“This is ridiculous,” she said, gently pushing away. “I have to get back to work.”
He straightened his suit. “Alright. Where are we going?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You are going home. You’ve had your fun.”
“No.”
“Sam…”
“No.”
She buried her face in her hands. “Fine. Fine! Get me fired, see if I care.”
“You won’t get fired,” he said, following her back to the door. “Show me what you’re working on.”
Reluctantly, she led him back out into the lab. She was so busy keeping an eye on Sam that she nearly toppled over Tom with an armful of slides.
“Shoot, I’m so sorry!” she said, catching the tray he was holding before it could go over.
“Nah, it was probably my fault.” He flashed a winning smile at her, then winked at Sam over her shoulder. “I’ve got a bit of a reputation around here for getting distracted.” He balanced the tray in one hand and extended the other to Sam. “I’m Tom.”
“Sam,” he said, shaking the man’s hand hard. “I’m from the head office.”
“So I heard.”
“How are your kids doing?” Ophelia asked, trying to divert the conversation away from Sam’s mountain of lies. “And Andy, too?”
Tom had a too-tight smile on his face as he nodded. “Good! Yeah, they’re good.”
Ophelia set a hand on his arm, giving him a sympathetic look.
He blinked fast and swallowed hard.
“They’re good,” he insisted. “Thanks for asking, Effie. Hey, I gotta take these over…”
“Oh! Of course, sorry.” She stepped out of his way.
“He was lying,” Sam whispered.
“Yeah.” She sighed, turning to him. “His husband is one of the people suffering from bone deterioration after working at the Starfront factory out in Arlington. The class action is taking forever, so they’re all living on Tom’s income and insurance. If we can’t pull this off…” She rubbed at her aching heart. “They could lose everything.”
Sam’s expression was inscrutable. His eyes followed Tom. “Then you must.”
That little display of humanity was heartening to her. “Come on.”
She led him back to her workbench. He stroked his chin, leaning in as he studied the results she’d been looking at.
“These are the genomes of your flowers?” he asked.
“Yes, the last three hybrids Gavin and I produced.” She rearranged the reports around until the sequences layered over each other. “Here you can see the genes we spliced in to make the flowers glow. This one contains the information the flower uses to create the glowing molecule, and this section seems to control the production of the enzyme luciferase—together, they create the glow.”
“What is the issue you’re having?” he asked.
“The glow doesn’t last. You can’t market a glowing bouquet if the plant stops glowing in an hour after being cut.”
“Why not just sell the plant?”
“We do, but the genes aren’t stable. The new growth has a tendency to revert to the original phenotype. We get a lot of complaints and refund demands that aren’t great for the company’s bottom line.” She sat on her stool, resting her arm against the glossy tabletop and perching her chin in her hand. “Besides, houseplant retail isn’t bad, but it’s got nothing on the wedding sector. They want Blue Fairy flowers at the top of every vendor’s list. That’s the big money.”
