Page 45 of Wish For Me

I blink. It’s like she’d somehow listened in on my conversation with Larry, who’d looked at me like I was nuts when I told him I wanted to write a book instead of return to space.

“You’re a man of science,” Larry had said, looking almost angry.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to tell me who—”

“If you want my advice, I say put that big brain to better use than the trappings of higher education.” She tosses the last of her martini down her throat and steps off the stool. She strides toward me, then stops, peering straight into my eyes.

I feel like I’m failing her appraisal.

But she smiles after a moment, with a slight curl of her wrinkled lips. “Some of us are trying to change the world. And the help we need could be stationed anywhere within it.”

A moment later, she walks past me with purposeful but unhurried strides toward a man in a black suit standing in the corridor, his arms folded at his front. He fixes a cap on his head as she approaches. He’s a pilot, I realize belatedly. Her personal pilot.

“Wait!” I say, before I can stop myself. I don’t know what to ask. Who are you? How do I find out what the hell you’re talking about?

“Go to her,” the woman says, handing her purse to the pilot. “She’s waiting.”

Then in a sweep of leopard print, she’s gone.

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the bartender as he hands me my bill.

“Ever heard of Plush?”

I wrack my brain. There’s a brand of tissue and paper towel called Plush. I think they own a bunch of toiletry brands too. “The hygiene conglomerate?”

I’m half joking, thinking it must be a magazine or something, but he nods. “We get all kinds of VIPs in here. You’re the first guy I’ve ever met who’s been on the moon though.”

Then he asks me to sign a coaster for his niece. I’m getting better at not looking around and thinkingme?!every time someone wants an autograph.

As I walk toward the gate, I search Plush on my phone. It takes some digging, but I see that Plush’s parent company is LeMille Inc. A few taps later and I’m stopped on the side of the hallway, looking at the woman’s face. Her name is Lillian LeMille, the reclusive billionaire heiress of the LeMille conglomerate. Her Wikipedia page says she’s 77 years old and estimated to be worth 87 billion dollars. Her hobbies include rare plant collection and Tai Chi. She’s also a huge philanthropist, and funds a number of research and development projects, and likely many more that aren’t named.

Larry said I’d get strange enquiries when I came back, but I don’t exactly know what her enquiry was. I wish, suddenly, that I had Noelle’s number. She’d love hearing about this, just like she lit up when I talked about Eleanor Cleary.

On the plane, I text Larry.

LEIF: Ever heard of Lillian LeMille?

LARRY: The billionaire? Why?

LEIF: Just curious.

LARRY: Did she offer you a job?

She didn’t. Just advice. I think. But before I can respond, he sends another text.

LARRY: These fucking billionaires. Don’t get tempted by their weird vanity projects, kid. If you’re not going back up, take the tenure position. I pulled strings for you. People would kill for what’s being handed to you on a silver platter.

I like Larry. He didn’t balk when I said I wasn’t going to continue my career at NASA. He even put my name forward for the university position in California.

But I made the mistake of opening up to him a couple of years ago, after coming home from Christmas with Noelle. Ever since he’s taken it upon himself to act like a father figure.

He’s right, though. The university position will give me the time and funding for my research. Guarantees of publication. Time to write a book if I want to, even if it won’t be the book I really want to write. Security. And no elementary school tours, which is what I thought I wanted before. Even though since the kindergarten cookies, I dropped the hint to the university recruitment team who I interviewed with that I might do a few of those after all. On the side.

I pull out the offer letter from the university, turning it around in my hand. My plan right now is to say yes to the position, but only if I can split my time between California and New York. Because I’m not spending another year wishing I was with Noelle and letting our lives get in the way of being together.

If she wants to be with me.

If they won’t let me do that, I’ll take a job at the community college in Quince Valley. I don’t care what I do, so long as I’m with Noelle.

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