Chapters (58)
Kate leaned toward her. “Don’t you think it would be best to talk to your grandparents before leaping into anything?”
Abby brightened. “Can I do that from here?”
“Of course. We only have to look them up on the Grid. What are their names?”
“Ray and Giovanna Caldwell. But…they might not even be alive. They’d be in their nineties.”
Kate smiled. “I know your parents and brother died early. In the jungle they didn’t have access to medicine. In the States people often live past a hundred and twenty.”
Abby sat up straighter on the couch. “How do we look them up?”
“We only need to input your information on the Grid. Your full name?”
“Abigail Elizabeth Caldwell.”
“Your date of birth?”
“March 13, 2054.”
“Place of birth?”
“Here.”
Kate looked at her. “In Lae?”
Abby nodded.
“At the hospital?”
“Yes. My mother had complications in pregnancy, so they traveled out for the delivery.”
“Well. Small world.” Kate looked at the Grid projection in front of her. Unlike most people, who named their interfaces, she preferred relating to the Grid impersonally. “Grid, show us a three-generation family tree of Abigail Elizabeth Caldwell, born March 13, 2054, in Lae, Papua New Guinea.”
A new image appeared before them. Kate shifted forward. “Your mother’s parents are alive and living in Hamburg, Germany.”
Abby shrugged. “I never knew them. Or even knew about them, really. They didn’t agree with our coming here, and they didn’t stay in touch even before we were cut off.”
Kate glanced across the image. “Your father’s parents…Giovanna…” Her voice quieted. “Abby, your grandmother died six years ago. And your grandfather Ray…”
Abby stared at the image. “Is he dead as well?”
Kate placed her hand on top of Abby’s. “Abby, I’m sorry.”
Tears trickled down Abby’s cheeks. “No, it’s okay. I just…They were who I really wanted to see. Even before that message…I had been imagining what seeing them would be like.”
“It sounds like you had a lot in common with them.”
Abby wiped her cheeks and straightened up. “When did he die?”
“This year, it appears,” Kate said. “Grid, specify date of Raymond Caldwell’s death.”
“April 16, 2088.”
Abby looked at her. “That was just three weeks ago.”
8
Lauren Caldwell hated Washington receptions. Pasting on a three-hour smile and making political small talk with the capital’s in-crowd wasn’t the thrill she had expected it to be when she was elected to represent Texas’s Fifth Congressional District eleven years before. Attending the Washington Media Club’s annual gala wasn’t optional, however. Not for a candidate for the U.S. Senate.
Caldwell glided through the hotel ballroom with her requisite smile. She was a striking woman—tall, stately, with a raspy, commanding voice—the kind of woman everyone pretends to admire in Washington.
“Lauren!”