As a result, he had often entreated her to visit, wanted her to meet the members of the family, and he updated her every three months on the development of each child, substantial packets that included all the information that he and his fellows shared with each other. Nevertheless, she declined his invitations. “I’m getting slow in my old age,” she would say, “it gets hard to go from the bedroom to the kitchen. I barely leave the house anymore.” Still, she sent gifts to each of the children on their birthdays, vintage toys like Holly Hobbie rag dolls and Star Trek Inter-Space Communicators, so strange it was as if they had fallen out of some wormhole and into the complex. Each one came with a card that said, “With love, Aunt Brenda.”
Now, as they approached the halfway point of the project, the parents soon to be reunited with their children for a more permanent familial arrangement, Dr. Grind argued to Mrs. Acklen that it was important for her to visit the complex to get a sense of what life was like, before she decided for or against continuing the project, especially since things would change dramatically in many ways once they moved on to their second-half goals for the project. Brenda finally agreed, saying she would come, along with her granddaughter Patricia, whom Dr. Grind had heard was being primed to take over as CEO of the company in the near future. “She wants to know what I’ve been spending all my money on,” Mrs. Acklen told Dr. Grind. “I’ve kept most of my intentions close to my heart. Didn’t want my own family to feel like they had disappointed me and I needed to make a new one.”
Now that the day had arrived, a Sunday when all the members of the family were present, Izzy was again preparing a lavish picnic for the entire complex. The children played a game of lawn memory, where each of the children had made two identical giant poster-board works of art, set up facedown on the lawn. Benjamin and Asean served as the card flippers, and two teams of children directed them to different cards as they tried to match them up. The other parents listened as Link played guitar and Mary sang folk songs. There was also a group of some of the complex’s specialized tutors, who worked with the kids and seemed fairly invested in the Infinite Family as a whole, as they sometimes would hang out during their off hours, playing with the kids, socializing with the parents, chipping in with chores when time allowed. It was, Dr. Grind admitted, a fairly compelling ad for the work he was doing. It seemed completely in line with the values of Acklen Super Stores, even if they were not exactly the kind of family that fit neatly into the demographics of Acklen Stores, Inc.
When Brenda Acklen arrived at the complex, Dr. Grind, who received a text message alerting him to the fact that she was in the driveway, didn’t want to worry the others just yet, and so he simply slipped away from the party and walked out of the complex to greet her. The last time he had seen her in person, she had seemed youthful, below her actual age, a kind of rodeo gal who seemed entirely in control of her world, which extreme wealth could always provide. So it was shocking to see the driver open the passenger door, with a walker at the ready, and help Mrs. Acklen to her unsteady feet, her body swaying as she adjusted to being upright once again. She had lost a significant amount of weight, her western clothes hanging off her frame, but, as he walked closer to greet her, he saw the clarity in her eyes, the way she immediately steeled herself for his embrace. A smile came to her face, and she nodded at Dr. Grind. “Can’t take my hands off this walker at the moment, so you’ll have to do all the work here,” she said as Dr. Grind gave her a cautious hug. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed a woman in her forties, dressed in a seersucker jacket and a vibrant orange scarf, hurry to Mrs. Acklen’s side. “Hello, Dr. Grind,” she said. He shook her hand and Mrs. Acklen said, “This is my dearest Patricia. Smartest person in the whole family.”
“After you, Gramma,” Patricia replied. “I’m very interested in the work you’re doing here, Dr. Grind. I begged Gramma to let me see it firsthand.”
“Welcome to the complex,” Dr. Grind said.
“You’re so young,” Patricia said, as if Dr. Grind had lied on some form, her expression open but critical. “I expected someone much older.”
“I told you that he was a kid genius,” Mrs. Acklen said, as if irritated by Patricia’s comment, and as if Dr. Grind weren’t standing right there.
“I don’t feel that young, unfortunately,” Dr. Grind responded. “Certainly not when I’m chasing after ten little kids all day.”
“I’d like to tour the facilities,” Patricia said, looking past Dr. Grind as if he was hiding the children behind his back. He always avoided the impulse of making instant assessments, but he was unnerved by the focus of Patricia, the way she seemed to be silently making decisions about the future of the complex. It was in direct opposition to Brenda Acklen’s ease and faith in Dr. Grind.
“Well, I need some food first,” Mrs. Acklen said. “Food and a comfortable chair. Then we can meet these children.”