As they pulled into the driveway of his grandparents' house, Judith parked the car, and they walked up to the front door, ringing the bell.
"Ah, you came!" Sheldon said, opening the door with a warm smile on his face.
After quick pleasantries in the foyer, Sheldon immediately brought Jake back to his home office. Once the door was closed, Jake pulled out a meticulously drawn set of blueprints from his backpack, laying out the schematics for Heat-Pipe Direct Touch (HDT) technology.
While the general concept of heat pipes had existed since the 1940s, specific structural implementations for direct touch in PC coolers were fiercely protected by patents. Jake had reached into Argus' future knowledge and drafted the most optimal, highly efficient designs he saw.
Sheldon adjusted his glasses, thoroughly impressed as he looked over the technical drawings. He explained to Jake that he would help him file a Provisional Application for Patent, though it would take quite a while before it was fully approved and registered.
Why was Jake asking for help from his grandfather and not Evelyn? The reason was entirely strategic. Evelyn was the proxy for his 'shadow empire'; the Hera Group.
But Jake needed these specific PC cooler patents filed strictly under his own name. His long-term plan was to gain early acceptance into Caltech, and he knew that Caltech didn't just accept any student with a perfect 4.0 GPA.
The admissions board was specifically searching for intensely curious students with a proven, extraordinary aptitude for STEM. These patents were just the foundational stones to ensure his acceptance letter was guaranteed.
With the legal business out of the way, Jake and Sheldon settled into the leather armchairs and started discussing philosophy, a topic they had both recently bonded over.
In his past life, Jake had been a strict STEM elitist, frequently disregarding social studies and the humanities as soft sciences.
However, since reincarnating, his perspective had shifted, and he had developed a genuine interest in more philosophical frameworks.
Since his grandfather was essentially a lay expert in the subject, Sheldon happily spent most of their time explaining complex concepts to Jake. It undoubtedly made Jake his favorite grandson, although, considering Sheldon only had two grandsons, there wasn't exactly much competition.
"Dinner's ready," Lenore's voice called out as she opened the office door.
Lenore had baked sea bass. While Jake didn't particularly care for fish in his past life, his current ten-year-old palate actually quite liked it.
However, the dinner itself did not go down nearly as smoothly as the food. Barely ten minutes into the meal, Lenore started making pointed, snide comments about Judith's recent divorce until she couldn't take it anymore.
"I spoke to Alan on the phone the other day," Lenore remarked casually, cutting into her fish. "He sounded so utterly lost. He really is such a stable, dependable provider, Judith. It really is a shame you're always so quick to throw perfectly good things away."
Judith dropped her fork onto her plate with a sharp clatter. "Oh, please. Would it kill you to take my side for once in your life?"
"Now, Judith," Sheldon jumped in defensively, holding up a hand. "Your mother isn't attacking you. She's just pointing out the practical realities of adult relationships."
Judith's eyes widened, her frustration already boiling over, exploded. "You two never take my side! You never support my happiness! Just like how you didn't buy me that pony when I was twelve!"
Sheldon blinked, genuinely confused by his daughter's sudden, decades-old grievance. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Judith took a deep breath, deciding to burn the entire bridge at once. "And I think I'm a lesbian."
Sheldon froze. "Oh."
Lenore gasped, instantly covering her mouth with her hand, staring at her daughter in absolute horror.
No one said anything for a long minute. The only sound in the dining room was the distant hum of the refrigerator. They all awkwardly returned to eating their dinner in a suffocating, heavy silence.
Jake chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and looked across the table. "Did you use tarragon in the glaze, Grandma?"
Lenore blinked, still completely dazed by her daughter's coming out. "No..." she whispered faintly.
"Well, it's really good," Jake said brightly, acting as if the atmosphere in the room was completely normal.
After finishing the rest of the dinner in complete, unbroken silence, Jake and Judith quickly said their goodbyes and left.
They drove down the dark suburban streets for half the ride before anyone spoke.
"Was that too much?" Judith finally asked, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"Eh... a smidge," Jake answered honestly. "Bringing up the pony was a bit much. But you stood up to them, and that's good."
Judith let out a slow, exhaling breath, relaxing her grip on the wheel. "It is good, isn't it?" She echoed his words, finally finding a sliver of real comfort.
...
On the weekend, Alan had decided to take Jake to hunt.
Alan had spent the drive up to the San Gabriel Mountains explaining the "sacred bond" between a father, a son, and the wilderness.
By noon, the California heat was oppressive. Alan was crouched in the brush, sweating through a camouflage jacket that still had the $89.99 sticker on the inside of the collar. He was deathly still, except for his heavy, nervous breathing.
"Shh," Alan hissed, holding up a hand. "Did you hear that, Jake? That snap? That was the sound of a predator moving through the undergrowth."
Jake, didn't move. He was leaning against a tree, his small frame draped in an oversized safety vest.
"That was a dry branch falling, Dad," Jake said "The wind is coming from the north. Anything within a mile already knows we're here because you're wearing enough pine-scented spray to be visible from space."
Alan blinked, looking back at his son. "I'm just... I'm setting the stage, Jake. It's about the atmosphere."
After three more hours of silence, Jake finally cracked. "Dad, I saw a Hooters five miles back near the highway. Do you want to just go?"
Alan looked at his sweat-soaked camo, then back toward the air-conditioned promise of the 210 freeway.
"Let's move out, son," Alan said, already walking toward the car.