When stars align, amazing things get done in an hour. The conversation with Milan was brief, and he confirmed his belief in John’s transformation of Giant Pines into a regional research center with a solid commerce foundation. But Phoebe’s odd affliction caught him off-guard, and he ended the call on a terse note.
Clark and Vicktor asked for a holo-meeting within a few minutes. They were an odd pair—Clark appeared to be in her forties with Vicktor at least ten years younger. Beyond the referral by Milan and approval of Raima, everything about their experience and suggested approach to protecting Hartford, Ltd., was impressive. We signed an agreement to transfer intelligence work to them and set up a series of daily meetings to fast track the work.
Faith tapped at my door. “Andrew’s transport is five minutes out.” With another day of ninety-degree temperatures, she wore a light cotton shift, her best sandals, and a huge smile. “Come out to the courtyard.” While we walked, she chattered with excitement about the brother who remembered every special event and spoke with her at least once a week. We stood next to Amber, the only family members available.
A second person rode in the transport, a smallish middle-age woman wearing the uniform of Phoebe’s Chicago labs. Andrew stepped out first and reached back inside to lift a large bag from the vehicle.
“Mom, I invited Hana to share a transport. She’s been Phoebe’s cares in Chicago.” He handed the bag to her. I thought she couldn’t possibly carry it, but she wound it over both shoulders. I wondered if she ever dragged Phoebe’s weight in her duties.
“I have to give this guy a hug, then I’ll show Hana where she will sleep.” Amber turned to Andrew; their hug lasted longer than I expected. Faith gave me a big-eyed look. “Welcome home international traveler. You’re bunking above the offices in the consultant’s suite.”
“If the space is open, I’d like to stay for the summer when I’m not traveling.”
Faith gave a hoot and threw herself into her brother’s arms. “My turn. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You’ve grown another inch, Ms. Faith.” He picked her up then set her down. “Still a lightweight it seems.”
Finally it was my turn to stand with arms around Andrew. My firstborn child was tall like his father with blonde, wavy hair. His eyes and nose and chin were from my family.
“How are you doing, Mom?”
The title had been hard won from the skeptical eleven-year-old of long ago. “Glad to have you here.” Emotion grabbed my being and sounded in the words. We stepped apart.
“And Phoebe?”
“She’s here, worked through the night, and is sleeping.” I noticed Amber walking away with Hana, but Andrew’s attention stayed with me. “David’s doing the same. We had a security breach at Giant Pines that threatened his herd. I’ll tell you all about what’s going on over lunch if you have the time?”
He lifted his own bag and tipped the driver before responding. “The firm’s owners gave all the traveling staff a ten-day mandatory holiday to be used this month.” I startled at the novelty. “My team just wrapped up two gigantic engagements so we were first out. Amazing isn’t it?” His smile eased tired circles under his eyes. “This is the where I wanted to be.”
Finally turning away, Andrew extended a hand to Terrell. “Does the kitchen crew know how to make your cheesecake with fresh berries? I’ve been thinking about that the whole trip.”
Terrell shook his head and the two of them laughed together. “I might share that recipe with the cook.” He lifted Andrew’s second bag. “You look good. Thought you’d be limping from that fall in Vancouver.”
“So Paul shares my stories,” Andrew joked. “How are your kids? Cute like their mother I hope.”
“I’ll get him to the lunch table, Anne.” Terrell motioned Andrew away. “I’ve got some catching up to do with this man.”
We sat down to a late lunch without Phoebe. David, showered and a bit rested, leaned forward with elbows on the table as the guys swapped stories about their work assignments and travels. Faith, very much a teenager in the midst of adults, absorbed all the talk. I knew it would feed her itch to see the world. Her brothers ate great quantities of fresh foods.
As cookies were placed on the table, Phoebe appeared. She still wore yesterday’s travel clothes, her hair hung in disarray from pillow and blanket.
“My God, you’re here!” She ran toward Andrew, eyes brightening with tears. “I didn’t believe you were coming.”
Andrew stood, absorbed the impact of her, and wrapped his arms around her tall, thin body. She turned her face for a kiss and he placed his lips on her cheek.
“Wow, let’s remember this is a family gathering,” Noah said at the table. “I know there’s no sibling blood between you, but there is a kid present.”
Faith stood up. “Take the kid’s chair, Phoebs. I’ll grab another one. Did you have lunch?”
She said nothing, just sat down in Faith’s place, eyes not leaving Andrew. In a corner of the room I saw Hana waiting, a tiny shadow cares. I lifted my plate and motioned that she should get food for Phoebe. She disappeared.
Dynamics shifted at the table. Noah started a new discussion about planning visits with their grandfather. Complicated scheduling was built around conference calls and research timetables and classes. Phoebe remained quiet, eating from the plate Hana delivered, which included nothing that we had been served. She ate as if the food might disappear, which was uncomfortable to watch.
“Hana will know when I’m free to spend time with Grandpa and re-arrange schedules as needed,” she added as Noah finished typing the schedule. “You all understand that that’s the way this has to be done?”
John looked away, Noah paused. David’s mouth opened, but he only licked his lips. Andrew extended a hand across the table to touch her arm. “Tough research stretch, Phoebs?”
Her chin went up and she shook back her messed mane. “I don’t know. It’s not so much about any one time being tough. There is a lot invested in my work so I can’t really slack off for personal appointments.”
“But your boss knows that grandpa is dying,” Faith asked. “It’s not like he’s an appointment. You came home to spend time with him.” Logical, in a teenage way, she was also youthfully intolerant. “I don’t get it.”
Phoebe stared at nothing as Faith spoke then pushed her plate away. Hana appeared to remove it and place a glass of water and a blue pill in its place. Phoebe popped the tablet in her mouth and drank water. She held the glass out next to her and released her hold. Hana caught the tumbler then disappeared. Except for Faith, the rest of us appeared to sink into our own processing of the Phoebe show. Faith melted.
“It’s complicated, Faith.” Andrew put his arm across the back of her chair. “Phoebe’s not used to being in the middle of a lot of people. She needs time to re-assemble everything.”
“Maybe she should start with a shower.” Noah still spoke frankly to his sister. “I know that your lab thing is about numbers and data. But you smell like there were small animal cages involved.”
Phoebe liked his joke and we could laugh together before breaking up. Andrew walked out at her side. Hana appeared from somewhere to follow them. I’m sure the cares was doing her job, but I didn’t like her vibe.
Chapter 16
Ashwood and the surrounding agricultural estates covered land that as a young woman I had known as the suburbs of the Twin Cities. I grew up in a four-bedroom Colonial on a cul-de-sac not far from the main east-west road that ran along our front fences. During the Second Great Depression many, many suburban homes emptied as people walked away from foreclosure, from starvation, from land no longer welcoming. The government of a hungry nation pulled down miles of houses and strip malls to feed people and create work on the acreage.
Not all the land took to growing grains. David and Paul began planting orchards around
half our residence after years of lackluster crop production. Apple trees did well, and apples sold well. Andrew and I walked through the original orchard after lunch under the canopy of mature, tall trees. Openings in the sun membrane allowed birds and insects to move through as well. The grackles were not interested in the orchard until fruit formed.
“You didn’t know that Phoebe and I were involved,” Andrew said after we’d stepped off the crushed gravel path. “It began when I spent New Year’s with her two years ago. We were close for about thirteen months until someone from the Intellectual Corps came between us. I’m sure the lab handlers found it less distracting for her to connect with a lab peer.”
What I remembered from last summer was that Noah rescued Phoebe during a depressive state because I was in Europe and she didn’t want to see her father. Milan tried to pull me back to Chicago, but no one else could finish critical business negotiations that were just short of an agreement. One of us was frequently summoned to Chicago.
“You told us there was someone special in your life.” I tried not to sound wounded for not knowing the whole story, or confused by my son being attracted to my stepdaughter. “We had no way to know that was Phoebe.”
“I think I fell in love with her when I came to live at Ashwood. She was almost eight years old and freaking out over a language proficiency exam. At eleven, I had never met anyone as fascinating. Or frustrating.”
Apple picking had been a fall family activity at the turn of the century. Global warming changed the timing. Ripening fruit hung within reach in June. The heady smell of apples on a warm day brought us back to being in the country far from Chicago.
Andrew picked up a stick. “You’re using Mitcur on these trees?”
“Yes. Magda’s impressed with it and we can meet the organically grown specifications if it is mixed with some other product.” I stopped walking. “First I want to understand your feelings for Phoebe, then we can talk about fertilizers.”
“It’s not a fertilizer, Mom. It fights a kind of rot that develops when sun screens are installed above orchards. John could tell you all the details.” He snapped the stick, sniffed at the wood. “Seems healthy.”
“How are you feeling about Phoebe now?”
“She’s not healthy enough to be in a relationship, not with another adult, not even with a goldfish. I’d say that tablet her little cares slid across the table keeps Phoebe in a docile state and willing to work day and night. I’d love to talk with her after she’s had a few days off food or drinks provided by Intellectual Corps kitchens.”
“Are you in love with her?” It felt odd to be so direct with this personal question. None of our kids had mentioned adult love in their lives, which wasn’t unusual among the intellectual class. Government bureaus were available to assist in finding partners.
“You’re persistent, Mom. Tough executive who doesn’t let a question go unanswered.” He lightly tapped his elbow against my shoulder. “Haven’t been through this level of inquisition since I tried to slip a broken window into an expense report.”
We walked, but didn’t talk as we turned back to the residence.
“I do love her, but not the way she exists.”
I appreciated that Andrew protected his emotional boundaries. “I’m afraid Phoebe’s situation has become far worse than obsessively working or being controlled by her handlers,” I shared. “Ahlmet, the man she just broke up with, in some way wired her with a mind control device. She’s had a number of seizure-like episodes since arriving.”
Our conversation had a surreal element that left me wondering how I felt about my son being involved with someone who exhibited a precarious hold on normal life. With guilt, I understood that Tia’s mental illness blocked me from blessing Andrew’s choice.
A bird flew directly at Andrew’s head. He stepped aside, watched it fly for some unseen target. His face hardened as he thought through the news of Phoebe’s seizures. “What’s being done to help her?”
“Frances is talking to people in her psychiatric and neurological networks. Milan has been alerted. There’s nothing else we can do because we don’t know anything beyond a comment Noah’s friend made about experiments being done in Ahlmet’s lab.”
Where the membrane was closed, the sun was still warm as we walked in silence. From the orchard, I could barely hear a popular Latin song being sung by a work crew, a quirky tune about a woman falling in love with a machine. I coughed, knew it was time to return to purified air.
“Sorry I have to head inside. The Cities’ pollution is driving my allergies into overdrive.”
He shared what he knew about the pollution’s path up the Mississippi and some prototypes for seeding clouds to neutralize the chemicals. I checked the time, knew the opportunity to talk so personally was ending.
I interrupted his explanation. “That’s really interesting. We’ve got enough barriers to natural sun and air already that another one to block pollutants probably wouldn’t be a bother.” His shoulders returned to an outside world rigidity, his eyes swept forward as if gauging how many steps until we were in the more exposed plaza area. “You had us confused with that long hug between you and Amber.”
“Amber’s the kind of woman who needs a husband and a kid or two of her own. When that Frenchman hurt her, she called. And I leaned on her a bit when Phoebe broke away. She’s in the best friend category.” He smiled, a tight small curve of lips. “Falling for Amber would have been easier. There are always timing issues and ours didn’t work.”
“So what are your plans for this time off?”
“Be with Paul.” Andrew looked away and cleared his throat. “Try to stabilize Phoebe. Those are my top two.” He put his hand under my elbow. “Those coughs could scare a bird or two, Mom.” We approached the residence. “I didn’t understand Paul when I was a kid. He was always so busy that I looked to David for fathering. After I left Ashwood, Paul kept in touch, called and wrote. He’s been a powerful influence during tough decisions.”
Faith waved across the courtyard as she walked to the school building. With even one small motion, I knew she’d run to Andrew’s side.
He waved back, an indulgent smile replaced seriousness. “Hopefully there’ll be time to hang out with the guys. Maybe I can help Faith think through her future.” He stepped up to the office building’s door first. “And I want to spend time with you, Mom. Catch up on what’s happening in the life of Hartford’s big cheese.” He opened the door, an old-world courtesy.
“I love having you here.” We stopped at Clarissa’s desk. “Visit with your aunt. Paul will wait.”
Business issues screamed for attention, but first I removed Paul’s red box from my desk. After Sarah passed, he asked me to be the executor of his estate and told me what I would find in this box. Sending it to me said Paul felt his days were dwindling. I closed the blinds and activated the do not disturb sign.
The security code for his will was engraved on a thin piece of metal tucked into the lining. The name of their private matter attorney was inscribed on its other side. To my surprise, Sarah’s engagement ring lay loose in the box with a ribbon and note in her old-fashioned script that said, “For Annie, with my love.”
I removed the beautiful white diamond on an old-fashioned platinum band. She’d worn it to our wedding. Paul told us they considered selling the ring to save their family ranch during the Second Great Depression. A buyer for two bulls appeared in time to cover a final mortgage payment. The ring slipped over my knuckle easily and rested against my simple wedding band. My hands with their raised veins and dry skin didn’t do the beauty justice. I slid it off, touched the precious metal to my lips and thanked God for taking me into the hearts of the Regan family.
Before Raima arrived, I activated the will’s code. I knew everything on the first pages--completing transfer of the South Dakota ranches to David’s brot
hers, a trust to administer funds to David and his siblings and the grandchildren, small cash gifts to each daughter-in-law. In separate language, he gave a small piece of land and a house to Amber. Recent changes gave an outright cash gift to David, a token compared to the large spreads his brothers inherited.
Paul’s shares in Giant Pines reverted to me after handsome allotments for John and Faith. Because Phoebe, Noah and Andrew had trusts from their deceased parents, he gave them each a small cash gift and something personal. I didn’t expect the codicil bequeathing a significant number of shares of a multi-corps to the creation of the Sarah Regan Environmental Research Foundation under the direction of John Regan. If the foundation did not become operational in five years, the funds were to be divided among a number of charities.
Sarah’s ring was mentioned in special gifts with kind words about the twenty years we shared a house and life. Another surprise was the gift of a furnished condo in Minneapolis and all its contents to me. I didn’t know that they owned their city hide-away. Closing the document, I repacked the small box, refastened the seal, placed it in my office safe, and planned to talk with Paul later.
The best business news of the day waited in a message from Sadig who offered his resignation, citing shame over security failures of the past thirty-six hours. I suspected he expected me to assure him the failures were not his fault and convince him to stay. We had played that routine one other time. This time I called Lao, who was at Giant Pines.
We spoke about his family for a few minutes, about his son’s special needs. Instead of asking for an update on the security of David’s herd, I moved to the heart of Hartford’s needs.
“Come back, Lao. On your terms—for six months, twelve months or longer.” Twenty years of working in tandem stripped away the traditional recruiting dance. “Sadig will be gone. We need your expertise and sophistication and network.”
He laughed, a companionable sound that suggested interest.
Leaving Ashwood Page 9
