Read A Gift of Ghosts (Tassamara) Online
Authors: Sarah Wynde
A Gift of Ghosts (Tassamara)
A Gift of
Ghosts
By Sarah Wynde
Table of Contents
Akira checked her reflection in the sun visor mirror. She’d
bitten off all her lipstick during the drive from the airport. Hands shaking,
just a little, she pulled out a pink gloss from her bag and carefully reapplied
the color.
“You’re awfully pretty, you know.” The teenage boy leaning
over the back of the seat made the words sound disparaging. “It’s not like you
need that. It’s probably going to give you cancer or something. Why do girls
think it’s a good idea to spread chemicals all over their faces?”
Ignoring him, she took a deep breath, and tucked the gloss back
into the pocket of her bag, trying to summon up the courage to step out of the
car. She’d walk into the building and breeze her way through her first job
interview in years. She could do it. Of course she could. She’d be bright and
smart and professional, and they’d love her and offer her a job, a good job,
one that would let her actually work on her research.
“And then I’ll win the lottery,” she said aloud, chewing on
her lip, already forgetting about the gloss.
“No one ever does,” the boy said cynically.
Akira wasn’t even sure how she’d made it here. She wasn’t the
adventurous type. Life, it seemed to her, had enough challenges without
searching out new ones. She’d mapped out her path long ago: a nice, quiet
academic life in the Californian town where she grew up, some teaching, some
research, staying in familiar territory, living on familiar ground.
But then one reckless paragraph about spirit energy in an
article for the prestigious
Energy Research Quarterly
, and suddenly all
her plans were in jeopardy. The committee hadn’t denied her tenure yet, but her
department head had made it clear that it was only a matter of time. With no
hope of a university job, she’d have to teach in a high school. She’d rather
work in the fifth circle of hell.
The phone call from General Directions, Inc. had been out of
the blue, but it felt like a potential lifesaver. The company wanted to meet
with her. They were willing to fly her to Florida—Florida, of all places!—rent
her a car, and put her up in a hotel room for a day or two, while they
interviewed her for some undefined position. Despite the vagueness of the
details, Akira hadn’t hesitated.
But she was hesitating now. She sighed. She couldn’t sit in
the car forever. Might as well go in and get it over with. She took one last
glance in the mirror and for the briefest of seconds her eyes met those of the
boy in the back seat.
“Hey,” he said, pushing himself away from where he’d been
leaning. “Hey, did you . . .”
Akira, though, was already out of the car, closing the door
firmly behind her.
The brick buildings, lush grass, bright flowers, and flowing
water in front of her were undeniably beautiful. But where was the research lab
she’d been expecting? She’d pictured a square box, five stories high, with
mirrored windows, set in the middle of a giant parking lot. The kind of place
that could exist anywhere, neither fitting in nor standing out. The kind of
place where maybe she could exist without fitting in or standing out.
This looked more like an extremely exclusive private school.
She made her way up the cobblestone walkway to the front door
of the nearest building. Although the friendly guard at the security booth way
back up a winding road had told her that she’d found her destination, she still
felt unsure of herself until a discreet sign on the wall labeled General
Directions, Inc. reassured her that at least she was in the right place.
General Directions. The name was so very generic.
At the front desk, she introduced herself, trying not to let
her uncertainty show. “Akira Malone, here for an interview.”
“Of course.” The young blonde woman behind the desk responded
with a warm smile, her eyes just a little curious. “Mr. Latimer’s been
expecting you. I’ll show you right in.”
***
Zane Latimer was playing his twentieth game of solitaire on a
borrowed computer in a usually unused office. He liked his own office just fine.
It was comfortable and cluttered and a great place for thinking. At least for
him. His sisters claimed it was full of distractions.
But his office was too revealing for an interview like this
one. The stark walls, empty desk, two metal chairs, ugly carpeting, and old
desktop computer in this room presented a much better image for his purposes.
He wondered if this candidate would notice the lack of a phone. There really
ought to be a big clunky corded phone with square buttons. He made a mental
note to search one out before the next interview.
He glanced at his watch again. His agent at the tiny private
airport had called half an hour ago. Ms. Malone had arrived without incident,
but had requested a different car immediately upon seeing the black Taurus that
was waiting for her. With no other car available, she had reluctantly accepted
the keys from the clerk. The clerk had reported this with interest: she was
paid well to note the arriving guests’ attitudes about their transportation,
but this was the first time she’d had anything to say. Zane accepted the
information without comment, but had been waiting a little more impatiently
than usual ever since.
Ms. Malone was the fourth person he’d interviewed. As far as
he was concerned, this job search was a wild goose chase. But his father had
insisted, and when Max Latimer dug his heels in, people around him mostly
sighed and acquiesced. Mostly.
Zane stood as Grace opened the door without knocking, and
ushered the latest candidate inside. He paused, his mouth not quite dropping
open. This—she—wasn’t what he’d expected at all. Over Akira’s dark head, his
sister raised her eyebrows and grinned, and then gave him a hasty thumbs-up
behind Akira’s back.
“This is Zane Latimer,” she said to Akira. “He’ll be
interviewing you today. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, some water?”
“I’m good, thank you,” Akira responded, tugging at the edges
of her black suit jacket and then extending her hand to Zane where he stood
behind the desk. “How do you do, Mr. Latimer?” she asked with an old-fashioned
formality.
“Ah, fine. And you?” he answered on auto-pilot, shooting a
perplexed gaze at Grace. She shrugged as she pulled the door closed behind her,
still grinning, and he gestured toward the uncomfortable chair on the other
side of the desk.
“Quite well, thank you.” Akira perched on the edge of the
chair, holding her bag in front of her.
“How was your flight?” he asked as he took his own seat.
“This morning’s?” she answered. “It was the smallest plane I’ve
ever been on. It was interesting.” Her lips curved in an almost smile.
Zane couldn’t tell whether interesting meant white-knuckled
terror or gazing out the window in delight. At Max’s behest, General Directions
had arranged for Akira to fly from California to central Florida on a
commercial airliner the day before, staying in an airport hotel for the night.
That flight was a standard commercial flight. This morning’s much shorter hop
was in a Piper Seneca, a six-seat twin-engine plane. Zane loved it, but it was
not the type of corporate jet that featured flight attendants serving
champagne, kitchens, fancy conference rooms and sofas.
Leaning back in his chair, Zane steepled his fingers
together. He enjoyed interviewing, but for the first time, he wished he’d found
out more about this applicant than her name. He’d grabbed a slim file folder
from his father’s desk when he came in this morning, but he hadn’t bothered to
open it. It was now sitting on the desktop in front of him.
“So, how did you hear about us?” he started.
“Uh, you called me?” Akira responded, sounding doubtful. “I
don’t know very much about the company. The man I spoke with on the phone last
week told me you’d tell me more at the interview.”
“I see.” Zane leaned forward, touching the folder but not
quite picking it up. “In that case, why don’t you tell me a little about
yourself?”
“I—do you mean—are you interested in my research? Or my
teaching?” Akira stumbled to a halt.
Zane gave her a polite smile, trying not to let his confusion
show. Max must have called her. But where had he found her? Research? Teaching?
That didn’t fit the usual profile. Max had been sorting applications and resumes
for months, and this was only the fourth time he’d wanted to bring a candidate
in for an interview. But Ms. Malone was completely unlike the others.
It wasn’t that the first three had been similar physically,
but they’d had a certain kind of gloss, a polished exterior, and a projected
warmth that made their differences disappear. This one was a mouse.
A cute mouse. Maybe even an adorable mouse, like a chipmunk
or a jerboa. Zane tried to think of other types of mice. Was there one with
dark eyes and round cheeks and fluffy hair? That would be the right kind of
mouse. Suddenly he realized that he’d let the pause drag on too long and that
the mouse was looking increasingly nervous.
“Right, research, tell me about your research.”
She sighed with obvious relief, and plunged into a
description that within the first few words flew totally over Zane’s head. “Sono—what?”
he finally interrupted.
“Sonoluminescence. Specifically, stable single-bubble
sonoluminescence. I’ve been experimenting with the noble gases—argon, xenon . .
.”
Before she could continue, he put up one finger to pause her
and flipped open the folder that was on the desk. The single sheet of paper
inside wasn’t a job application. Or even a resume. It was the last page of an
academic article, with a red circle around the final paragraph.
“Potential energy?” he said out loud, skimming it quickly. “Ah,
spirit energy.”
Akira seemed to go a little paler, if that was even possible.
“That’s not . . . I mean that was simply a speculative, theoretical idea. Just
a hypothetical possibility that might be—”
“What is it you do exactly?” Zane interrupted her, still
puzzling over the article. “
Energy Research Quarterly
? What is this?”
“I’m a physics professor. I teach at Santa Marita College. In
California?” Akira said it as a question.
“A physics professor?” Zane couldn’t stop his lips from
twitching, but he tried hard to swallow the smile. Okay, his father had gone
around the bend. What in the world were they going to do with a physics
professor? General Directions had a research division, but they tended to work
more on biochemistry and medical projects. And Zane didn’t hire the scientists.
A quiet tap at the door interrupted them and Akira looked
back at it with relief. “Shall I—” she started as the door swung open behind
her, and Grace entered holding another folder.
Grace looked at Zane, her eyes laughing. “I’m so sorry to
interrupt,” she said smoothly, “but Max wanted you to have this.”
He took the folder she handed over with some relief. This
must be the rest of the information about Ms. Malone. Enlightenment was at
hand. He flipped the folder open.
Or not.
The folder contained three documents: General Direction’s
standard non-disclosure agreement; General Direction’s standard employment
contract, already filled out with Akira’s information; and a sticky note that
said “Natalya says yes. Give her whatever she wants, but get her to sign a
two-year-contract.” His father’s illegible signature was scrawled across the
bottom.