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Authors: Ransom Stephens
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high-fived Ringo with his left. Then he said, “We will live up to your expectations. What are the strings?”
During the meeting at Sand Hill Ventures, Farley’s eyes had been shards of blue ice, so clear that Gloria believed she could see the calculations scrolling across his mind. Now, in the warmth of friends and home, they’d returned to that rich ocean blue. Through her VC career, Gloria had balanced her clients’ egos against romantic conflicts of interest by feigning ignorance of their flirtations—which, coming from engineers, tended to lack sophistication. Her first instinct was to insist that this approach would work now, too. But then something came to mind that caused her to pull her eyes away from Farley’s, a fleeting thought that she wanted to embrace.
She looked down and took a few seconds. She had spent a lot of time with Farley in the last few weeks. There had been ample opportunity to flirt, and she might have been guilty of it, but Farley wasn’t. She looked back up. He was still watching her, his face square and open, anticipating her analysis and advice. This iswhen that fleeting thought crystallized: Farley’s open admiration and respect might convey attraction, but he had never flirted.
Gloria had come to Santa Cruz early that morning. Farley had been waiting for her, reading a zoology journal on the porch. She’d expected him to zero in on the terms as every other would-be entrepreneur had. Instead he gave her a friendly hug and then walked her around the porch to watch the sun burn away the morning fog. Seagulls cried, cars drove by, and waves crashed. She saw Chopper down on the bluff smoking.
As the blue sky emerged, Farley told her about his grandfather. “He was the only parent I ever knew—my folks died when I was six, and Grandma died before I was born. He taught me how to sail and told me that once I had that, I could wing the rest. They called him Captain—the other fishermen, his girlfriends, even the mayor, and me, too. I always called him Captain.
“When I stand here, right here between the ocean and land, I get this feeling, sort of spiritual, a primordial understanding of how it all fits together.” She looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “No, listen, it’s more than a metaphor: the Captain told me that this ecosystem we call Earth is an ongoing act of affection that brings about life. Picture planet Earth. This great blue-and-green sphere. Envision how water surrounds the land. How the ocean in all its forms—rivers, lakes, and streams—caresses Earth, and how Earth provides nutrients and matter to the sea. Have you ever seen how beaches erode in winter and recover in spring? Winter storms wash the sand from the beaches into the depths. Those same storms put snow on the mountains and rain in lakes and then, in spring, it all washes out to sea, taking along sand and dirt and organic matter. The sand reaccumulates on the beaches and the nutrition feeds the oceans.”
His unkempt beard framed his smile.
She looked out from the deck over Monterey Bay, along the cliffs and beaches far below.
“The Captain, my grandfather, I think he took it literally; he used to say that life is the offspring of Mother Earth and Father Sea. He told me that raindrops are ocean kisses, that hurricanes and thunderstorms express their passion, and that the fog—well, the fog is a gentle embrace.”
He shrugged, and she thought he looked almost embarrassed.
“Do you believe it?” she asked.
“What’s not to believe? Earth and Sea generate life; how we interpret their interaction is up to us. I might not take it as literally as the Captain did, but yes, I think there is room in the ecosystem for love.”
Then he led her inside and called Ringo and Chopper to the office.
The four of them now stood in the southwest corner of the house. The office included a windowed octagonal tower that jutted straight up over the bluff like a lighthouse.
“The schedule is reduced
During the meeting at Sand Hill Ventures, Farley’s eyes had been shards of blue ice, so clear that Gloria believed she could see the calculations scrolling across his mind. Now, in the warmth of friends and home, they’d returned to that rich ocean blue. Through her VC career, Gloria had balanced her clients’ egos against romantic conflicts of interest by feigning ignorance of their flirtations—which, coming from engineers, tended to lack sophistication. Her first instinct was to insist that this approach would work now, too. But then something came to mind that caused her to pull her eyes away from Farley’s, a fleeting thought that she wanted to embrace.
She looked down and took a few seconds. She had spent a lot of time with Farley in the last few weeks. There had been ample opportunity to flirt, and she might have been guilty of it, but Farley wasn’t. She looked back up. He was still watching her, his face square and open, anticipating her analysis and advice. This iswhen that fleeting thought crystallized: Farley’s open admiration and respect might convey attraction, but he had never flirted.
Gloria had come to Santa Cruz early that morning. Farley had been waiting for her, reading a zoology journal on the porch. She’d expected him to zero in on the terms as every other would-be entrepreneur had. Instead he gave her a friendly hug and then walked her around the porch to watch the sun burn away the morning fog. Seagulls cried, cars drove by, and waves crashed. She saw Chopper down on the bluff smoking.
As the blue sky emerged, Farley told her about his grandfather. “He was the only parent I ever knew—my folks died when I was six, and Grandma died before I was born. He taught me how to sail and told me that once I had that, I could wing the rest. They called him Captain—the other fishermen, his girlfriends, even the mayor, and me, too. I always called him Captain.
“When I stand here, right here between the ocean and land, I get this feeling, sort of spiritual, a primordial understanding of how it all fits together.” She looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “No, listen, it’s more than a metaphor: the Captain told me that this ecosystem we call Earth is an ongoing act of affection that brings about life. Picture planet Earth. This great blue-and-green sphere. Envision how water surrounds the land. How the ocean in all its forms—rivers, lakes, and streams—caresses Earth, and how Earth provides nutrients and matter to the sea. Have you ever seen how beaches erode in winter and recover in spring? Winter storms wash the sand from the beaches into the depths. Those same storms put snow on the mountains and rain in lakes and then, in spring, it all washes out to sea, taking along sand and dirt and organic matter. The sand reaccumulates on the beaches and the nutrition feeds the oceans.”
His unkempt beard framed his smile.
She looked out from the deck over Monterey Bay, along the cliffs and beaches far below.
“The Captain, my grandfather, I think he took it literally; he used to say that life is the offspring of Mother Earth and Father Sea. He told me that raindrops are ocean kisses, that hurricanes and thunderstorms express their passion, and that the fog—well, the fog is a gentle embrace.”
He shrugged, and she thought he looked almost embarrassed.
“Do you believe it?” she asked.
“What’s not to believe? Earth and Sea generate life; how we interpret their interaction is up to us. I might not take it as literally as the Captain did, but yes, I think there is room in the ecosystem for love.”
Then he led her inside and called Ringo and Chopper to the office.
The four of them now stood in the southwest corner of the house. The office included a windowed octagonal tower that jutted straight up over the bluff like a lighthouse.
“The schedule is reduced
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