by Robyn Amos

Chapter One: Scene One

Curiosity nagged at Shayna Gunther like the box of chocolate cookies stashed in her desk drawer. She plucked the envelope out of her IN bin and studied it. Rain had smeared the blue ink, blurring the return address.

With a jewel-handled letter opener, Shayna sliced through the envelope and pulled out a wrinkled, wide-ruled sheet of notebook paper.

Just her luck. Her nine-year-old niece Tiffany had sent her a chain letter. Shaking her head in amusement, Shayna read the childish scrawl:

This is not a joke or a prank. It is very serious. If you follow these instructions carefully, you will find true love. Within seventy-two hours, you must copy this letter six times and mail it to six friends who are looking for love. At midnight, on the third day, drink a glass of water and say the name of a boy or girl you like. He or she will be yours forever. If you break the chain, beware. Bad luck will be yours. Forever.

With a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, Shayna picked up the phone on her desk. She normally called her sister Nicole on Sunday afternoons, but this just couldn't wait.

"Hi Nic, it's Shayna."

"Shayna? What's wrong? Are you switching from Sundays to Wednesdays?"

"Come on, I'm not that bad." Shayna was used to being teased about her predictability, but she didn't let it get to her. The talent for organization was her unique gift.

"Girl, I knew you were 'that' bad when you started color coordinating your underwear with the days of the week. Yellow on Sundays, pink on Mondays. . . ."

"Nicole, stop. I was only eight. That was just a phase." She still wore blue on Tuesdays, but Nicole didn't have to know that.

"Yeah, a phase. That's why you make your living creating schedules and routines for other people to follow." "I make good money as a life management consultant, and you know it."

Knowing what Shayna was like in high school, Nicole, of all people, should understand. Shayna had never had her sister's easy popularity and self-confidence. For years, if anyone was tripping over bleachers at football games or spilling drinks at parties, her name was Shayna. Carefully planning for every possibility had helped her pull herself together.

"Anyway, I called about Tiffany," Shayna said, pushing old memories aside.

"Uh oh." Nicole's voice took on a resigned what-has-my-child-done-now tone.

"No, no. It's nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you about the letter I got from her today."

"Tif sent you a letter?"

"A chain letter." Nicole's hearty laugh cut through the miles that separated Delaware from Maryland. "That's my girl. Do you want to talk to the little troublemaker?"

"Please."

"Hi, Aunt Shay." Tiffany said with a burst of excitement. Shayna could picture the girl's bright smile curving her caramel-colored cheeks.

"Hi, Tif. I got your chain letter today." "Well," Tiffany sighed dramatically the way only nine-year-olds could. "You'd better get started right away, Aunt Shay. Mom says you're long overdue for a boyfriend." Shayna made a mental note to strangle her sister.

"That's why I called, Tiffany. Chain letters and other superstitions don't really work. If you want something in life, you have to get it for yourself by working hard."

"Oh, but it does work. Last week, Ricky Jacobs invited me to a pizza party. Then, I started liking Jimmy Hunter . . ."

As Tiffany continued, Shayna couldn't help noticing that a fourth-grader had a more interesting social life than she did.

"Anyway, Amy Morton broke the chain, and boy did she have it rough."

"What do you mean?" Shayna asked despite herself.

"First she got a 'D' on her math test, then her parents stopped letting her watch Melrose Place, and then--" "Tiffany, those were just coincidences."

"No, her bad luck didn't go away until--What? Okay, Mom. Mom says it's time for dinner. I gotta go."

"I'll talk to you on Sunday, Tif. We can make plans for our slumber party."

"Aunt Shay? Please don't break the chain. I want you to find true love, not bad luck."

Shayna smiled. "Thanks, Tif." She hung up the phone shaking her head. Apparently everyone knew she needed a man. She was nearing thirty, and according to her life plan, it was time. But thank goodness she knew the proper way to go about finding the right man. Not chain letters. Not crystal balls or Tarot cards. Just careful planning, plain and simple.

Shayna looked at her calendar. Each important date was color coded by event. Blue for business appointments, green for social events like movies or dinner, and purple for special occasions. She reserved red for dates with that special someone.

Unfortunately, her calendar hadn't seen red ink for months. There hadn't been room in her schedule for dating. But that was about to change.

Shayna touched the purple lettering written in the block for next Saturday. "MBO Cocktail Mixer." The local chapter of the Minority Business Owners, a support group for the self-employed, had been her salvation for the past three years. Now that her consulting business was taking off, the organization was going to help her find the perfect man.

Through careful research, Shayna had compiled a list of MBO's most eligible bachelors. They were all successful enough to be her equal, intelligent enough to bring good genes to the union, and handsome enough to give her goose bumps. Any of the three men would be a good catch, but Phillip Browning Jr., the owner of SoftTech Computer Consulting, headed the list. He dressed impeccably, spoke articulately, and still had his own hair. Shayna casually tossed the chain letter into her recycling bin as she reviewed her well-laid plans for Saturday evening. Yes, Phillip Browning, Jr. had definite potential and in just four short days, she would know if he was "the one."