by Jayna Morrow
“I’m an inventor and an investor in other people’s inventions. Yes, something with science and technology is what I always wanted to do.”
Finally, he’d shared information about his life without refocusing the conversation on her. She planned on asking a lot of questions, so he’d better get used to it.
“I didn’t want the reputation that went with it.”
“So you moved off, transformed yourself, and kept a low profile?”
“Exactly.”
“And none of your new friends know the real you?”
“They know I invest in inventions in the science and technology sector. They don’t know about my inventions that started it all.”
“That suggests to me that you need the same kind of advice and help you offered me.”
“It does. And you’ll be happy to know that I am having dinner with my old buddy, Olen, tomorrow night.”
“Very pleased. I think you’ll find that, even though people around here do a lot of talking, they are accepting. Remember, you’re not in high school anymore.”
“Life goes on. Things could be much worse. Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it from my brother. He doesn’t say much, but he’s been known to let me have it.”
His words fizzled out, and she sensed a smidgeon of uncertainty. “Is there another reason why you’re afraid of being yourself? There’s got to be more to it than the fear of being known as a geek.”
“It’s not so much the stereotype as the trouble it brings. I’ve been shoved into lockers, had trash dumped on my head, been picked on, and put down more than you could ever imagine. It left some deep scars.”
She wished she could reach through the phone to comfort him, but she settled for tightening her grip on a paint-stained towel. “I know that bullying is hard to deal with. I can’t say that I was bullied like you were, but I am sorry you had to go through that.”
She’d had the occasional interaction with a not-so-polite child. The group of Christian homeschoolers she met with weekly for recreation and field trips were well-behaved in general. But some of them cut in line, splashed her with water at the fountain, or pushed her down. But she wasn’t tormented and bounced back quickly, laughing before tears even had a chance to fall. She wished she could erase the hurtful memories Holden held onto. “It’s been a long time.” She reassured him the best she could. “Things are different now.”
“I’m working through it, Irelynn. It’s time to move on.”
“How do you think it’ll go?” She made her voice sound positive. “Sometimes if you picture it in your head, it’ll help things go smoothly.”
“That’s not necessary. Olen and me go way back.”
“That’s right.”
“We’re eating at the steak restaurant I took you to that first night we had dinner. We have a lot to catch up on, and I know they won’t mind us sitting there for several hours.”
“Good idea. They won’t rush you there. I pray you two will pick up where you left off and carry on as if no time has passed at all.”
With the background complete and dry, she’d spend the evening working with paint. She’d also bring other mixed media elements into the final layer.
“We have a lot to talk about. What are your plans for the evening?”
“Painting.”
“Sounds like a plan. Will you be done in time for the anniversary party?”
“Absolutely. I plan out my pieces carefully, so I can always tell about how much time it will take and how much time I have left.”
“I would have guessed as much. You’re such an organized person at work, a good combination of left and right brain.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way. I remember filling out a questionnaire in high school to tell if I was right-brained or left-brained.”
“And what was the result of that?”
“I had characteristics of both.”
“I can see that. You don’t have any problem bouncing between worlds.”
“I wish my mother had as much faith in me as you do. She was receptive, but she hopes I’ll stay more in the business world than the art world. I told her I wasn’t pursuing art full-time, just making it a part of my life. You should have heard her sigh of relief.”
“It’ll take time to convince her that you’re not gonna end up with the same fate as your father. I’m curious. Do you think you’ll ever consider art as a full-time career? I mean, it’s obvious you have a gift. Would it be so farfetched to make a job of it?”
Not farfetched at all. In fact, she’d thought of it many times. She’d love scheduling her life around her muse, spending her days in her own creative world, and earning her keep off art gallery sales. “I couldn’t leave Gabriel high and dry. Plus, it would take some saving up and careful planning to make the transition.”
“Whenever you’re ready to branch out, I’ll be glad to help you get started.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to do that, Holden.”
“Expectation has nothing to do with it. I offered, and I want to help.”
A heavy sigh escaped her.
“I wish we weren’t having this conversation by phone.” Holden sighed too.
“I still wouldn’t accept money from you. What difference would it make in person?”
“If you could look into my eyes, you’d see how sincere I am. I don’t go throwing my money around haphazardly. When I help, it’s genuine. If you let me help you, it would come from a special place in my heart.”
18
Holden’s big, juicy steak sat half-eaten inside his to-go box, but he and Olen and Lance had been talking. He took a bite and listened to his two friends chatter as they did in their high school days.
“Lance, you lived elsewhere and summered in Sweet Home, so I wasn’t surprised that you followed into your family business and didn’t return. But Holden, I thought you’d gone off to work in the oilfield.”
“I did take an oilfield job to get out of Sweet Home, but then my life changed after that. I invented a mechanical part, less than six inches long, that solved the biggest oilfield problem in the world.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Olen leaned toward Lance. “He’s kidding, right?”
“He’s for real,” Lance answered.
Holden shook his head slowly, his lips pursed so tightly they almost disappeared. “I thought it was a local problem with one particular machine. Still, I had the forethought to patent the part before I showed it to my boss. I demonstrated how it worked, and I’ll never forget the look on his face. He made some phone calls to others who had the same problem, and the ripple effect started. Turns out, every oilfield in the world had the same problem with the same machine, and they needed the part from me. I went from shade tree peddler, beaker boy, derrick hand, to billionaire overnight.”
“That’s unbelievable, man. Do you work anymore?” Olen reclined back in his seat and crossed his arms over his bulging gut apparently processing the bombshell Holden had dropped on him. “Or did you take early retirement? I hear you’re a man-of-the-town in the Big D.”
Mrs. Lissemore approached the table. “You boys want some more iced tea?” she offered, holding out the pitcher.
“Yes, thank you.” Holden smiled at her.
She refilled their glasses and then hurried away to the next table.
“Retired? The Lord doesn’t offer a retirement plan. I don’t do much when it comes to my business, but I also invest in the inventions of others, giving geeky kids like me a chance to be successful by using their brains. And I give money to a lot of Christian charities. I help a lot of people. Yes, I play hard and travel big. I make sure that I give more than I keep and spend.”
“That sounds so exciting. Why did you keep it hidden from everyone around here, including me?” Olen asked.
“It had nothing to do with you, Olen. I know I hurt you by deserting you, but that was not my intent. Please understand I had to get away from here and carve a place to fit in. I should have called you
or kept in touch somehow. I’m sorry, brother.”
His smile was as big as his steak and just as satisfying. “I accept your apology. I couldn’t be mad at you if I wanted. You either, Lance. I was more hurt than anything, but I figured you’d come around eventually. Man, oh, man. Holden the multi-millionaire.”
“Billionaire,” he corrected with a teasing grin.
“Excuse me—billionaire. Do you have a video game division in that corporation of yours?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve invested in inventions up to this point.”
“Oh.” Olen pondered for a moment. “I write video games. I’ve tested a few with some of the teens around here. They…uh, they have a club where they play my games. They say they’re pretty good. But I have no idea how to market them.”
“I’m open-minded. I’m sure you could convince me to wander in that direction.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
A sudden flash of lightning lit up the otherwise dark sky. The summer rainstorm that had been threatening the area over the past several days had moved in close enough to become a sure thing. The vast gray and black clouds hung almost low enough to reach out and stroke. Vibrant, electric colors tinged the sky. Shadows bathed the surrounding trees. The rough, choppy lake that resembled obsidian rock replaced the calm and serene waters from the last time he’d eaten here. He tried not to let the beautiful but brewing storm tear his attention away from Olen and Lance. Except he couldn’t help but think of Irelynn, and worry about her with inclement weather on the horizon. He didn’t let his friends know the extent of his longing, unsure if they would share in his enthusiasm. Olen might believe Holden was pushing him aside again. And he still wasn’t quite sure how to handle these new feelings for Irelynn.
“We can talk about putting together a business deal for your video games. If that’s why you were asking.” He’d do anything for his old friend.
“I hate asking for a handout, but when you mentioned you invested in others, I couldn’t help it. I’ve been designing video games for a long time, but my...aah...shy personality makes it impossible for me to move away and work for one of the large game companies.”
“Yes, I know how reclusive you can be. We’ll work something out, OK?”
“I think I’m ready to make some changes in my life, but I need my best friend.”
“I’m here, Olen. And I ain’t going anywhere.”
“You and I may not have the history that you and Holden do, but I’m here for you, too, Olen Squared.” Lance jabbed Olen with his elbow. “Betcha haven’t heard that name since our last science camp together.”
Olen shook his head. “Why’d you have to remind me?”
“Oh, come on, you know you’re my one and Olen.”
With that, the three men burst out laughing, prompting glances from the other patrons. Whoever said time travel didn’t exist never had friends. True friends, no matter the reason or length of time, could pick up where they left off as if time hadn’t passed at all. After this reunion, Holden might be able to add time travel to his list of superhero qualities.
“I don’t think your staying has anything to do with me.” Olen returned to Holden’s last statement once they stopped laughing. “It’s Irelynn Rafferty, isn’t it?”
Holden’s head perked up and his gaze, which had been drawn away by another flash of lightning, focused on Olen. “I know you saw us together last week when we were downtown, but why do you think something is going on between us?”
“You passed by her mural, and I saw your eyes glaze over,” he explained.
“And you talked on and on about it the entire time we waited for our food,” Lance interjected.
“I was pointing out its charm.”
“You described it with such depth and eloquence I thought for a minute I was talking to a professional art critic. Olen, look at how she mixed crushed brick with paint to create the downtown streets. Olen, she even made sure the textures of each building matched the originals. Olen, see how she dried leaves from an Oak and used them on her painted tree. Olen—”
“All right, I see how you could think something is going on. But I do take issue with your impression of me. My voice is nowhere near that high and squeaky.”
His friends busted out laughing again at his expense.
“I may have exaggerated a bit on that, but any fool could see that you're head over heels for that girl. After y’all left, my grandma told me about her.”
Another flash of lightning zigzagged across the horizon, branched out, and split the sky diagonally.
He should quit trying to resist his feelings for her. He shook his head. Impossible, like trying to predict when and where lightning would strike.
“We can talk business later. Go to her.”
Holden’s eyes brightened at the idea. “Should I?”
“Yeah. Do it.” Lance agreed with Olen. “Let her know how you feel. Tell her—” His head whipped around at the cracking sound of thunder followed by lightning. “Tell her she lights up your world like lightning lights up the sky.”
“OK, that’s just cheesy, Lance.”
“You’ll think of something. Go.”
~*~
“I didn’t want to make plans and risk having to cancel again, so can you meet me at the Sweet Homemade Cafe in ten minutes?” Emerson’s tone was odd.
Irelynn’s eyebrows lifted.
“There’s something important I need to talk to you about.”
“Sure, I’d love to come.” Emerson’s spur-of-the-moment phone called astounded her. The man was so scheduled and business-like.
“I know I’ve been real wishy-washy lately, but that’s going to change now that...well, I’ll tell you when you get here. See you in a few minutes.”
She should be grinning from ear to ear now that Emerson had given her the time of day. Instead, a dark cloud hung over her head similar to the ones drifting across the sky outside. She’d been following the weather while she worked on the paintings, both on television and from her own windows throughout the house. Rain was inevitable. Still, the Sweet Homemade Cafe was less than two blocks away, and she didn’t want to take her car. She hung a light jacket with a hood across her arm and grabbed her umbrella. That should do it. She arrived, dry and warm, minutes later.
Emerson greeted her with a smile.
She grinned too. Finally, he’d made time for her. Where had that thought come from? Emerson was busy building his empire for both of them. She needed to be patient.
“Our table is over there.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to a booth by the front windows. “I’ve got so much to tell you.”
She had quite a bit as well, but for some reason, she hadn’t the urge to confide in him. She’d rather share it with someone else. But he already knew because they talked every day.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked, raising a hand and flagging down a waitress.
One waitress was working this evening, and when she saw his hand go up, she rushed over to their table.
“I didn’t think I would be going out for dinner, so I ate earlier. I could go for some hot apple cider. It’s always a treat on rainy days.”
“It’s not supposed to rain until around midnight.”
“It feels like rain, and I brought my umbrella just in case.” She shook it a few times and laid it on the table. “Yep, I think hot apple cider will work fine.” She handed her menu to the waitress.
Emerson rattled off his order.
Then they were once again left alone.
“I didn’t know you liked apple cider. And I didn’t see it on the menu. How did you know they even served that here?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I walk downtown almost every evening to have dinner. I’ve eaten at every restaurant in town so many times that I know the waitresses by name and the ins-and-outs of the menus. I even know about the off-menu items offered.”
“That’s impressive. You’
re quite a lady. And now your world is about to get even better.”
He knew about the painting she was working on for the Lissemore’s 50th anniversary? “How did you find out?”
“Find out? I was there. Wait, I think we’re talking about two different things. I was referring to my lunch meeting with Lance Nichols last Thursday.”
“Ah, yes.” The tiny seed of hope she had dried up. “This is what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Of course. I hope you didn’t think I would cancel our lunch for something minor. No way, this was big. Is big. And things have been happening all week.”
“It sounds incredible.” She’d listen to him and let the conversation drift to her news.
“More than incredible.” His eyes lit up, fingers tapped on the edge of the table.
The waitress arrived with his soda and her apple cider, placing them in front of them.
“And it’ll benefit both of us. Let me tell you what happened.”
“If it’s as good as you say, I’m gonna need some pie.” She turned to locate the waitress. “Olivia, could I get a slice of coconut cream?”
“Sure, hon.”
“I thought that Holden fellow ruined the whole meeting with his rude phone call.” He took a sip of his soda and scowled. “When Mr. Nichols arrived, he was gracious as ever. I don’t know why I needed to muster up so much courage. The man was so generous that he practically threw his accounts at me.”
Irelynn took a tiny sip of hot cider to test the temperature. “Why do you think he was so receptive?”
Did Holden have anything to do with it?
“My reputation as an investment broker is growing, and he knows how well I’ll take care of his assets.” He dropped his voice to a more serious tone. “I’m the only broker within a hundred miles qualified to handle these types of accounts.”
“I didn’t know you had experience with high profile accounts.”