The Memory Painter: A Novel (15 page)

Within minutes of his arrival at the museum, a jackhammer had starred pounding in his head. Even the exhibit’s dim lights were difficult to bear, and he had staggered out of the building in serious agony and hailed a cab home. He took four aspirin and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over his eyes, unable to move. Then he slept, dreaming of nothing as his body tried to right itself.

Thankfully, now he could function again, but barely. Slowly, he slid out of bed, afraid that the slightest movement might bring back the migraine. He gingerly made tea and microwaved the leftover Greek takeout after realizing it had been a while since he had eaten. Maybe that’s what had caused it.

Moving over to his computer, he figured he could at least research Conrad and Finn, but he kept a bottle of aspirin nearby just in case. He still wanted to pay them a visit at some point, though he was unsure if he should take Linz. Maybe meeting her old team would trigger a recall for her. It was worth a try.

Part of him felt guilty that he wanted her to suffer the same pain of remembering, but he also couldn’t stop the feeling that it was imperative she did. It was apparent that the Renovo experiment was still very much alive, and he needed Linz to remember Diana’s life if he had any hope of understanding his own. Somehow, Michael and Diana had altered the chemistry of their brains and the effects had carried over into this lifetime—it was the only explanation that Bryan could come up with. By taking the drug, they had opened their minds and their minds had stayed open.

Bryan was obviously more affected than Linz was—he remembered multiple lives and countless languages. But then Michael had taken larger doses of Renovo and for a much longer period. Linz’s recollection of Juliana’s death and her willingness to acknowledge that she could, in fact, speak Greek were steps in the right direction. Now Bryan was gripped by a new urgency to pick up the pieces and move forward.

*   *   *

The next morning it hit her—she was taking Bryan to a company function, and she needed help. In a panic, Linz called Derek, who then called the owner of the most exclusive salon in Boston. She managed to squeeze her in for a haircut, manicure, pedicure, and makeup.

Linz was a little embarrassed by all the pampering, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit she’d been transformed.

Of course, the new look required a new outfit. Her old black cocktail dress wouldn’t do. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she had a few hours before she needed to pick up Bryan, so she headed to Copley Mall, planning to just cut the tag on whatever she bought and wear it out of the store.
I’m acting like a lovesick teenager.
Linz couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of it, amazed at herself—she had never acted like one when she was younger.

An hour and a half later, she slid behind the wheel in a siren-red Nina Ricci dress and a pair of sexy Manolos. She didn’t want to overthink tonight, but she also had never made this much of an effort to impress a man before. But Bryan was changing her. When he was around anything seemed possible; nothing felt certain.

She saw him waiting outside his building, looking quite the artist in a funky suit and tie straight from the seventies. The pea-green color collided with her red dress like a train wreck, making her wish she had chosen a more conservative black. She began to get the feeling that tonight wasn’t going to go well.

She pulled the car up beside him and Bryan hopped in. He looked stunned.

“I had my hair done,” she said, turning her head self-consciously. Bryan continued to stare. “It’s a new dress.” Linz wished he would say something so she could stop making this stupid commentary.

“Are we in park?” he finally asked her.

“You mean the car?”

Not waiting for an answer, Bryan reached over and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her. Linz’s dress rode up as she turned to fully face him.

The kiss went on until a horn blared behind them. They broke apart, both breathing heavily.

Bryan whispered, “Why don’t we forget the party and go to your place?”

Another honk sounded and the car finally drove around them. Linz closed her eyes, trying to gain some self-control. “I can’t. I need to make an appearance first. It’s my work.”

Bryan let go of her and leaned back in his seat, looking tortured. “Okay, let’s go.”

Linz climbed back over to the driver’s seat, already regretting her decision. She drove to Belmont Hills on autopilot. They kept their conversation limited.

“So what have you been up to?” Bryan asked.

“Oh you know. Stuff. What about you?”

“Stuff.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Linz glanced down at her fake nail tips and grimaced. She could not wait to get home and rip them off.

Bryan stared out his window at Belmont’s gated mansions. They looked more Beverly Hills than Boston.

Linz finally turned into a long driveway. Valets stood at the end, waiting to whisk the car away. Bryan took in the enormous French classical château and whistled. It was nestled in its own little forest. “Who lives
here
?”

Linz hesitated. “My dad.” She got out, leaving him flummoxed.

“This is your house?”

She threw him a look. “I moved out in college.”

He followed her toward the front door. “What are you, royalty?”

“Crowned princess of the pharmaceutical industry.” She hooked her arm through his. “Party’s this way.”

Linz usually loathed revealing to people just how much wealth she came from, especially in a dating situation—not that she dated often. Medicor was the largest privately owned pharmaceutical company in the world, and she was happy to let her share sit in various accounts and accumulate interest. One day she would need it all when she opened her own research institute, but in the meantime she preferred her low profile.

For the first time, she didn’t care if Bryan knew. She felt liberated by the fact that their relationship existed beyond material things. Growing up, she had been cocooned in a bubble filled with science and academia. It had been a hard decision to trade in her anonymity and go to work for her father. Many saw it as a public grooming for her to take over the company when he stepped down. In reality, she couldn’t have cared less about running Medicor. Her research was her primary passion—strange how she had thought about neither since she met Bryan.

They heard the music before they saw the band. With Bryan’s arm in hers, they walked toward a large, tented dance floor with a stage that had been erected between the pool and the tennis court. Two dozen round tables filled the yard. Each one was decorated with ivory damask linens and vintage French vases filled with long-stemmed red roses to complement the black china. Two champagne fountains, along with an impressive ice sculpture, finished off the dramatic presentation. There were at least three hundred guests there to appreciate the effort.

Linz spotted her project team sitting together at a nearby table and led Bryan over. Everyone’s attention was turned to the stage, where Conrad Jacobs was giving a speech.

“In med school, an old professor of mine used to say that being a scientist doesn’t require eyeglasses and a lab coat. I’m glad to see you all left yours at home.” He waited for the laughter to die down.

Bryan sat in the closest chair before he collapsed. He could no longer feel his legs. There stood Conrad, the person he had been researching. Bryan noted how little Michael’s old colleague had aged—he looked the same aside from the distinguished gray along his temples and a more confident air.

Then Bryan realized something else. He leaned over to Linz with an incredulous whisper. “Is that your father?”

Without looking at him, she nodded yes. She was too busy listening to the speech to notice his reaction.

“I was living on a shoestring, struggling to get by on a government grant when I discovered I could make a difference, and Medicor was the result of that vision. We’ve come a long way in thirty years. Now Medicor is a global enterprise with research facilities around the world. And everyone here tonight has made us who we are today. Leaders. Dreamers. Healers.”

Bryan felt like he had been transported to another planet. Conrad now lived like a king in a castle, and was surrounded by hundreds of employees listening to his every word like gospel. So much had changed in thirty years. Even more mind-blowing was the fact that Linz was his daughter.

“… scientists at the top of our fields, striving to go over and above our imaginations. Medicor means ‘to cure’ in Latin and that remains our mission. Tonight we celebrate our drive to achieve it. Please enjoy.”

The speech was followed by strong applause. Bryan looked at Linz, disconcerted by the pride and love shining in her eyes. Tonight would not be the night to ask her about her father.

He also hadn’t failed to notice all the curious looks he was getting from her coworkers. Steve gave Bryan an appraising glare and leaned toward Linz. “I researched ‘unexplained phonetic cognizance,’” he shouted across the table. “I couldn’t find any cases.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Linz shot Bryan a rueful glance. “Steve, Neil, Maggie, this is Bryan, a friend.”

The jazz band began playing Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World.” Bryan saw Conrad signaling Linz, and she stood, looking apologetic. “I’ll be right back.”

She left Bryan alone to fend for himself. Steve was growing less cordial by the second. “How long have you guys been dating? Did you meet online?”

Maggie kicked Steve under the table and smiled at Bryan. “Sorry, he’s not used to social interaction.”

Neil joined the conversation, a chicken satay in each hand. “So what do you research, bro?”

“Research?” Bryan watched Conrad and Linz step out onto the dance floor.

Steve crossed his arms. “Yeah. What’s your specialty?”

Bryan turned back, realizing they all assumed he was a scientist. “Oils. Excuse me.” He stood up and set off toward the house. Now that he knew it belonged to Conrad, he couldn’t contain his curiosity. He left everyone scratching their heads.

“Oils? That bioengineering?” Neil reached over to Steve’s plate and stole his shrimp brochette. “And what’s with the suit? Is retro back in?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Like you would know. I think he’s hot.”

On the dance floor, Linz followed her father’s lead. She was used to dancing with him at functions.

“Nice speech.”

Conrad spun her around. “Does that mean, Dr. Jacobs, that I can start calling you Lindsey again in public?”

“Fine, I overreacted at the meeting.” Linz glanced back at the table. Bryan hadn’t lasted long. She watched him disappear inside and felt guilty for leaving him.

Conrad noticed him too. “Who’s the suit?”

“The artist I was telling you about.”

Conrad faltered with his next step. “You brought him here?”

Linz laughed at the astonishment on his face. “Watch your feet, twinkle toes. It’s just a date.”

*   *   *

Bryan wandered through the main hallway, his architectural eye taking in the curving colonnade and sweeping pavilion. Earlier, when they had come up the drive, he had been astounded to recognize a design Louis Le Vau had studied on paper hundreds of years ago.

The house clearly resembled one of the scrapped plans for the East Wing of the Louvre. Bryan remembered the debacle like it was yesterday. Le Vau had already remodeled most of the Louvre but had been unable to finish it after he had been fired by Jean-Baptiste Colbert, advisor to Louis XIV. A train of architects had stood in line to attempt to remodel the wing, including the most influential architect of the French Renaissance: Francois Mansart. An utter perfectionist, Mansart often tore down partially completed projects and began again. He had drawn up several brilliant plans for the wing, but Colbert had released him as well. Le Vau had seen the plans because he had remained on the Louvre’s building committee. Bryan would have recognized Mansart’s original design anywhere. He wondered how Conrad had gotten his hands on it.

Bryan passed under a Roman arch and ended up in a formal living room where several photographs were displayed on a Grecian table next to a grand piano. Most were of Linz. One photo showed her winning the World Junior Chess Championship. Bryan picked it up and smiled. Toward the back, he noticed a small photo of the entire family taken when Linz had been a baby. The woman holding her could only have been her mother. She and Linz shared the same beauty. Conrad and his wife must have met after Michael’s death—Bryan didn’t recognize her. Linz’s brother looked to be about two or three in the picture, his face oddly solemn. It was the only photo of her mother and brother in sight. Perhaps grief kept the others locked away.

He picked up another photo of Linz as a young girl. Dressed in a ballet costume, she stood on pointe, her other leg extended high in the air. Her face had a calm, focused look, as if striking such perfect balance came effortlessly to her. Bryan wasn’t surprised. Balance had always been one of her strongest attributes. It had been one of the first things he had noticed when he had met her this time—her carriage, her poise. There were other qualities that she also had unknowingly carried with her: the way she tilted her head slightly to the right when she was contemplating something, the unblinking focus of her eyes at times, and the way her thumb performed a circular pattern on the tip of her index finger when she was truly deep in thought.

Bryan looked around the room and noticed another door leading away from the living room. He glanced back to make sure no one was watching and entered.

On the other side was an enormous gallery housing an antique collection that would rival any museum’s. Bryan took a few steps inside and stopped.

Coming into this room had been a mistake. These were relics from his own memories. His eyes darted around in panic as the fingers of the past started to wrap themselves around his neck, choking him.

Before he could turn around and escape, he saw a tall glass case in the center of the room displaying a small item. He walked toward it in astonishment, his chest heavy, and he felt the room collapse as the weight of a vision propelled him to another time and place.