by Beth Martin
Peter was caught off guard by her question. “Did you read the textbook I gave you on oil extracting?”
“For the most part,” she said, picking at her french fries.
“You got to the section on fracking, right?”
“Yeah. Pump water down, oil comes up.”
“High-pressure water,” he corrected. “The energy is sometimes released in the form of an earthquake. It’s similar to the tension being released from compression at a fault line.”
“So fracking is bad,” she said.
“Well, no. It’s a balance.” A similar process was used in geothermal energy plants, but the corporations running those were much more environmentally conscious than the big oil companies.
The waitress came by. “Can I get you two anything? More soda? Some pie?”
“We’re good,” Grace said, waving the woman away without further acknowledging her. She continued. “So are the readings you’re taking in that cavern related to all the earthquake stuff that’s been going on?”
“No. We’re testing to see if the site is stable enough to put a permanent structure down there. Right now, I’d say the answer is no.”
“So that’s it? At the end of the summer it’s over and there’s nothing to show for all the work we’ve done here?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Basically.”
Grace pushed her food around her plate, keeping her eyes down. She glanced at Peter for only a second before saying, “I wish there was some way I could help.”
Peter sighed. “Research takes money. I mean, even though a habitat wouldn’t work in Last Chance, a proof of concept could still be made.”
“What do you mean?”
“My grant proposal introduced the idea of a habitat that used heat from even deeper in the earth as a power source. With a little bit of money, I could stick a battery down there and a loop of water-filled pipe extending deeper into the well. It could even power the devices down there and the lab.”
“Tell Dr. Hall. I’m sure he’d okay putting money toward your project.”
He pushed his plate away. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “Dr. Hall is out of money. It’s done.”
“Oh,” she said. She waved her hand to call over their waitress and asked for the check. “So how is this any different from the geothermal plants that already exist in California?”
Peter leaned back and stroked his beard. If she had actually read the text he’d given her, she would know this already. “Classic geothermal heating is just burying a loop underground, and the constant temperature beneath the surface regulates the temperature of the air inside the loop, making it easier to heat and cool a home. The next step, geothermal energy, is pumping water down—similar to fracking—and then the pressure underground builds, bringing hotter water back up to power turbines and convert into electricity. However, this is most readily done near a fault line where there is volcanic activity.
“That’s when interest in deep geothermal energy arose. The thought was that drilling deeper would help harness the thermal energy farther under the surface in locations nowhere near a fault line.”
“Does it work?”
Peter shook his head. “Did you not read any of the articles and texts I’ve given you?”
“I did,” she insisted, hanging her head in shame. “I didn’t really understand all of them…”
He steepled his fingers and tried to focus on not lashing out at Grace. Attempting to remain calm, he explained, “Deep geothermal energy hasn’t panned out, since the hot water coming from that deep underground has to travel such a long distance to come back up, and most of the heat is radiated away against the walls of the well. It could be pumped up faster, but the energy it takes to pump up the hot water quick enough is much more than the energy we can harness from the water’s heat.
She nodded like she understood, so he continued. “The next step would be to have turbines located halfway down. Harness the thermal energy from deep below during the water’s ascent.”
“So, an underground power plant. That’s kind of cool.”
“All the data we’ve been compiling for the past month has been to see if the energy collected at that depth would be enough to power the average household. And it is, just barely.”
She bit her lip. “But it won’t work, because, earthquakes?”
“Basically. We can try making a geothermal generator, but Last Chance isn’t a good candidate for a habitat.”
“So why are we here?” Grace took her paper napkin from her lap and placed it on the table.
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Ask Dr. Hall.”
···
A few days later, as soon as Grace returned for the afternoon, she slapped a certified mail envelope onto Peter’s desk.
“You got your funding,” she declared. The lab didn’t have a mailing address, so she must have visited the PO box while in town for lunch. Peter shot her a look of surprise. The envelope was still sealed. There would have been no way to discern what the contents were.
She continued talking as he tore open the envelope. “I may have mentioned to my dad that your research was totally ready for the next phase and how great it would be for Synergy Power Systems to be at the forefront of geothermal habitation.”
He carefully read the enclosed letter. There it was, on heavy-weight official Synergy Power Systems letterhead. Not only was he getting enough funding to stay in Last Chance to work on his research another year, but a contractor would be in touch with him about installing a small geothermal generator.
Too shocked to say anything, Peter silently pored over the letter a second and third time until Grace interrupted. “There is a catch,” she said, examining her perfectly manicured fingernails while leaning against the edge of his desk. She stared at him until he looked up and met her eyes.
“What catch?” he asked.
“My dad doesn’t believe that I’m passionate about geothermal energy, and says I have to prove it. He’ll fund your research for as long I continue working for you.”
He set down the letter and wiped a hand over his face. Working with Grace had been manageable so far, but he couldn’t imagine spending an entire year with her. However, this letter wasn’t the actually contract he would sign—that would be sent over as soon as he indicated he was interested—but it was unlikely a business deal would add a caveat that the CEO’s daughter would have to continue working there. On the other hand, he was familiar with big businesses providing themselves an out for ‘any or no reason whatsoever,’ so an unofficial understanding like keeping Grace on could be upheld.
“That also means you shouldn’t do anything to scare me off,” she continued, giving him a sideways glance.
He found it amusing that, yet again, Grace would have the power to shut down his research. “Another year is a long time to be an intern,” he noted.
“Well, you could promote me to staff or something.”
“What will you do about school?”
“I don’t need to be here all the time. You do fine without me during the weekends. I can just video call you a few times a week to compare notes.”
“That’s not going to work,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He carefully tucked the letter back in the envelope and opened the email client on his computer to accept Synergy Power Systems’ offer.
“Why not?”
“Generators require oversight. I’ll still need to go down there every day. I’ll need someone to come with me.”
She flipped her blond hair over a tan shoulder. “You could find someone else to fill in while I’m at school.”
“Sure,” he said. “I can get a new intern.” He went back to his computer to finish emailing the HR director at SPS and accept their offer. Whatever deal she had supposedly struck with her father to encourage him to fund Peter’s research was between the two of them. Peter would uphold any professional obligations in the deal, but he wouldn’t babysit Grace as a means to continue his work.
&
nbsp; As he hit send, he realized Grace had disappeared. The sound of objects colliding against the wall came from her room. For a moment, he thought she might be organizing her things, but he realized it was more likely that she was upset. He wasn’t good at navigating emotional females. He decided to check on her.
He got up slowly from his desk and listened for a moment outside the door before tentatively knocking. She didn’t answer, but her sniffling stopped, so he slowly opened the door and poked his head inside.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Even though he already knew the answer was no, he couldn’t think of anything else appropriate to say.
Grace stared down at her hands, but glanced at him briefly. “You can come in,” she said.
He looked around the room. He hadn’t really been in here yet, trying to be respectful of the young woman’s privacy. She had her desk set up as more of a vanity, the top covered in cosmetics and pretty perfume bottles. He knew it would be more appropriate for him to sit on the chair from the desk than with her on the bed. Pulling out the chair, he sat across from her.
Grace wiped off her face with a hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really thought I was doing a nice thing.”
“You asked your father to fund my research?” he asked in his usual matter-of-fact tone.
“You’re like, the smartest person I know,” she gushed. “I tried to understand all the articles and stuff you gave me, but I guess I didn’t get them as well as I thought.” She caught a fresh tear with her finger before it could trail down her face. “You’re so passionate about your research. I saw the email from Dr. Hall, saying that he couldn’t fund you anymore. I just figured, since Dr. Hall’s funding came directly from SPS, that you could get direct funding too. I thought if anyone deserved to do their research, it was you.”
She sighed as she set the pillow she had hugged against her down at the head of the bed. “My father read up on your publications. I don’t know if he understood them, either, but he agreed to send that letter if I was truly passionate about your research. So, I told him I was.”
“You’re not interested in deep geothermal energy?” Peter asked.
She let out a small laugh. “I barely understand it. I just needed an internship, any internship, for my dad to keep footing the bill for my tuition.”
Peter was actually sad to hear that she had come to Last Chance only for financial reasons. Although she had made it clear the whole time she wasn’t thrilled about being there, he thought at least she had a better reason for picking his research.
“You’re so fucking smart,” Grace said. “I thought that whatever you were working on must be really important, and that it would be a total waste for it to get shut down.”
Peter smiled at Grace. She did have good intentions. “Funding is a fickle beast, but in the end it’s just business. Research gets funding from corporations, non-profits, governments, and universities. If Synergy Power Systems doesn’t end up funding the next step in my research, I could potentially get money from the NSF or through SLAU. Just because Dr. Hall pulled the plug doesn’t mean this is the end for me.”
Grace covered her face again with her hands. Peter paused as she let out a frustrated groan. “I appreciate you going out of your way to try and fund my work, but it’s not your responsibility. I’m an adult; I can take care of myself.”
She looked at him and nodded. As he got up to leave, she said, “Could I get a hug?”
“Uh, sure.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Grace wrapped her arms tightly around him. He awkwardly hugged her back. The smell of strawberries wafted from her hair as she held him close for a moment. After letting go, she plopped back on her bed.
“Let me know when you’re going out to collect data later,” she said before flipping open a magazine.
“Of course,” Peter said, closing the door behind him. He was confused. Somehow, Grace was both disinterested and passionate about his research at the same time.
···
Peter was spending his weekend with his friend, Autumn, and her roommate, Sunshine. They had space for him to crash on their sofa, and as long as he brought his laptop with him he could keep up with his work.
“Let’s make this game interesting,” Autumn said, getting up from her seat next to the coffee table. The three were in the middle of playing Settlers of Catan, and Peter was pulling ahead of the two women. She hopped into the kitchen and stretched up to reach the liquor stowed on top of the fridge. “What do you cool kids want? We have whiskey and…” she pulled off a second bottle, “vodka.”
“Get me a whiskey on the rocks, please,” Sunshine said, peeking at Autumn’s cards which she had left on the table. To Peter, she added, “Shh, don’t tell.” Sunshine wore her sun-bleached hair in dreads, authentic to her all-natural lifestyle.
“Peter, you want some whiskey?” Autumn asked as she poured drinks for Sunshine and herself.
“Sure,” Peter said. “Give me two fingers.”
Autumn returned to the living room and delivered everyone’s beverages before sitting back down on the floor in front of the low table. Her dark eyes brushed over her cards, then she glanced quizzically at the other two players.
Sunshine pretended to study her own hand. “I could trade a couple wheat for some lumber. Do you need some wheat, Autumn?”
“You looked at my cards, didn’t you?” Autumn scolded. Peter simply shrugged his shoulders.
“Eh,” Sunshine said, “Damage is already done. So, trade?”
···
Peter spread out the plans the contractor had drawn up for the geothermal generator. It appeared simple enough. Grace glanced at the technical drawing.
“Looks good,” she said before returning her attention to examining her fingernails.
Peter had hoped she would show a little more interest. Her internship was coming to a close at the end of the week, and then she would return to SLAU for the fall quarter. During that time, a contractor would construct the generator and Peter would get to stay in Last Chance. “You don’t sound excited,” he said.
“I am,” she said with a sigh.
“All of our hard work will come to fruition,” he said, eyeing her as she sat down on the edge of his desk. He had to admit she had been instrumental in getting him funding, therefore allowing him to keep up his research for another year.
She crossed her arms and stared at the floor. “I don’t think my dad will let me continue working with you.”
“What? Why not?”
“He’s doesn’t know you, and won’t trust me when I say you’re okay. He also doesn’t want my staying in the lab any longer.”
It took Peter a second to realize Grace’s father might think it was inappropriate for his daughter, a young woman, to essentially be living with a single man.
“It’s not like you’re trapped here,” Peter said. “You can leave whenever you want. I would never…” He wanted to add ‘rape you’ or ‘assault you,’ but saying them felt ridiculous. “You’re safe.”
She looked at him, her brown eyes pleading before studying the drawings next to her. She traced one of the lines with her finger. “I told him that. I tried everything, really. Now he’s saying that I should be at school and not in Colorado playing scientist with you. He threatened to pull the plug on your work.”
After funding another year and insisting Grace continue working with him, it seemed insane that Grace’s father would change his tune. “Maybe I could talk to him,” Peter offered.
Grace looked at him skeptically. “I don’t know…”
“I’ve never met the man financing my research. Well, I’ve been to meetings with representatives from SPS, but not the CEO. I’m sure if he could interact with me face-to-face, he would understand just how important this research is and that I would never do anything to compromise it, especially not being disrespectful or inappropriate with any of my staff.”
Grace smiled. “Damn, you’re straight-laced. Fine, I’ll set it up. But he�
��d never come all the way out to Colorado, you’ll probably have to meet up with him in LA.”
“Couldn’t I just Skype him?”
“No, that would never work. He needs to see how non-threatening you are.”
Peter wasn’t sure if he should be insulted. Being called ‘non-threatening’ was a little emasculating. “Okay, set it up.”
“Great,” she said, hopping off the desk. Now she took her time poring over the drawings. “When does construction start?”
“As soon as I return from LA.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The restaurant was huge, yet still felt intimate. Each table was its own separate dwelling, with half-height walls around them so that the opulent surroundings and chandeliers were visible everywhere, but the other diners disappeared from sight. Abiding by Grace’s advice, he wore his only suit, the one Autumn had helped him pick out years ago for job interviews. He felt stiff and uncomfortable and just wanted the night to be over with. The time difference made the late eight PM dinner feel even later. He should have grabbed a snack at the hotel.
On the flight over, Peter had studied a little bit about the CEO of SPS, Michael Hudson. He had tried to memorize the man’s face from the portrait on the SPS website so that he’d recognize Michael in the large restaurant. He scanned the crowd of businessmen at the front bar, looking for an attractive man with a full head of hair. All the men here fit that description.
Peter approached the hostess, a well-groomed woman wearing an impeccably fitted black dress shirt. “Good evening, sir. Do you have reservations?” she asked.
“I’m, um, meeting someone,” Peter stammered. He nervously stroked his beard, wondering why he had thought this dinner would be a good idea. The future of his research hinged on the evening going well.
“You must be Dr. Cork,” the hostess said, interrupting his thoughts. She plucked up a menu from behind her and stepped out from behind the hostess stand. “Please follow me,” she said as she trotted off. They wove through a maze of tables to one situated next to a cozy fireplace with flames sprouting from sparkling rocks instead of wood logs.
