by Holly Rayner
Their eyes connected, and Sean gave her a sudden, self-conscious smile. Charlotte returned it, lost in the moment, unsure if it was truly happening or not. It was almost as if the world had stopped for them—no longer could she hear the scrambling newscasters, waving their microphones. No longer could she sense that she was surrounded by hundreds of her high school senior peers, each of them humming and hawing about what to major in.
Soon, the growling press pack grew even more ravenous, even hungrier. One of the journalists reached forth and grasped Sean’s sleeve, causing his and Charlotte’s smiles to falter. Sean’s eyes were then focused solely on this journalist. He was angry, yelling “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sean reclaimed his sleeve, and Charlotte watched as one gleaming cufflink, once attached, popped off and dropped to the ground, bouncing toward her. In the hubbub, nobody else noticed.
She paused, gazing at it, without breath. And then, as she looked upwards once more, she noted that one of the speaker handlers had dived into the chaos and grabbed Sean, scurrying him away from the questions, from hungry people willing to grab and yell until he gave them what they wanted.
“I’m sorry,” Sean said curtly, sneaking through a side door. “I’m sure I’ll be able to answer your questions shortly, but it seems I must go now.”
Charlotte grinned inwardly at his apology, his awareness that he needed to be nice to everyone to keep his opportunities open, even the most wretched of the press.
As the sea of journalists began to disperse, Charlotte knelt to the sidewalk, removing her glove. She grasped the freezing cold cufflink, sitting naked on the pavement, and she brought it to her heart, remembering the warmth of Sean’s smile and the impossible energy with which he’d spoken to the Yale hopefuls.
If I can retain even an ounce of that kind of hope and drive for my future, Charlotte thought, I’ll be fine.
She whirled herself back toward the exit, marching through the historic campus, keeping her head down in the rushing wind. Her parents were waiting in their humming vehicle at the end of an old driveway, near a sorority house. Her father had his face buried in a newspaper, and her mother was sleeping, her eyelids twitching. Charlotte had half a mind to move them to the backseat, so she could drive them home, like children. But she simply grinned, tapping the window.
“Hello, darling,” her father said as she jumped into the back, swiping her gloves from her hands. “How was your first day at Yale?”
“Not my first day, Dad,” Charlotte said, her voice sarcastic. She felt playful, energetic. “But, to answer your question, my first day on Yale’s campus—and maybe my last, to be fair—was absolutely a dream. It’s so gorgeous. It’s filled with impossibly brilliant minds.”
“None as brilliant as yours, my dear,” her father said, cranking up the heat. “Anything good to report?”
Charlotte eased her head back on the backseat headrest, her mind dancing. She reached into her pocket and found the cufflink, certain she’d keep it with her as a token, a memento of the day and the brilliant, rousing speech. “You should have seen this speaker,” she said, her voice whimsical. “He had this remarkable idea. An online platform, to help people invest in entrepreneurs. And the way he talked about it—”
“Online platform?” her father said, his voice gruff. He was an insurance salesman from the suburbs of Hartford, and he thought even the prospect of college was quite silly. But he had driven to Yale for his daughter; he loved her more than the world. “Sounds kind of dumb to me. People don’t actually want to invest in entrepreneurs, do they?”
“I think they do,” Charlotte countered.
“Well. I guess that’s something you’ll learn about at Yale,” her father said, teasing her. “But until you prove me wrong, agree to disagree.”
In the backseat, Charlotte rolled her eyes, her mind centered on another life, another world. Her mother snored on.
“Do you want to stop halfway home to get some dinner?” she finally asked, feeling her stomach rumble now that the excitement and adrenaline had died down a little. It was only a 40-minute drive home, but she felt like a celebratory slice of apple pie from her favorite diner was in order to top off the amazing day she’d had.
“Sure, pumpkin,” her dad said.
And with that, the vehicle zoomed out onto the streets outside of Yale University, a place Charlotte had now set her heart on attending.
She would be the precise kind of nerd Sean Lawson had spoken about in his speech, keeping her head down and maintaining her focus at all costs. And she would be proud of this fact, even as her eyes grew to need glasses, even as she watched other peers pair up and have hope for safe and beautiful—if not cookie-cutter—futures.
Throughout many years of university at her dream school, Charlotte would keep that cufflink safe in her grandmother’s jewelry box, stowed away, waiting. She would read about Sean Lawson as he propelled into stardom, almost immediately after that fateful day when she’d seen him speak. He would eventually be listed as one of the richest men in his 20s for five years running—until he hit his 30s. And all the while, Charlotte would feel she had a kind of link to this man, felt that they’d shared a moment in time, immediately before he’d been thrust into becoming a household name. There, in that Yale courtyard, they’d had the same, frightened smiles.
Throughout her college career, Charlotte never spoke of her infatuation with Sean Lawson. She never showed anyone the cufflink; rather, she maintained the memory, calling to it when she felt lonely or unsure of herself.
When she ultimately accepted a job all the way across the country in Seattle, she knew she hadn’t taken the position simply because Sean was a tech scene mover and shaker in the great Pacific city. No, she’d always had an inkling she would end up out west.
And Sean had nothing to do with it.
TWO
Ten Years Later
Ellis and Associates was a downtown law firm, surrounded by modern glass office buildings and flooded with tech gurus, who were constantly bouncing in and out of its doors. Of course, that’s exactly what Charlotte had wanted when she’d started her tech law career, all those years before.
She jumped off her bicycle at the entrance, locking it up with the others that piled too high after many forgotten months. Despite Seattle’s love for the environment, it seemed most people in the tech world were a bit too much talk, and not enough action. But Charlotte was dutiful, as she was with everything.
Charlotte entered the top floor of the law firm, running her fingers through her blond hair, knowing it always looked a bit fluffed, a bit too curly after her bike ride in. She sauntered to the coffee machine, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She’d been up until three a.m. the night before, reading through a recent lawsuit between two startups—neither of which, she knew, would ultimately “make it” in the end.
She watched as the coffee crept begrudgingly into the black mug, her still slightly hazy mind trying to assess the events of the upcoming work day. She had a morning meeting with her boss, Katrina, and her head boss, Lyle, in the next hour, and she often went overly prepared, if only because Katrina didn’t have to be. In addition to being Charlotte’s boss, Katrina was the only daughter of Charles Ellis, the owner of Ellis and Associates. He’d practically bought her acceptance into Harvard Law school, and she’d scraped through the bar exam, just barely passing on her third attempt (at least, this was the rumor around the office. Charlotte didn’t like to gossip).
Charlotte heard the light tapping of high heels, and she spun around to find herself face-to-face with Katrina herself. Katrina’s pretty, dark brown hair wound in coils around her face, and her front tooth had a fleck of bright red lipstick on it.
“Your weekend?” Katrina began with a false brightness. “Did you get up to much?”
Charlotte knew Katrina asked this only to hear her dismal answer. “I worked on that Murphy case,” Charlotte said, her eyebrows high. “And caught up on—”
“Oh, okay
. You already want to talk about work,” Katrina said, wagging her finger. “We’ll never loosen you up, will we?”
As Katrina bounded toward the coffee machine, smacking the icon that would deliver a perfect, black brew, Charlotte rolled her eyes. She’d been a consistent ladder climber for the previous two years, since her arrival at Ellis and Associates, and yet, she’d been passed by. She’d been stomped on. And now, she was being made fun of.
Without another word, Charlotte strode toward her office, shoving the door closed and taking quick sips of her latte, gazing out over the water on perfect, gleaming display outside her window.
She sighed. It was all worth it, really, for this early morning Pacific view. Back at Yale, she knew the students were sitting in steaming hot classrooms, memories of terrible northeastern winters forgotten for now. But in Seattle, things were different. The sun seemed further away; the sky was a perfect blue, if only for this time of the year. The rest of it—well. She had enough umbrellas to keep everything under control.
On her desk, Charlotte had positioned a small pewter jewelry box. Not her grandmother’s, but a smaller one she’d found in an antique store near New Haven. She’d placed the cufflink there as a reminder of the past, and a future she could have, so long as she kept her nose to the grindstone.
She tapped her password into her computer, humming a quiet tune, and soon found herself browsing the InvestMe website. The company’s list of previous investors was a sight to behold: Bill Gates, Larry Page, and, before his death, Steve Jobs. Charlotte liked to imagine Sean Lawson meeting with these men, exchanging laughter, kind words between fellow entrepreneurs. She liked to imagine where they would go for such meetings. Where do some of the brightest minds of the earth congregate, and where do they have their “aha” moments?
Charlotte clicked to the page labeled “Founder” and felt immediately breathless at the image of Sean himself, seated casually in his immaculate suit. He had broad shoulders, a perfectly cut jawline dusted with a permanent five-o-clock shadow, and that rough and wild haircut which nearly destroyed her. And that look in his eyes—that look that assured you he had even more ideas up his sleeves—made her shake her head.
“If only I could really know you,” she whispered to the screen. “If only that one moment, out of a hundred billion, could have meant something to you as well.”
Suddenly, Charlotte realized she was nearly tardy to her meeting. She scanned through her emails, jotting notes, feeling anxious. Despite having been at the company for over two years, she was continually stressed, determined to maintain utmost professionalism.
She burst from her office, pacing to the next hallway, joining Katrina and Lyle at the small table in the conference room. They lifted their heads in greeting and held their fingers around the warmth of their coffee cups. Charlotte could have kicked herself for forgetting hers—she would need all the caffeine she could get today.
“Morning!” she said brightly.
“A minute late, I see, Charlotte,” Katrina said, her bright white teeth now devoid of that red lipstick. “You know how it works here; we’re on a minute-to-minute schedule.”
“I’ll just talk extra fast to make up for it,” Charlotte joked, sitting down and crossing her ankles.
“I’m sorry, how would that work?” Katrina said, blinking her great, owl eyes.
Charlotte didn’t answer. Instead, she turned toward their leader, Lyle. He worked closely with Katrina’s father, the owner of Ellis and Associates, and acted almost like an uncle to Charlotte. He scratched at his greying beard.
“Ladies,” he said. “Forget all your other projects for now. I have some incredible news for you.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened. She steadied her pen against her notebook, ready to begin taking notes any second. To her right, Katrina looked on, bored, chewing a nail.
“Over the weekend, we were approached by a big-name tech guru who is currently embroiled in a lawsuit,” Lyle announced.
“Typical,” Katrina said. “Why can’t these nerd boys play nice, eh?”
“Anyway,” Lyle continued, ignoring her. “The client in question is none other than the billionaire CEO of Lawson Technologies, Sean Lawson, who is being sued by a college friend, Evan Greene.”
“A friend from Yale?” Charlotte asked, her eyebrows raised. She thought back to that first speech, all those years ago. “I remember when he first started InvestMe. He was doing it all on his own—”
But Lyle cut her off. “I’m not sure what is true and what isn’t, but Evan Greene is alleging that part of Sean Lawson’s enormous fortune somehow belongs to him. And because Lawson is having some sort of disagreement with his personal lawyer, he’s decided to come to us. Now. If that isn’t a huge payday waiting to happen, I don’t know what is.”
But Charlotte didn’t care about the money. Her heart was beating too fast, bumping toward her ribcage.
She cleared her throat. “Evan Greene. That name sounds familiar, actually.”
Beside her, Katrina scoffed. “Of course, dummy. Evan might not be a billionaire, but he’s a success in his own right.” Her eyes flashed. “He created that app where you can find potential… ‘dates’ based on your location. Brilliant, I’d say.”
But Charlotte wasn’t listening. She was tracing through the history she knew about Sean. “Actually, wasn’t Evan Sean’s roommate at Yale?” she asked, “They were formerly best friends. I’m sure he was at that speech he gave. I think he was up near the front, when the journalists chased Sean away…”