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“So do you, I love your dress.”
“And Titus.” Vicky reaches up and kisses my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. Carrie’s been so low lately. Believe me, I know your work isn’t going to be a miraculous cure, but it’s exciting to think there’s hope, even if it is a few years away.”
She gestures for us to follow her and leads us across to where a woman in her thirties is standing talking to a small group of people, although she’s watching us. She’s tall and very thin, and I can see the impact the years of disappointment have taken on her.
“This is Carrie,” Vicky says. “Carrie, this is Titus and his partner, Heidi.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Carrie says, sliding her hand into mine, and oh my God, she’s actually trembling.
“Carrie,” I say, placing my other hand on hers, “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s great to meet you at last. And you must be John.” I greet her husband, who I recognize from the photo that Alan sent me.
He shakes my hand, too, pumping it up and down. “We’re honored you could come,” he says. “We’ve been so thrilled to hear about your work, and it’s so cool to meet you at last.”
It turns out that the other people with them are Alan and Vicky’s other two daughters and their spouses, and we all shake hands and introduce ourselves. Afterward, I turn back to Carrie, seeing from the way that her husband has his arm around her that she’s genuinely overwhelmed to meet me. My conversations with people undergoing IVF have enlightened me as to how hard infertility can be on a couple, but for some reason Carrie’s obvious emotion moves me more than any others I’ve met.
“I understand you’re a librarian,” I say to her. “I’ve always thought that must be such an excellent job. What library do you work at?”
She brightens and proceeds to tell me about it, and I ask her a few questions before Alan comes up and gently says he’d like to introduce me to a few more people.
“Of course,” she says, blushing. “I didn’t mean to hog him.”
“Not at all,” I reply. “I’d love to talk to you more over the weekend, if you’re available,” I say to her and John. “If it’s not too difficult for you to talk about, I’d like to hear your experience with infertility, as the more information I can get, the better.”
“We’d like that,” John says, because she’s too emotional to talk, and I nod and move on, holding Heidi’s hand and taking her with me.
“That poor woman,” Heidi whispers as we walk away. “She looked close to tears. You’re going to make such a difference to people’s lives, Titus. I’m so proud of you.”
I’m so humbled by her words that I have to have a big swallow of my Old Fashioned to cover my emotion.
“Stay with me,” I murmur to Heidi.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she tells me, and her fingers tighten on mine.
Chapter Thirteen
Heidi
Titus hardly lets go of my hand all evening. I know him well enough to see how overwhelmed he is by it all, but he’s covering it well. He’s gone into business mode—turning on the charm without being smarmy, shaking hands, asking questions, and putting everyone at ease.
As well as Alan’s family, there are also a lot of business people here—directors and managers from Acheron, and even CEOs and a handful of other members of staff from Alan’s two biggest competitors. “This research is bigger than one company,” he tells us. “We all need to work together to make it happen.”
They aren’t shy about grilling Titus, and several times when he starts answering a question, others nearby gather around to listen, so he ends up giving several mini talks to a fascinated audience.
I can’t contribute much, and in the beginning I think maybe I should sneak off, have a walk around the garden, and leave him to it. But his hand stays tight on mine, and when I realize he wants me to stay, I keep close to his side.
After about an hour, I tell Titus I need to visit the bathroom, and he says, “I’ll come with you.”
We excuse ourselves and go inside. “You okay?” I ask as we walk through the house.
“Barely. Can you believe this?”
“He must really, really want you to stay.”
“I feel kinda guilty that I’ve already made up my mind not to. Do you think I should tell him now?”
“I wouldn’t spoil the evening. You’re making such a good impression. You want to convince him to invest even if you don’t stay, don’t you? I can’t imagine he’s going to withdraw his money if you don’t, judging by what he’s done here for you, but you might as well wait until Monday. Besides, you might change your mind.” I add the last sentence playfully.
He glances at me, and his lips curve up, but he doesn’t reply. “After you,” he says, and I realize we’ve reached the bathroom.
