The Fugitive Grandma Lives

Chapter 25 - The Princess and the Castle

Calvin Montebello had succeeded famously and changed the world in many ways but nobody had ever accused him of being a good father. He ended his marriage to fellow grad student shortly after taking his first company public. The need to put all his effort into making his first business successful -- and then another business after that and then another -- consumed all his attention and energy.

So he and his wife parted ways on a timetable adjusted to fit their careers. She became a biology professor at the University of California at Santa Barbara and signed the final paper work after attaining tenure, shortly before the LifeGen IPO. She received $50 million cash and 20,000 shares of Life Gen stock. Calvin got the right to walk away, along with permission to visit with his daughter once a month.

Marissa Montebello was now 14 years old. The monthly trips to her father's Santa Cruz mansion had become a familiar routine, unpleasant but tolerable, like a trip to the dentist. Marissa would sometimes imagine things to make it seem more heroic and interesting. She would pretend she was a child with a chronic illness that can only be kept in check by a monthly trip to a specialist. Such visits didn't necessary provide any cure. They just reminded the sick patient to be aware of the condition and hopefully stop things from getting worse.

In a way, she could guess that she did qualify for some diagnosis. But she wasn't sure what it was. It was psychological probably. And her family shunned psychology. Her parents were experts specialty was cells and genes, not feelings.

The relationship she was supposed to have with her father was absent, like a sprouted seed that contorted, growing in all the wrong directions. The time spent together was always tense and awkward. Over the years they would try to talk to each other. They would try to play games or watch movies or eat meals together. But it seemed like it was impossible to make a real connection.

As her father's driver pulled off the main highway onto the private road in the mountains, she tucked away her pretend play fantasies. Marissa knew that she didn't really have a chronic illness. She was healthy. Born into wealth and privilege. Smart enough to know that she had nothing to complain about compared to so many people out there struggling.

But wasn't loneliness a kind of illness even if it couldn't be diagnosed? Even if it wasn't visible? She may not receive the world's sympathy for her ailment. But she would need to try and cure it nonetheless.

The driver pulled up in front of the mansion. Her father took her by the hand and they walked along a trail beside the house while a housemaid carried her things from the trunk inside.

"You don't want to talk to me?" Her father said it like an accusation. He strolled briskly with his hands in his pocket.

"I can talk." She removed the ear buds that had filled her mind with music during the trip.

He snickered. "You can talk. But you'd prefer not to. You rather listen to your music and hook into some app on the phone."

She sighed. "That's such a stereotype, Dad." She made a big show of tucking the phone in her jacket pocket. "What would you like to talk about?"

"How is school?"

"I think you know how school is going. You check my grades online, my test scores. You read the teacher comments."

"I do."

"So now you are going to give me a hard time about my school work?"

"It seems like you aren't trying. Like you don't care."

"I don't," she replied with a shrug.

He shook his head in disappointment. "When I was your age, learning was everything."

"Maybe things are different now. Maybe learning doesn't matter nowadays."

"Yes. We've entered the Post-Learning Era."

"Is that sarcasm?"

"It is."

"I think that's a dominant gene in our family, Dad."

"Oh definitely."

Just then his phone buzzed. Calvin glanced furtively and frowned. Schlesinger. News from Southern California.

"I am sorry but..."

"You have to take a call."

"Not exactly."

"You have to go out."

"Just for a while. I'll make it up to you. It's only Saturday. We still have Sunday. I can take you down to the boardwalk tomorrow. Like we used to."

"That sounds great," she said.

"You'll be ok in the house alone?"

"Sure. I'll just FaceTime with some friends and watch movies."

"There are enchiladas in the fridge. And Chinese. And ice cream in the freezer."

"Everything I need."

She always gave him an easy way out. That way he could choose his work over his daughter with minimal pangs of guilt. In return, she got time alone in the castle. Her perk. Her delight. The only thing she enjoyed about these trips.

She stood halfway in the circular staircase above the foyer, watching through the French window as her father drove away, the Tesla winding along the path towards the highway into Los Gatos. She waited to make sure he didn't turn around because he'd forgotten something. She wanted to be sure he wanted coming back any time soon.

The help had already left for the day. Eduardo had finished in the garden. Andres had prepared the enchiladas and stir-fry chicken and three other home-cooked meals to last them through the weekend. Lorena had vacuumed the carpets, changed the sheets in the bedroom and scrubbed the kitchen floor until it sparkled.

She was all alone. And when she finally convinced herself she was all alone she carefully punched in the access code, the code her father didn't know she'd discovered, that opened the door to his basement laboratory.

On that lower floor, carved into the slope and overlooking the forest below, was Miranda's favorite place in the castle. This was Dr. Montebello's home lab, the place where he tinkered on his latest set of projects. The spotless countertops and shiny clean sinks were surrounded by cutting edge machinery. A thermal cycler for extreme temperatures needed to manipulate DNA strands. A pair of centrifuges and an autoclave to change the pressure and viscosity of substances. Shelves of glassware and refrigerated storage.

Within this lab, Miranda had the tools to manage the code of life itself. It was this code she dreamed of mastering. Her father cast a shadow larger than the tallest redwood. He was changing the world, creating new forms of life that would allow humans to become like gods. But maybe someday a stunted sapling could also cast a shadow. Miranda was going to play her part in this. She was going to make sure the gods would do the right thing.