”“What?”Danny turned a page. “We’ll create a line of children’s books featuring Amy the faerie who will encourage and teach them. You’ll do the writing and I’ll do the art.” He turned another page. “We’ll have little Faerie houses made by artisans for people to buy. All the profits go to help children. Eventually, I want Amy the faerie dolls to give children in hospitals and shelters. Well?”Amy stared at Danny as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.“Amy? ... Amy? ... MOM!”Tiffany walked in and kissed Danny on top of the head. “She’s fine. Give her a moment, then kiss her. I’m going to Steve’s for the night. Enjoy.” She hugged him. “I’m proud of you.”One year earlier“Mrs. Haught?”“Yes.”“I’m Russell Martin.”“Danny’s Karate teacher.”“Yes, Ma’am. I need to discuss something with you. May I come in?”“Is there a problem?”“There is.”They went to the living room and grabbed seats. Russell said “You have a misunderstanding about who I am and what I do. I worked for the government. My specialty. Jameson nodded.“I don’t know where you heard that last part. He is demanding we change the defense strategy, but Sam refuses,” Jameson said, breaking eye contact and trying to hold his emotions in check.Steven gave a soft sigh and stood, “Send me everything, immediately; I’ll have you an answer by the end of the week.”“Is that enough time? There are mountains of material,” Jameson said.Fitzgerald was already walking from the room, “It will be enough—but hurry. If we are to have any chance, we need to start.”Samantha Wheatmore had set the intimate dinner table in one of the smaller rooms of her mansion. Her first impression of Steven Fitzgerald was that he was shorter than expected, like a screen actor you meet in person: exceptional looks, but unimposing physically. Her second impression was of those eyes that seemed to be able to read your soul, an impression that was reinforced when they got down to business.He had insisted on the private meeting before accepting the case. Samantha.
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