from now on he would be dealing with Sam Hatchard, the new CEO of Benedict Fasteners. Jessie's presence would attest to the fact that the transfer of power had Vincent's blessing.
    “She says you make her nervous,” Vincent growled suddenly.
    Hatch looked up, his mind still on the numbers in front of him. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Jessie says you make her nervous.”
    “Yes.” Hatch returned his attention to the printout.
    “Dammit, man, doesn't that bother you?”
    “She'll get over it.”
    “Why do you make her nervous, anyway?” Vincent demanded.
    Hatch glanced up again, amused. “What is this? You're not worrying about your daughter at this late date, are you? She's twenty-seven years old. She can take care of herself.”
    “I'm not so sure about that,” Vincent muttered. “Twenty-seven years old and she still hasn't found a steady job.”
    Hatch smiled briefly. “She's found plenty of jobs, from what I've heard. She just hasn't stuck with any of them very long.”
    “She's so damn smart.” Vincent's scowl deepened. “She was always smart. But she's changed jobs so often since she got out of college that I've lost count. No direction. No goals. I can't believe she's gone to work for a goddamned fortune-teller now. It's the last straw, I tell you.”
    Hatch shrugged again. “Take it easy. In a month or two she'll probably quit to go to work at the zoo.”
    “I should be so lucky. She seems real serious about this new job with the psychic. She's been there a month already and she sounds more enthusiastic than ever. She hasn't gotten herself fired yet, and that's a bad sign. People usually start thinking about firing Jessie within a couple weeks of hiring her. Hell, she didn't even last two weeks at that damned singing-telegram job. Guess it took'em that long to figure out she couldn't sing.”
    “Give her time.”
    Vincent eyed him suspiciously. “It doesn't bother you that she's always bouncing around? Doesn't it make her seem kind of flighty or something?”
    “She'll settle down after she's