His side eye meets mine. “You’d be right. The money you brought in for us finally put us over the mark to upgrade our CT technology.”
“It’s not me, Mr. Whitley. It’s everyone. You all, the people at Hawkley. It’s a team effort, truly.”
Mr. Whitley says nothing as he motions for me to go on ahead.
After meandering several twists and turns through the hospital, he finally speaks again. “Do you know what else the money you’ve raised for us has made possible?”
The chairman’s attributing the funds tomyefforts, while kind, is a far cry from the reality of executing such a large event every twelve months. I could never do it alone. Yes, I spearhead the whole thing, and it wasmyidea when I pitched it to them the first year, but I don’t do it for the glory or recognition.
He continues before I can respond. “Every hospital room now has double-sized sleeper sofas for parents so families can remain together.” It seems like such a trivial thing, but the nights Mom and I spent here with Maddy—her on the single sleeper chair, me curled up in the hospital bed beside my best friend—were rough. The extra sleeping accommodations would have come in handy back then.
Mr. Whitley goes on. “Bud, the service dog, and his handler are now full-time BCH staff.”
I chuckle softly. Years ago, the Golden Retriever started as an occasional visitor for holidays and special occasions. Admittedly, I didn’t know he and his owner had been hired on full time, but the thought of them roaming these halls daily bringing joy to the kids makes me happy.
“But this,” he says, stopping at the entrance to the oncology wing. “This is our next mission.”
He motions to the wall behind me. A large architectural rendering hangs underneath a placard that reads:We’re Growing.
A knot forms in my chest as I take in the display.
“We wanna double it, Hannah. Everything. Equipment, technology, hospital rooms, staff, you name it. And we want to offer financial assistance to families without insurance.”
I work my jaw to fight the tears welling in my eyes.
Mr. Whitley points farther down the wall to another rendering beneath a similar placard that says:We’re Expanding.“And this,” he says yet again, my heart barely able to keep up. “This is our plan to build a collection of pediatric urgent care clinics across the state. And we want your help to make it all happen.”
For so many, hospitals are synonymous with sadness and loss—Mom and I certainly have felt that. But this place does so much good, too. I love it here. The mission, the heart, the people.
“We’ll do everything in our power to raise as much money as possible, sir. You have my word.”
He meets my eyes. Mouth quirked slightly, he says, “Let’s talk.”
Once we get settled in the cafeteria, my stomach rumbles with nerves. The chairman takes the seat opposite me and slides a red Jello container across the table, keeping another for himself. Together, we peel back our foil lids.
“You’ve got me a little on edge here, Mr. Whitley.”
“I think knowing each other for all these years puts us on a first name basis, yeah? Call me Adam, please.”
I nod agreeably as I scoop up a bite.
Adam finishes his Jello in two spoonfuls and leans back in his chair. “Here’s the deal, Hannah. The board has convened and we’ve decided to add a new staff position effective January first.” My spoon slows to a crawl as I pull it from my mouth. “Chief Philanthropy Officer. Full time. Responsible for managing all of our fundraising efforts of which we want to multiply and maximize every year going forward.”
He pauses, regarding me with a shrewd expression.
Screw that I’m only twenty-eight and any title beginning with the wordChiefmay seem like wishful thinking. I can do this job. Iwantthisjob. The thought spills out of me before I can conjure a more professional response. “I want it.”
The man smirks. “Good. Because we want you.”
My mind spinswith the prospect of a career change the whole drive home. Jumping from public relations to philanthropy isn’t a crazy notion, they carry many similarities. But I’m more allured by all the ways it would be different than what I do now. No more arrogant CEOs who think they’re untouchable or lengthy email chains with entitled social media influencers. I could put that behind me and dedicate my career to the good and beautiful things happening at BCH.
My thoughts are interrupted by an incoming message from Kristen through my car’s Bluetooth.
Kristen
Where was my office bestie when I needed a good block walk today?
I pull into my driveway, smiling when I spot Rowan’s truck on the curb.