The Memory Child (8 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Brian

March 2013

B
rian paced back and forth in his office, sidestepping the layers of network cables and boxes stacked here and there full of computer cords. He practiced his speech for the meeting in ten minutes, repeating it until he got it the way he wanted it to sound. He wiped at the sweat dripping down his face with a napkin he’d found shoved in his desk drawer and berated himself for being s
o nervous.

It wasn’t like they were about to fire him. He’d more than proven his dedication to the firm throughout the years. Still, he’d hardly slept last night, planning for each and every contingency he could think of: who could replace him, who would prove to be more of a threat than he’d anticipated, and the perfect person to recommend in his stead. If things went according to plan, he’d be providing the firm with a well-thought-
out plan.

There was really no othe
r option.

His phone buzzed on his desk. He glanced down to find a text fr
om Diane.

I think it’s a mistake. You love to travel. It’s always been y
our dream.

Brian grunted. Of course she did. But he’d made her a promise. She made her point last night during one of their many arguments when she’d mentioned that it was easy for him to want a child when
she
was the one sacrificing everything. He’d countered that she wasn’t the only one sacrificing. He was giving up his dream of traveling, something he loved to do more than anything else. But it was worth it. That wasn’t even a question. He’d willingly give up all the experiences he’d had over the years in the various countries where they’d set up offices for this chance to hav
e a baby.

You gave me the options. This is my choice. I love you.
Brian te
xted back.

There was a knock on the door. Brian pocketed his phone while Nicole Murray, the lead administrative assistant for his department, opened
the door.

“They’re ready
for you.”

Brian squared his shoulders. “Thanks.” He walked past her and down the hallway, passing cubicles upon cubicles where those who worked in his department all raised their heads to w
atch him.

The boardroom sat at the end of the hallway with its tinted windows. Any and all meetings were held in an array of boardrooms similar to this one on their floor. Brian remembered the first time he’d sat in on a meeting in this room, having just started with the firm and feeling very nervous. Back then, upper management held an allure of mystery to him. Now the endless meetings he endured were monotonous and time-c
onsuming.

Brian pushed open the door and smiled at those sitting around the table. Nicole followed him, heading to the refreshment table and pouring him a coffee. Brian pulled out his chair and settled down. He smiled in thanks to Nicole as she placed a cup in front of him and then took her seat beside other administrators from the firm who sat along the wall, notebooks in the
ir hands.

Monday mornings were office meetings, where the upper echelon of the company met with those in management beneath them. A few years ago, the meeting agendas had changed so that technology discussions happened in the last half of the meetings, leaving Brian free to deal with any issues that had arisen over the weekend in their firms around t
he globe.

“Brian.” Timothy Wainright, the firm’s COO, nodded in greeting. “We were just discussing the new office in London. We’ve upped the time frame and would like everything set up before the new year. We have a team in place there to help you with the tr
ansition.”

“That’s not leaving me much time. I thought a March date had been decided?” Brian’s stomach k
notted up.

His boss, Will Harper, the firm’s CEO, leaned forward. “Is there a problem? Nine months should leave you plenty of time. You set up the Dubai office
in six.”

“Well, ah.” Brian gulped. He couldn’t recall a single word of the memorized speech he’d prepared. “Nine months is plenty of time, but I’d like to suggest that I have Marie lead this transition. It should be seamless, and a good experience
for her.”

There was a slight shuffling of papers on the table before Wil
l Harper.

“As long as you are overseeing her to ensure there are no complications, I don’t have a problem w
ith that.”

Brian breathed a sigh of relief and couldn’t believe how easy that had been. No explanations, no excuses. He should have known better. It wasn’t common knowledge that Diane was pregnant, but a few people did know. Will was one
of them.

The rest of the meeting progressed as usual, but when Brian rose from his chair at the end, Will asked him to stay behind. He glanced back toward Nicole but Will shook his head. That response had Brian’s stomach twisting in knots. Something was up. If Nicole wasn’t included then it didn’t
bode well.

Brian took the seat opposite Will and waited for the man to look up from
his phone.

“Everything okay at home?” Will final
ly asked.

Brian rubbed the back of his neck and tried to find a comfortable position in the chair. “Everything’s fine. And you? How are yo
ur kids?”

A smile crossed Will’s face. His wife just gave birth to their third child a few months ago. “The house is in chaos with the baby again. Mindi’s doing great, though; she was made to be a
mother.”

Brian forced a smile onto his face and nodded. He wished he could say the same thing about his wife. Maybe in time, those motherly instincts just became second nature. Maybe once the morning sickness w
ent away.

“I wanted to talk about Marie and your decision to have her lead the setup of the new London office.” Will pushed the stack of papers forward and folded his hands together. “How much of this decision is based on the need to further Marie’s career and how much based on your need to be home with Diane ri
ght now?”

Brian licked his lips and adjusted his glasses. Will knew him too well. They’d known each other for years, and it was Will who’d landed him this job, through a personal recommendation. Brian couldn’t really hide things
from him.

“It’s a little rough right now,” he admitted. “But you know Diane.” He shrugged. He wasn’t about to admit just how rough things wer
e at home.

Will nodded. “Mindi’s hormones were all over the place with this last pregnancy. It’s not easy on them. I’m okay with Marie going over, but I need to know that you’ll be there if we n
eed you.”

Brian nodded. Of course he would. He just hoped it wouldn’t come
to that.

“Marie is good. She’s taken on projects like this with the last company she was with. I’ll make sure that she’s up to speed on our processes, but I wouldn’t have recommended her if I didn’t believe in her.” Brian spoke with pride. He’d been the one to find Marie languishing at a smaller firm, where her talents were sadly ignored. She had a brilliant mind, caught on fast, and, much to his surprise, was one of the best hackers he knew. She’d saved his butt a few times when their firewalls had been breached and she’d located the hole befo
re he did.

“I trust you, Brian. I just needed to make sure. This new London office is a huge score for us.” Will gathered his papers and stood. “Tim is still disappointed that you turned down the offer to head that team
for us.”

Brian shrugged. “Moving there isn’t an option. With Diane’s new role and now a baby on the way, even the commute wouldn’t work. But I’m honored he wanted me for
that job.”

Turning down that promotion had been hard. When he’d mentioned it to Diane at the time, her promotion was to happen within a month and she wouldn’t even consider the thought of moving. She’d suggested he commute, something many of his friends in their field did, but being away from her for any length of time always had him in knots. And now, with her pregnant, it wasn’t an option he was even willing to
consider.

“Personally, I’m glad you turned him down. I’d hate to lose you here. But I’d like you to be open to the possibility of some future travel for us before the baby arrives. You can accrue some overtime and then take extra days off once the little one
is here.”

Brian didn’t say anything. He’d rather not travel at all. He needed to be there for Diane, to show his support, and to make sure she was okay. She’d never admitted it, but deep down, he knew that the source of her hesitation to have a baby for so many years was because of what happened with her mother. He knew she was worried the same thing might happen
with her.

Truth be told, so was he. Losing Diane was not an option. He’d do anything in his power to make sure that never
happened.

Brian stood at the stove and sampled the sauce bubbling in the pot. Diane was working late again, and he had a craving for homemade spaghetti instead of ordering in like they normally did. In their early years, they used to work side by side in the kitchen. Brian missed those days. They used to take culinary weekends away with a local cooking school until their schedules became too full. A few years ago, they had spent a week in Napa Valley for their anniversary. Maybe they should do something like that again, before the b
aby came.

He sprinkled a little more salt and then added some fresh-ground pepper when the sound of the key in the lock caught his attention. He lowered the flame, set the lid on the pot, and wiped his hands on the black dish towel he’d flung over his
shoulder.

Not for the first time, he thought that this condo of theirs wasn’t meant for a family. He could count on one hand the number of couples with small children in their building. Most of the time, people moved out once they had kids, and he didn’t blame them. One look at their unit—particularly, one look at their monochromatic kitchen with stainless-steel appliances—and you knew it had been created for entertaining, not the sticky fingers that were sure to follow once their little tyke started
walking.

A smile spread across Brian’s face. He could picture the piles of dump trucks and action hero figures on the floor. Funny how he was already assuming they were having a boy. But what if they were having a girl? Would the house be filled with pink blankets and decorations? He shook his head. No, not in th
is place.

“I’m home,” Diane called out as she closed the door behind her. “Please tell me you’re making what I think you’re making.” There was a thump, which Brian knew was her purse being dropped on the floor, followed by another two thumps; this time, h
er shoes.

“I was inspired to do some fresh Italian cooking when I got home. Hope that’s okay?” The tiredness in her voice concerned him. She was working too hard lately. He waited for her to come into the kitchen, refilling his wineglass with a merlot and pouring sparkling water into anoth
er glass.

“Sounds great. I’m just going to get changed. Be down in a
minute.”

Brian took a step to follow her and then stopped. Considering her mood in the last few days, staying downstairs might be the safest optio
n for him.

He stuck his iPod on its base and turned the volume on low while he pulled out a large bread knife and sliced the French loaf he’d picked up at the bakery on his way home. He’d made a butter-garlic mixture earlier. All he needed to do was toss the salad and stick the bread in the oven, and dinner would
be ready.

While Brian worked, he also cleaned up after himself. As the bread toasted, he wiped down the counter, set the table, and even lit the candles he’d found in the china cabinet. A smile bloomed on his face at his efforts. It wasn’t dinner at Luigi’s, their favorite place to dine, but it was elegant and even slightly romantic. Fingers crossed that Diane appreciated hi
s efforts.

“I forgot to tell you, my talk at work went well,” Brian yelled up th
e stairs.

“That
’s good.”

The timer on the stove buzzed and Brian hurried over, almost catching his foot on the barstool as he skidded across the hardwood floor. The last thing he wanted was to have the scent of burned garlic bread in
the air.

A slight noise from upstairs told him that Diane was coming down. He pulled out the bread, left the oven door ajar to let out the heat, and went to stand at the bottom of stairs. He looked at all the hardwood flooring in the house, even on the stairway, and immediately pictured his little child slipping down the stairs or sliding on the floor while trying to crawl. He tried to picture toys littering the floor, but the idea of toys in their ultramodern house seemed out
of place.