She’ll be in Locust? Why on earth would she be in Locust? The vagueness of her text is both intriguing and unnerving, but I don’t respond just yet. I need to call in my advisors.
“I don’t like the sound of it,” says Carl, scrutinizing Gemma’s text. “It’s not in the spirit of the project.”
“But what’s the harm in meeting with her?” goads Paula.
I glance from Carl to Paula, then over to my father, who asks, “Who is it we’re discussing?”
“My old boss, Gemma,” I say. “You met her this winter. The flibbertigibbet with the very long hair?”
Not remembering, my father nods anyway and says, “Yes, of course.”
“A line of products from the oracle?” says Carl. “I don’t see the need. This isn’t a product; it’s not even a service. It’s an offering. That’s what makes it so rare: there’s no quid pro quo.”
“Yes, yes. But see where she says ‘maybe something even bigger’?” quotes Paula. “I mean, we’vegotto know what that means.”
Carl looks askance, but Paula’s curiosity is contagious.
“Carl, you’re right to be wary,” I say, giving credit where it’s due.“Gemma is an operator, and I’ve been trying to disentangle myself from her for over a year now.”
They wait for me to continue.
“I don’t plan to take the deal,” I say. “But what’s the harm in taking the meeting?”
Chapter 40
A week later, Gemma arrives. This time, she is accompanied by Anthony Gill, the founder of a venture capital firm called Animus Investment. I meet them in the driveway as they climb out of their luxury sedan. This car wouldn’t stand a chance during mud season, I think, as I am rushed by Gemma, whose sandalwood scent envelops me as she pulls me into a hug. This embrace doesn’t follow the usual rules of hugging—loose and brief. It’s a tight hold that persists for a few seconds too long as she rocks from side to side. Then she looks into my eyes as if she has deeply missed me. “Cricket. I’m so excited to co-create with you again.”
She says this as if I had never been her underling, as if we’re already in business together, as if this project—whatever it is—is a foregone conclusion. But last time I checked, Gemma and I have never actuallyco-created. She used to tell me what to do, and I used to do it.
Still, I try to stay even-keeled and open-minded, so I say, “Me too, Gemma. Me too.”
Anthony hits a button and his car chirps obediently.
“You might be the first person who has ever locked their car here,” I say.
“Well, it helps to have a car worth locking.” He holds out his hand. “Anthony Gill.”
“Cricket.” We shake and I try my hardest not to despise him. At least, not yet. His hair is slick with some kind of product, and he wears a watch that looks expensive and heavy—the kind that could injure you if you brushed against it wrong.
I lead them through the house.
“So cute, right?” Gemma says to Anthony as he looks around the great room.
“Hm,” he responds. It’s neither a confirmation nor an objection.
We reach the porch, and I motion for them to take a seat. Anthony smashes a spider and then flicks it off his chair before he sits. It’s a brilliant day, the kind I often dreamed about in the depths of winter, and the pond sparkles at a distance. For a moment, I want to get up, run down the hill, and throw myself into the water. But instead, I say, “So, Gemma, what brings you to Locust again?”
She’s ready. “It began as a vision. Now it feels like a calling.”
Anthony is immersed in his phone, both of his thumbs flying up and down as he types. Gemma pauses, and after a moment, he turns his attention to her, though it’s clear he has heard this spiel before.
“I kept asking myself, ‘What is the evolution of Actualize?’ Once our customer has all the serums, the oils, the pollens, the dews, the supplements… what comes next for her? It’s something I was turning over and over—for at least a year. And do you know what changed everything?”
“What?” I ask.
“My meeting with the oracle. It wasn’t so much what he said; it was theexperience. It was the journey. And that’s when I knew—our next product wouldn’t be a product. It would be a place.”
“Like Le Refuge?”
