set the salad on the dinner table. She hated to ask, but he hadnât exactly been free with details since his return from the long-awaited interview. Julie was afraid that meant bad news, and heâd already had enough disappointments. After nine months without a job, her father had grown restless and discouraged. She knew he was worried, especially with the holidays so close. Heâd wanted to have a new job lined up by New Yearâs, and heâd had such hope for this one, which seemed perfect for him. Yet heâd barely said a word since heâd come home from the interview.
âWhy hire an old man like me?â he muttered as he walked to the table.
âBecause youâre highly qualified, dependable and intelligent.â
âIâm not even sure I want to work for Roy Fletcher,â her father complained. He pulled out his chair and sat down.
Julie frowned. After weeks of searching, of making dozens of unsuccessful applications, after talking about this interview for days on end, his attitude came as a shock. But if her father, a man who never exaggerated or jumped to conclusions, made such a statement, there was a reason.
Roy Fletcherâs name had appeared in the media for years. He was one of the geniuses in the security software business, the man entrusted by the government to keep out hackers. Fletcher Industries had prospered as doing business online had become increasingly prone to theftâof credit-card numbers, private information, financial records and more. Her father was in security, too, only a different kind. While Roy Fletcher made sure no one could break into computer files, her father prevented intruders from breaking into the doors and windows of buildings.
Julie sat down at the table and handed her father the meat loaf. Itâd been her motherâs recipe and was one of his favorite meals. Julie had hoped this would be a celebration dinner, but apparently not. Still, she wondered what had prompted her fatherâs comment. âWhatâs wrong with Mr. Fletcher?â she asked.
âI donât much care for him.â
âMr. Fletcher interviewed you himself?â Dad hadnât mentioned that earlier.
Her father nodded. âAfter I talked to a nice gal in what they call Human Resources.â He paused a moment. âShe sent me to see him.â Another pause. âHe isnât a pleasant man.â
Julie scooped up a serving of scalloped potatoes and putthem on her plate. Toward the end of her motherâs final bout with cancer, Julie had moved out of her apartment and back in with her parents. Her father had quit his job and stayed home to nurse her mother. His company benefits had paid most of the medical bills; Julieâs salary as a junior-high physical-education teacher covered the rest. It had been a time of sacrifice for them all. Emily, Julieâs fraternal twin, had helped, financially and emotionally, as much as possible, although she no longer lived in Seattle.
After six months of this arrangement, Julieâs beautiful, petite mother had died. That was four months ago. From the beginning, the doctors had given them little hope. Julie, Emily and their father knew and were prepared for the eventuality of Darlene Wilcoffâs death. Or so theyâd assumed. What Julie had learned, and her sister, too, was that it didnât matter how ready you thought you were to face the death of a loved one; even when death is expected, it hits hard. Julie, her sister and their father had been left reeling. Julie felt her life would never be the sameâand it wouldnât. The world had lost a graceful, charming soul; she and Emily had lost a loving mother; Dean had been deprived of the woman he adored.
Julie waited until their plates were filled before she questioned him again. âWhat didnât you like about Roy Fletcher?â
âHeâs cold.â Dean hesitated and his brows drew together. âItâs as
R. K. Ryals, Melanie Bruce