Page 61 of Forbidden Forward
“Tell me about her.”
“That’s not what we agreed to trade.”
The aroma of pan-seared flounder wafts up from my plate, and I stare down at it while I try to decide if he’s amused or annoyed. “Then whatever you agreed to. I think you were going to tell me about the foundation that handles your kids. Peggy referred to it as ‘Colby’s foundation.’”
Taking a healthy sip of wine, he eyes me over the rim of the glass. “Have I told you that you’re the most beautiful woman in here tonight? As a matter of fact, in all of Beaufort? Probably all of North Carolina. South too.”
I give him the eye-roll he deserves. “You’re doing it again.”
“What? Complimenting you?”
“No. Changing the subject.”
He forks a helping of risotto and seared sea scallop into his mouth and chews, never taking his eyes from mine. I don’t look away, and I don’t flinch. Finally, he caves. “You’re right.” After another swig of wine, he begins. “It’s a foundation that’s sole purpose is to empower children with physical disabilities through adaptive sailing experiences that build confidence and foster independence by creating unforgettable memories on the water.”
He sounds like the mission statement! How many times has he repeated it to strangers? If I call him on it, though, he’ll know I’ve been snooping. And again, I must wonder why he’s so reluctant to talk about it.
“Do you fundraise for it?” He nods. That explains why he’s memorized the mission statement. “What’s the name of the foundation?”
Hesitation stills his fork for a moment. He drops his voice. “The Gail Force Foundation.”
“You named your boat after it.”
He gives me another nod.
“So it is your foundation.”
Another nod, but an obviously reluctant one this time.
“When did you start it?”
“The first year I went pro. Eight years ago.”
My eyes bug out. “How old were you?”
He fiddles with his fork and straightens his knife. “Nineteen.”
“That’s … Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s started a foundation, let alone at such a young age. You must have had it when you played on the West Coast. Were you very active with it there?”
A corner of his mouth ticks up. “Yeah, I was. The weather made it easy to take kids out. Here, not so much, but Peggy talked me into starting a new chapter anyway because the need is so great and opportunities are so limited. The demand, though, is there and growing.”
“Does anyone else do the sailing? Peggy?”
“Just me. It’s a small foundation.”
“And Peggy runs everything?”
“She does here.”
“For how long?”
“Peggy’s been with me a long time. Almost from the beginning. As for being in North Carolina, she moved here when I did.”
“Wow. That’s what I call loyalty.”
With a shrug, he ladles more risotto on his fork. “She said she wanted a change of scene.”
My curiosity is ignited, and I fire more questions at him. The more I do, the darker his eyes get. They remind me of the wall of gray that descended on us earlier today. “Who takes care of the foundation out west?”
