He smiled but didn’t elaborate.
As the plane began its descent, Rachel felt a strange sense of sadness.
“I guess this is goodbye,” she said.
“Actually,” James replied, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket, “I was hoping to give you this.”
He handed her a cream-colored business card.
James Whitmore
CEO, Whitmore Industries
Rachel stared at it.
She had heard of Whitmore Industries. They supported education programs, housing projects for single mothers, and job training initiatives.
“Are you that James Whitmore?” she whispered.
“Guilty,” he said lightly. “I didn’t mention it earlier because I wanted a normal conversation.”
—Why didn’t you tell me?
—Because you needed help from James the person, not James the CEO.
The plane touched down.
“This isn’t charity,” he added quietly. “It’s an opportunity. If you ever need anything.”
Rachel held the card tightly as she stepped off the plane, unsure whether what had just happened was real hope or simply an illusion.
Chicago’s airport buzzed with early morning travelers as Rachel pulled her small travel bag from the overhead compartment. The zipper caught halfway, forcing her to struggle with it while balancing Sophia on her hip.
James stood beside her, holding the baby while she fought with the bag.
“Let me help,” he offered.
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