“That sounds perfect.” I find a pen in the drawer of my nightstand and start taking notes. “Does he have a spot in mind for his next center?”
“Romania. He’s also got ties to the Pacific Northwest.”
“Where in Romania?”
“Brosteni.”
“You’re joking.” I pause with my pen poised over the page. “That’s Cherry Blossom Lake’s sister city. It’s where my mother was born.”
“Huh.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “The guy’s willing to hop on a video call this afternoon. Seemed excited that Spencer Holdings has money to invest in children’s charity work overseas.”
“I’d love to connect.” I jot down the info he gives me, including the man’s name—Easton Wherclift—and all his contact details.
“Ever heard of him?” Noah asks.
“Maybe.” To be honest, all these do-gooder types blend together sometimes. “Thank you for this, Noah. I needed some happy news.”
“No problem.” He disconnects before I can say anything else.
Setting my phone on the nightstand, I turn to my cat. “That was either really weird or really serendipitous.”
Squash gives a soft little blurt.
“I’m going with serendipity, too.” Heaving myself off the bed, I pad to the bathroom and shower. Then I hop online and spend the next couple hours researching Easton Wherclift.
He’s done some impressive work and not just building foster care centers. He founded a food bank in West Africa and started a co-op in Guatemala to teach villagers sustainable farming practices. Most of his work has been in Eastern Europe, with a heavy focus on orphaned children.
In other words, he’s exactly the sort of guy I’ve been looking for. The perfect person to potentially lead Spencer Holdings’ next big charitable endeavor.
When the time of our call rolls around, I set up my laptop in my home office. I’ve got a list of prepared questions and a spreadsheet of numbers and data. Connecting to the video app, I sit up straight in my chair.
Easton Wherclift answers, and it takes him a moment to appear on screen. He’s got thick salt and pepper hair and sparkling blue eyes.
“Hello?” He adjusts the mic on the collar of his shirt. The azure linen matches his eyes so perfectly it can’t be an accident. “Can you hear me?”
“Mr. Wherclift.” I wave to the camera, and my image must flicker to life on his screen since he waves back.
“Hello there. Greetings!” He’s got a smile made for TV and cheekbones to die for. “Call me Easton, please.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Easton. I’m Hazel Spencer of Spencer Holdings.”
“I’m glad we could make this work on short notice.” He adjusts his camera, which must be equipped with a ring light, since he’s bathed in a perfect golden glow. “Can you see me okay? I want to make sure I’m set up properly if you’re recording.”
“I’m not recording.” Should I be?
“No problem.” He beams, and I notice the coppery flecks in his eyes. “If we need to reenact our first meeting for a film crew later, we can make that happen.”
“Oh—okay.” I wasn’t aware that’s a thing. “I’ve been reading up on your background. You’ve done some impressive work around child welfare. Your nomination for the D.B. Gomez Humanitarian Award two years ago was?—”
“I’m sorry, should we wait for the rest of the Spencer Holdings board?”
“Uh, no. It’s just me.” I rest a hand on my belly as one of the twins socks me in the ribs. “Thought we could get to know each other a bit.”
“Right, right.” He sounds oddly impatient but covers it fast with a chuckle. “Looks like you’re expecting. Aren’t children a blessing?”
“Absolutely.” My blessing chooses that moment to deliver a kick to my bladder. “I’m having twins, actually. Due in?—”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer—could we hurry this along? I have to catch a flight to Warsaw for a ribbon cutting there. I don’t mind rescheduling this for when the decisionmakers can join us.”
