Love, Technically Page 11

  “No. Well, for one night, but then I told her, but she didn’t get my note, and now she thinks I’m untrustworthy.” His garbled stream of words caught the attention of one of his teenage cousins.

  “You’re totally trustworthy, Noah,” she called from down the table.

  “Thanks.” He winked at her.

  “Go to Iowa,” his mother said. She turned to his dad. “He should go to Iowa, right?”

  His father nodded, not that he’d expected anything different. His parents had always operated on one identical wavelength. “Crash their Thanksgiving? And I don’t have a bus ticket. It’s a long drive.” His excuses sounded weak when spoken out loud.

  “Noah,” his mother said, leaning her elbows on the table. “You’re a wealthy man. Get on a plane. Heck, charter a plane. Rent a car. I don’t know, but if you like this girl, you go after her.”

  …

  It turned out there were no flights, chartered or otherwise, to Iowa on Thanksgiving evening, even for a billionaire. He remembered Michelle saying Cedar Rapids was the closest airport, though it was still more than an hour’s drive to her house. He booked a seat on the first flight out Friday morning. His parents drove him to the airport and gave him huge hugs of support.

  “Bring her back, Noah.” Failure never even occurred to them.

  It occurred to him, though. The whole fifty-eight-minute flight to Iowa was spent planning what he’d say and vowing he wouldn’t leave until she agreed to date him again.

  He could lead off with the work angle. He’d need an employee or two. Other software developers would be necessary, but he needed someone else as well. Someone who could keep everyone on track and act as an assistant, do the important stuff like pay bills, order supplies, and help develop corporate strategy for the company. His current admin would be perfect for the job, but she had kids in private school. He couldn’t ask her to jump ship to a risky start-up. Only one other person came to mind, and it was Michelle.

  Maybe he could convince her to join him. It would be perfect. They could date again, because there would be no question of favoritism if she was dating him from the start. The only question he had was whether to lead with the job offer or the relationship angle. He decided on job. If she accepted it, he’d have ample opportunity to wear her down and get back into her good graces. He didn’t know how to rebuild her trust in him, but he wanted the opportunity to try.

  The second the plane landed, he stretched, pulled out his phone, and started doing a little Internet sleuthing to find the listing for Michelle’s family’s number in Minsker. It didn’t take long. There was only one Kolson listed for Minsker. After a few rings, a woman’s voice answered, sounding so much like Michelle, his heart leaped into his throat.

  “She’s at Walmart?” he asked again to confirm he’d heard correctly. His heart sunk way down. “She went shopping?”

  “No. She’s working.”

  What? It was worse than he’d imagined. Back in Minsker one day, and she’d already made the decision to quit the city and work at Walmart. He was bewildered she’d given up. How could she have left Chicago and given up on her dreams? She was doing everything she’d said she feared. He had to go out there. Now. And talk some sense into her.

  “May I take a message? Who is calling, please?”

  He started to leave his name, but panicked and hung up after saying he’d call again later. What was he going to say to her parents? Begging needed to be done in person.

  After shuffling off the plane, he exited the airport, wondering how to get to Michelle’s home. He made his way over to what was marked as a taxi line, but there were no yellow cabs to be seen. After flagging down an airport employee, he despaired of finding one.

  “Boy, you want a taxi? It’s the day after Thanksgiving. Most folks are with their families. There will be one around, but it may take a while.”

  Welcome to Iowa. Now what?

  A voice called from behind him. “You need a ride? Where you headed?”

  He turned to see an older couple who’d been on his flight.

  “Minsker.” He swallowed back his mother’s childhood warnings about hitchhiking. This wasn’t the big city. Probably everyone around here hitched rides from one another. He could almost hear Michelle’s soft laughter at his inaccurate small-town theories. “Is that on your route?”

  “Only the next town over,” the man said. “Grab your bag.”

  He followed the couple out to their blue Ford sedan parked in the overnight lot. It had dusted snow, and he helped brush the car clean. He considered texting his parents to let them know he’d landed and was accepting a ride from strangers. For a wild moment he imagined they were kidnappers who’d followed him from Chicago with the intent to ransom him for a lot of money. He knew he was being ridiculous, though the LightWave security consultants would be having fits if they knew he’d bummed a ride with strangers.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Noah.” He held out his hand for a firm shake.

  “I’m Roberta and this is my husband, Gene,” the woman said from the front seat. “We were visiting our daughter in Chicago for Thanksgiving. She has young children and a newborn. We couldn’t stay with her all weekend, so we’re back here today.” He could tell she would have preferred to spend the weekend with her daughter.

  Roberta pulled a floppy photo album out of her purse and handed it back to him. He flipped through it, admiring her grandchildren.

  “What brings you to Iowa the day after Thanksgiving?” Gene asked.

  “Uh,” he said, not sure what to tell them. But Gene and Roberta looked like they had a long, happy marriage. Maybe they’d have some advice. “I’m here for a girl.”

  Roberta whirled around in her seat so fast, he feared she got rug burn from the seat belt. “A girl? This sounds interesting. We have an hour drive ahead. Start sharing.”

  “Well, I guess I should start with my name.” He’d learned his lesson about introducing himself as anything other than his real name. The whole thing with Michelle had hammered that home. “My whole name. I’m Noah Frellish.” It got no reaction from the older couple. “I’m the CEO of LightWave Technologies.” Still no visible reaction.

  “That’s nice, dear. Your mother must be proud. Go on.”

  He smiled, thinking he could get used to Roberta’s indifference to his success. “Well, this past fall, I met a girl. At my company. She didn’t know I was the CEO, and I didn’t tell her at first.”

  “Uh-oh. Big trouble,” Roberta said.

  Gene tsked and shook his head, swerving the car a tad. Sark halted his tale while Roberta turned to her husband to do a little backseat driving. When she was again confident in her husband’s ability to steer the car, she turned back to him.

  “You should never lie to a woman.”

  “I know. I feel terrible. And I didn’t mean to lie. I wrote her a note to tell her who I was, but she misunderstood it. I should have told her sooner.”

  “You must have had a good reason,” Roberta said sympathetically.

  “Yes.” He leaned forward as much as the seat belt would let him. “After the company went public, a few women asked me on dates. It turned out they were only interested because, well…” He stopped, not wanting to change Roberta’s and Gene’s impression of him. When he realized he was making the same assumptions about them he’d made about Michelle, he pressed forward. “They were interested because I have a lot of money,” he finished.

  Gene laughed. “You have a lot of money and you were sitting in the last row of coach near us and didn’t even have a driver meet you.”

  He flushed and stammered out excuses when Gene laughed again. “Don’t get your boxers in a twist, son. I’m messing with you.”

  “Oh. Uh, anyway, she dumped me when she found out who I was.”

  “Good for her,” Roberta said.

  “But I miss her and I want to earn her trust again. How do I do that?”

  The older couple glanced at ea
ch other and snorted in unison. “Time,” Gene said. “It takes time and hard work to rebuild trust. If she’s not willing to give it to you, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Oh.” He slumped back against the cloth seat and stared out the window at the hilly landscape. It was tree after tree leading to farms, broken up by the occasional fast food joint. “The worst part is I think she left Chicago and is back here working at the Walmart.”

  “The Walmart near Minsker?”

  “Probably. How many Walmarts could there be?”

  “Why, that’s right near us. Do you think she’s there now?”

  “Yes, she is. Why?”

  “Well, we can take you to her.” Roberta swiveled to her husband. “Can’t we, Gene? This would be exciting. We’d be helping young love.”

  Gene grunted. “Ten minutes farther from town. We’d be missing more of the college ball games.”

  “Oh, you can watch football from the electronics department at the store. I’m sure they’ll have it turned to the games.”

  Gene looked at him through the rearview mirror. “Is that what you want, son? Do you want us to take you to Walmart to get your girl?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? What kind of attitude is that? That’s what’s wrong with your generation. What’s the matter? Do you need to take a poll first? You flew all the way out here on a holiday and now you guess you want to go get her?”

  Sark could only laugh in shock at Gene’s bluntness. “I thought I’d go to her house first and meet her parents, but you’re right. Take me to Walmart!”

  …

  Michelle bent to make some semblance of order to the Lego boxes on the shelves. When she’d accepted an offer to work on Black Friday, she hadn’t imagined the physical nature of the job. She’d been up since three in the morning. Working since five, and the shoppers showed no sign of losing their enthusiasm for a good deal.

  Seasoned employees had warned her to stay close to the perimeter, never stand in the middle of a main aisle, and avoid looking people in the eye. It would only lead to bad things like requests to look for missing pieces on the highest shelf in the stock room.

  She was desperate to scoot out and head home for some sleep. She kept reminding herself the money would be worth it. She was saving every penny toward college applications. Working the holiday weekend was a huge benefit, even if she did want to curl into a ball and hide in the employee lunchroom. She stifled a yawn and started for the next aisle to restack all the Barbies. Crowds of people still thronged the store and many brushed by her without an “excuse me.”

  “Michelle?”

  She looked up to see an older woman with highlighted brown curls looking at her inquisitively.

  “Yes, how may I help you?”

  “Are you Michelle?”

  She frowned, wondering why the woman needed her name, but pointed to the name tag on her chest. “Yes, I’m Michelle.”

  The woman put her head down and bellowed into her cell phone. “She’s here. In toys. I found her.”

  Michelle took a quick step back and reached for the employee walkie-talkie at her hip, ready to call for backup.

  The woman looked up at her with a warm smile. “We’ve covered practically the entire store looking for you, and here you are in toys. Ooh, perhaps they’ll have something on sale for my grandchildren.” She turned to eye the hot-pink display and picked up a Malibu Barbie. “This looks nice.”

  Michelle’s feet felt glued to the floor while her brain shouted for her to run from this crazy woman who’d been hunting for her in every aisle. “Ma’am, you were looking for me?”

  The woman smiled at her. “Oh, he’ll be along in a jiffy to explain. I think you should listen. The good ones are few and far between.”

  “The good ones?” The woman’s cryptic behavior became clear as Sark came jogging up with a black backpack bouncing over his shoulder.

  “Michelle,” he gasped out. “You’re here.”

  Any words she could formulate got stuck on her suddenly dry tongue. Why was Sark here? She’d hugged him good-bye forty-eight hours ago, but it felt longer. As if they’d been away from each other for decades, and she’d missed him terribly. Her mother’s pumpkin pie had tasted like sandpaper in her mouth. And now here he was. Her heart danced in her chest.

  “I’m supposed to be here,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I flew here to win you back. I was miserable yesterday. My mother practically threw me out of Thanksgiving dinner to come get you. Please, don’t give up on your dreams, Michelle. Don’t give up on me.”

  Michelle stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Sark was here. At Walmart. In Minsker. On Black Friday.

  “Michelle?”

  She shook her head, as if to clear out the buzzing that interfered with her brain functionality. If she understood correctly, Sark thought she’d quit LightWave to work at Walmart.

  He must have misunderstood her silence as a rejection because he started pleading. “Michelle, please. I know I messed up big-time writing you a note. I should’ve told you I was Noah Frellish in person, but I promise to never hide anything from you again. In fact you’re the first person I’m telling this to. I’m leaving LightWave. You were right, I can’t continue being shot down there. If the board won’t give the go-ahead on my dream project, then I’ll do it without them. I’m leaving to start a new company and I want you there with me. I’m fed up with the company and I’m miserable without you, Michelle.”

  She tried to stop his outpouring, but he kept talking. “I can’t pay much, but we’ll get good financial backers and plenty of buzz going. And there will be stock options. If we ever go public, you could be a wealthy woman.”

  From the corner of her eye she could see the older woman grinning wildly and giving her a thumbs-up.

  “Sark. I didn’t give up.”

  He stopped ticking off points of his business plan. “What?”

  “I didn’t give up. I’m only working here to earn a little extra money to go to college.”

  He froze and a slow smile spread across his face. “For real? You’re going to college? You’re not moving back home?”

  She shook her head. “After you drove me to the bus, I realized that as much as I loved working in the city, I’d never be satisfied until I have a full degree. So I’m going to college. I don’t have anything finalized yet, but I knew I’d need every penny I could get, so I’m here working the busiest shopping day of the year.”

  “That’s amazing.” He reached to grab her for a hug, and she let him, trying not to soften against him, but it was tempting. Finally she pushed back to stare up at him.

  “You’re going to do it? You’ll really leave LightWave?”

  He took a visible breath. “It’s craziness. I can’t let go of my dream to create software that works with electronic devices to charge them without traditional electricity.”

  She nodded and smiled. His idea was mind-blowing if it could ever work.

  “The board saying no is unacceptable to me. And you won’t date me as long as I’m CEO. I plan on offering my resignation on Monday.” They grinned at each other.

  “So, say something. Do you think I’m insane?” he asked.

  “No crazier than I am for leaving a job to go back to college. I’m twenty-five, Sark. I’ll be the oldest freshman there.”

  “Probably not. And I think it’s wonderful. But are you sure I can’t convince you to join my start-up?”

  “I’m flattered, Sark. But don’t you need super-experienced people? I have a high school degree and a few classes toward a marketing certificate.”

  “You have enthusiasm and a great work ethic. In a start-up that’s half the battle. Didn’t anyone tell you, start-ups are for insane people winging it on a prayer and the willingness to do any task to make it succeed? I believe in you. Plus, there’s no reason you can’t work part-time for me and go to school.” Sark stared at her with an intent
look. “Please Michelle, please say yes.”

  Michelle held her breath and looked past his glasses into his deep brown eyes. The older woman who’d accompanied Sark to the store interrupted her whirling thoughts. “So, honey, what are you going to do? Will you give him another chance?”

  She ignored the woman and smiled at Sark. “Yes. Yes, I’ll start the company with you.” As soon as she said it, she felt the rightness of it. Sark was a good guy. A great guy who could be trusted. Something deep in her knew this instinctively. She stepped toward his open arms, ready to kiss him into oblivion.

  “Uh, excuse me, Mickey Mouse. I hate to interrupt the little nerd convention you’ve got going on here, but someone vomited in linens. You need to go clean it,” Missy McQueen, Michelle’s nemesis from high school and current manager, said as she stomped over.

  Sark looked at Missy as though she had two heads and green skin. Michelle started to respond to her shift manager, but at that glorious moment three guys from the electronics team sprinted over. “Dude! You’re Noah Frellish! Can we get a picture? In our department?” They started to guide him over to the cell phone display.

  Sark stared at her with a bemused expression but allowed them to lead him away.

  She smiled at the sight of Sark blushing and responding to questions from the other tech lovers. With a deep breath she leaped into her new role. “Gentlemen, Mr. Frellish is unable to take pictures in front of a store display. I’m sure you understand why, but he’d be happy to autograph your personal phones.”

  The three guys dropped Sark’s arm and their eyes lit up. “Yeah, sign my phone.”

  “Awesome.”

  Sark shot her a grateful look.

  Missy stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her toe like a creature out of a comic. “Mickey Mouse, do you know how many strings I pulled to get you on the shift at the last minute? You need to go deal with the vomit.”

  Michelle turned to face her childhood nemesis. “You know what, Queenie, why don’t you go take care of the mess? I quit.” She strode over to Sark, stood on tiptoe, and yanked him into a heated kiss that had the store guys whooping and snapping pictures, no doubt to post to their Facebook pages. Didn’t matter.