Caeli Widger - Mother of Invention

She talked briefly through Mammarina and FormuLove and the Intimizer, saving TEAT for last, when the crowd was as warm and receptive as possible.

“And finally,” she said, “for those who truly comprehend the value not just of every year, of every month, of every week, but of every hour of their lives, Seahorse will, someday, include the option to significantly reduce the duration of pregnancy.”

She felt a new kind of attentiveness settle over the crowd. A new curiosity, bordering on fear. This was common. She never delved too deeply into the details during her speech; she left that for the Q&A. Best to ease the audience into the idea, to let them guide the revelations.

“By condensing gestation,” she continued, “we diminish not only the logistical impact of pregnancy, but the psychological interference as well. There will be less time to anticipate the identity shift that comes with motherhood, less time to unconsciously lean away from all that came before.”

Tessa forged into the final lines of her speech.

“Wherever you go after Weldon, let me urge you to do this: Give yourselves a break. Give yourselves the gift of less . Give yourselves the gift of time. Perhaps for you, perhaps for your daughters, this gift can include the Seahorse Solution. Today, I ask nothing more than that you open your minds to the idea. For the sake of your daughters, and your daughters’ daughters.”

The crowd was fervent, the applause at full throttle, some waving blue flags with white W s on them. One redheaded woman even held a sign that read TESSA FOR PRESIDENT.

Tessa nodded and waved and gave a thumbs-up. This was always the best moment of all, the one she wished would go on and on, when she and her audience became one.

Holly J. Mackaday, dean of Weldon College, placed a light hand on Tessa’s arm as they crossed Phipps Green to the car waiting outside the Steiner Center. The Q&A following Tessa’s speech had just wrapped, and the dean was hosting a lunch reception at her lavish home a half mile off campus.

“Well, that was certainly the liveliest Influencers talk in recent memory,” said Holly. She was fiftyish and trim in a fitted charcoal suit and black suede heels.

“Lively in a good way?” asked Tessa.

“Oh, absolutely,” said the dean. “I was watching faces around the crowd as you spoke. Some of them were positively enraptured. Others were obviously uncomfortable. Or challenged , rather. This is what we want from our Influencers.”

“It was an honor to be part of the series.”

The dean issued Tessa an impish look. “Oh, come on, Tessa. We’ve been trying to get you on campus for years. You’re even busier than most of our alums, which is saying a lot.”

“Seahorse demands everything from me,” said Tessa.

“Just like a child,” said Holly.

Tessa laughed politely. “Yes.” Had she detected a note of sarcasm in the dean’s tone?

They reached the edge of the green and stepped onto the sidewalk, heading toward a silver SUV with a Weldon logo on its passenger door idling by the curb of the Steiner Center. The dean’s heels clicked against the cement. Students had begun to clear out of the area, headed back to their dorms or the library or to throw Frisbees by the lake, resuming their normal Sunday routines. A few stragglers passed by Tessa and the dean, some pausing to thank Tessa on their way. She responded graciously, still riding the adrenaline rush of her speech, but she’d also had enough. The past ninety minutes had been intense, and she’d given the students all of her energy. The late-morning sun had grown warm overhead, and Tessa was drained. Also, she found Holly Mackaday stilted and hard to read—she probably opposed Seahorse—which made spending time with her arduous. Tessa would have loved to skip the reception, which would be full of repetitive conversations for which she would have to summon maximum energy and charm, but not attending was out of the question.

“Excuse me, Ms. Callahan?” They were just a few dozen feet from the SUV when a young woman fell into step beside Tessa, out of breath, as if she’d sprinted to catch her.

“Yes?” The woman, clearly a student, had curly dark hair and light blue eyes, a striking combination.

“Hi, Dean Mackaday. Sorry to interrupt. I was hoping to talk to Tessa for a quick moment? I just listened to your talk, but I didn’t get called on during the Q&A.”

“I’m sorry, we’re just on our way to a reception,” the dean answered for Tessa. “But you can post further questions on the Influencers LikeMe page, and Tessa will respond personally.”

“It won’t take long,” said the woman. “I’d really like to speak to Tessa in person.”

“Absolutely,” said Tessa. “Holly, you can go ahead if you like. I can get myself to your house.”

The dean issued Tessa a cold look. “If you’re sure. Lunch is being served in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be there,” said Tessa, and the dean clipped off.

“Thanks,” said the curly-haired woman. “I hope I’m not getting you in trouble.”

Tessa laughed. “Hardly.”

“I’m Vivian Bourne. A senior here.”

“Shall we walk and talk, Vivian? Or would you prefer to sit somewhere?”

“I mostly go by Viv. Do you have time to sit somewhere? I heard what Dean Mackaday said about lunch being served.”

“I have time.” Lunch could be served without her, Tessa decided. The dean could deal with it. Vivian had an intense look about her, as if words were burning inside her.

“Really? If we could go sit at The Buzz for a few minutes, I’d really appreciate it.”

“The Buzz it is,” said Tessa. As they walked together into the Steiner Center, Tessa noticed Vivian limping slightly.

“Lacrosse accident,” said Viv quickly, pointing toward her left leg. “Still in physical therapy.”

“I played lacrosse here, too,” said Tessa. “Second home.”

“I know,” said Vivian. “Except you were really good. I was just so-so.”

“That’s a generous assessment. What happened?”

“Collision with a teammate. A bad landing. Broke my femur.”

“Your femur? That’s cruel. I’m so sorry. You must have landed in the most perfectly awful position.”

“Bizarre, right?” said Vivian, almost sharply. “To break a femur?” She must be sensitive about her limp, Tessa thought. She regretted allowing her gaze to linger on it long enough for Vivian to notice.

“Unlucky. Not bizarre. Lacrosse can be violent. I always resented its civilized reputation.”

“I guess,” said Viv, offering nothing further about her accident.

They entered the Steiner Center and made their way toward The Buzz at the back of the building. The tattooed barista had been replaced by a pale-skinned blond in a denim apron, but the café was as empty as it had been that morning.

“So,” said Tessa, when they were settled at a corner table, each with a steaming mug of green tea. “You had some questions about my talk?”

Viv scanned the room, as if looking for someone. Then she placed one hand on each side of her mug and leaned toward Tessa.

“Some comments, actually.”

“Even better,” said Tessa. “Fire away.”

“Actually.” Viv took a breath. “It would be easier just to show you. Can I show you something?”

Tessa paused. “Of course.”

Viv pushed her mug to the other side of the table. She stood from her chair and tipped her head downward, as if curling herself into a ball, or preparing to perform a somersault. As her dark hair spilled forward, she separated it down the middle of her scalp with her hands, pulling it down tightly into two sections.