Nicholas Vann raked a hand through his wavy and too-long mahogany hair—he seemed to perpetually need a haircut—as he studied the email on his computer monitor. He frowned slightly as he read the Chief Technology Officer’s summary of a meeting she'd had with Leopold Vann, who was both the CEO of the company and his grandfather.
Leopold—or Mr. Vann, as the CTO, Hira Singh, referred to him—had asked her to ensure that their disaster recovery and emergency transition plans were up-to-date.
That wasn’t altogether concerning, although he was surprised that his grandfather hadn't mentioned to him that he'd asked Hira to look over their contingency planning documentation.
Usually that was something that would fall under *his* aegis as Chief Operating Officer of Vannevar Software.
From the tone of Hira's email, she assumed he *had* been told. The rest of the email was a summary of the work she had done so far, along with her recommendations for updates and changes.
This wasn’t the first time Granddad had forgotten to tell him something important. He’d missed or been late to a few meetings within the last few months, as well, which was very unlike him.
Well, perhaps age was catching up with him. The man was eighty years old, after all, and had been CEO of Vannevar since he’d founded it at age twenty-five. It wasn’t surprising if he was starting to slow down.
Nico unfolded his lanky frame and rose from his chair to take a brisk walk around his office. He made it a habit to get up from his chair and walk around every few hours, just to work the kinks out.
Sometimes, if the weather was good—which it almost always was in beautiful Santa Clara, California—he'd walk in Vannevar Software's courtyard garden, but today he was content to pace his office and stare out of the large floor-to-ceiling windows at the soft glimmer of the San Francisco Bay.
It was a good-sized office, the walls painted a dusky gold, the floor gleaming pine. His large desk was a glossy mahogany, almost the same color as his hair, with a dark brown leather executive chair behind it. The rug on the floor gave a pop of color to the room, with elegant swirls of gold and green in a marble pattern.
He opened the mini-fridge that was cleverly concealed inside the mahogany sideboard and pulled out a chilled bottle of water. As he uncapped the water, he studied the lone picture in the thin gold frame that graced the top of the sideboard.
Himself, Nico Vann, and his grandfather, Leo, at Nico's college graduation some twelve years before. Leo was a little bit heavier and a little bit grayer now, but was otherwise unchanged from the smiling man in the picture.
It was a different story with Nico. At his college graduation, he'd still had the frame and demeanor of a tipsy giraffe. He towered above his grandfather by nearly half a foot.
It had taken several more years—and the advice of a personal trainer—before he'd managed to put some meat on his frame, turning him from skinny and gawky into lean and lanky.
He'd also ditched the round tortoiseshell eyeglass frames—what *had* he been thinking?—for sleek rectangular black ones.
Nico grinned. He needed a haircut in the picture, too, but hadn't found the time before graduation to get one. Of course, back then, when he wasn't studying, he was working.
By the time he'd graduated summa cum laude from college, he'd already worked at Vannevar Software for four years. Only part time as a IT help desk representative, it was true, but he'd started a full-time position as a junior software developer only days after his graduation.
Granddad had offered him a trip to Europe for the summer in lieu of starting his full-time job, but Nico had declined. He'd wanted to begin his new position right away, and he didn't particularly enjoy traveling. Not like his father—
Nico checked himself, deliberately turning his thoughts elsewhere, as he always did when thoughts of his parents intruded. He took a long swig of water, focusing on the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down his throat.
He drained the bottle and tossed the empty container into the plastic recycling bin, likewise camouflaged in the sideboard. Break time was over, and he intended to get back to work.
He moved behind his desk and settled into his leather chair. His hands paused above the keyboard of his laptop as a brisk knock sounded at the door. A moment later, his executive assistant, Gloria, came in.
Nico raised an eyebrow. This was an uncharacteristic interruption. Usually Gloria would send an instant message or a text if she needed something, or if someone had arrived for a scheduled appointment.
"Mr. Vann, your grandfather is here to see you." His assistant's voice was perfectly smooth, her steady blue eyes placid.
His other eyebrow shot up. This was another surprise. Whenever Granddad wanted to see him, Nico would go to *his* office. The CEO never came to him.
"Well, er…" he stammered, discomfited, and strove to recover his equilibrium. "Send him in, please."
Gloria nodded, and turned to the door with a come-ahead gesture. Once the older man entered the room, she quietly closed the door.
"Granddad," Nico said, moving around the desk to greet him. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Should I have made an appointment?" Leo Vann asked, his voice gruff, but his mouth twitching with amusement.
Nico flushed and nearly tripped over the area rug. His grandfather was the only person on earth who could still make him feel like the clumsy scarecrow he'd been in high school and college.
"Of course not. I could have come to your office if you wanted a meeting." He gestured to the low leather sofa. "Please, have a seat."
His grandfather sat, telling Nico that this wasn't a business visit, but a personal one. Otherwise, his grandfather would have taken the position of power in the chair behind the desk, with Nico in one of the visitor's chairs across from him. That was typically the dynamic when Nico visited his office.
"Would you like something to drink?" Nico asked, gesturing toward the sideboard. "I have water and juice, or I could ask Gloria to bring in coffee..."
"No, no, I'm fine," Leo waved the offer away. "I won't take up much of your time. But there is something I need to discuss with you."
"Oh?" Nico said politely, folding his long frame into one of the leather scoop chairs opposite the sofa.
Leopold Vann looked his grandson straight in the eye, his gaze direct and unwavering.
"Nico, my boy, I'm dying."