3

NEW YORK CITY

It had been only yesterday that William Jennings Worthington VI’s life was a little simpler, when he was at the summer home in Chautauqua. If you could ever call a Worthington’s life simple. Will shook his head.

Early this morning, shocking news had come in the form of an understated phone call from the Arctic Circle. News that would not only sweep across the world once the networks got ahold of it but was likely to swiftly change Will’s own destiny. He’d been at home, the sole place he could truly relax and not worry about what the rest of the world thought of him. There it was his wife who kept all the family plates happily spinning. Not that he didn’t contribute heavily as a father, but Laura was a master organizer as well as a wise encourager for their three kids, who were so incredibly different from each other.

His firstborn, Andrew, was 12, with Laura’s dark brown hair and lean frame. He had Will’s serious nature and drive to make a difference in the world, but Laura’s inventiveness. Someday, given the right tools, the kid would go far.

Patricia was 10 and had her maternal grandmother’s auburn hair, freckles, and startling green eyes. When she wasn’t with her friends, she was texting them.

David had just turned 8 and was a real charmer who made friends with everybody he met, including their mailman. Davy was constantly up to something and kept both Laura and Will on their toes.

Together, the three kids and Laura kept their home buzzing with activity.

But now it was empty, and Will couldn’t wait for it to be filled again. Tomorrow night. They’ll be home tomorrow night.

Each year Laura took the kids for two months of their summer vacation to Malawi to build wells and clinics and help the villagers with medical needs. Will met them there for three weeks, the largest chunk he could carve out of his business schedule. It had been their agreement ever since Laura had felt the first flicker of life in her womb.

“I want our kids to experience what life is like for those who are poor,” she’d said, her hand caressing her belly, “and to grow passionate about finding ways to help people in need.”

Will had wholeheartedly agreed. He’d spent far too much time in prep school with rich, spoiled kids who thought only of themselves and the moment.

So he and Laura had researched places that could use their help even before Andrew was born. And when Andrew was a toddler, they’d launched off on their first trip to Africa. Since then the family had passionately done anything they could for the people of Malawi. Laura, an amazing linguist, could even speak much of the local language now, and the kids had picked up enough words to be passable.

Their trips to Malawi had become fun, poignant memories for them all. Times to set aside the normal world of school and Worthington expectations to experience a simpler, streamlined life. Some of Will’s favorite pictures in the family album were taken in Malawi.

He smiled now as he flipped the album open on the table.

Andrew, usually so serious, caught with mouth open wide, laughing hysterically as he played soccer with the locals.

Patricia, so fair and Irish-looking, with her arms slung around a group of Malawian friends.

And baby Davy, his diaper mud-streaked and sagging as he dug in the dirt with a stick while Laura directed the digging of a well nearby.

Will sighed. Those were the moments that truly mattered in the long run. Companies would come and go, but family . . .

The absence of noise hung heavily in the room. It felt good to lounge for a few minutes in his favorite old T-shirt—the one Laura had vowed to throw out many times—and a pair of running shorts.

Will checked his texts, hoping for one from her or the kids. He grinned when he saw his buddy Paul Harrington’s message.

Fam still gone? Fishing in B?

He shook his head. Talk about timing. Normally he’d jump at the chance to go fishing in Branson, Missouri, with Paul, a longtime friend he’d met at prep school. Wealthy but centered, Paul was the guy who’d talked Will through all his late-night woes about being a Worthington and always in the limelight.

“So you’re a Worthington,” Paul had said to him once in their junior year. “You mess up and it’s public. You do good and it’s public. But that’s the public. Nobody knows what’s going on in there”—he’d smacked Will in the chest, near his heart—“except you. And man, that’s what’s most important.”

Will had never forgotten that discussion. And somehow, in the midst of demanding jobs and life’s craziness, the two friends had managed a fishing trip every year to some remote location. Last year it had been four glorious days of camping beside a prized trout stream in Montana. They’d headed for the airport grubby, grizzled, and nearly unrecognizable, but it was one of the best times Will could remember.

There was something about fishing that relaxed Will’s very soul. Maybe it was the quietness of the water, the warmth of the sun on his face, and the fact that fishermen, by nature, didn’t feel like they had to talk. They didn’t have to solve the world’s problems. They didn’t have to be anyone. They could just be.

Like during the summers he’d had growing up in Chautauqua, when he and his brother would take their sister trolling for muskies. Life was simple. They only needed snacks and fishing gear. Will always had to make his own bucktails, because the store-bought lures were too flawed—their hooks slightly off center or a bubble or two in the paint. Sean would roll his eyes at Will’s painstaking efforts and then be the first to catch a fish with his cheap lures. Sarah would squeal with delight when she got a strike, and her brothers would quickly come to help her land the big fish.

When they got better at their fishing skills, and their dad had some time off, he took them to one of the local trout streams for which western New York was famous. After catching their fill of fish for dinner, the boys and their dad would clean the fish. Sarah would wrinkle her nose in disgust and scamper off, saying she had something important to do. Their mom would fry up the fish with some potatoes, and they’d have a simple dinner. Afterward, they’d make s’mores around the fire.

Even now, so many years later, Will’s mouth salivated. He could still taste those graham crackers—the only part of the s’mores he ate, because he hated the mess they created. Sean would eat three s’mores, then reach for another one before his mom called a halt to his sugar intake. And his sister? Sarah ate the gooey marshmallows right off the stick until her face was streaked with the sticky white stuff. Then she’d sing her favorite campfire songs at the top of her lungs, and they’d all end the evening with “Kumbaya.”

Will chuckled at the memories. He loved his siblings. He’d do anything for them. But in normal life, they could also drive him a bit crazy. They were unpredictable and didn’t think through the consequences of their actions like he did. And that had created some tricky situations over their growing-up years . . . more than he wanted to recall.

But during the summers at Chautauqua, that didn’t matter. They all relaxed together and had fun. They were a normal family, not the Worthingtons in the limelight. It had been far too long since the three of them had set aside their adult lives and gathered at the family cottage. Too bad it had ended so fast this time when Sean had to leave.

It was in the midst of Will’s early morning reflections that his cell phone had rung. It was Sean’s ringtone, and Will knew Sean never called when he was trotting around the globe unless it was really important.

And he was right.

“You might get what Dad wanted faster than you can imagine,” Sean said.

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“That shot at CEO of AF.” The line crackled with static.

Will waited. His brother was always short on words but loved to add a touch of drama.

“A massive oil fiasco, right here in the Arctic Ocean,” Sean said. “Worse than BP. All AF. That venture you voted down—you were right. It was too risky. Now oil’s gushing up from the bottom of the ocean like a backwards Niagara Falls.”

Will sat up straight, his reflective mood gone.

“Just thought you should know . . . before it’s plastered all over the news.” Then Sean hung up abruptly, as was his habit.

Will, stunned, still held the phone. After a minute, he sighed and texted Paul back. Maybe not. Big oil leak in Arctic Ocean.

American Frontier’s rig? Paul replied.

Yup. And Sean’s right there in the middle of it.

Whoa, dude.

Will laughed out loud. He didn’t even have to explain with Paul. Paul just knew. He understood how complicated life could be for Will with heading the Worthington empire and simultaneously trying to keep his wild-card siblings out of danger’s way.

When Will didn’t respond immediately, a second later Paul texted again. Got it. But those fish are still callin’.

The fish would have to wait. It was back to business.

After that, Will’s relaxing day had taken off like a rocket ship. He’d skipped his usual morning run and instead had taken a shower in record time so he could surf the already breaking internet stories before Drew arrived. Drew Simons had served the Worthington family for over three decades. Will had been eight when Drew was hired in the role of company financial advisor. But over the years he’d become a trusted, beloved uncle as well. He truly loved and understood each of the Worthington children and wanted the best for them. Sean would have called Drew too, and a minute into the phone conversation Drew would have headed Will’s way.

At that moment a knock sounded on the door. It was good some things in life were predictable.

The rest of the day passed with lightning speed as Will and Drew strategized and watched news bulletins about the leak. After receiving notice of American Frontier’s emergency board meeting the next day, they put in a call to Will’s father, who wanted to stay informed even if he was inching toward retirement.

“This is a pinnacle moment for American Frontier,” he proclaimed. “They’ll choose to do one of two things—the right thing or the easy thing. Either they’ll act with honesty and integrity, doing whatever they can to pool resources to investigate how this happened, to establish safeguards that lessen the chances of it happening again, and to clean the mess up to the best of their ability. Or they’ll do the easy thing, spinning the media their way and sidetracking the real truth.”

Will’s father had raised him with the admonition, “Might never makes right. But if you dream big, do the right thing, set your direction, take your compass, and never stray from the path, you can accomplish anything you decide to do.”

Will had watched time and again as his father had fought for what was right and never backed down. It was one of the many reasons that Drew, a picture of integrity himself, had stayed with the Worthington family for his entire career. When Bill Worthington said he’d do something, he did everything in his power to make it happen. He honored his promises, even when they were difficult. Whatever hard taskmaster he was at home—always demanding his kids pull their weight and not shirk responsibility—he was a symbol of trust and integrity in the media. Will was determined to uphold the reputation of the Worthington family and, even more, to always listen to the still small voice inside and do the right thing.

With his dad’s continual reminder of doing what was right, paired with his mother’s simple mantra of “family first in all things,” Will had never wavered from either. He strove to do both to the best of his ability, even when it wasn’t easy.

Like now. Personal worry for his risk-taking brother edged into Will’s business thoughts about American Frontier.

Sean, as usual, was right there in the middle of the chaos. His message had been cryptic, but it got the job done so Will knew about the oil fiasco before any of the media. So typically Sean. The networking master. Will had to watch the rest of the details of the breaking news on TV. That was how Sean always was with Will in business details. Short and to the point.

To the rest of the world, Sean was a charming entrepreneur who lived in a fast-paced circle of money and friends and made things happen. He managed the Worthington Shares start-ups and was a good fit for the job, continually lining things up so he could stay at the forefront of events across the world. Will spent most of his time in boardrooms and black-tie events. That suited his personality.

But Worthington business always seemed to drive the brothers apart, and Will hated that part of it.

His next call was to his sister, who was working with the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division. If there was an investigation into the oil spill, Sarah would be involved. Ironic how a single event was pulling all of them in from different angles.

Her response, too, was swift. “Yeah, I know. Could be big. We’re working on it. You in the thick, bro?”

“Not yet,” he said, “but I will be.”

When the initial furor had died down a bit that night, Will stood in front of the mirror and held up three different suits for his meeting with American Frontier. He finally picked the navy Armani one, then frowned. It wasn’t the same navy as the color of the scarf that matched the topcoat. It would clash.

Just as he was debating the possibilities, his cell buzzed.

It was his wife, on Skype from Malawi. Once a day, they both stopped what they were doing and took time to discuss their days.

Her face appeared on his iPhone, smiling. She was as beautiful with tangled hair and a smudge of dirt on her cheek as the day he’d married her. “Hey there, good-lookin’. What are you up to? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”

It only took a few words to explain about American Frontier and the spill. Her eyes grew sad, concerned. “This will affect a lot of people and animals, won’t it? Change the water quality . . .”

He could always count on Laura to bring a larger perspective. It was one of the many reasons he respected her.

“And then there’s what this means for Worthington Shares and you,” she went on. “How are you dealing with all that?”

“Like usual. Examining all the angles before I make a move.”

As they talked for an hour about all those angles, and his kids popped in and out of the screen with tidbits from their days, he smiled and laughed. The tenseness in his shoulders relaxed.

They weren’t there in the room with him, but their presence still filled his heart and centered him.

“Will,” his wife said at the end before she blew him a kiss and signed off, “don’t worry. Just do the right thing. You always do, and you always will.”