“Yes.” Holly whirled her fingers through Murray’s coarse fur. The large dog grunted and pressed himself closer. Holly didn’t own a dog, but she could see the appeal of them. “Beenan made it clear that there is no shortage of people eager for a position at Sol-Arc Industries. The only reason I’m being given a chance to think about it is because I have an excellent work record. Clients request me by name for their projects. I just completed a redesign on a mining ship that increased production by forty percent and decreased energy use bysixty percent.” She threwup her hands. “But it’s not enough. If I decide to accept before the three months are up, I can return immediately. But I must fully embrace what I have learned in the aesthetics program, of course.”
“For how long?” Andrew asked, looking pained.
“For as long as I work there, I assume.” Holly swallowed, but a hard-to-define panic had a grip on her throat, making it constricted and dry. “My clients have been reassigned to other engineers so I can use this time to ‘think about my future at this company.’ You know, I’ve been stuck at level three forten years. I’ve had plenty of thoughts about that.” She’d seen many people pass her by in the company ranks during that time. Some of them, she’d trained. It made her mad, thinking about it, and while most people on Earth lived full, happy lives with their needs met because most work was automated, she’d chosen this more challenging career path because she liked the work. Her father made art. Her mother counseled others, but Holly had always looked to the stars and dreamt big.Toobig, clearly.
A tightness had taken up residence around her rib cage since Beenan had said in no uncertain terms that the work she did was not enough, wouldneverbe enough, and in order to move up to the blessed rank of level four, she’d need to allow Sol-Arc Industries’ aesthetics team to surgically remove the rest of her personality. She’d read the program. It dictated how to speak (putting accent on certain syllables), where to eat, what entertainment venues to frequent, even where to go on vacation. It was all she could think about during the twenty-minute, express shuttle ride from the moon to her parents’ home in Canada.
“You’re in quite a spot,” her mother said. “What do you plan to do?”
Holly shook her head. “I don’t know, yet.”
Andrew slapped a hand to his knee. “I’ll tell you this much. That company is a waste of your time and talent, Holly. You’re creative and brilliant and that place is sucking the life out of you.”
Her mom tutted. “Now, Andrew, if shelikesworking there, maligning the company won’t be productive.”
“How can she like it, Mirth?” Andrew gestured toward Holly. “Clearly she doesn’t.”
Holly couldn’t help but smile as they talked about her. “At the moment,” she put in, “I don’t.”
Mirth pursed her lips. “Well, Hol. You have our full support if you don’t. And if you do.”
Her father snorted. “Speak for yourself. Our daughter deserves better. You know it. We should tell her about?—”
“Andrew.”
“What?” He looked pained as he faced Holly. “All I’m saying is, seems like the longer you work there, the dimmer your light gets. Hard to see that, as your father.”
Her mother closed her eyes and sighed. “Andas your mother.”
Hard for me, too. “I have a big decision to make.” She let out a chuckle. “At least I have three whole months to make it.” If Holly didn’t like the work, she’d choose another way. Another path. But sinking into a challenge, like she did for the clients at Sol-Arc, checked all her boxes. She wasn’t an academic like her mother. Not a creative dreamer like her father. She was a problem-solver, kind of like her?—
A chime rang throughout the house, gentle but insistent. Murray lifted his head at the sound.
“Expecting someone?” Holly asked.
“Ah, that would be Mr. Binn. The lawyer representing your grandfather’s estate,” her father said, rising. He gazed down at his wife with one brow raised. “He’s a tad early, isn’t he, Mirth?”
“Hmm.” Her mother hesitated. “We can tell him to come back another day.”
Holly had offered to come last month when her mother had called to let her know that her grandfather had passed, but Mirth had said not to bother. Holly had never met or spoken to her maternal grandfather, Charles Moone. All she knew of him was that he lived on some far-flung space outpost built byhisfather, Oliver Moone. Neither Mirth nor Holly had a relationship with the man. Not since Mirth’s mother left him, taking five-year-old Mirth with her.
Holly took a sip of her tea, intrigued. “The lawyer actually came here? Physically?” How unusual. In-person meetings were rare, reserved for complex matters. “Mom, did you inherit something?”
Her mother’s lips tightened. “It would seem so, yes.” The last word came out clipped. “Of course, with Charles, nothing is straightforward. Or simple. Or without a catch.”
Holly cocked her head. “Don’t turn him away on my account, unless you’d rather deal with this privately.” Which was fine. Her mother’s typical reaction to the topic of Charles Moone was to aggressively change the subject.
Her parents exchanged a quiet, coded look between them, then regarded Holly. Mirth’s gaze lit with a curious light. “Very well. Andrew, show him in.”
Two
Holly’s father opened the door and admitted Mr. Binn, a senior partner of the law firm Tak, Lorring, and Divv. Holly noticed theverysleek transport unit sitting in the drive in front of the house. This was no minor visit by a low-level attorney. He might have been small in stature, but he held himself with perfect posture, despite the dusting of snow on his shoulders and hat. His large, dark eyes did not appear to blink. Holly was pretty sure he wasn’t all human, but many weren’t these days.
Mr. Binn presented himself as friendly and professional, and if he was surprised to see Holly present, he didn’t show it. The lawyer introduced himself to Holly with a gracious, two-handed handshake. He inclined his head. “If this is a bad time, I can return tomorrow.”
“And break another appointment?” Holly’s mother brushed away a stray lock of hair with a resigned sigh. “No. This can’t be put off any longer. Please, come and sit. Dreadfully cold tonight.”
“Yes. Er, forgive me, but I must ask you to sign a release stating that you give permission for your daughter to be present during this meeting.” He held out a black, opaque data pad. “Ms. Moone, your thumbprint, if you please.”
