"Hey, Mom, where's mine?"
Jefferson's daughter appeared in the doorway, slouching against the doorframe. She was as tall and slim as her mother, though her dress sense was certainly different. She wore layer on layer of wispy black garments, and her messy blonde ponytail contained a couple of clipped-in strands of red and purple streaks. Sam tried to suppress a smile as he caught sight of Paige's pursed lips.
"Henley, dear, we have company. Why don't you go and put on something more appropriate?"
"What's wrong with this?" Henley demanded, striding across the room so that her trailing sleeves and scarves fluttered behind her. "You said no skin. I'm not showing skin. Now can I have a drink?"
"Henley, we've discussed this." Paige turned to Sam apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Cleave. My daughter thinks she's an adult already. Henley, you are seventeen years old."
"Dad lets me drink." She reached for the nearest bottle in the liquor cabinet, but her mother slapped her hands away.
"Dad lets you have one glass of wine with dinner." Jefferson walked into the room and ruffled his daughter's hair. "Stop tormenting your mother. Have you said hello to Mr. Cleave yet?"
"Please, call me Sam," Being addressed so formally was starting to make him feel uneasy.
Henley grudgingly accepted the glass of lemonade that her mother handed her before retreating to the kitchen. She reached for a breadstick from the plate that sat in front of the liquor bottles, placed it between her perfect teeth and looked Sam in the eye as she bit down. "You're the guy who's going to write my dad's next book?" She frankly looked him up and down. "Cool. Let me help you with that. These FireStorm freaks? They're crazy. Like, worse than Scientology. Mom and Dad like it because it's like going to the country club but with added spirituality, but it's totally insane. One big money spinner with a side order of social control."
"Hey, Henley!" Jefferson laughed and threw an arm around his daughter's shoulders. "Whoa there, honey! Isn't she great? She's my little warrior for justice — aren't you, sweetie? But you'll see for yourself, Sam. It's a really interesting new way of thinking. But you don't want to hear about all that right now! You just relax tonight. Tomorrow we'll go out for dinner, just the two of us, and we can make a start then."
Henley rolled her eyes hard. "Daaaaaad, you're not taking him to that stupid mermaid place, are you?"
"Sssshh, honey, you'll ruin the surprise! Now come on, let's show Mr. Cleave through to the dining room. You know your mother won't appreciate it if we let the pot roast get cold."
The "stupid mermaid place" turned out to be a kitschy tiki bar by the name of Sip 'n' Dip, where the daiquiris were accompanied by the sound of live jazz piano and the walls were lined with large fish tanks with attractive young women in mermaid costumes swimming around.
"It's not really Paige's kind of place," Jefferson said, slipping the bartender a generous tip. "But I kind of love it. My dad brought me here on my twenty-first birthday; bought me my first legal drink! I thought I was in girl heaven." He watched appreciatively as a mermaid with long dark hair and a red tail performed a lazy flip in front of them. "Now, let's get down to business. Did you get a chance to look at the information I sent you about FireStorm?"
Sam nodded. He had spent much of the previous day's plane journey looking through printouts of the FireStorm website. It was not yet live, but Jefferson had sent him screenshots of the "About FireStorm" section. In truth, he had struggled to understand it. All he had seen was a page full of platitudes about the Age of Aquarius, heightened consciousness, and the bringing together of peoples and cultures. So far there had been nothing to set it apart from any of the multitude of fashionable beliefs espoused by wealthy individuals. However, Sam was surprised that it had appealed to someone so conservative in his views as Jefferson, and he had spent the small hours of the previous night plagued by jet lag and trying to figure out a tactful way of phrasing the question.
"It was really interesting material," Sam erred on the side of diplomacy. "There's going to be a lot to discuss as we go forward, just so we can make sure everything's absolutely clear. But the first thing I'd like to know is exactly how you got involved. Things seem to have happened really quickly. You weren't involved with this group before you went to Antarctica, were you?"
"That's correct, I was not." Jefferson sighed deeply, staring at his drink. "I haven't spoken much to my family about this, Sam, but you were there, you'll understand. Something broke inside of me in Antarctica. I mean, I'm used to harsh environments, and I've been in some situations where I didn't think I was going to get out alive, but… nothing like that. I've never felt so… powerless. Like I didn't know what was going on, and nothing was what it was supposed to be. I decided I was done with polar expeditions before we even got home from Ushuaia.
I thought I'd come home and maybe try something new, stay here and make a difference, maybe go into politics. I'm getting a little old for exploring." Sam caught him sneaking a glance at his reflection in the mermaid tanks. "So I started spending a lot more time at the country club, building up some old friendships with people who could help me, and that's how I met Sara Stromer, the mind behind FireStorm. She was in town doing the groundwork for the Montana base. We got to talking, and I was able to introduce her to a few people who helped her find a site, and then got her applications and licenses fast-tracked. And as she told me more about what she was doing, I just kind of got interested and thought this might be the new purpose I was looking for.
Then I introduced her to Paige and they got on really well, so we flew down to the main base at Parashant and spent a weekend doing an introductory Mind Meld. It really worked for us, so I got initiated and we've kept going back. Then eventually Sara asked if I wanted to get involved with running the Montana base. I said yes, and now they're going to give me an official role. It's really straightforward. You'll pick it up quickly. Boy, I can't wait for you to meet Sara! She's great. You'll like her!"
"Can't wait," Sam said, with as much sincerity as he could muster. His mind conjured up an image of a dowdy, schoolmarmish middle-aged lady, trying desperately to look bohemian and New Age in a hot pink caftan with orange scarves tied round her neck and wrists. Or perhaps some wispy youngster, barely older than Henley, luring older men with the power of a killer midriff. Either way, Sam was sure, he would be unlikely to be taken with Sara Stromer.
Chapter Four
As it turned out, Sam was quite relieved to meet Sara. She and her second in command, Cody, arrived just as Paige and Henley seemed to be settling in for one of their longer and more involved arguments. Unlike the previous spats that Sam had seen, this one did not involve issues of appearance or behavior, but Henley's desire to delay college in favor of pursuing her winter sports career.
Sam knew that Sara was due any moment and was schooling himself to be polite and professional, but the longer the fight went on, the more tempted he became to feign illness just to get out of the room.
"Henley, for the last time, you are not skipping college!" Paige's sweet smile was still in place, but there was an unmistakable look of fury behind her eyes. "Take it from me, you don't want to be the oldest girl in your class — how will you ever meet anyone worth marrying if you're older than everyone around you? Now, the matter is closed — we have company."