it. Picture a miniature Central Park,” she said. “This could be a beautiful, safe haven for low-income families in this middle of a city that caters to the ultra-wealthy.”
“Central Park is a for-profit place,” he responded.
“Well, my park will be just as great, but it will be a nonprofit place,” she told him.
“And what are your plans for making all of this happen?”
That question stopped her. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I thought it would be a long way down the road. But I can come up with a plan within a couple of weeks if you’ll be patient with me. It’s something I’ve thought about for a very long time,” she told him. She began pacing the small trailer, too amped up to stand still or sit.
“You haven’t asked me what my plans are for the property,” he said. “Maybe you’d like the vision I have.”
She gave him a suspicious look, fought back her sarcastic retort, and took another drink of her delicious coffee. It was seriously better than the five-dollar cups she purchased way too many of — or had purchased too many of. That was stopping right now.
“What are your plans?” she begrudgingly asked.
“I’m so glad you asked,” he said with a smile. He moved to a slanted board set up in the back of the trailer, a detailed map laid out on it. They stood side by side as she studied the beautiful drawings.
“Is this what you had on the table last week?” she asked.
“Yep. I wanted to envision the land completed so I took it outside. My brother, who’s an architect, and I have worked on this project for years. I was waiting for the perfect piece of property. I’ve worked myself up to this, and it’s not something I’m willing to sacrifice.”
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “But you can put this anywhere.”
“Yes and no. The land matters. I want the clubhouse in the center of the property with the golf course surrounding it. I want the complexes to be overlooking the water, and I want a park area over in this corner. I want a small community where people feel safe, and feel like they live in the country rather than the city. The added bonus is the land to the right of here isn’t being used. My hope is to expand this to make the community larger within the next two years.”
“Don’t you see what a waste of land this is?” she asked, throwing her hands in the air. “Yes, it’s beautiful. The design of these buildings are phenomenal, but it’s for the upper class who already have enough. The wealthy can buy and build whenever they want. But those of us who work for barely above minimum wage, but love our lives as they are, need beautiful places to go to as well. If the wealthy consume it all, there’s nothing left for the rest of us.”
“How do you know it’s geared toward the wealthy?”
She couldn’t help her eye roll at those words. She jammed her finger against the enormous clubhouse that was the focus of his project. “How much would a wedding at this place cost?”
He chuckled. “It wouldn’t be cheap,” he admitted.
“That’s exactly my point. I’m not faulting you for having money. I fight for causes, but believe it or not, I like capitalism. I believe that anyone can rise above in this country, change their circumstances, and can have the American dream. But I also believe there are many of us who love our lives just as they are. There are many of us who don’t dream of becoming a millionaire. But we do dream of going to a great park at an affordable cost where we’re not going to be mugged or find used needles lying around. The wealthy provide jobs and great locations for people to go, but they also take things they have no right to take. We can have balance. That’s what makes this country so wonderful.”
She’d used this argument many times before and most people dismissed her. Hudson appeared to be listening. She needed to keep the faith that he’d give her a chance.
“I told you I grew up poor. I loved my life, and because I had my brothers there was never a time I was afraid to go anywhere, so I wouldn’t know what that is like. But I can see your point,” he told her as he moved away from the drawing table and went to the trailer door, stepping outside.
She