Chasing Tomorrow By Sidney Sheldon

Chasing Tomorrow By Sidney Sheldon

Prologue: He turned around and looked back down the empty church, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “She’s not coming, is she? She’s changed her mind.” “Of course she’s coming, Jeff. Relax.” Gunther Hartog looked at Jeff Stevens with genuine pity. How terrible it must be to be so in love. Jeff Stevens was the second-most-talented con artist in the world. Sophisticated, urbane, rich and charming, Jeff was wildly attractive to the opposite sex. With his athletic build, thick dark hair and intensely masculine aura, Jeff Stevens could have had any woman he wanted. The problem was, he didn’t want any woman. He wanted Tracy Whitney. And with Tracy Whitney, one could never quite be sure . . . Tracy Whitney was the most talented con artist in the world. It had taken Jeff Stevens a long time to realize that he couldn’t live without her. But he knew it now. The sinking feeling in his stomach got worse. Thank God there were no guests in the church. No one to witness his humiliation, apart from Gunther and the crotchety old priest, Father Alfonso. Where is she? “She’s fifteen minutes late, Gunther.” “That’s a bride’s prerogative.” “No. It’s more than that. Something’s wrong.” “Nothing’s wrong.” The old man smiled indulgently. He’d been honored when Jeff asked him to be best man at his and Tracy’s wedding. In his late sixties, with no children of his own, Gunther Hartog loved Jeff Stevens and Tracy Whitney like family. Their union meant everything to him, particularly after the blow of their joint decision to go straight. A tragedy, in Gunther Hartog’s opinion. Like Beethoven retiring after his fourth symphony. Still, it was wonderful being back in Brazil. The warm, wet air. The scent of bolinhos de bacalhau, the delicious codfish fritters cooked on every street corner. The riot of color that existed everywhere, from the jungle flowers, to the women’s stunning dresses, to the frescoes and stained glass windows of the tiny, baroque Chapel of St. Rita, where they now stood. All of it made Gunther Hartog feel young again. Young and alive.

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