Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 13
MAXIM
This was a good idea. Vuurtoreneiland is a great first date if you can swing it because it’s a full experience, not just dinner. Five hours. You usually need reservations, but I know a guy who knows a guy.
“This is gorgeous,” Lennix says, her eyes scanning the horizon as we cross the IJ to reach the island where we’ll have dinner. “Now explain to me what this is we’re doing.”
“It’s called Vuurtoreneiland, which translates to ‘lighthouse island.’ You can only really reach it by boat. It used to be a functioning lighthouse, but now there’s a restaurant. In the summer, dinner is in a greenhouse. In the winter, which is anything before July for all intents and purposes, you dine underground in a bunker. I’m not sure exactly what to expect, but I hear great things.”
“A new adventure. You seem to enjoy those.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. Always something new to learn, but I have a lot I want to accomplish, so there’s always more I need to know.”
“Ahhh.” She nods like I’ve confirmed something I didn’t even realize was in question.
“What’s that ‘ahhhh’ for?”
“I pegged you for ambitious at first.”
“You were right. Ambitious would be an understatement. Are you one of those people who thinks ambition’s a bad thing?”
“No, not necessarily. I’m ambitious, too. My ambition is to serve and help, but I take it very seriously. I want to be the best I can possibly be at it.”
“You said at first you pegged me as ambitious. What was your second impression?”
“Crusader, I guess. Zealot.”
My laughter hides in the chatter of other conversations taking place around us on the small boat. “Like a planet crusader or something?”
“I guess, yeah.”
“That’s fair. Everything I told you about wanting to know how we can reverse the damage we’ve already done and figure out how to do less? It’s all true, but I don’t think I’m pure enough in my intentions to be a true crusader.”
“What are you then?”
“A capitalist,” I reply, looking her directly in the eye. “Please don’t mistake me for someone who doesn’t care about making money. Who just wants what’s best for the planet. I do want that. I’m dedicating part of my life to it.”
“But the other part?”
“Oh, the other part is for me. Once we finally convince our government that fossil fuels aren’t sustainable, I’ll be right there with wind-, solar-, and water-power solutions. I’ll do as much good as I can, but I’ll also monetize it however possible.” I don’t add that it’s in my blood, but I know that to be true. Blood will tell.
You won’t last a year without the Cade name.
We’ll see about that. I don’t feel like I have anything to prove to the world. But something to prove to my father? That’s another story.
“A capitalist crusader?” She chuckles and casts a wry look my way. “So you want to save the world and make lots of money.”
I can’t tell if she approves or disapproves, but that doesn’t change my answer. “Absolutely. Someone has to write big checks to all your causes.”
Her long, thick lashes shield her thoughts, but she doesn’t hide the smile teasing her lips. “I haven’t thought much about money, I guess. I mean, as part of my future and what I’ll do with my life. That must seem ridiculous to you, huh?”
The boat kisses the shore, and the fifty or so guests get off and start for the beacon of light marking where we’ll eat.
“Not really,” I answer, taking her hand when we reach some uneven terrain and conveniently forgetting to let go. “I’m not surprised.”
“No?”
“Think about how we first met, Nix. How many seventeen-year-olds do you know organizing water runs, getting arrested for protesting, and giving speeches that make people want to do whatever you ask of them?”
“A few actually,” she says with a small laugh constructed from scraps of modesty and pride.
“When you told me last night about the opportunities you have, the one you seemed the least enthusiastic about was the one with the most potential to make money.”
“The lobbying firm.”
“Right. Your priorities, your values have been clear to me in every interaction we’ve ever had.”
We pause to be shown into the belly of the restaurant, the bunker downstairs where winter meals take place. The server takes our drinks order, and we’re left to pick up the threads of our conversation.
“So you think you’ve peeped my values, do you?” she asks, some mischief in her eyes.
“You’re not hard to read.”
“We’ll see. I may have a surprise up my sleeve yet.”
With that bit of cryptic information, our evening takes a turn that blessedly involves lots of food in the form of a four-course meal.
“Wow,” she says over the homemade flaky brown bread. “Everything is so delicious. You’re spoiling me. If this is the first date, what’s your follow-up?”