The Memory Painter

He waved her in. “I’ve got five hundred million alone invested in the project. You do the math when we convert to yen.” He laughed and switched to flawless Japanese.

Linz looked out the window while she listened to her father’s conversation. It had always amazed her that he was fluent in several languages. She had grown up hearing him speak in Japanese, French, and German. Funny how he had never tried to teach any of them to her, and she had never asked him to. What would he think if he knew she was fluent in Greek?

She smiled to herself, imagining the look on his face. Conrad saw her and shot her a questioning look. She indicated that it was nothing and let him finish his call. They had become so attuned to each other over the years that they had developed a way of communicating without words.

Linz had no memory of either her mother or her brother. Her father was her only family. To Conrad’s credit, he had never shipped her off to boarding school, but had tried to raise her on his own as best he could. She loved him, although sometimes his protectiveness could become overbearing. In some ways, it bordered on controlling.

She heard him wrap up the call and turned around.

He came over and gave her a hug. “You look tired.”

“A little. I wanted to apologize for leaving early … and talk to you about a couple of things.”

Conrad headed back toward his desk. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

“Can you tell me about Michael and Diana Backer?”

Her question had clearly caught him off guard. “Michael and Diana who?”

Linz frowned. It was impossible that he didn’t remember them. “Dad, you were in their wedding party.”

“Who told you that?”

“Bryan showed me their wedding video.”

“The painter from the party?”

“Yes, the painter that you were very rude to.”

Conrad sat down. “What’s he doing with a film belonging to deceased people he doesn’t know?”

“How do you know he doesn’t know them? You don’t know anything about him.”

“Then enlighten me, please.” Conrad’s voice grew softer and more subdued. He was getting angry, but Linz wasn’t happy with the course of the conversation either.

“His father was an old friend of theirs. Why didn’t you just say you knew them?”

“His father was an old friend,” he repeated. “Which of course makes perfect sense. Why wouldn’t he watch their home movies? Then he comes to our house, I catch him snooping around—”

“He wasn’t snooping.”

“—looking sick. God knows what drugs he’s on.”

Linz was incredulous. She could not keep her voice from rising. “He’s not on drugs!”

“Did you check his medicine cabinet? I’m assuming you watched the film at his place.”

“Back up. You’ve completely got the wrong impression. I just asked if you knew Michael and Diana Backer and you lied.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Fine, evaded the question.”

They glared at each other, having reached an impasse. Conrad finally relented, explaining, “I don’t talk about Mike and Diana because it was a long time ago and … it’s upsetting. We went to school together. They were my best friends, just like Penelope and Derek are to you. What if you tragically lost them?” Linz’s anger deflated and she started to feel ashamed. Conrad sighed, continuing, “I can’t remember you ever accusing me of lying to you, and I have never criticized the company you keep. What’s going on with you?”

Linz tried to get a handle on her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

Conrad’s concern overrode his anger. “Are you dreaming again?”

“No. Just a little insomnia.”

Conrad’s intercom buzzed. “Dr. Jacobs, your eleven o’clock conference call.”

Conrad checked his watch in frustration. “Stormy, I don’t want to cut this short. Why don’t we have dinner tonight? The Bay Tower at eight.” He led Linz to the door. “We’ll talk more then.”

She nodded and fixed her gaze on his tie, recognizing it as one she had given him. “Sorry I upset you. I still want to hear about them though, if you’re up to it.”

“But why, honey?”