Sometimes It Is Rocket Science

Copyright 2013 Kara H. Thorpe

For JT, Mom, and Ken.

The soles of Robert Norwood’s black loafers squeaked with every step he took down the long hospital corridor.  He flashed the scowling nurse the dazzling smile that had gotten him out of trouble with his parents, former lovers, and the Norwood Systems Board of Directors.  The nurse’s glossed lips pulled back in an answering smile and pink spread across her pale cheeks.  Mentally patting himself on the back, Robert continued on to his destination.

He rolled his shoulders to ease the weariness that had settled over him during the flight from New York to Houston.  Ever since the phone call about his father’s heart attack, he’d been in panic mode.  Not only had he needed to prepare for an open-ended trip to his hometown, but he’d also convened an emergency teleconference with a majority of the directors and fielded frantic calls from associates, as well as the media.  He was long past the days when he could just pack a bag and go wherever or whenever the urge struck.  Long past the days when he was able to enjoy being so unfettered.

He paused outside his father’s room, tugging on the cuffs of his sky blue dress shirt.  It was hopelessly wrinkled, as were his trousers.  He’d stopped in the bathroom at the airport to try and tame his hair but it had been a futile effort.  After unsuccessfully trying to fix his clothes, he turned the doorknob and opened the door to his father’s room.

“Hello, Dad,” Robert greeted as he strode into the luxurious private suite.

“Robert,” Dan said while pressing a button on the bed to shift the bed so that he was sitting upright.

Robert’s stomach twisted.  He wanted to believe it was the chicken alfredo he’d eaten on the plane.  There was little color on Dan’s face, and the watery blue eyes he hadn’t passed on to his son were glazed with medication and the echoes of pain.  His muscles sagged beneath his skin and wrinkles bracketed his lips.  It was as if he’d aged twenty years in a matter of days.

Their relationship wasn’t as close as it should have been.  They hadn’t lived in the same city since Robert had started college.  They spent major holidays together and chatted once a week, although work was their usual topic of choice. 

But, Robert had always held a picture in his mind of his father as a superhero.  Andrea Norwood, Robert’s mother, had died when he was young, and Dan had played father and mother.  He’d nurtured Robert’s genius, even when it was in a different field than his own expertise.  Dan had run a billion dollar company, designed many of Norwood System’s best-selling projects, and still had time to look over his son’s history essays.

Staring in the face of his father’s mortality, Robert felt things he was unaccustomed to feeling.  Small.  Weak.  Shaken.  He pushed them aside and settled in the upholstered chair beside the bed. 

“How are you feeling, Dad?”

“Fine.  Would be better if they let me go home.  Whoever they have down in the kitchen clearly has no clue what constitutes as flavor.” 

“I spoke with Doctor Flores when I arrived.  He believes that if you continue to improve at your current rate, you could be released by the end of the week.”

“Good, good.”  Dan frowned.  “Didn’t you have the videoconference with the London office this morning?  Were you able to reschedule?  You know how difficult it is to pin Edmund down for anything.”

“You are on sick leave until Doctor Flores and I feel you are ready to return to work.”  Robert held up a hand to forestall the brewing argument.  “It’s non-negotiable, Dad.”

“Are you staying at the house while you’re in town?”

Robert frowned.  Where else would he stay while in Houston?  “Yes.” 

He made certain to only answer the question asked.  It was best to wait until his father had improved further before bringing up the subject of Norwood Systems’ future.  Doctor Flores had made it clear that, given initial reports, a second heart attack could likely be triggered by stress and could come at any time. 

It was too dangerous for Dan to live by himself, but he would drive a housekeeper or a nurse crazy.  Dan steadfastly refused to ever move to New York to live with Robert.  There were close friends who could keep an eye on him, but they had their own families and lives to worry about.  There was only one solution.  Before he’d left New York, Robert had already started making plans to move the Norwood Systems’ corporate headquarters back to Houston.

Living together for the first time in over a decade was going to take a great deal of adjustment.  Fortunately, the Norwood compound, nestled in an old downtown neighborhood, was large enough for them to share without constantly having someone underfoot.  As soon as he grabbed a short nap, his first order of business was assessing the state of the house.  His father was an engineering genius, but often relied on fast fixes rather than permanent solutions.  Robert was certain he’d find half-assed plumbing jobs and electrical splices.

“I need you to attend the Mercer April Showers of Donations dinner party tonight,” Dan said.

Robert’s eyebrows shot up.  He should have paid more attention when Doctor Flores had discussed Dan’s medication.  “A dinner party?  Dad, I just got to town.  My suitcases are still in the rental car.”

“This family has always supported Mrs. Mercer’s causes.  She put on a benefit in your mother’s name the year after she passed, you know.  Word has it she pulled a last minute switch and heart health is the theme of this year’s party.”  Dan exhaled softly, shook his head.  “I understand you’re tired, son, and I wouldn’t dream of asking if it was anyone else.  I just hate to think of poor, sweet Lacey Mercer feeling snubbed by our family when she’s done so much for us.”

A pang of remorse stabbed Robert.  His father was an expert manipulator.  The master of the guilt trip.  There were few people who could resist Dan Norwood when he was at his worst.

“You’re right, of course.  I couldn’t do that to Mrs. Mercer.  I’ll put in an appearance.”

“Thank you, son.”  Dan’s gaze shifted to the closed door.  His frown softened.  He rubbed a hand across his face.  “Georgiana will be your date.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re out of the loop, and I was going to be her escort.  She’s been here since they brought me in.  Together you two should be able to field any questions about my health.  Keep the rumors from getting out of control.  It won’t throw off Mrs. Mercer’s numbers.  You know how she hates odd numbers.”

Georgiana Collier had been the one to call Robert about the heart attack.  He’d known her since she was a freckled five-year-old with skinned knees and an algebra textbook.  Jerome Collier had been Dan’s best friend; Norwood Systems used Collier Analytics for the majority of their software needs.  Robert’s life had been intertwined with Georgiana’s for years.

A smile tugged at the corners of Robert’s lips at the thought of his old friend.  He leaned the chair back and propped his feet up on the edge of his father’s bed.  “How is Georgiana?  I haven’t seen her since last Labor Day.  She must be busy; her last email was two weeks ago and pitifully brief.”

“She wants to sell the company to us.  We’ve hashed out a preliminary agreement.  I was going to discuss it with you before the heart attack.”

Robert’s hand twitched.  He longed to whip out his tablet and check on the financial status of Collier Analytics.  There had been little news about the transition in leadership after Jerome’s death thirteen months earlier, but he hadn’t noticed plummeting stock prices.  Georgiana was as brilliant as her father, or his for that matter.  Business wasn’t her forte, but she’d been taught by the best. 

He made a mental note to have his assistant and the legal department double-check any outstanding contracts they had with Collier Analytics.  Friend of the family or not, he refused to be screwed in a business deal.  Though his true passion was programming, Robert had inherited his mother’s flair for rough-and-tumble business tactics.  He’d tripled Norwood Systems’ profits his first year as President and CEO.  He didn’t mind being called a ruthless bastard as long as people remembered he was a
successful
ruthless bastard.

“The business is fine,” Dan said quickly, having caught the gleam in his son’s sharp, dark eyes.  “Georgie never planned to succeed her father.  After his death, she took the reins with the intention of passing them on to her brother once he was ready.”

“And he doesn’t want them now?” The little time Robert had spent with the teenaged Tab Collier, they’d stuck to playing pool in the game room or conning Georgiana into a water volleyball game.  He was sure, though, that Tab had been groomed to take the Collier Analytics throne.  It was what his father had done, after all.

“He hasn’t said, but it appears that way.”  Dan’s voice grew raspy; his fingers toyed with the hem of the chenille blanket.  “Georgie has more pressing matters to deal with, and unfortunately the company is not one of her priorities.  She’s offered it to us because she trusts me to carry on her father’s vision.  She’s afraid of letting it fall into other hands.  Walt Prask has been sniffing around her the past couple of weeks.”

A cold chill traveled down Robert’s spine.  Prask’s Tomorrow Solutions was Norwood’s biggest competitor.  Prask was infamous for backstabbing associates and under-the-table deals.  His takeovers resulted in massive layoffs, complete restructuring, and stock market mayhem.  There was at least one outstanding SEC investigation hanging over Prask’s head.

“If the business is as fine as you say, it would be a hell of a thing for us.  I would like for you to be there when I discuss the proposal with Georgiana.  Your presence would make her more comfortable.”

“Don’t see why,” Dan grumbled, all traces of solemnity fading.  “Lord knows she’s
seen
more of you than she has of me.”

“Dad!”

“It was all over the news three weeks ago, son.  Every damned channel had a picture of your ass.  Even with it blurred out, I recognized those cheeks.  You might as well tattoo your name there.”

Robert’s lips tightened.  “Those pictures were taken by someone who violated the perimeter of the beach house.  I have our legal team taking care of it.”

“I hope you paid Flo extra to clean the windows.”

Robert threw his head back and laughed.  The rich, rumbling sound echoed off the pastel walls.  This, his father’s mock moral outrage and his nonchalance, was familiar ground.  Robert liked women.  Liked the taste, feel, and smell of them.  Unlike his father, he hadn’t found one who could hold his attention for more than a week.  Until recently, he hadn’t been in a hurry to settle down, either.  It wasn’t as if the supply of models, cheerleaders, and starlets was diminishing.

“It’s my house, Dad.  I can have sex in it wherever I want.”

“Your mother picked out those curtains,” Dan said gruffly

“Yes.”  Dimples creased Robert’s cheeks.  He stroked his square jaw, one of the few physical features he’d gotten from his father.  “Mom had excellent taste.  They were very soft.”

Dan snorted.  Had she been alive, Andrea Norwood would have appreciated the compliment. She’d made a similar remark about the draperies after she’d hung them in their first apartment.  At times Robert was so like his mother that it ached just to look at him. 

“Whatever happened to that pretty Italian model?  I liked her.”  Though it stung that he had to keep up with his son’s active social life through the tabloids, Dan had an entire file cabinet full of glossy magazines and newspaper articles.

“You never met her, Dad.”

“True, but I never had to see her…
assets
… in a four-page magazine spread, either.  She was better than that singer who convinced you blond was a good look.”  Dan shook his head fondly.  “Sometimes I wonder which head controls you, son.”

“That was more the alcohol than the girl,” Robert conceded.  He raked a hand though his thick, dark hair. His barber had threatened to shave his head if he ever did anything so asinine again.  It was one of the easiest agreements Robert had ever made.  

He let his eyes drift shut while his father nattered on about a busty starlet Robert had dated two years earlier and her spectacularly dismal film career.  In the two days since his father’s heart attack, he’d only managed a couple of hours of sleep.  Playing social butterfly for Lacey Mercer was the last thing he wanted to do.

Robert jerked awake when his feet were unceremoniously shoved off the bed.  “What?”

Dan was wilting.  His head was pressed heavily against the plush pillows.  “You only have a half-hour before the party.  Georgie has my keys, but it’s unlikely she’ll have time to get them to you before the party.  She’ll also need to explain about NORA.”  He was asleep before his last word faded into the air.

Robert frowned.  He’d hoped to have enough time for a quick shower. While he appreciated her checking on Dan occasionally, he wasn’t entirely sure he approved of how close she was to his father without
her
father around.  It had the potential for messy business dealings, especially if they were to purchase her company. 

And just who the hell was Nora?

After a fast wash-up in his father’s bathroom and a change of clothes, he made it through the Mercer’s ornate gates with five minutes to spare.  He reluctantly handed the keys to his rented sedan to a suited valet.  He didn’t care for the car, but his laptop and his suitcases were still in the trunk.