S. Bodeen - The Fallout

I beckoned to him. “I’ll help you think of some.” He came and stood beside my chair. I whispered, “Do you want to see animals?”

He nodded. “Yes!”

“What about an aquarium?”

He frowned. “There’s one in my room.”

I smiled. “No, buddy. I mean a huge one. Like with sharks and stuff.”

His eyes got wide and he nodded. “And I want to see toys. Lots of toys.”

“Okay.” I tore the sheet of paper into four pieces, and wrote Zoo, Aquarium, and Toy Store on the first three. Then I thought for a moment and wrote Mariners game on the fourth. YK had a corporate suite at Safeco Field, which made that outing seem the easiest. And also the most obvious. I crumpled up that piece of paper and set it by my plate.

Lexie dumped the lettuce onto a plate and held out the empty salad bowl to Reese, who dropped in her paper. Eddy hadn’t written anything on his. Reese glared at him, so he quickly scrawled something, crumpled the paper in his fist, and dropped it in. I handed the three sheets to Lucas. He dropped them in and Lexie stirred them all up with her hand. She walked over to Mom. “You want to do the honors? Tell us where we are going this week.”

Mom shook her head as she looked around at us, but then she smiled. “Fine.” She reached in.

Eddy started drumming on the table with his fists. Lucas joined in, then Reese, and soon we were all pounding, even Lexie. Mom held up the piece of paper. “This week’s outing is…” Her forehead wrinkled and she looked around the table. Then she shrugged. “Costco!”

Reese squealed.

Eddy looked at me. “Seriously?”

Lexie said, “I’m staying home.”

Lucas asked, “What’s Costco?”

I sighed. “You’ll find out.”

The next day, my alarm clock went off at seven. I threw on some black shorts, laced up my running shoes, and stepped onto my treadmill. The view was mainly of Lake Washington, but also of the good-size woods, separated by the security fence at the edge of the property. I put in earbuds, turned on the music, and ran several miles.

I showered and then got dressed. Dressed up, actually, in khaki pants, a white button-down shirt, and a black blazer.

Eddy met me downstairs, dressed in new pants like mine and a black V-neck sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. We went out to the waiting black SUV, driven by our bodyguard, Lee.

Lee was Samoan, about six feet five and two hundred and seventy pounds. He’d played three seasons for the Seahawks. His grandpa’s cousin’s wife was some friend of Gram’s, who had been the one to hire him. I suspected he got paid more being our bodyguard/driver than he had playing in the NFL.

Lee drove us to YK, where a blond man in a brown suit led us into an elevator and up three floors to a door with a plaque that read:

Ms. Greene opened the door for us. She was tall, dressed in a slim gray skirt, white blouse, and low black pumps, her dark red hair pulled back in a tightly braided bun. With a wide smile she shook our hands and ushered us into her office. Eddy and I both took a seat on the jade-green leather couch in front of a low glass table.

Ms. Greene asked, “Something to drink?”

“Coffee, please,” I said.

Eddy just nodded.

She went to her desk, pushed a button on her phone, and said, “Lila? Could you bring us a tray, please.” She came over to us and sat in a matching leather chair. “So, what are you two interested in doing?”

Eddy looked at me and then back to Ms. Greene. “I think we just want to get involved.” He seemed way more enthusiastic than usual.

She nodded. “One thing about a company that makes a ton of money? They also get to give a lot of money away.” She clasped her hands together. “And, boy, do we give away the money.”

There was a knock on the door. Ms. Greene called out, “Come in.”

A petite, dark-haired woman in a gray dress, flowered scarf, and tall black boots entered, carrying a tray so full it nearly covered everything above her shoulders. She set it down on the table.

“Thank you, Lila,” said Ms. Greene. “That will be all.”

The tray had two small silver pots on it, three china cups, three plates and various silverware, as well as a basket of scones and muffins and assorted jams and jellies and creamers. She held out a hand. “Help yourselves.” She tapped one of the pots. “This is hot chocolate. The other is coffee. I can also get tea if you like?” She looked from me to Eddy.

I shook my head. “This is great. Thank you.” I reached out for the coffee pot and held it up. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, polite, aren’t you?” She smiled. “No, thank you.”

I poured myself a cup, and stirred in cream and sugar. Eddy poured himself some cocoa and took a raspberry scone. I chose a blueberry one, which was still warm, and put it on a plate. “So, what are you expecting of us?” I asked. “I guess I should say, what are we allowed to do?”

She reached over and plucked a thick pile of red folders off a nearby file cabinet. “These are our current contributions that are soon coming up for renewal. Do either of you have particular interests?”

Eddy shrugged and took a bite of his scone. That was more like the Eddy I’d seen lately. What was his problem?

I said, “I’m interested in medicine. Like research of some type?”

I ate half my scone as Ms. Greene flipped through a few folders, then extracted a small stack of files. She set them down on the couch next to my leg. “Look through these. They are the proposals that explain everything about the medical focus of the research. So they are a little fact heavy, but see if any strike your fancy.” She raised her eyebrows at Eddy.

He said, “I’m more interested in technology.”

She frowned. “Let’s get one thing clear. You both are set to inherit this whole shebang. Your entire lives will probably be wrapped around”—she swirled her finger around in the air a couple of times—“this place.” She leaned forward. “So if I were you? I’d find whatever it is I liked the best and get good at it. Learn to love it.” She leaned back. “Or you will both be very unhappy people.”

I looked at Eddy. He bit his lip and looked back at Ms. Greene. He shrugged a little. “I seriously have no interest in what charities we give to. I mean, I’m all for it, giving money away. But I don’t think I want to spend my time on it.”

I nodded. “And I do. At least, for now. To see what it’s about.”

Eddy said, “I’d much rather be involved in development.”

“Oh, smart boys, aren’t you?” Ms. Greene clapped her hands and stood up. “Eli, take a look at those files. Eddy, come with me. We’ll get you going to where you want to be.”

They left.

I picked up the files and started leafing through as I finished my scone. YK contributed to so many medical causes. Cancer, heart disease, you name it. Some of my crumbs fell on a file. As I brushed them off, I noticed the label. Progeria. I had no idea what that was, so I opened it and found a fact sheet on top.

Progeria(also known as “Hutchinson-Gilford Progeria Syndrome”) is an extremely rare genetic condition in which aging progresses rapidly, starting at an early age. The word progeria comes from the Greek words pro, meaning “before,” and géras, meaning “old age.” The disorder occurs only in an estimated 1 per 8 million live births. Those born with progeria typically live to their mid-teens and early twenties. Though a genetic condition, it is rarely inherited. Scientists are particularly interested in progeria because it might reveal clues about the normal process of aging.