The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 1 The Secrets to My Success Prequel The Mountain Monroe Series By Melinda Curtis Copyright © 2019 by Melinda Curtis The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 2 Chapter One “Daniel, you need to wrap this up, so it doesn’t become a story.” Daniel Cross stared across his boss’ desk, a wide oak monstrosity built at least fifty years ago, probably about the same time Sirus Quinby began practicing law in Philadelphia. Wrap it up? How many additional hours do I have to put in before Christmas? He’d already logged in forty hours this week and it was only Wednesday afternoon. Not that the hours themselves were unusual, but this time of year there was a memory that dragged his steps, an emotional scar that refused to heal. Mr. Quinby’s desk was piled high with thick manila folders filled with the last wills and testaments of many of the wealthiest men and women in America. The heftiest folder sat open on the old man’s stained blotter, that of Harlan Monroe, a self-made multi-millionaire. Harlan was dying and his legal affairs weren’t buttoned up. “Daniel, pay attention.” Mr. Quinby snapped his bone-thin fingers at his junior partner, an action that seemed to exhaust him. He slumped, rumpling his pea green tie. “When I mentioned this to Harlan, your name came up. Your name. All confidentiality agreements must be accounted for. We’re missing three.” Only three? Out of nearly one hundred? Did this small loop-hole need to be closed before Christmas? Daniel had a ritual around the holidays. He hunkered down in his apartment, saw no one and put that ache in his heart to sleep reading decades old legal briefs. He avoided the rounds of gatherings, the endless stream of shoppers – especially in crowded elevators – and didn’t emerge from his abode until New Year’s Day. Although this year, when his feet began to drag at Thanksgiving, he’d booked a trip to the Bahamas for the holidays. His flight was scheduled to leave on Christmas Eve and not even work for Harlan Monroe was going to put a kink in his plans. All he had to do was tell Mr. Quinby to send one of their interns. “I know what you’re thinking,” Mr. Quinby said. Oh, no. You don’t. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 3 “Only three agreements, Daniel. That’s what you’re thinking. And only a few days before the holiday.” The old man grabbed the stack of Christmas cards on his desk and shook them at Daniel. “You’re thinking we can send a lowly intern.” Daniel sat back in his chair. The old man never knew what he was thinking. “Have you forgotten that I know what happened to you five Christmases ago?” Mr. Quinby smoothed a strand of white hair away from his forehead. “I helped you get a good deal on that engagement ring. If you’d just added a carat, as I suggested, she might have said yes.” Daniel doubted a larger ring would have swayed Samantha Parker into saying yes. She’d been given two proposals that Christmas Eve. One from Daniel and one from a magazine publisher in New York. Sam hadn’t followed her heart. She’d followed her ambition. “You don’t want to hide this Christmas.” Mr. Quinby closed the thick folder with a thump. “Five years… That kind of anniversary can hold power over a man, a symbol of his failure. You want to get away. You need to get away.” “Yes.” The old man was practically reading his mind and knew he had to send someone else. Daniel nodded, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Symbols. Yeah, symbols were important. He might even add a second bathing suit to the small duffle he’d packed for his trip. Daniel stood. “Thank you, sir.” “I’m glad we’re in agreement.” The ancient man flattened his pale hands on his desk and levered himself to his feet. “Now, gather the paperwork, make the arrangements, and pack your parka. You’re getting away this year. You’re going to Second Chance, Idaho, to get these three agreements signed.” * “Sam, you need to wrap up the loose ends of this story.” Samantha Parker stared across her boss’ scarred oak desk, over piles of folded newspapers and stacks of magazines, beyond a collection of stained coffee mugs Charlie refused to return to the break room. A recent copy of For the Times sat open on Charlie’s desk, turned to an article she’d written nearly five years ago on Harlan Monroe and his influence on business in America. It was hard to believe it was The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 4 time to revisit the man’s legacy. Harder still to believe Harlan was dying. “Sam, pay attention.” Charlie Gomez snapped his fingers, an action that seemed to invigorate him. He leaned forward, brushing empty coffee mugs to the side with a clatter. “Something’s up with Harlan Monroe. My sources tell me there’s something hinky going on at the Monroe compound in Philly. Lawyers have been dropping in and out for days.” Tension rat-a-tat-tatted on the back of Sam’s neck, like cold, stiff fingers on a new keyboard. Was Daniel still one of Harlan’s lawyers? Thoughts of Daniel had Sam’s shoulders curling inward. She hated the way things had ended between them. He had every right to think poorly of her. Every right except one: He hadn’t waited to hear the explanation behind her rejection. That didn’t mean she didn’t lie awake at night formulating conversations with him in her head, ones where she was able to say: I’m sorry. I miss you. Can you ever forgive me? That didn’t mean she was ready to see Daniel again. “I know what you’re thinking.” Charlie’s characteristic grumble smoothed into civilized tones. “You’re thinking I want you to work your contacts at Harlan’s legal firm, the one that opened the door for your interview with him.” Sam sat back, aghast. She hadn’t been thinking that at all. “And you’d be right.” Charlie slapped the magazine closed. “We need another scoop on the old man and his plans. Is he leaving his fortune to charity? To his cat? Remember how he told you he was never forgiving his four sons for forcing him out of power? He said the game wasn’t over.” Charlie pounded the desk with his large fist. “We need to know what happens next.” “No one’s going to know, except his lawyers.” Again, a cold feeling crept down her spine. “And whatever contacts I used to have at his law firm…” Whatever man she used to love. “…are probably gone. I mean…” And here, she attempted a laugh that sounded more like a dying man’s last gasp for air. “Five years is a long time.” Time enough for hearts to heal and men to get over the love they’d once shared. The Secrets to My Success/Melinda Curtis/Page 5 Not that her heart had healed. Geez, she needed to get a social life. “It’s worth a look.” Charlie tossed the magazine on one of the piles on his desk. “Harlan could be setting up the last laugh. He always was an odd duck.” “He wasn’t odd. He was brilliant. And frugal.” The one man in his large family who didn’t seem to value the trappings of wealth. “His sons built him a palace in Philadelphia – the Monroe Compound. And do you know what Harlan did?” “He built a log cabin in the back yard.” Charlie rocked back in his chair and stroked the peppery stubble on his chin. “He’s been married to some of the most beautiful, most talented, most intelligent women in America. He’s made an art form of buying businesses on the brink of bankruptcy and turning them around. A man like that… A man who has everything… And he builds a log cabin? Tell me that’s not odd.” It wasn’t odd. It was a genuine act to stay in touch with what had made him so successful in the first place. Harlan Monroe had an endless curiosity about the world and a heart that made no distinction between blood relatives and strangers. He was a philanthropist with few equals in his tax bracket. His sons and twelve grandchildren worked across every aspect of his businesses – hotels, a Hollywood production studio, oil, finance, yacht building. Not to mention other businesses he’d picked up along the way. Most men would lose themselves in their quest to increase their fortunes and power. Not Harlan. Grief invaded her throat and squeezed. Harlan Monroe. He’d been her first big interview when she’d arrived at For the Times. During their afternoon together, Harlan had noticed something was bothering her. She’d been second-guessing the choices she’d made with Daniel. Over the course of the next hour, Harlan had practically interviewed her! He’d given her advice – only look back with gratitude. And then he’d given her the most wonderful interview, more than a green magazine reporter should expect. But more than that, he hadn’t forgotten her. He sent her a Christmas card every year with a note of encouragement. Just a few weeks ago, she’d received his annual missive with a few words scrawled in his loopy handwriting.