The foundation would work directly with single parent households, not with a broad programmatic approach, not with the kind of institutional charity that creates a buffer between the money and the person who needs it, but directly mentorship, financial literacy, access to capital for small business development, and educational support for the children of single parents at every income level. He had written the mission statement himself at his kitchen table. In the same chair where he had read the acquisition confirmation and the same chair where Maya had told him, "The eyes always tell you." The mission statement was three sentences. It said, "Every parent who is raising a child alone is already doing something extraordinary." This foundation exists to make sure that extraordinary effort is matched with extraordinary support. We believe the children of this country deserve to see their parents succeed and we are prepared to help make that possible.
He showed it to Maya. She read it twice. She handed it back. It sounds like you, she said. Is that good?
She looked at him with the specific patience of a 10-year-old who finds this question unnecessary. "It's the best thing it could sound like," she said. The first board meeting of the Brooks Family Initiative was held on a Tuesday morning in a conference room on the 19th floor of Caldwell Horizon Corporation that Victoria had offered at no cost for as long as the foundation needed it. Seven people around the table. Damian, his attorney, an education specialist he had worked with twice before, a financial literacy expert who had spent 20 years in community banking.
Marcus Hill and two single parents from different parts of the city who had been identified through a network of community organizations as people who understood both what the foundation needed to accomplish and what it would actually encounter in the real world. The eighth person at the table was Edward Walsh, 82 years old now, and slower than he'd been, and using a cane he handled with the specific dignified irritation of a man who has not made peace with needing it. But his mind was precisely what it had always been, sharp, direct, incapable of accepting anything less than the honest answer to the real question. He had flown in from Atlanta. Damian had met him at the airport.
In the car, Edward had said nothing about the acquisition, nothing about the lobby, nothing about Adrien Cole or the federal case or the 17,000 employees or the interview that had run in three languages in six countries. He had asked about Maya. He had asked whether Damian was sleeping enough. He had asked whether the coffee in the conference room was going to be drinkable. When they arrived, Damen held the door.
Edward walked through and looked around the room, the table, the people waiting, the foundations materials stacked neatly at each seat, and then he looked at Damian with the expression of a man who is measuring something he has been watching develop for a very long time. Not bad, Edward said, which from Edward Walsh was the equivalent of a standing ovation. The meeting lasted 3 hours. At the end of it, the foundation's initial grant structure was set. The pilot mentorship program was approved and the first cohort of 50 families had been selected through the community organization network that had been building its referral list for 6 weeks in anticipation of this moment.
After the board members left, Damian and Edward sat at the table. Edward poured himself coffee from the karafh that had been left behind. He took a sip. He made a face. Terrible, he said.
I know, Damian said. I'll fix it. Edward set the cup down and looked at him. Tell me something, Edward said. Anything.