Claire is silent. She puts the hot chocolate down, acutely aware of how still the room is, how still a winter night is. “You mean, you don’t know which account to pay it from?”
When he finally answers she is more frightened by his tone than his words—the vacancy in his voice. “Nash’s investment was split, doyou remember? Half for drug development and half to be paid when the review board, the IRB, approved the phase one human trials.” Nash. Married to Anna, Claire’s best friend. He’d bet twenty million dollars on vascumab, ten of it lost now, but ten still on the table, leverage Addison could play to attract new investors.
“And? He’s still in, right? I thought he promised you he was still in until you could repeat the animal trials and go back to the review board.”
“It’s a problem of timing—”
She interrupts him, doesn’t have the patience for another lecture about venture capital risk or equity positions or stock options. “Maybe… I don’t know… maybe we have to borrow against the retirement plan. I mean, the accountant said that was possible, right?”
When they had discussed this, the most dire contingency plan, Addison had always stonewalled on risking that much of their future. It was the only asset left besides this land and this house. She hears the faintest sound through the phone, a low hum that couldn’t be Addison, it sounds more mechanical than human. Suddenly she is back at the Gap store in downtown Seattle crowded against the counter by impatient Christmas shoppers, trying to explain to the flustered clerk why her denied Visa charge for a twelve-dollar umbrella has to be a fluke. “What have you done?”
“We were so close, Claire. Weeks from IRB approval and Nash’s second check. I couldn’t let it fall apart. I had to bridge the gap.”
“What are you saying to me?” Claire feels like a gaping hole has broken through her middle. Standing perfectly still, she tips off balance and grabs for the counter. “It’s impossible to take out your whole retirement fund. It isn’t legal.”
Addison’s voice sounds like it’s coming from another planet, bleeding with humiliation, but oddly detached, too. Like he’s talking about someone else’s life. “I rolled it over. I transferred the money. The law allows you ninety days between withdrawal and deposit.” Claire is sitting on the floor though she doesn’t remember sliding down the wall. She tries to talk but nothing comes out.
Addison goes on, “Nash said he’d back me up if there were a delay.I had to keep the lab going—I had salaries to pay. It didn’t feel like a choice.”
Claire coughs and chokes out, “And then Nash changed his mind, didn’t he?”
There is a long pause before Addison answers. “He heard about Rick and the animal data. He’s got a business to run, Claire. It’s not a question of friendship.”
Claire’s lips are tingling. “And now we are at day ninety-one and you can’t pay back the retirement fund. Is that what you’re telling me?”
When Addison does not refute her, in fact, does not answer her at all, she hangs up the phone without another word.
• 6 •
Jory is tucked into a fetal curl against Claire by morning, the sunken center of the old mattress a trapped pool of heat in the cold room. Claire kisses her cheek and stuffs her own still-warm pillow against Jory’s back before she slips out of bed to dress. Her face looks gray in the mirror; she had barely slept. She checks the furnace, thrumming steadily and yet the room couldn’t be more than 60 degrees. She mounds a pyramid of paper and kindling and small logs in the cold stove, sets the butane lighter on top for Jory to use, then goes back upstairs to tape a note to the bathroom mirror, signs it with a lipsticked heart.
Claire drives to the biggest clinic in town, a low brick building huddled beside the river. The gravel parking lot holds four or five cars, Subarus and four-wheel-drive pickups, cars
When he finally answers she is more frightened by his tone than his words—the vacancy in his voice. “Nash’s investment was split, doyou remember? Half for drug development and half to be paid when the review board, the IRB, approved the phase one human trials.” Nash. Married to Anna, Claire’s best friend. He’d bet twenty million dollars on vascumab, ten of it lost now, but ten still on the table, leverage Addison could play to attract new investors.
“And? He’s still in, right? I thought he promised you he was still in until you could repeat the animal trials and go back to the review board.”
“It’s a problem of timing—”
She interrupts him, doesn’t have the patience for another lecture about venture capital risk or equity positions or stock options. “Maybe… I don’t know… maybe we have to borrow against the retirement plan. I mean, the accountant said that was possible, right?”
When they had discussed this, the most dire contingency plan, Addison had always stonewalled on risking that much of their future. It was the only asset left besides this land and this house. She hears the faintest sound through the phone, a low hum that couldn’t be Addison, it sounds more mechanical than human. Suddenly she is back at the Gap store in downtown Seattle crowded against the counter by impatient Christmas shoppers, trying to explain to the flustered clerk why her denied Visa charge for a twelve-dollar umbrella has to be a fluke. “What have you done?”
“We were so close, Claire. Weeks from IRB approval and Nash’s second check. I couldn’t let it fall apart. I had to bridge the gap.”
“What are you saying to me?” Claire feels like a gaping hole has broken through her middle. Standing perfectly still, she tips off balance and grabs for the counter. “It’s impossible to take out your whole retirement fund. It isn’t legal.”
Addison’s voice sounds like it’s coming from another planet, bleeding with humiliation, but oddly detached, too. Like he’s talking about someone else’s life. “I rolled it over. I transferred the money. The law allows you ninety days between withdrawal and deposit.” Claire is sitting on the floor though she doesn’t remember sliding down the wall. She tries to talk but nothing comes out.
Addison goes on, “Nash said he’d back me up if there were a delay.I had to keep the lab going—I had salaries to pay. It didn’t feel like a choice.”
Claire coughs and chokes out, “And then Nash changed his mind, didn’t he?”
There is a long pause before Addison answers. “He heard about Rick and the animal data. He’s got a business to run, Claire. It’s not a question of friendship.”
Claire’s lips are tingling. “And now we are at day ninety-one and you can’t pay back the retirement fund. Is that what you’re telling me?”
When Addison does not refute her, in fact, does not answer her at all, she hangs up the phone without another word.
• 6 •
Jory is tucked into a fetal curl against Claire by morning, the sunken center of the old mattress a trapped pool of heat in the cold room. Claire kisses her cheek and stuffs her own still-warm pillow against Jory’s back before she slips out of bed to dress. Her face looks gray in the mirror; she had barely slept. She checks the furnace, thrumming steadily and yet the room couldn’t be more than 60 degrees. She mounds a pyramid of paper and kindling and small logs in the cold stove, sets the butane lighter on top for Jory to use, then goes back upstairs to tape a note to the bathroom mirror, signs it with a lipsticked heart.
Claire drives to the biggest clinic in town, a low brick building huddled beside the river. The gravel parking lot holds four or five cars, Subarus and four-wheel-drive pickups, cars
Similar Books
