Chapter 19

Isobel set Aaron's press list next to Dorothy's. There were easily 300 names between them. After her mind-numbing experience at the medical examiner's office, the thought of another daylong, detail-oriented task - not to mention the strain on her voice from all those phone calls - was not appealing.

But she had to do something. Despite Aaron's directive, she couldn't bring herself to bug the same people again so soon, so she picked up Dorothy's list and dialed, determined to take a good long break after every ten calls.

"May I speak to Joel Ripkin?"

"Speaking."

"Oh, hi! This is Isobel Spice from Dove & Flight. We sent you a release this morning announcing..."

She trailed off, realizing that she had forgotten to look at the release to see what she was pitching. She shuffled the papers.

"Um, it's a new directors and officers insurance policy for - "

"We're a medical trade," Ripkin snapped and hung up.

Isobel looked down and saw she'd grabbed Aaron's release by mistake. "Brilliant." She slammed down the phone.

"Not going well?" Katrina asked from behind her.

Isobel swiveled her chair around. "How do you do this all day?"

"I don't. I get someone like you to do it. Can I talk to you in my office?"

Isobel, relieved to have an excuse to defer her current tasks, followed Katrina, who shut her office door behind them.

"Do you want to stay here?" Katrina asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving Dove & Flight, and I want you to come with me."

"Whoa! What are you talking about?"

"I vowed a long time ago that I wouldn't work for any of my dad's companies. He's making that really difficult, because he keeps buying more."

"Yeah, but it's not like you'd be working for him directly. He'd be more of a figurehead, right?"

"You don't understand." Katrina paced over to her corkboard and began rearranging the colored pushpins into a circle. "I worked really hard in school, but it was never good enough. If it was an A-minus, it should have been an A. God forbid I ever saw a B. And then when I didn't get into Harvard or Yale, my dad decided I was always going to need his help. Which is ridiculous!" She stabbed a pushpin with such force that the bulletin board swung back and forth.

"Of course it is! You're totally capable and very smart," Isobel reassured her, although she couldn't help but enjoy a teeny bit of schadenfreude at the discovery that Katrina had been rejected by the Ivies.

Katrina settled the corkboard and began pulling out the pins. "I got this job all by myself. And you know what my dad said?"

"What?"

"He said, 'You should have told me. I could have gotten you in there.' As if I hadn't just done exactly that on my own!" She stalked over the desk and dropped the pushpins into a container. "Do you know he wanted me to be a model?"

"I thought that was your idea."

She shook her head fiercely, and her russet hair swung back and forth like a shampoo commercial. "He suggested it. He thinks my looks will get me farther than my brain. He thinks my looks are unique. My brain...not so much."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong - I love my dad. I do," Katrina said, sitting down heavily. "I just don't want him in any position to pull strings I don't need pulled."

"So you're leaving?"

"I called a headhunter this morning. She had something that just came in - corporate communications at a big international bank. They're also looking for someone to fill the assistant position." She looked hopefully at Isobel. "Are you interested?"

Multiple thoughts jockeyed for supremacy in Isobel's mind. The first was that she wasn't about to abandon a hot murder trail. The second was that she didn't dare work for another international bank, because the last time she did that, someone died. The third was that number two was a ridiculous reason, because it had already happened again. The fourth, which she realized fleetingly should have been the first, was the one she finally articulated to Katrina.

"I'm really flattered, but I can't commit to anything full-time. I know I've gotten comfortable here, but it's still a temp job. I have to be free to audition and take an acting job if I get one."

Katrina stared at her as if she had answered in a foreign language. "Are you sure? I mean, a bird in hand and all that. Especially in this economy."

"I know," Isobel said. "But I'm not a bird-hunter by profession."

They regarded each other in perplexed silence. With her father's track record of snapping up communications companies, Katrina was probably always going to be on the run. No matter what she did, people were likely to cry nepotism. It was an occupational hazard of being heir to an international communications conglomerate, which, it occurred to Isobel, Katrina would probably inherit whether she proved herself elsewhere or not. Given that, it was a little hard to feel sorry for her.

Katrina waved Isobel off. "Okay, forget I said anything. It might not even work out, and I don't want word getting out that I'm looking to leave.

Isobel nodded. "Sure. But I'm curious - why do you want to bring me so badly?"

Katrina shrugged. "If I can bring someone, it makes me a more attractive candidate." The phone rang. "Yeah, she's in here. I'll tell her." She hung up. "Your deli order is here."

Isobel returned to her desk to collect her delivery, still smarting from Katrina's admission that she wanted Isobel only to improve her own chances. She should never have gone looking for a compliment. Tray in hand, Isobel carefully navigated the spiral staircase. As she snuck a chunk of melon from under the plastic, she couldn't help wondering whether having her father breathing down her neck was the real reason Katrina suddenly wanted out of Dove & Flight so badly.