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“Wow, I’m flattered.” She didn’t sound like she was though. I made note of it—many women were easily impressed with the trappings of my luxury lifestyle, and I liked that she wasn’t automatically as predictable. It gave her an edge, though I doubted she realized it.
“We agreed to an all-access interview, so I’m doing my best to hold up my end of the bargain,” I said.
She gave a curt nod. “Thank you.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yep.”
“Found everything you needed?”
“Sure did.”
“Did the coffee maker work? Had it fixed last week.”
I knew I sounded stilted, but I was searching for questions and comments, searching for reasons to keep the conversation going. Her reply was another nod.
“And I assume you’re already recording this,” I said.
“Yep, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to place my phone on the console. It will pick your voice up better.” She sifted through the bag on the car floor by her feet, took out her phone, and placed it in the nearby cupholder. “There we go.”
“From now on, I’m not going to ask. I’ll assume you’re on the clock no matter what.”
“Good idea.” She took a pair of aviator sunglasses from a case also inside the tote bag and put them on, the silver working against her pale complexion and high cheekbones. “So, where are we headed?”
“You’ll see.”
I wove the car through traffic, across the northern bridge, and into West Palm Beach. It was a gorgeous day without a cloud in the sky, sunny and bright, a reminder of why I liked South Florida so much. As I drove, Rebecca made small talk, asking mostly about my expectations for the opening and what I saw as the future of Sparks Innovation. I came up with a few more sanitized answers about how I wanted Sparks Innovation to be a hub for projects that could further humanity and improve our quality of life. These were all things she could have gleaned from a website or press release, but if my terse, short answers bothered her, she didn’t show it.
“Okay, prepare to see something I haven’t shown anyone.” I turned onto a crumbling country road several miles past the airport. “Well, not anyone outside of a small team.”
“I’m prepared. All eyes. And ears.”
“Good.”
I drove the car another quarter mile, and when a large, barbed wire-topped fence came into view, I pointed at it. “See the construction site over there?”
“Can’t miss it.”
My chest swelled with pride. “Impressive, huh?”
“I guess. I mean...yes. But what is it?”
“This is going to be the largest food bank in Palm Beach County, and if we really wanted to, all South Florida. Once it’s built, we’ll be able to feed up to a hundred thousand people a month.”
“A month?” She turned to me, a small frown knitting her brows together. “Thatmany?”
“Yep.”
“Simply incredible.”
She sounded shocked, and that didn’t surprise me at all. It was an ambitious, almost crazy endeavor, but one I knew could be achieved. Growing up in the foster care system had given me an up-close and personal look at the reality of food insecurity, and this was my way of fighting it. No matter how ambitious the endeavor seemed, I was going to achieve it.
“This might be the richest county in the state, but the disparity here is also some of the most extreme,” I added. “A lot of people need help, more than some people around here would like to admit.”
“But you’re one to admit it.”
“Yes.” I stiffened, bracing for a question about my childhood. To my surprise, one didn’t come.
