The Memory Painter

He followed her toward the front door. “What are you, royalty?”


“Crowned princess of the pharmaceutical industry.” She hooked her arm through his. “Party’s this way.”

Linz usually loathed revealing to people just how much wealth she came from, especially in a dating situation—not that she dated often. Medicor was the largest privately owned pharmaceutical company in the world, and she was happy to let her share sit in various accounts and accumulate interest. One day she would need it all when she opened her own research institute, but in the meantime she preferred her low profile.

For the first time, she didn’t care if Bryan knew. She felt liberated by the fact that their relationship existed beyond material things. Growing up, she had been cocooned in a bubble filled with science and academia. It had been a hard decision to trade in her anonymity and go to work for her father. Many saw it as a public grooming for her to take over the company when he stepped down. In reality, she couldn’t have cared less about running Medicor. Her research was her primary passion—strange how she had thought about neither since she met Bryan.

They heard the music before they saw the band. With Bryan’s arm in hers, they walked toward a large, tented dance floor with a stage that had been erected between the pool and the tennis court. Two dozen round tables filled the yard. Each one was decorated with ivory damask linens and vintage French vases filled with long-stemmed red roses to complement the black china. Two champagne fountains, along with an impressive ice sculpture, finished off the dramatic presentation. There were at least three hundred guests there to appreciate the effort.

Linz spotted her project team sitting together at a nearby table and led Bryan over. Everyone’s attention was turned to the stage, where Conrad Jacobs was giving a speech.

“In med school, an old professor of mine used to say that being a scientist doesn’t require eyeglasses and a lab coat. I’m glad to see you all left yours at home.” He waited for the laughter to die down.

Bryan sat in the closest chair before he collapsed. He could no longer feel his legs. There stood Conrad, the person he had been researching. Bryan noted how little Michael’s old colleague had aged—he looked the same aside from the distinguished gray along his temples and a more confident air.

Then Bryan realized something else. He leaned over to Linz with an incredulous whisper. “Is that your father?”

Without looking at him, she nodded yes. She was too busy listening to the speech to notice his reaction.

“I was living on a shoestring, struggling to get by on a government grant when I discovered I could make a difference, and Medicor was the result of that vision. We’ve come a long way in thirty years. Now Medicor is a global enterprise with research facilities around the world. And everyone here tonight has made us who we are today. Leaders. Dreamers. Healers.”

Bryan felt like he had been transported to another planet. Conrad now lived like a king in a castle, and was surrounded by hundreds of employees listening to his every word like gospel. So much had changed in thirty years. Even more mind-blowing was the fact that Linz was his daughter.