“Do you think he might be sick?”
“Sick? Why would you say that?”
“Well, he was really keen on seeing us married with children sooner rather than later. It felt like he knew he wouldn’t be around too much longer.”
Summer shook her head. “No, he’s just like that. He’s always been a little fatalistic. I guess we’re both a little fatalistic.”
Connor reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. “Because of your mom?”
Summer shrugged. “She was healthy, and then she wasn’t. The crazy thing is, she didn’t even smoke. I’m sure watching that at a young age affected my psyche. Like my dad, I definitely understand that we only have so much time on this planet. We need to be the best version of ourselves. I’m not saying I always do that.”
Connor squeezed her hand. “Maybe that’s why you’re the best nurse, and one day you’ll be the best mom.”
Summer squeezed back and forced a smile. “What if we had a baby? No crazy-expensive enhanced baby. Just a natural, hope-for-the-best baby. You’d be such a good dad.”
“You’ve seen the trends. It’s okay for us, but we’re not competing with that many of them yet. But babies born now are a different story. In the future, all the good jobs will go to enhanced babies. A natural baby would always be at a disadvantage, no matter what. What kind of life is that?”
Summer lifted one shoulder and turned back to the window.
12
Naomi and It’s Always about the Money
“I’m officially announcing my candidacy for President of the United States,” Corrinne Powers said.
The Today show’s hosts and the audience gave the Democratic senator a standing ovation.
Corrinne smiled and mouthed Thank you. She certainly looked the part of the next POTUS. She was in her mid-fifties but looked thirty-five. She’d won the genetic lottery with her symmetrical face and fit body. She’d also managed to slow the aging process with the best cosmetic supplements and surgeries money could buy. She’d managed the impossible—an experienced, smart, and beautiful female politician. Despite widespread wokeness, beautiful women were still afforded special status and influence in society.
Naomi sat on the couch in her office, watching the Today show with Vernon Hayes, her chief of staff, and Katherine Lively, her campaign manager.
“I’ve seen enough.” Naomi turned off the OLED television, the ultrathin screen becoming transparent, revealing the wall-mounted mirror behind. Naomi placed the remote on the coffee table and said, “If I didn’t know better, I might vote for her. We should’ve announced before her.”
Vernon leaned back in his chair. “We did the right thing. Let her have the spotlight now. We’ll announce after her buzz has died down.”
“The sooner we announce, the sooner we’ll start receiving campaign donations,” Katherine said, sitting in the chair next to Vernon. Katherine was fifty years old, tall, blonde, and fit, with a face pulled tight as a drum. “Funding is a serious issue. Financially, we’re nowhere close to where we need to be for a presidential campaign.”
Naomi sighed. “If we don’t have enough money, we can’t win, but we can’t get the campaign donations unless the public thinks we can win.”
Vernon chuckled, his gaze on Naomi. “We have a chicken-and-egg problem. We have to get the public to believe in you, without spending much money.”
“Any ideas on how to do that?”
“We have to take some chances. We have to get your face on the news and on the internet. You can’t walk the line, like a politician. You have to be up-front with the public. Don’t sugarcoat socialism. Don’t shy away from your convictions. People will follow just about any idea if the leader is certain.”
“I agree,” Katherine said. “We have to be aggressive to win, but we also have to be careful not to lose the moderate Democrats. Even if we run a grassroots campaign, we’ll still need money. Much more money than we have now.”
Naomi sighed and stood from the couch. “We’ll find the money.”
Vernon and Katherine stood from their chairs.
“Thank you, Katherine. Vernon, would you stay for a minute?”
Katherine smiled, turned on her heels, and left the office.
“I know what you’re gonna ask,” Vernon said with a crooked grin. “I already have my guy checking out Corrinne. I doubt we’ll find anything though. If she had skeletons, they’d have been unearthed a long time ago.”
“Nobody’s that perfect.”
“We’ll find out.” Vernon walked to the door. Before he reached his destination, someone knocked. He opened the door to find Katherine.
“We received a phone call from Jacob Roth’s office.” Katherine stepped into the room, and Vernon shut the door behind her.
Naomi approached them. “Did you say, Jacob Roth?”
“Yes,” Katherine replied. “He wants to meet with you.”
“The CEO of Housing Trust?”
“Yes.”
“And heir to the Roth banking dynasty,” Vernon said.
13
Derek and the Picker
It had been a week since his mother had collapsed on the kitchen floor. He’d spent most of the week at the hospital, unsure if each day might be her last. Then, over the weekend, she had improved. She wasn’t out of the woods, but he had felt comfortable leaving her at the hospital to finish the all-important late-season orange harvest.
Without the harvest, they’d lose the farm, and, if the cancer didn’t kill her, losing the farm certainly would. Derek had calculated that, if he ran the picker twelve hours per day through Thursday, he’d be ready for the farmers’ market on Friday.
For the first few hours of the morning, the picker had run flawlessly. Ricky and Carlos had worked behind the machine, gleaning whatever oranges Derek and the machine had left. Then it shut down. Derek figured it was overheating like usual, so he waited a few minutes and tried to restart the machine, but it wouldn’t start.
Ricky and Carlos approached.
“Did it overheat again?” Ricky asked.
“I think so.” Derek let out a breath. “I’m gonna take a break and come back. You guys want somethin’ to drink?”
The boys walked with Derek to the farmhouse. Along the way they passed one of the ponds and the apiary. The ponds were used to gravity irrigate the trees, using the swale system to spread the water evenly. The apiary consisted of twenty-five beehives underneath an open-air structure that measured fifty by ten.
The structure had wooden posts and a composite roof. The north and east sides of the structure were covered in lattice to stop the strong northerly and easterly winds. Derek understood that the bees were sensitive to changes in humidity and temperature, so keeping the rain, sun, and wind off the hives made for healthier, more productive bees.
“How come you got so many bees?” Carlos asked.
“They help with pollination,” Derek said.
“What’s that?” Ricky asked.
“It’s like when flowers do it,” Carlos said with a smirk.
Derek shook his head and herded the boys from the bees’ flight paths. “Not too close. I don’t want you to get stung.” Inside the farmhouse, Derek sat the boys at the kitchen table and opened the refrigerator. “We have orange juice, apple juice, water.” He picked up the milk carton and checked the expiration date. “Sorry, milk’s bad.”
“Apple juice,” Carlos and Ricky said, one after the other.
“I’m tired of oranges,” Ricky said.