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“Where did Kane buy a house?” I hated that I was so curious about him. But how could I not be?
Auggie glanced over at me, a smile in his hazel eyes. “The Virginia-Highland neighborhood.”
That’s where Kane had grown up. He used to speak often of how much he’d loved his childhood home set in one of Atlanta’s historic districts. Of the projects he used to work on with his dad, like building retaining walls in the backyard or laying the hardwood floors. Kane treasured those memories with his father. It made sense he would want the same legacy to pass down to his own children. The thought of him having a family—a family that wasn’t mine—made my stomach clench. I wanted to literally shake him for what he had stolen from me, from us. Not only had he permanently altered my heart, he’d stolen a million possibilities, all wonderful and sweet.
“Oh. And how long is he staying with you?” Please don’t let it be long. My heart couldn’t take much more.
Auggie shrugged. “As long as he needs to, I suppose.”
“Why is he staying with you?” That was the better question.
Auggie cleared his throat. “I owe him.”
Owe him for what? I was going to ask exactly that, but Auggie headed me off at the pass. “I brought you out here because this is where Armstrong Labs all started.” Why was he avoiding talking about Kane? And did he sound sentimental? There was definite weirdness going on. NASA needed to check this out stat. Either that, or he was dying. I couldn’t stand that thought.
“I thought you were going to teach me how to play golf.” I didn’t have the courage to ask him if he was dying.
“We’ll get to that.” He stopped the cart and wistfully looked over the beautiful course, with its deep-green grass manicured to perfection, and large leafy trees that looked as if their leaves were dancing in the light breeze. “Thirty-five years ago, I met with Andy Newell on this very course. I thought we were going to discuss real estate. Your grandfather wanted to buy property to build another donation center.”
My father’s father, who had died when I was very young, so young I didn’t remember him, had owned several plasma donation centers in the Southeast. It was how my father got started in the business.
“He told me,” my father continued, “that I was being shortsighted. He said anyone can collect plasma, but to be a real player, research and development was where it was at. Why not do it all, he said.”
I had to disagree that anyone could or should collect plasma. There were processes and strict protocols that should be adhered to. It wasn’t as cut-and-dry as people might think. But I got the sentiment.
“At first, I thought he was crazy. I knew how to run a business. I knew very little about R&D. But I learned and got connected with the right people and players.” His hazel eyes bored into mine. “Scarlett, this is why I have every confidence you can take over for me. You’re driven and intelligent. You don’t know everything now, and I know you think you’re underqualified, but once upon a time, so was I. You’ll learn.”
Would I? I couldn’t even write a mission or vision statement. And sure, I could analyze all the numbers, but I was having a hard time translating them into what they meant for market share and forecasting for the future. “I’ll do my best,” my voice shook.
He nodded, satisfied, before he started to take off again.
“What was your vision when you started Armstrong Labs?” Maybe if I knew that I could expand upon it. Go back to our roots.
He glanced my way. “First to conquer the world, then save it.”
“Is that all?”
He chuckled. So not like him. “I accomplished the first; it’s up to you now to save the world.”
“Save the world?” I swallowed hard.
“I have no doubt you will.” He said it with such conviction, I almost believed it.
It did, though, give me an idea for the company’s mission statement. Armstrong Labs: Saving the world one plasma donation at a time. Maybe that was a little dramatic. Perhaps something more like, Armstrong Labs: Bettering humankind one plasma donation at a time. It was a start, at least. And I was passionate about helping people—as passionate as I was about forensic pathology. Over the years, I had learned the importance of giving patients an accurate diagnosis, even when many times it meant devastating news. That accurate diagnosis meant proper treatment and an increase in positive outcomes. What we did at Armstrong Labs helped with both diagnosis and treatment and could help save lives. That was important. That would be my goal—lose my life to save others. It sounded like a fair trade. Even a noble one.
