by Gail Hewitt
"I thought you might be ready for a real meal," he told her, putting down a multi-paged spreadsheet at which he'd been looking, "so welcome to the full Lake View Lodge breakfast." He began to remove covers. "I can recommend the cranberry-and-pecan pancakes. They only do them in December as part of their Christmas buffet, and they're my mother's favorite. And speaking of my mother, I've got a conference call with her and the firm's bankers at noon today that's supposed to go for at least an hour. She's thinking of buying that competitor who's about to hit the skids, and we're looking at the financials. So I have to opt out of lunch."
"That works," she told him. "I've had something come up that will take me a few minutes too. But I'll be through this afternoon by 4:30."
"Your room or mine?" he asked.
"Yours," she grinned. "The bed is bigger."
He leaned down and kissed her, a slow, easy kiss that made her tingle. Then he began to chew gently on her lower lip.
"Don't do that," she pleaded. "I'll never make that seminar."
"You don't have to," he whispered. "Let your assistant do it. If Holmes kicks up a fuss, tell him to screw himself. Better yet, let me tell him."
She pulled back, grinning but shaking her head. "I said I'd do it. I'm doing it."
"Okay," he told her, "finish this one, but turn in your notice. I've spoken to Mother, and she says she'll be glad to have you join the firm. And if you're worried about that situation with your mother and the house, she's pretty sure she can take care of that too. She just needs to talk to you and get some numbers."
"So the two of you have already started going over my financials," she said drily. "Efficient."
"Look," he said, realizing she hadn't taken the offer as he'd intended, "my mother and I are in business together, along with my brother and sister. We discuss money. That seems to bother you. I'm not sure why."
"It would have been nice if you'd asked me first before sharing with someone else what I told you in confidence."
"My mother is hardly 'someone else' – she's a very smart businesswoman who appreciates the fact that you're a very smart businesswoman who's been caught by circumstances beyond your control."
Maggie regretted at once that she'd reacted so negatively. "I'm sorry, Miles. I know you meant well. I'm just surprised. That's all."
"I'm sorry too. I should have asked you," he said. "Forget I said anything. Do whatever you have to do to wind up things with WHT and Bill Holmes, and see if anything you like better job-wise turns up. If not, let me know, and we'll work something out, assuming you feel you must work at all — it's certainly not a necessity from my point of view." He reached over and touched the finger that wore the solitaire. "As for the house and your mother, of course that's your business. All I'm telling you is that if you need any help, all you have to do is say so. Fair enough?"
"More than fair enough," she said. "Don't mind me today. I'm feeling grousy because I really don't want to leave this room. I'm starting to like this room."
This time they managed to keep their clothes on, but Maggie felt definitely flushed as she arrived for the seminar to find part of the class already in place and Kimberly testing the PowerPoint presentation.
"I thought I was going to have to give it," she whispered. "I'm glad you're here."
"But you could give it, right?" Maggie asked.
Kimberly shrugged. "Sure. It'd just be nice to be told in advance instead of realizing I'm going to have to do it as class starts."
"Agreed," Maggie told her. "Now, let's get this thing going." She kept up with the time even more carefully than usual and dismissed the class at 12:20, then spent another few minutes giving Kimberly an assignment to be done in the Lodge's library before the afternoon session began. She intended to have a completely empty room before the arrival of Tom and whichever staffer he brought along. She was not going to be caught out as she had been the day before when he'd walked in on her kissing Miles.
Tom was prompt. He arrived at precisely 12:40, accompanied only by the corporate-suited head of his security detail, who looked around, checked the windows and media room, then said he'd be waiting outside.
"I'm afraid the accommodations are on the spartan side," she told him, "but have a seat."
"Have you figured out what I've still got?" he asked her.
"My father's watch, I hope," she answered.
"Got it in one. All this time, I kept thinking I'd return it to you, but somehow or other I never did. I think at first it was a kind of good luck charm, something that proved we'd meet again. Later, the thought of just sending it back with a note seemed too cold, and later still just plain embarrassing."
He removed a package from the oversized briefcase he was carrying. Getting up, he walked over to where she was sitting and laid the package before her.
She opened the embossed box and removed a velvet wrapping. Inside was the watch. It was exactly as she remembered, with her grandfather's initials engraved on the back. She clicked the hinge, and the front cover opened. The face of a twelve-year-old girl stared up at her from inside the lid, her face not only more youthful than she could ever remember feeling but also disconcertingly happy. The watch part was running as it always had for her father.
"It looks like new," she told him. "Thanks for taking such good care of it."
"I kept it cleaned and before I brought it back I had it reconditioned by a jeweler who specializes in collector pocket watches," he said as he returned to his seat.
"Thank you," she repeated, rubbing its cool, smooth surface lightly with her fingers. "I appreciate it."
"Do you remember when you gave it to me?" he asked her.
"Christmas," she said promptly. "The one Christmas we spent together. You'd told me how much you liked my father's columns, and I was totally convinced that we were destined to spend our lives together and I felt so sorry for you not ever having a really good Christmas. That's why I decided to give it to you. I thought he would have liked you." She looked up at him. "I still do. I know he'd find what you've accomplished with your life totally impressive."
"It's ironic our being together just before Christmas," he said. "It's the time of year when I always think of you and what you did."
"Giving you the watch?"
"No. Well, that partly, but not mostly. What I think of is coming in from the library Christmas Eve – I remember it was cold and raining – and finding that you'd decorated that dump I lived in with the garland and the little Christmas tree. You even had candles and holly on the table, and the smell of that dinner you were cooking was better than anything I'd ever known. Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before. I was totally blown away. And when you told me you'd been able to arrange to spend the night, well it was the first time you'd done that. It made the whole thing perfect. Then all the presents on top of that were just frosting on the cake."
Maggie realized she was blushing. "I remember that it was fun putting it together," she told him. "It's good to know that you remember it so fondly. I always thought you thought I was just silly. I mean given what happened just a few days later, or at least what I thought happened . . . "
"I was an unmitigated idiot," he said dispassionately. "We were idiots."
"Probably," she murmured, letting her gaze return to the watch, which her fingers would not stop caressing. "But that was then, and then was a long time ago."
"And we both have other interests now," he said.
"That we do," she agreed, looking up and smiling. "Jameson Halbrooks was very secretive, but I take it you're into something that's both new and big. It sounds exciting."
"It is," he said, "This has been pretty much need-to-know. I haven't discussed it with too many people, certainly with no one who isn't directly involved, but I think I'd like to tell you about it — if you've got time and want to hear it."
"Sure," she said. "Class resumes at two, so we've got an hour."
"I don't know how much you remember of what I told you about my background
," he began . . .
"Alcoholic father, uninterested mother, everybody assuming you were no more than a jock, spending high school and your first year in college having fun. Then your brother was killed in Vietnam and you left school and volunteered. You were almost killed the first year, and they invalided you out just as the war was ending."
She paused and looked at him for verification that the account was correct. When he nodded, she continued. "As soon as you were able, you went to work bossing crews on utility construction projects around Georgia, and your boss got you into Georgia Tech, where you discovered computer science when most people thought it was science fiction." She rattled off the data, then stopped and blushed again. "I had no idea I remembered all that. I guess it's just seeing you here. Anyway, did I get it right?"
"More or less," he told her. "I was a hick kid from a hick town, who didn't know anything about anything and was just lucky enough to meet some people who did and who started me on my way."
"You weren't lucky," Maggie protested. "You were smart, and you worked hard."
"Yeah, but I encountered the right people, and that was pure luck," Tom told her. "Most kids like I was don't have that kind of luck, no matter how smart they are or how hard they work. The few who do, like me, go off somewhere else to make their way and never return home, not really. "
"Why would they? Most small towns don't offer much opportunity," Maggie pointed out.
"Exactly." Tom said, "so the most-talented young people by and large leave the area permanently. If they become successful, they may sponsor something local that they consider worthwhile, but very few people have the knowledge or the incentive to establish an infrastructure that would give young people from economically disadvantaged areas a chance of either succeeding for themselves or making any sort of lasting contribution to their communities. Also, the problems that keep the community at or below poverty level in terms of both money and mind power are so systemic that the only time they get tackled is when some political party or big industry can derive an economic advantage."
"I guess that's true," Maggie agreed. "I take it you plan on doing something about it. So is altruism going to be your next stage?"
"I'm not a very altruistic guy," he laughed. "I'm more of a pragmatist. I've seen what happens when people of means with good intentions throw money at a problem but not their involvement."
"An exercise in money grab on the part of the quick of hand and fleet of foot," she laughed. "It happens in the corporate world too."
"I've also seen what happens when people of intellectual ability but not enough financial resource bury an issue in ideas that no one can afford to implement," he continued.
"Talk is cheap," she pointed out. "If you can't afford to do anything anyway, no matter how practical, then why not grab at the moon, even if what's needed is next door?"
"My point, exactly," he told her. "But the problem with trying to set up a sustainable program goes deeper than that. Way too many endeavors founder because nobody is keeping any sort of comprehensive handle on the whole thing. I want to do something different. I want a solution that's both workable and visionary. And I want to be able at every step to synthesize all the data that's generated and use that data to build in triggers capable of suggesting project management paths that maximize available resource."
"You're talking about applying artificial intelligence to the problem? I'm impressed."
"AI ultimately," he said, "but first we have to get enough on-the-ground data to feed a deep database. Which is where TTI comes in."
He began to rummage through his briefcase, a large one that was similar to those country doctors used to carry. "There's a damned binder about it in here somewhere." He found what he was looking for and pushed across to her a large and grommeted volume fat with pages. "My basic concept is called Talent Times Initiative – or TTI. It focuses on a nine-county area in northern Georgia, and involves the discovery and development of local talent that will work in teams to solve problems specific to the area. You see, the current way of discovering and developing local talent rarely helps the local community. Look at this," he opened the binder to the first page, which was full of boxes with arrows that all converged on a handful of bigger boxes, from which other arrows went in different directions.
Maggie pulled the binder over to her and looked at the graphic, which obviously meant something to Tom but made no sense to her.
"This is a visual representation of what typically happens to local talent," Tom told her, pointing at the boxes and arrows. "The first row of boxes represents local high schools. Now, when they spot gifted students, they test them and enter them for college scholarships."
"Well," Maggie pointed out, "that is logical."
"True," Tom conceded, "but think about the chain of events that approach sets off. The college is usually located somewhere else. This takes the students away from whatever support structure their homes offer — which may not be much to begin with. Many of these kids don't come from homes where they're encouraged to study or do much in school. I know I didn't. If I hadn't gone to 'Nam and had help later, I'd probably have dropped out of college, because at that age I couldn't see much point in it when I could be out making money."
"It's hard to look past today when you're a kid," Maggie agreed.
"As for the ones who do stick it," Tom continued, "who stay in college to get a degree, most of them are bright enough that they're offered jobs in other areas where the pay is better and the choice of work is wider."
"Well, you can't blame the ones who have choices for going after more money and more-interesting work," Maggie said.
"I don't blame them. I blame the community for not offering them a way to use their talent at home that makes economic sense. Because there is no local job alternative that seems realistic to them, these kids who actually know about the circumstances they've escaped from scatter to the winds. When they arrive at their new locations, their goal is usually to become assimilated as quickly as possible."
"Making them exactly like the rest of us," Maggie murmured. "When I first moved to New York, I know I worked at fitting in, and I was an adult."
"Same for me when I first went west," he nodded. "It's a human need. Anyway, once these kids are established somewhere else, the only time most of them bring their education and ability home is when they visit their families at holidays. Those who do go home to work usually end up teaching. Which sounds good, but almost always turns out to be more limiting than they expected because they immediately get buried in the bureaucracy and paperwork that's passed for education in the last twenty years."
"I have several friends who've left teaching for that reason," Maggie said. "They get so frustrated, they totally turn off."
"So at every step," Tom continued, "there's a lost opportunity. For the students, for their parents, for their teachers, and — most of all — for their communities. And the tragedy is that nobody seems aware of what that loss costs everyone because no one keeps track properly of what's being done, much less of alternative scenarios that could produce a better result."
He paused and looked at her to make sure she was following him.
"It's a huge problem," she agreed. "Several problems, in fact. What works best for the students individually may work against the community. What works best for the teachers may not be what the school system wants. Certainly no one I've heard discuss it seems to have the solution."
"See," he said eagerly, "you've just touched on part of the problem. This is a community issue and a family issue and a student issue, not just a school system issue. Until we simultaneously focus all those constituencies, there can't be a solution."
"Do you have the solution?" she asked, made curious by his enthusiasm. Was Tom about to take on education?
"Well, I don't claim to have the solution," he told her, "but I have gotten together with several people who are experts in their fields and devised a solution that I think is worth trying. I'm so confident t
hat I've established a foundation and endowed it with half the money I made from selling my company."
He stopped and looked at her intently. "So, what do you think? Do you like the sound of it?"
"I'm impressed," she told him, adding sincerely, "I think what you want to do sounds wonderful."
He smiled and relaxed. "I'm glad to hear you say that. The key to what we're doing is putting the right people in the right place at the right time. This isn't a star-and-supporting company kind of situation. This is one of those times when it needs to be a team of equals, each bringing something unique and inspired to the table."
"It's incredible. I wish you the best of luck."
He coughed and looked embarrassed. "Promise me you won't get mad, but you know that my Security Chief checked you out?"
"I wasn't exactly thrilled when he let that slip yesterday," she told him. "Of course, in your position, you have to be careful. I mean, I could have become a dangerous person in the years since we met or, worse, an unsuitable one. I mean, I might have grown horns or something."
"Well, I had to know where you were in order to decide how to approach you," he said defensively. "I didn't just want to call you up at work out of the blue. It's impossible for me, or anybody representing me, to make even a simple call without attracting all kinds of speculation right now, and we're trying to keep TTI relatively under wraps. I don't want it second guessed to death before we get closer to launch. Anyway, this whole step program Halbrooks designed for me is hard to explain, and I wasn't sure how you'd react, given the old situation between us, at least what I thought was the old situation . . ."
He allowed himself a moment of slight embarrassment, whether at his dependence on Halbrooks or the possibility of his causing her discomfort she couldn't tell. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I understand," Maggie said. "I don't like the fact that you vetted me without my knowledge, but I see the need for it, given what you were trying to do."