Minutes later, butterflies danced in her stomach as the moderator took the stage, a thin scholarly looking man with thick-framed glasses. He motioned for her group to join him onstage. Kyla made her way to the podium and introduced herself to everyone. Her jittery stomach began bouncing around in overdrive as she glanced around and noticed the room filling up. By the time everyone on the panel was seated across the stage, the room was at capacity.
“Looks like we’ve drawn a good crowd today,” the gentleman next to her said.
Trying to hold the butterflies at bay, she replied, “I just hope I don’t forget what I’d planned to say.”
“Oh, you’ll do fine. The moderator’s about to spout off some statistics about the millions of hungry people in America, and then we’ll tell everyone what we’re doing to reduce that number. It’s that simple.”
Simple for you. Kyla took a deep breath and looked down at her notes. If she walked out of this room having convinced one or two of the business owners in the crowd to give her nonprofit a try, she would count herself successful.
As predicted, the moderator kicked off the discussion by quoting statistics on world hunger before introducing all five panel members. When Kyla’s time came, she went on automatic pilot. She had rehearsed her presentation so much she didn’t need to look down at her notes. The more she spoke, the more her confidence grew.
Before she finished her presentation, Kyla noticed quite a few heads turn when two men entered and stood at the back of the room. They were tall, athletic looking and black—and stood out from everyone else here. She tried not to let them distract her as she broke down the specifics of her program and rattled off her accomplishments to date.
“Currently, I’m conducting workshops throughout the Glynn County school system. My goal is to first spread my program throughout the whole state of Kentucky. Then conquer the world.” She garnered a little laughter from the crowd. “I’m available after this meeting to speak with anyone about how your church, business or organization can help eradicate hunger right here at home. Or, if you’d be interested in attending one of my workshops at the Coleman Farm to learn more about the food you eat and how we benefit from organically grown foods, I’d be happy to sign you up.”
Applause rippled through the room. From her vantage point she could see everything and everyone. People were whispering and turning to look at the men. Kyla figured they were former University of Kentucky athletes, but what were they doing at a World Hunger Day discussion? Someone had brought in folding chairs for them, but they refused to sit down, offering the seats to women standing at the back, instead.
One of the men locked eyes with Kyla, and she tried to place him, but one thing Kyla wasn’t was a sports fan. Although she’d been told several times she had the height of a female basketball player, she knew nothing about the sport.
Before she turned away, she had to admit the guy was extremely handsome, and the sight of him almost took her breath away.
“That question was for you, Ms. Coleman,” the moderator said into his microphone.
Startled, Kyla sat up straight and looked at the moderator with pleading eyes.
“Would you like me to repeat the question?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” She turned her gaze to the back of the room again, where Mr. Athlete was still staring at her.
Oh my God! She quickly averted her gaze and focused on answering the question. A fluttery feeling engulfed her stomach before she realized everyone was staring and waiting on her response.
“She certainly knows her stuff,” Miles Parker whispered to his little brother, Brandon, as they stood in the back of the room at the University of Kentucky’s World Hunger Day conference.
“Yeah, but it sounds like a small program,” Brandon replied. Brandon had come to spend his summer break with Miles and to learn about running a business. Miles was determined to give his little brother a real-world education before he went back to Georgia State at the end of the summer.
Miles nodded as he continued to listen to the graceful young lady on the panel explain how she’d introduced her nonprofit program, Rooted Beginnings, into the local school system. He crossed his arms, intrigued not only by what she was saying, but also by her. He’d missed the beginning of her presentation and squinted as he tried unsuccessfully to read the name on her badge. She looked like an elegant ballerina sitting on that stage. He had to find out who she was.
The door to the conference room opened with a creak. Miles turned, along with several other people, to see his college mentor, Professor Abraham, with his receding hairline and large black-framed glasses, step into the room. He’d invited Miles to speak and introduce everyone to his company, Parker Edmunds Foods. The moderator took to the podium to close out the session as the professor peered along the back row and spotted Miles. He smiled. Miles smiled in return, happy to see his old friend. The professor made his way along the wall through the crowd.
Abraham reached out his hand. “Miles Daniel Parker, so happy to see you.” He spoke loud enough to be heard over the applause going on around the room.
Miles pushed away from the wall and clasped the professor’s hand in a firm handshake. “Yes, sir, it’s good to see you, too. And thank you for the invitation.” Everyone around them was getting up and moving. Miles realized now that he’d missed the pretty young lady’s name.
“No, thank you for making room in your busy schedule for our conference. I haven’t seen you in quite a while, so congratulations on your retirement from the Chicago Cubs.”
“Thank you, but I didn’t really have a choice. A bad shoulder and a torn ACL is career ending. But after ten great seasons, I’m not complaining.”
“Then it’s good you were able to put that business degree to good use. The local media keeps up with your accomplishments. You’ve really made a name for yourself in the fight against hunger. Makes me proud!”
“Thank you, sir. We’re doing what we can with the help of organizations all over the world. I’m always interested in learning about new opportunities springing up in the farming industry. You never know what approach is going to have the most impact.”
Brandon cleared his throat.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Miles turned to Brandon. “Let me introduce you to my younger brother, Brandon Parker.”
The professor shook Brandon’s hand. “Guess I don’t have to tell you what a big deal your brother is around here. Two-time All-American Mr. Baseball, and the pride of UK.”
Brandon held his chin high and pulled his shoulders back. “Yes, sir, I know. He’s made the family proud.”
Brandon hadn’t played sports in high school. His popularity had come from riding his brother’s coattails. Where Miles went, Brandon wanted to go. Miles ran his hand across Brandon’s red fro-hawk, which normally freaked him out, but today he merely smiled.
Several people spoke to Miles as they passed. A few reached out to shake his hand and let him know they were big fans. He acknowledged all of them. Visiting the UK campus was always a morale booster. He’d given a lot to the school when he was there, so it felt good to know people hadn’t forgotten him.
“So, what’s this I hear about you doing some business in the area?” the professor asked.
Miles crossed his arms. “Yes, we’re in the process of expanding, so I’m looking for land now. Not right here in Lexington, though. I had something a little more rural in mind.”
The professor smiled. “You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.”
“Yes, sir,” Miles