Chapter 10 - THE BRIGHT SIDE OF TOMORROW
Two weeks later, the front-page headline of the Wall Street Journal financial section read: FOSTER TECHNOLOGIES FOILS MASSIVE CORPORATE ESPIONAGE PLOT; ALLEGED CO-CONSPIRATORS ARRESTED IN PRE-DAWN FEDERAL RAID.
The wedding at the Plaza had been quietly canceled, replaced instead by a massive, company-wide celebration of corporate resilience and structural integrity. But down on the third floor of the Foster Technologies tower, life had returned to its quiet, industrious rhythm.
It was a warm Thursday afternoon. The hallway outside the executive suite was peaceful, filled with the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of voices from the west conference room.
James stepped out of his office holding a small, brightly wrapped package tied with a brilliant purple ribbon. He walked down the corridor until he reached the bright open alcove near the reception desk.
There she was.
Maya was sitting on the hallway floor with her knees pulled up, a brand-new, professional-grade box of colored pencils arrayed around her like precious jewels, working on a brand-new drawing in her sketchbook.
James stopped. He didn't say anything at first, just watching her with a warm, genuine smile that hadn't reached his eyes in years.
Maya looked up. Her large, dark, serious eyes studied him for a moment before a bright, gap-toothed smile broke across her face.
"Hi, Mr. Foster," she said.
"Hi, Maya," James replied, crouching down to her level so his knees popped softly against the marble floor. He held out the brightly wrapped package. "I brought you something."
Maya set her mechanical pencil down. She took the package, turned it over with the careful assessment of someone who understood the weight of gifts, and carefully untied the purple ribbon.
Inside was a massive, deluxe artist's portfolio case filled with heavy parchment paper, professional sketching charcoals, and every shade of colored pencil imaginable.
Her eyes went wide. She looked up at him, breathless. "Is this all for me?"
"Every single piece," James said softly. "As payment for services rendered by the best investigator in Manhattan."
Maya carefully lifted the sketchpad out, running her fingers over the smooth, thick cover. Then she looked back up at James, her expression turning thoughtful. "Are you still sad?" she asked.
May you like
James smiled, reaching out to gently ruffle her dark hair.
"No, Maya," James said, looking down the bright, sunlit hallway where her mother Rosa was cheerfully wiping down the brass door handles in the distance. "I'm not sad at all. For the first time in a very long time... I think everything is finally drawn just right."
