CHAPTER ONE-1
962 Words
CHAPTER ONE
March 2020
Mason Gentries scowled as he reviewed the data on a busy Monday afternoon.
“This here,” he indicated one column. “This is way out of expected tolerances. Can we drill down into that, see what’s going on there?”
“Sure thing,” Toby said brightly.
Mason grinned as he returned to his office. Hiring Toby Mitting on full-time after his internship was turning out to be one of the best decisions he’d made. The kid’s knowledge was off the charts, as were his intuitive problem-solving abilities. And Toby’s enthusiasm was contagious.
He’d also blended seamlessly into Mason’s established research and development team at a crucial point of a project that if successful, would greatly improve motor vehicle safety. Too many times Mason had seen news reports of fatal accidents caused by texting and driving. Austin, Texas based Gentries Unlimited was working on a solution.
A few more tweaks, a couple more rounds of beta testing, then a soft launch to gauge market interest, and if all that went as Mason expected, a full court press of marketing to round it all out.
He knew that Toby was at this very moment checking the code byte by byte to trace the variances that had presented in the reporting. But Mason settled in at his terminal, opened his own copy of the programming, and began to check it himself anyway.
It had to be one hundred percent perfect. No glitches, no mistakes. He’d made it his mission for no one else to die because of texting and driving. He had the knowledge and the desire to keep it from ever happening again - even if it cost him everything.
In most ways, it already had.
Focus, man, focus.
He blew out a deep breath, and with effort shoved the past aside and concentrated on each data point, looking for the troublemaker.
After forty-five minutes, as his eyes were beginning to fatigue, his desk phone trilled.
“Boss,” Toby said triumphantly in Mason’s ear, “I got it.”
Mason’s grin returned. “I’ll be right there.”
***
* * * *
Madeleine Nibless was behind schedule, and she was frazzled as a result. She knew she’d have to hustle to get back on track to pull off the perfect date night. As she unlocked the front door of her two-story custom-built home, she resisted the urge to set her purse and coat down on the foyer table – Eric would have a fit if he saw a single item out of place.
And he notices everything, she reminded herself.
She quickly moved up the left staircase and into the master bedroom, hung up her coat, placed her purse on her nightstand, then took a quick shower.
Calmed, she went back downstairs and to the kitchen to prepare the meal she’d planned to surprise her husband. Eric’s flight out was scheduled for seven a.m., and he’d be gone all week, so she wanted to make the night count.
With smooth, deft movements she set the needed ingredients for crab-stuffed filet mignon with whiskey peppercorn sauce on the counter, turned on the oven to bring it to temperature, and began to measure and dice.
Remember, Maddie, don’t overcook his, she chided herself as she worked. You don’t want anything to ruin the mood tonight.
She put together the crab stuffing and the peppercorn sauce first, then checked her watch.
Six o’clock. Good. He’ll be home by seven, so this will all time out well.
Madeleine released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and decided to take just a few moments to make sure she looked her best when he came home.
Sitting at her makeup table, she applied minimal amounts of blush, mascara, and lip gloss; just enough to enhance her smooth pale skin, complement her emerald-green eyes and whiskey colored hair.
Satisfied with her makeup, she traded her flannel robe for a silk one covering a negligee, added just a whisper of perfume, then returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.
***
* * * *
“That’s it, Toby, I think we got the last of it,” Mason crowed. “Fantastic!”
“This is awesome,” the young man agreed. “I am so psyched to get this into the final testing round. You’re gonna do so much good with this, boss.”
“We,” Mason corrected. “We are. Now, it’s after seven. Go home. We’ll reconvene at ten a.m. tomorrow.”
“We’re on tap at eight-fifteen on the calendar,” his employee reminded him.
“Yes, we are. But since I’m the big boss, I’m telling you - sleep in a bit. You’ve earned it. See you at ten.”
Toby’s wide smile lit up the room. “Yes, sir.”
Mason secured all the files and results before locking up the office and heading home. On the way to his car, he called the Chinese place he had logged into speed dial and ordered his usual for takeout. Within forty minutes he was walking triumphantly into his apartment with dinner, feeling like he owned the world.
It’s finally coming together, he mused as he scooped out beef fried rice onto a paper plate. After six years, it’s finally going to happen.
***
* * * *
By seven p.m. Madeleine had candlelight flickering on a formally dressed dining room table and was plating the roasted vegetables alongside her husband’s medium rare filet. That done, she plated her food as well, then sat down at the table to wait.
At seven-thirty she texted to confirm he was on his way home. He didn’t answer. At eight p.m. she called, frowning when his phone went straight to voicemail. She ate alone, the candlelight now mocking instead of romantic. She called again at nine o’clock and tried to reach him a final time at two minutes past ten and got the same results.
Defeated, she cleared her place setting, put her dishes in the dishwasher, put his in the refrigerator, and changed into a t-shirt and yoga pants before settling in the living room with a book. By eleven-thirty, she’d fallen asleep.
***
- Writer
