Page 105 of The Change
“Leonard says he’ll fund it. He feels terrible, too.”
Jo’s smile faded. Claude was serious.
“Between you and me, I’ve never touched a dime of his cash,” Claude said. “But this is important to me. No one teaches girls how to take care of themselves. We train them to be pretty and kind and polite right before we set them loose in a world filled with wolves. Then we act surprised and horrified when some of them get eaten. After my father died, I came very close to being one of those girls. The only thing that saved me back then was luck.”
Jo thought of her own upbringing. Her good, solid, middle-class mother had tried so hard to iron out her rough edges—and blamed herself when she realized she hadn’t succeeded. Those rough edges had rubbed quite a few people the wrong way. Somehow Jo had always sensed those weren’t the kind of people she wanted around her. And as she grew older, she saw that those who wanted girls to be docile and disciplined were often the same people who took advantage of them.
“What if we created a program for girls that combines assertiveness training, self-defense, and martial arts?” Jo suggested. It was something she’d daydreamed about countless times in the past. “So the next time some asshole snatches someone’s kid off the street, he gets a lot more than he bargained for.”
“Yes! I love it!” Claude exclaimed. “We can do a pilot here in Mattauk. And then we’ll use Leonard’s money to take it national. Maybe even global.”
It was moving too fast and sounding too good to be true. “That’s pretty ambitious,” Jo said. “And expensive.”
“Leonard said he’ll give us twenty million if we come up with something good.”
That couldn’t be right. “Twenty milliondollars?”
“He gives hundreds of millions to charity every year. Twenty million is just a drop in the bucket. Plus, he has an ulterior motive. He needs to wash some of the taint off Culling Pointe.”
“Oh my God, Claude.”
“We can get more if we show we’re successful. We could start an organization devoted to preparing girls for the world. You could be the CEO.”
“Me?” Jo repeated. Her head was spinning.
“Why not? You’re a successful businessperson. You know the world of fitness, and you kick serious butt. Plus, you have a girl of your own. I know this all sounds crazy, but if Leonard says yes, would you be interested?”
Jo figured it wouldn’t look terribly professional if she leaped from the table and jumped up and down. “I’ll need to discuss it with my husband.”
“Of course!” Claude agreed. “Maybe we could do a little market research just to prove to ourselves and our gentlemen friends that the idea could work. Do you think we could use your social media accounts to send out an invite for a free self-defense class for girls? We could see how many young people come—and how many of their moms sign up for Furious Fitness memberships before they leave.”
“Sure. I’ll get on it right away,” Jo told her.
It wasn’t the CEO title that appealed to her most—or the millions they’d be able to spend. The program itself could be just what she needed—a way to teach Lucy how to fight for herself. The solutionseemed so simple now. The relief it brought Jo was intoxicating, and the gratitude she felt was beyond expression.
“Wonderful! I suppose I should let you get back to work now,” Claude said as she gathered her things. “By the way, would you mind asking your friend Harriett to reach out to me? We’re still having a terrible time with those flowering bushes that have taken over the Pointe. I’m hoping she’ll know how to help.”
Jo felt her brow furrow. “I’d be happy to.”
Art arrived home with his own good news. His latest play had found a backer. Casting would begin at the end of the month. The money was surprisingly good, but Jo’s delight had nothing to do with the family finances. Art finally felt like her partner again. That evening, Jo cooked everyone’s favorite lasagna, Art made strawberry shortcake, and the Levisons enjoyed their best family dinner in years.
After the dishes were washed, Jo picked up Nessa and the two of them drove to Harriett’s. They found her on her hands and knees in the garden, harvesting seeds from the spiky pods of a large, tropical-looking plant. When she saw them, she sat back on her haunches.
“You have news.” Harriett stood up and eyed Jo closely. “Does it call for champagne? Chase left a stash in the cellar.”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” Jo hadn’t been able to stop smiling all day.
“I’ll grab a bottle.” Harriett passed her basket to Nessa.
“What are these?” Nessa ran her fingers through the reddish-brown seeds. “They’re pretty.”
“Castor beans,” Harriett told her.
“For castor oil?” Nessa asked. Her grandmother had rubbed a little on her skin every night before bed and taken a tablespoon every morning by mouth to help keep her regular.
“Mmmhmm.” Harriett hurried toward the house. “Wait here.”
Nessa watched until she was sure Harriett was out of earshot. “She seem a bit off to you?” she asked Jo.
