Robbie F. Woods, Entrepreneur

By Victoria King Heinsen

Robbie F. Woods, entrepreneur, is a wheeler and dealer in the world of real estate and business. A darned nice guy, he does his best to overcome obstacles Fate seems to haphazardly hurl his way. Sitting in jail too often and being accused of a murder come to mind. Golfing adventures, misadventures, and former high school escapades somehow occasionally block his path, although he manages to circumvent them in one way or another. A bachelor by preference, he winds up with a family of cats and groundhogs but still longs for the stability of marriage and children. With the considerable help of his sister, Jessica, an attorney, his brother-in-law, Ken, a dentist, and his father figure, Chris, Robbie manages more often than not to successfully tackle the ineffable striving that plagues some of his dreams. He does so with aplomb, a good heart, and a round or two of golf on a summer night. That and an occasional visit to a covered bridge in Wyandot County.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886541946

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Robbie F. Woods, Entrepreneur

Victoria King Heinsen

Copyright © 2022 Victoria Heinsen

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and events are fictional. Any similarity to people (living or dead), occurrences, or places other than those specifically listed on geographical maps is coincidental.

ISBN 979-8-88654-184-7 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88654-194-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

About the Author

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Also available by Victoria King Heinsen

Ghosts and Legends of Lake Erie's North Coast

Jessica F. Woods, Attorney of Record

________________________________________________

I am most grateful for the advice, information, and encouragement I received from my family and friends, without whom this book would certainly not have been possible. Thank you.

To Ed, Rocco, Gina, Kevin, the city of Upper Sandusky, Linda and Jim, Kay, Dr. Tony, Dr. Tom, Dr. David, Chad, Chuck, Office Sarah, Doug, Kathy and Dave, Derek and Sally, Dave and Debbie, Jon, Rick, April, Annette, Jolene, Charlie, Gary, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delta Gamma, Phi Delta Theta, the Greater Port Clinton Area Arts Council, Brooke, Lockwood, the Golferettes, Frank, and Phil, my deepest appreciation.

Prologue

It wasn't me! I didn't do it! Forlornly hunched over a borrowed phone in the back seat of the Cuyahoga County sheriff's car, Robbie F. Woods called his sister. How had it come to this? Why?

*****

Drive fifty-five miles south from Haines Landing, Ohio, to the city of Upper Sandusky. Tourists from the East might be well advised to delay their fast-paced adventure to Chicago, for example, for what the hour-and-twenty-minute trip offers in this Midwest town of seven thousand souls, give or take. Just jump onto Route 53, cruise along through Tiffin, and finally on to the county seat of Wyandot County, one of the eighty-eight counties in the Buckeye State. Granted, citizens on the east side of Upper, as natives refer to it, occasionally prefer journeying north, especially in the summer, to head to the lake. But usually, Upper folks are contented enough to stay where they are in the city deemed one of the best places in Ohio to live.

Vestiges of their First Nation heritage grace the town of Upper Sandusky, located appropriately at the head of the Sandusky River which empties into Lake Erie, the smallest of the five Great Lakes. Upon crossing into city limits, a visitor cannot miss a sobering plaque which reminds one that in this area, the last Native American reservation stood. Years ago, in 1795, Chief Tarhe of the Wyandot tribe signed the Greenville Treaty, a treaty which he believed was his only choice for the preservation of his people.

From there, take a fifteen-minute drive north on Route 67, then left onto County Highway 37 which brings you to a monument for this chief. He was a great man, not only for his leadership but also in his appearance. At six four, handsome, he would have fit in well with his modern-day community. Dress him in a starched white shirt, black suit and tie, place a briefcase in his hand, and send him to the third floor of the Wyandot County courthouse where trials take place, the potential trial of Robert F. Woods, perhaps. But let's allow Robbie's story to unfold later.

For now, spend a few minutes driving through the county seat.

A visitor new to Upper Sandusky who happens upon the town either by destination or accident might comment later that the community reminds one of a throwback to the 1960s. A vibrant downtown with storefronts displaying colorful merchandise entices shoppers strolling by.

Ask anyone who lives in Upper what the major industries are, and he or she will answer: manufacturing, health care, and agriculture. Entrepreneurs thrive in the town. One particular fellow realized the value of recycling glass. He established a little factory which ground up glass that was then used in building roads. Whereas so many other communities doggedly maintain that industry must return to vacated acres, deserted when companies hightailed it out to other countries or to the South, Upper boasts Kasai or M-TEK which supplies Honda in Marysville. Bridgestone Company on Commerce Way just outside the city counts Honda, Subaru, Toyota, and Nissan as long-standing customers.

In September, the Wyandot County Fairgrounds host the annual county fair which continues to uphold the area's outstanding farming tradition. Future farmers spend the year grooming their animals for the Junior Fair. Counted among these well-loved, well-tended animals are goats, sheep, horses, rabbits, lambs, poultry, and cattle.

Head back toward town less than half a mile from the fairgrounds. Look to the west where Upper Sandusky High School, home of the Rams, provides upward of five hundred students some of the best education in Central Ohio. A few blocks farther on the east stands the library where nostalgic graduates can retrieve back issues of their yearbook, Indian Village. They might or might not reflect on their glory days, but the books are there, records of high school history.

Two main streets form the heart of this city. Wyandot Avenue runs east and west, crossing Sandusky Avenue. Curious tourists can receive both information and a hearty welcome at the Wyandot Chamber of Commerce. A person can still walk into the local newspaper office to purchase for a dollar a current copy of the Daily Chief-Union. Visitors can traipse one block south from downtown, then turn left one block to visit the Wyandot County Museum. A short drive northwest from Upper, historically minded folks can learn about sawmilling as displayed at the Wyandot Indian Mill.

True, quite a few professional offices also grace the city. This actually makes residents' travels from their homes less than a five-minute trip rather than what other communities have with offices out in the country or in a cookie-cutter strip mall somewhere at the front of a field outside of town. Any number of dental offices await, ready to aid citizens and travelers suffering a toothache. Lawyers' offices open their doors for legal assistance of almost any kind.

A courthouse stands appropriately in the center of the city. Built in Beaux-Arts architectural style, one of the highlights of the building is the third-floor courtroom where the opening scene of Shawshank Redemption was filmed. Upper citizens recount how Morgan Freeman walked their streets, quietly gliding through the halls of their courthouse.

Out-of-town visitors continue to be welcomed by courthouse employees who proudly and rightly display their courtroom where gallery chairs still contain racks under the seats for gentlemen to place their hats. In summer, flowered grounds outside are not only beautiful but also symbolize respect for soldiers buried there. These soldiers, members of General William Harrison's army during the War of 1812, died during the campaign to retain American control of the Northwest.

The Wyandot County Sheriff's office stands behind the courthouse, in a building that must have been converted from a home originally built by a wealthy Upper citizen. There is even a turret which causes one to wonder: Who looks out at the charming city, and what do they think?

Should a former jail resident be granted probation the probation office, just a few feet away, can easily assist? Probation officers can often be seen dining companionably with the county prosecutor as they enjoy traditional lunches at the Corner Inn, less than a one-block walk from the courthouse.

A person with a sweet tooth has to stop at Neumeister's Candy right across from the drug store. Neil Armstrong, the first person to walk on the moon, worked there as a kid. In fact, anyone who steps into this shop which emits the delicious aromas of milk and dark chocolate will most likely be unable to resist the retro treasure troves invitingly displayed in the glass cases.

How to describe the homes in Upper? Probably stately does it best. Older residences on shady tree-lined streets exhibit the architectural style of Eastlake or Victorian. The eponymous name is derived from the British architect Thomas Eastlake who designed houses during the Victorian era. His life actually fit almost exactly into that of his Queen Victoria, spanning 1836 to 1906; Victoria reigned from 1837 to 1901. Take a closer look. Some of these Upper Sandusky houses have been painted with delightful contrasting colors reminiscent of what can be called Painted Ladies, like those old homes in San Francisco.

Turrets, spindles, porches, gables, brightly painted exteriors with complementary colors accentuating the various facades—all of these are hallmarks of Eastlake designs. Nineteenth-century Upper Sandusky homeowners as well of those today built and maintained their houses as showcases in their city. One rumor, and it may have been true, centered around the idea that the original turrets and widows walks served another purpose beyond beauty. One old-timer insisted that these structures were a necessity, that Upper residents could climb to the tops of their homes to watch out for possible attacks by Native Americans.

Then again, some people who consider themselves Upper citizens often have moved outside the city limits. Several new developments such as Duck Pond and Brookview have attracted folks who prefer more current decor, more modern construction. Some ranch homes reflect a '70s style, while more recent ones effectively appeal to buyers who want great rooms, fireplaces, and at least four bedrooms. Flagpoles, curving driveways, and plenty of yard highlight these homes which are offered anywhere in a price range from the mid $200,000 and beyond.

The provenance of the Duck Pond stems from an actual pond which in the mid-'70s remained a quiet recluse across from the Steer Barn restaurant. Geese more than ducks enjoyed peaceful swimming. They still do, if people from the surrounding development leave them alone.

About three miles down the road, still on Lincoln Highway which is more correctly termed Route 30, is another upscale development, Brookview. This appealing community rose from former family land, and remains a sought-after area especially for people who like to golf. The Wyandot Golf Course in our book is a carefully aimed long drive—use your Big Bertha—from nearby residences.

Robbie F. Woods lives neither in Brookview, Duck Pond, nor Upper Proper. He and his sister Jessica inherited their father's 1970s sprawling ranch home out in the country when Robert E. Woods, divorced at least fifteen years from his wife and their mother Alexandra, died suddenly from a heart attack.

Jessica, the third-generation lawyer in the Woods family, deeded her share of their family home to Robbie. She had enough to worry about when her dad's law practice tumbled into her hands. Instead, she kept Rob's office building for a while, eventually selling it to a couple of other Upper Sandusky attorneys. She moved to an apartment in Downtown Columbus. Then when she married, together with Ken her husband, bought a home in Powell, Ohio.

Robbie did his best with what his dad had left them. It worked out for a time, particularly when Eleanor moved in. All these are other stories that blend, then showcase, almost like a collage but not quite.

Thus, dear readers, you have the foundations of our story involving Robbie F. Woods, would-be entrepreneur, realtor, and developer. Most of all, however, Robbie is first a son, a brother, a brother-in-law, a friend, and a darned nice guy in the face of adversities, his own and those of others.

Chapter 1

2016

It wasn't me! I didn't do it! Robbie yelled, panicked, into the phone. Surely Jessica would believe him. Jessica, the attorney, his sister, add successful to that. Jessica would believe him.

What didn't you do, or say you didn't do? she calmly replied, although with Robbie, she often ignored his calls as frequently as she accepted them. Robbie, admittedly according to her, was the more intelligent of the brother-sister pair. Robbie, in the marshmallow experiment, was the one who delayed gratification. Jessica was the one who ate the marshmallows without waiting. That experiment with young children supposedly predicted who the more gifted kids were. Robbie and Jessica's mother, Alex, short for Alexandra, had persuaded her children, three years apart, to take the marshmallow test in the family kitchen.

To renew her teaching license, the Ohio Department of Education required additional courses. Alex chose psychology as one of them. Fascinated by the Mischel experiments she read about in class, she tried one first on Robbie, the older of the two at age four. Then when Jessica reached the requisite age, Alex tried it again. Robbie had waited for those extra marshmallows; Jessica's sweet tooth got the better of her. Theoretically, Robbie should have achieved more. However, Jessica knew, without hurtling that knowledge into her brother's face, she was far ahead of him professionally.

Back in the 1960s and 1970s, psychologist Walter Mischel at Stanford University designed an experiment about delayed gratification in young children. Experimenters provided participants—they were termed subjects then—with a marshmallow. The child was told that if he or she waited, a bigger reward would be given. The experimenter then left the room for approximately fifteen minutes. If the child could overcome the desire for the marshmallow, waiting instead for the greater prize, that child was expected to exhibit more intelligence in the future. Along with that, increased ability to deal with frustrations, higher capability for successful careers, and, oddly enough, the fortunate offshoot of less weight.

Actually, this did occur. Longitudinal studies, those that record data over a long period of time, resulted in higher SAT scores for preschool children who waited patiently for more marshmallows instead of devouring the one originally on the table.

Well, as Robbie reminded Jessica, he delayed gratification, not she. True, his SAT scores rocketed; he earned scholarships which paid for this first two years at Notre Dame. Funds for one scholarship, a substantial one aiding the top five graduating seniors at Upper Sandusky High School, those funds were depleted the third year of Robbie's college career. It wasn't he; he didn't do it. Unfortunately for expectant families relying on their child's receiving those funds, the attorney overseeing the Eldenbruster Memorial Scholarship took a liking to the lifestyle those funds provided.

Richard Eldenbruster's will deemed profits from the sale of his soybean crop to be allocated for scholarships for the top five students each year at Eldenbruster's high school alma mater. Designated attorney and family friend Zachary Thompson annually ascended the auditorium stage to present the scholarship to those five deserving seniors. Still, a decade into the bequests, Mr. Thompson awoke one morning to seriously consider the joys that driving a Maserati might bring. Why not? he thought. He planned to pay back that $75,000 he borrowed from the soybean fund. In fact, he hastily scribbled a budget to do just that. Of course, as any seasoned embezzler knows, paying back usually doesn't happen. Peculation, embezzling, doesn't pay, usually. He probably shouldn't have driven his girlfriend to the Greenbrier in West Virginia either, or at least not accidentally left a receipt for lodging in his Brooks Brothers blazer, that jacket innocently searched by his wife before thoughtfully dropping her husband's laundry off at the dry cleaner.

Oh, she was indeed mad. One thing led to another with Leahbelle Thompson confronting her husband after the good woman researched additional business expenditures. No divorce yet; she liked her current lifestyle too much as well. But when the time came to discuss distributing the annual Eldenbruster Scholarship with the Upper Sandusky High School principal, well, that meeting had to be delayed, then ultimately cancelled. This impropriety particularly annoyed Principal Martha West because her valedictorian daughter headed the list of lucky recipients or nonrecipients. So abrupt end of scholarship. Robbie already had his anyway. Perhaps, though, he learned a life lesson without engaging empirically; the consequences of felony. Therefore, Robbie F. Woods, NF—non felon.

Thus, Robbie Woods, still law-abiding, not quite exhibiting those characteristics predicted by Dr. Mischel's marshmallow experiments years ago, desperately called his more successful sister at her corner office in Downtown Columbus. Where was his supposed capability to better deal with frustration?

All right now, settle down, and tell me what disaster you are involved in. I'm sure it's a doozy.

Jess, I'm accused of murder! Robbie dissolved into choked sobs.

Sorry, hold on. Let me grab Lil." Lil was Jessica's personal assistant, office manager, and close friend.

Lil, call the courthouse and see if you can postpone the hearing. I think the judge is Delbert Maile, so he's pretty flexible. He won't like it, but he might do it for me. Lil knew better than to ask. What Jessica had done as a single attorney grasping at stability when she worked for O'Malley, O'Malley, and O'Malley was long ago.

Waving her hand in a backward retreat, Lily Taylor Oney headed down the hall to her office. And what an office it was. The intervening years between Lil's hiring as assistant to a struggling young female attorney and Jessica's rise to one of the most sought-after lawyers in Columbus, Ohio, had been kind to both attorney and assistant.

Lil remembered oh so well her interview—had it been seven years ago already?—with a clearly overwhelmed diffident young woman. Back then Jessica, newly sworn in as a Juris Doctor in the state of Ohio, combatted sadness over her father's death, heartsickness over a broken relationship, and devastating insecurity over her hard-earned admittance to the Ohio Bar. What had she done? Lil saw the sadness in her interviewer's eyes. Still, Lil needed a job; she was not a nursemaid.

Jessica's father, Robert E. Woods, had died quite unexpectedly at a meeting of the Ohio Trial Lawyers Association. Dying so suddenly, Bob Woods, a well-respected trial attorney, had left his office in disarray. Jessica's plans to join her dad dissipated; with no one to guide her in that far too competitive Ohio town of Upper Sandusky, Jess decided instead to reach out to a larger firm, possibly one of the three C's: Columbus, Cleveland, or Cincinnati.

That firm, wherever it was in Ohio, held more financial security along with health insurance benefits than Jessica's inherited practice promised. For starters, Bob had let his firm's insurance for Robert E. Woods LLC, company of one, lapse. Secondly, it seemed that some formerly sympathetic attorneys—sorry as they were about her dad's demise—were really busy with cases of their own. They wanted to help—yes, they did, but if she could call these people at a later time, possibly in six months, they would be in more of a position to work with her.

Jessica did have the questionable inheritance of the Woolsey case. That was about it. Clara had been in a Super Bus accident and had sought Bob Wood's professional help. Talk about an albatross; of all the cases Jessica could have had passed down to her, the Woolsey v. Cincinnati Super Bus was not one. Dear Clara had suffered what she referred to as multiple injuries including consortium. At seventy-five, Clara's sexual relationship with her husband, Mel, age seventy-five as well, disabled for years, may have been a bit mythical. Still, Bob took on the case. Jessica inherited the contentious Woolseys, and that was that.

The case resolved itself. Clara dragged Mel to far too many surprise visits to Jessica, complaining continually about Bob's inconsiderate death as well as Jessica's dragging her feet with the insurance company. The fact was, the insurance company felt Mrs. Woolsey may have been an expert in mendacity. They seemed to know the dear woman's history with other injuries, those incurred at a mom-and-pop restaurant in Clintonville when Clara, a much younger woman at age sixty, had supposedly tripped over a Wet Floor sign. Mel's walker might have been manipulated to clandestinely push the sign into his beloved's path, but except for one eye witness, that fact was hard to prove. The preponderance of cameras fifteen years ago was not what it was now. Mel may have wanted Clara dead; it was hard to prove too. His crying and carrying on fooled no one. Still, nothing came of the Woolsey v. Family Fun Diner except a scribbled note in an insurance folder stuffed at the back of a filing cabinet.

Anyway, ever eager for a more comfortable retirement, Clara rejoiced in the lagniappe a Super Bus accident brought her way. Mel, having given up his burgeoning plans of accidental spousal death, went along, pushing his walker ahead to a castle-in-the-air dream of a luxurious Florida double-wide the little woman promised.

Like a rainbow though, the dream evaporated with Clara's stroke, then death. At least Mel thought so the few moments he set aside to grieve her. Then with clarity, he remembered the railroad life insurance policies he and Clara had taken out years ago when they were young and somewhat in love. Clara had that farmland too. Ah, the pleasure—he meant to say the sad benefits—of a partner's demise.

Lil recalled that whole strung-out saga as she and Jessica stumbled through their client's case. In doing so, though, Lily Taylor, single, and Jessica F. Woods, single too, grew ever fonder as friends and as professional associates.

What a distance those two friends, attorney and assistant, had traveled together over a path littered with romantic vicissitudes, along with professional imbroglios—oh, there were many. Waiting for an answer from Judge Maile's associate, Lil recalled her first interview with Jessica.

Actually, Lil had controlled the interview. Considering Jessica's ambivalence about her own role among her employers, O'Malley, O'Malley, and O'Malley, was Jess an employer, an employee? How was she supposed to hire someone when she herself had no idea what her own job entailed?

The Cincinnati firm of three trial attorneys, two Notre Dame alumni, one University of Michigan Law School graduate, had hired Jessica to break into the Columbus market. They didn't outline what she was supposed to do, just do it. They promised bonuses at the end of each year, steady pay, and health insurance. Besides, Jessica could select her office as long as it had a prestigious location, one that would impress clients as well as those status-struck Columbus lawyers.

Jess found a second-floor office across from the Franklin County Courthouse. Together she and her brother Robbie horsed their dad's desk into the elevator, then into the newly painted office. Jessica reached out on Facebook for a professional assistant. Thus, Lil arrived at the office of O'Malley, O'Malley, and O'Malley for the interview which lasted less than twenty minutes.

Lil remembered the first pictures Jess had placed on the library table along the wall inside her private office. The first, a framed photograph of Bob, not in a suit and tie but in his fishing vest. Bob was buried in that vest, his favorite fishing pole next to him in his coffin. The other photo showed two children at Christmastime, one cheerful, the other apparently red-eyed from a recent crying spell. Both kids rested on their dad's knees. Jessica's eyes lit in happy expectation. Robbie's mottled face depicting a too-recent misery, one the holidays always presented.

As Jessica's practice grew, so too did the collection of framed photos. Occasionally when Lil stepped into Jess's office, she glanced yet again at a treasured Waterford frame holding a note from an Ohio Supreme Court justice. A personal friend of Jessica's mother, Alexandra, the justice took the time to congratulate Jessica on passing the bar. For Jess, this note meant the world to her.

Along with Jessica's close friends and family, the justice knew of the obstacles Jessica overcame to pass the bar exam. Jess had failed the first time; Bob had died unexpectedly three weeks before the exam, and although she was well prepared, she just could not get past the horrible stresses that her beloved father's death brought. Intrepid to a fault perhaps, Jessica attended for the second time classes and the bar review. She took the exam for the second time. This time she passed. Thus the note from her mother's friend remained among the collection of framed mementos. Several years later, the justice retired, but for Jessica, her reverence for a female attorney, who, like her, battled difficulties from the start, grew as Jess realized how precious a dream achieved can be.

A voice on her phone interrupted Lil's wandering thoughts. Yes, this is Judge Maile's assistant.

A family emergency is keeping Atty. Jessica Woods from arriving at the scheduled hearing time. Would it be possible for Judge Maile to postpone the pretrial until a later time?

Let me ask. I'm sure it will not be a problem. What both Lil and Judge Maile's assistant knew was that His Honor often napped between hearings, especially if a mild hangover from the night before could be mitigated by a restful thirty minutes or so. Yes, even his black robe failed to completely block alcohol fumes emanating from the good man's substantial girth. Danielle figured Jameson Irish Whiskey as the culprit. In this instance, however, the judge was not present at all.

After a brief pause, Lil wondered if Danielle had even asked His Honor, probably letting him snooze longer instead of waking him.

Yes, Judge Maile has agreed to delay the hearing for a later day. The court will contact you.

Thank you, Danielle. We owe you and the judge a nice lunch.

We'll take you up on that, Lil. Some Friday would work just fine.

Lily Taylor Oney tiptoed back to Jess's office. Signaling a thumbs-up, then holding a note marked Delayed, she smiled as Jess responded with an okay sign. As Lil retreated to her own office, she heard Jessica yelling into her speaker phone, Robbie, you need to pull yourself together. I doubt you're going to jail. It just doesn't happen like that!

Chapter 2

How Robbie had moved from his position with Edward Jones colored his history. Poor Robbie continued to live the unfortunate mantra If it was not for bad luck, he would have no luck at all.

A senior at the top of his University of Notre Dame graduating class, Robert F. Woods Jr. had enjoyed the recruiting benefits showered on him from prestigious financial firms. He and his dad carefully researched the more than a dozen companies offering substantial pay and a bright future. Robbie signed on with the accounting firm of Arthur Anderson. However, to his dismay, he learned of the firm's demise when he and some Notre Dame friends were on a cruise in the Caribbean. In the middle of the ocean, phone service failed, so Robbie stewed over his disastrous future until he reached shore in Miami.

Further phone calls and subsequent interviews brought a job offer from Visteon, a spin-off of Ford Motor Company. Robbie moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan, rooming with a friend from Notre Dame. Although a few years later the auto supplier moved out of the Ann Arbor area, the company had provided Robbie the opportunity to earn his MBA, an opportunity of which he took advantage.

After Visteon closed its doors, at least to Robbie, he moved to Columbus where he hired on with a recruiting firm located in Westerville, a suburb of Columbus. Again, bad luck contravened on his path to job stability and success. The president of the firm, Albert Wiserich, unwisely chose falling in love with one of the interviewees. Annabell seemed to enjoy his advances until she didn't. Something about her fiancé discovering the pair at a cozy dinner at the Swan Creek Golf and Country Club.

An embarrassing round of fisticuffs in the club parking lot only inflamed president of the firm to step up his pursuit of his beloved. She by now had had more than enough. Besides, she was pregnant by, she hoped, her fiancé. Best to hastily back out of a managerial position in the department store that she had signed onto, pay the recruiting firm, and get married quickly.

True, Robbie's Mr. Wiserich should have let things go at that, but his pride hurt more than his heart ached. Too many deliveries of yellow roses, too many midnight hang-up calls to Annabell, too many accidental encounters. Instead of fighting the upcoming charges, Albert Wiserich, president and founder of Wiserich Recruiting and Advising, on a Friday, quietly transferred company funds to his personal accounts, then retired to his cabin in Hocking Hills. Robbie arrived the following Monday to another career disappointment: locked doors, dark interior, desks stripped bare. No one had bothered to tell the young hotshot, as they referred to him, that it was over.

Fearless, intrepid, an adjective Robbie