Page 85 of Glass Spinner

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“Whoever submitted that patent,” Edith said, “had total access and it had to be someone who understood your design and your habits. You should consider who’s had access to your lab in the past few months.”

Kathleen nodded slowly. “I honestly don’t know anyone who would do something like this.”

Edith gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let me help however I can. You’re not alone in this, Kathleen. Whoever they are, they will have to make themselves known eventually.” She looked at her anxiously. “You are going to fight this, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” said Kathleen. “I’m going to lodge my objection immediately. I’ve…a friend who’s going to help me.”

“Good. I will write a testimonial for you, saying I believe you are the only one who could have invented this. My opinion will carry weight.”

Kathleen smiled at her, believing her now. Edith was right. Whoever was behind the patent claim couldn’t stay hidden. With Veronica and Edith by her side to support her, Kathleen was going to fight this tooth and nail.

Kathleen arrived at her parents’ home before dusk.

Their house sat neatly back from the road, framed by hedges and flowerbeds Rhonda tended religiously. As she walked up the path, a familiar pang of anxiety threaded through her chest. No matter how old she got, there was always something daunting about returning home after a seismic shift in her life.

Her mother opened the door before Kathleen could knock. “Sweetheart!” Rhonda pulled her into a hug, warm and scented with lavender and vanilla. “You’re here. Your father’s still arguing with the television, but I’ve told him you’re coming. Come in, come in.”

The house smelled like roast chicken and rosemary. The comfort of it made Kathleen’s throat tighten.

“I saw the article in the paper,” Rhonda said as they walked through to the kitchen. “I printed it. It’s on the fridge.”

Kathleen laughed. “You didn’t.”

“I absolutely did. My daughter, inThe New York Times. You think I wasn’t going to laminate that?”

Her father, John, rose from his armchair as she stepped into the lounge room. “There she is,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Come here, girl.”

Kathleen stepped into his arms, hugging him tightly. He didn’t say much, just held her, and gave her a quiet pat on the back.

They sat in the lounge having pre-dinner drinks while Kathleen explained her research in layman terms. She described how the plants worked, the energy they stored and the potential for the future they held. Her parents listened, wide-eyed and beaming.

“That’s astonishing,” John said. “And to think we used to worry when you wouldn’t talk to anyone in preschool.”

“Dad,” she said, half-laughing, half-mortified.

“No, I mean it,” he said. “You were always bright, but you needed space and time. Now look at you.”

Rhonda reached across the table and covered Kathleen’s hand with hers. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart.”

Kathleen looked down at their hands, and for a moment she couldn’t speak.

When she finally did, her voice was quieter. “There’s been a complication. Someone submitted a patent using my data. Before I could.”

Her parents looked at each other, then back at her.

“But it’s your work,” Rhonda said. “Surely that’s easy to prove?”

“It should be,” Kathleen said. “Though I have to prove it. I’ve got people behind me. I only wanted you to know... in case things get messy.”

John’s voice was steady. “We’ve got your back, Kath. Whatever happens.”

She smiled at him gratefully.

Rhonda stood up. "Come on, I’’ll serve dinner. You look like you haven’t eaten in days."

"I have," Kathleen said, following her into the kitchen. "Sort of."