Chapter One
Richard McIntire never considered himself lucky. In fact, he believed that he was Fate's least favorite McIntire. That was the only way he could justify the misfortunes he'd faced in the past few years; Fate had a score to settle with him. That's what made the events of that December afternoon all the more surprising.
He pulled his threadbare coat closer to his body. Winters in Chicago were cold, fierce, and altogether unbearable. His stomach moaned, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, but he kept on walking down the busy Chicago street. What good was the thought of food if you had no money to pay for the real thing?
It wasn't that he didn't want a job because, in all honesty, he would give anything to put himself to work. He'd been unemployed since he returned from Korea, and he hated feeling lazy and hungry. However, nobody wanted to hire a 22-year-old veteran who lacked the ability to use his left hand.
He didn't blame anyone. He didn't feel vindictive or victimized in any sort of way. Richard McIntire knew that the nation was busy trying to forget what happened in Korea, and as much as he hated being spited for his service, he was used to it by now.
Deep in his thoughts, he pushed his way through the crowded streets.
"Ricky?" The voice was familiar, but he couldn't figure out what from. "Ricky?" He turned to face the voice.
It was a young lady, probably about twenty years old. She was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. Her thin face, framed by auburn hair, lit up when she saw him. "Ricky McIntire! I knew that was you!"
Her accent gave her away. "Emily?" She was taller than he remembered, and her face had lost its girlish roundness, but she still looked like the same old Emily who had stayed with the McIntires so many years ago.
"Of course! Fancy seeing you here!"
"Fancy seeing me? Why, you're the one who lives an ocean away!" Emily just laughed. It was a pleasant surprise; Ricky couldn't recall ever hearing her laugh. "Boy, have you changed," he muttered.
"What?" Ricky just shook his head, dismissing the matter. Emily decided it was best to change the subject. "So, how have you been? Gosh, it's been so long. You were only twelve the last time I saw you. Now look at you! I never would have guessed Ricky McIntire would have grown up to be a decent young man."
He grinned. "I'm a 'decent young man?' I think you'll have to write to Jill and Molly and let them know I meet your approval. God knows I don't meet theirs."
Emily's blue eyes lit up at the mention of her old friend. "I will certainly let them know that I find their Ricky rather charming."
"'Their Ricky?' I haven't been called Ricky since I was fourteen! Jill said it was immature and boyish. It's Richard now."
"Well, to me you're still an immature young boy. So you'll remain Ricky." The corners of her mouth quirked up into a sly smile. "Would you fancy having dinner tonight, Ricky?"
"Like a date?"
"No, like two old friends catching up. How about we meet here at six?" Ricky nodded. Before leaving, Emily added, "And I expect to see a gentleman tonight. Maybe we can turn Ricky into Richard after all."
Ricky couldn't help but smile as he watched the petite girl leave. Maybe he wasn't so unlucky after all.
