17. No Man Is an Island
The next morning, Alex hobbled into the kitchen. Rachel and his mom were huddled around the kitchen bar with the TV news on quietly. Alex had a flashback to the morning of his accident, which seemed like ages ago.
“Good morning to my two favorite girls,” he said.
Rachel looked up. “Oh, Dad, I have an idea for us.”
Alex smiled. “What is it?”
“I was riding home on the bus yesterday, talking with one of my friends. I told her how much we enjoyed cooking together and how we wanted to do even more. Well, she’s the one who had the idea. She and her dad are involved right here in Pittsburgh in the Urban Kitchen Project. It sounds perfect for us.”
Alex poured his tea and sat down next to Rachel and his mother. “What is it?”
“The Urban Kitchen Project is about good, healthy food and cooking. It’s right up our alley,” Rachel said, smiling. “It started with a community farm in a city neighborhood. The original idea was to help lower-income families get access to healthy foods. Did you know our city neighborhoods are a food desert? That means grocery stores are not in the neighborhoods—just fast food. But then my friend’s dad and some others noticed that even though these families could now get healthy food, they weren’t really using it. Like us, Dad, they needed to learn how to cook with good fresh food.
“The Urban Kitchen Project is offering cooking classes each month to families right here near us. They’re going to be learning to cook … well, here’s the list.” With that, Rachel pulled a sheet out of her backpack. “Mexican menu featuring fresh salsa and vegetarian burritos, soul food, stone soup for kids, and even learning how to can fresh veggies. We could join the group to improve our cooking skills but also to learn how we can pitch in at the Urban Kitchen Project. We’re getting to be such good cooks anyway, and you know helping others learn how to cook and eat healthy … well, that sounds like progress toward a real Greater Goal. Don’t you think so, Dad?”
Alex’s mom said, “This time I want in too. I’d love to come along and help. How about the three of us getting involved?”
Rachel said, “I’ll call my friend and ask her and her dad to stop by. Would tonight be okay?”
Alex could see that the two females had been plotting. He simply smiled. “I love it. And I will be working at home today. Dan suggested that I not attend the board meeting today.” His tight grin showed that he was worried and trying not to show it.
Across town, Beckley’s board of directors was meeting to deliberate the question of Alex’s fitness to become the CEO of Beckley Medical. Quinn and Kevin were called in to advise the board. Quinn knew the board members were still divided in their support for Alex. The vote was yet unclear. Dan Myers sat in the middle of the long conference table, typically refusing to sit at the head of the table. That spot was always left empty.
Quinn shared first. “Alex has changed and grown. He’s carrying out the work that Russ Beckley started.”
Kevin spoke next. “Alex has taken us to the next level. He is one among us, not above us—a first among equals. He is the team captain.” Kevin tapped his Super Bowl ring on the table. He had worn it to make this point.
One of the board members, Celia Lev, spoke next. “Alex and I were in the same MBA class. Alex was top of the class, a real go-getter. But success was always about promoting himself. How much could he really change?”
Quinn responded with sincerity, “I believe his change is genuine.”
Dan leaned forward. “We’re all glad that Alex came home. But neither I nor Russ Beckley, if he were here, would promote him if it was not good for the company. We have a great stewardship responsibility. So with that in mind, here is what I believe…”
In what had been his bedroom for six months, but was now again a family den, Alex reflected on the journey so far. How differently he saw things now. What had been a desperate, frantic drive to accomplish, perform, and succeed had become eagerness to see where the next breakthroughs and innovations would take this company. And he had a yearning to be part of the community that Beckley was becoming—to be useful in writing its future story. Alex looked up at his dad’s picture—despite his flaws, he had been a man of such high purpose and performance. “What would you say to me, Dad? Am I doing well? Am I doing good?”
A peaceful mood came over Alex. He was content with any decision the board might give him. On his computer screen, he pulled up an image of the star encircled by the five practices. Nicely drawn by a team member from Marketing, the design had become a well-known icon throughout Beckley.
If Alex were to lead Beckley Medical, the Greater Goal would still be his North Star. And more than that, he wanted to continue his journey to become a different kind of leader—a Serving Leader. He knew he wanted the CEO role, but did he deserve it?
Just then the phone rang. Alex picked it up and heard the familiar Scottish brogue. “Do you have time tomorrow to go for a spin?” Quinn asked. His voice also betrayed fatigue and some emotion Alex could not name. It was not like Quinn.
“For you, always,” Alex said, puzzled. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to revisit the warehouse. It’s important to me.”
“Then let’s go. Let me drive this time,” Alex said. “I’ll pick you up.”
That night there was a storm. The air still felt heavy and damp the next morning. Alex leaned lightly on his cane as he approached his car. He sat for a minute before pulling out of the garage, remembering when he had paused there on the morning of his accident. This is my big day … I’ll hear from the board. He had heard nothing yet, no hints at all.
Alex pulled up outside Quinn’s house. Quinn slid into the seat next to Alex. The LaCrosse sedan cruised effortlessly over the hilly city streets. They turned onto Bigelow Boulevard. Alex sucked in his breath sharply. It hadn’t occurred to him that the route between Quinn’s house and the warehouse would take them right past the location of his accident.
Stopped at a traffic light, Alex studied the spot where his car had rolled and where it had come to rest. Nothing from the accident remained—no black streaks on the curb, no shattered glass.
“This is it,” he said softly. Quinn glanced at him quizzically. “This is where my second chance started.”
“Your accident was here?” Quinn asked.
“Right over there,” Alex pointed. “My life was turned upside down here. In a way, I actually started coming home after that.”
The light turned green, and Alex lifted his foot off the brake, starting slowly. A car behind him honked.
“You know, Quinn—in that moment I prayed. God and I were definitely not on regular speaking terms.”
Quinn said, “You should pick that conversation back up. I recommend it.”
When they arrived at the East Liberty warehouse, Alex took his time treading over the rocky driveway, and Quinn stepped ahead to open the door. Alex stood in the doorway of the dark building, remembering what had happened here. The excitement of aligning and committing to a Greater Goal came rushing back. It was satisfying to think about. On that day, he had been a giver.
He could hear the sharp clack-clack of Quinn’s shoes on the concrete floor and wondered where the lights were. Then there was a click, and the lights came up slowly. There in silence, more than three hundred people stood before him. Kevin Jordan walked forward alone, slowly beginning to clap. Quinn joined him and also began to clap. Alex was too stunned to speak. The senior team and the board stepped forward next and joined in.
With that, the others from throughout Beckley stepped forward and joined the rising applause. Alex spotted John J. Williams in the crowd, wearing the lab coat and nametag of a newly hired research assistant. He saw his mom beaming and in tears. Rachel came running through the crowd right to him. He hoisted her up and held her. Above the crowd was a simple banner: “Welcome Home Alex, our CEO.”
He felt so loved, so humbled, and so much among family. Quinn leaned close and whispered to him, “Alex, your dad would be so proud of you.” His hands fell on Alex’s shoulders in a father’s embrace.
“Well done.”