TWENTY-FIVE

JESSE

The Hamilton skyline comes into view just after eleven-thirty, and my pulse ratchets a bit at the sight of it—such a different feeling from when I made the trip in May, planning to get in and get out, put the house on the market and walk away from it all.

As eager as I am to get to Claire’s I stop by my house first, let myself inside. It’s been two months, and the door wants to stick from the heat. I’ve kept the air conditioning on but set high, so the space is warm. It doesn’t smell so much like my house anymore as it does history. Everything looks good, though. The appliances still work and there are no leaks. The water runs. Satisfied, I lock back up and head a few streets over to the Tyndall’s.

They were watching for me.

I’ve barely grabbed my travel bag and stepped out of the car when Nolan races across the lawn.

“Uncle Jesse!”

He jumps into my arms and I carry him back across the grass and up the porch steps where Claire is waiting, arms folded across her chest, a smile on her face.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hi.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, cheeks turning pink, and something about the way she does this makes me want to grab her by the arm, pull her into me, and kiss her like she deserves to be kissed. But Mrs. Tyndall is already at the front door. “Jesse! We’re so glad you could come this weekend. Here, let me get your bag. I’ll just put it in the guest room for you. Nolan, honey, let him come inside.” And, as quickly as it happened, the moment is over. But she steals a quick glance at me as we head inside, and I wonder if she felt it, too.

“You didn’t have a wedding this weekend?”

“I asked for the day off,” she says. “I worked last night’s dress rehearsal, though.”

“You asked for a day off?” I say, setting Nolan down in the foyer.

“I did.”

“Wow. I am shocked. I didn’t realize that was possible,” I tease.

“Well, you know, someone wise once told me that I should consider taking some time off—that my schedule was crazy and I was wearing myself out.”

My heart swells as I hear my own words handed back to me. “And you actually took that advice. Amazing. Who is this guru? I must meet him.”

Another smile. “When Spiderman speaks, everyone listens.”

“Speaking of,” I say, turning to Nolan. “I brought a friend with me this weekend.” I reach into my shirt pocket and remove the action figure. “We are going to document his entire trip, and you’re in charge,” I say, handing it to him.

* * *

I will scroll through these photographs a thousand times in the weeks after my visit. Spiderman in Nolan’s bedroom. At the arcade. Playing at the park. Walking the greenways. Trying to cut Mrs. Tyndall’s pot roast. Sleeping in Nolan’s bed, next to his blue and green plaid teddy bear, the patchwork blanket folded beside them. Eating brunch. Checking out the exhibits at the children’s museum. Going to the movies. Celebrating Nolan’s birthday a couple of weeks early.

Monday morning was rough—not nearly as enjoyable. I needed to leave by lunch if I was going to get back to Haleford at a reasonable hour. Roads would be congested with travelers coming home from the beach and I expected serious delays trying to get into the city.

Nolan pouted through breakfast, but his lip didn’t start quivering until I loaded my bag.

“I’ll be back soon, little man. I promise.”

Tears edged Claire’s eyes, glistening as she ran fingers through his hair. “This gets harder and harder, you leaving,” she confessed.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Claire-bear,” I said, pulling her close. I planted a gentle kiss on her forehead as she wrapped her arms around me. In the next moment she gazed up at me, staring at me from beneath her lashes, eyes connecting to mine. I leaned in closely, cautious, but she didn’t pull away, so I kissed her.

“Do you love my mommy?” Nolan asked, interrupting us. Truth is I’d forgotten he was even standing there.

“Yes, Nolan. I love your mommy very much,” I say, not taking my eyes off hers. “I’ve loved her for a long, long time.” I turn to him. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah,” he says. “We can both love her.”

“I’d like that,” I told him, giving him a high five. “You’re the man of the house. Take care of her while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay.”

The first day back at work was like a nightmare, everyone dragging from the long weekend, but still talking up their trips and sharing photos. When asked, I told them I spent my holiday with Nolan and Claire, watching movies and going to the park and museum. My weekend wasn’t as exciting as theirs, but I didn’t care. I never felt an ounce of jealousy over the parties and late nights and crowded beaches. I wouldn’t have traded my trip for theirs for anything in the world.

It was looking like it would be Thanksgiving before I could reasonably get back to Hamilton. If I could keep my head down and work hard and make it to January, then I could reassess.

I keep my eyes open, checking the job boards for openings, keep my ears open for opportunities closer to home.

One day in mid-October, I get a text from Claire.

Drove by your house today. There were work trucks.

She posts a question mark, asking—without asking—what’s going on.

I type quickly. Just doing a few renovations.

The fact that I was no longer selling the house was not a huge secret. The fact that Lynette and I were partners now and turning it into a venue was. So I spare the details and let Claire wonder. I could be renovating to move back in. Or renovating to sell. What was really happening was that walls were being knocked out and beams installed to open the first floor. Floors were being sanded and re-stained. The exterior painted. Everything would be ready within a few weeks.

I text Claire. Every day. I video chat with Nolan twice a week. Every now and then one of them would call and we would talk on the phone. Spiderman continued to capture the day and Claire would upload photos of Nolan in our shared folder.

Then I get a text I wasn’t quite expecting, but hoping for.

When I get to work the following day the markets are in a frenzy.

Cenbrex.

I was wrong. They didn’t merge. They sent out a news release that a new cancer drug was coming to market. The clinical trials were more successful than they imagined and could possibly eliminate the need for chemotherapy completely. Doctors call into local news channels, calling it a “game-changer” in cancer treatment.

Their stock skyrockets.

* * *

“I appreciate you taking time out of your day to stop by,” Mr. Perry says. I sit down in the conference chair across from his desk, wipe my sweaty palms across my khakis.

“No problem, sir.”

The truth is I hadn’t accomplished much since I received word around ten that Mr. Perry, of Perry, Manchester, and Thomas wanted to speak to me.

“I’ve been following the portfolios coming out of this intern class, and yours, in particular, caught my attention. I have to ask, what made you invest in Cenbrex?”

“As a small pharmaceutical company that was doing okay in the market already, I thought they were primed for a merger. I did some research into the company, of course, but it was mostly an educated guess based on patterns and trends of similar companies before it, including one company owned by the two founders that sold to Merck for seventy million.”

“Impressive,” he says.

“Well, they didn’t exactly merge,” I point out.

“They didn’t have to. I reviewed your other work, as well. You have a nice eye for risk versus reward.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You understand that we sometimes offer full-time employment for our especially promising interns.”

“I heard that. Yes.”

He sits up straighter. “We would like to extend one of those positions to you.”

My emotions tangle—from shock to pride to confusion and back again. “Wow. I’m—I’m honored.”

“I took the liberty of contacting HR to put together a package for you.” He passes the folder over his desk. “It includes the position information and expectations, salary information, as well as information on the benefits we offer. Take your time. Look it over. If you have any questions or concerns HR will be happy to assist. I would also appreciate you keeping this offer to yourself for the time being. We haven’t quite determined which, if any, other interns will be extended an offer of permanent employment.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“It was really quite surprising about Cenbrex,” he says, escorting me to the door. “I was kicking myself for a few days for not investing in it myself. I can only imagine how you felt, watching that stock increase. A thousand shares alone would be worth well over a million dollars right now. And I do think it will continue to rise, albeit more slowly, before it plateaus.”

I bite back a smile. “It would have been a worthy investment, sir. For sure.”