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Hartley Braithwaite decided Chuck Henneke was the kind of self-made person he respected. Henneke had used his considerable athletic abilities to carry him from Kentucky coal mines through college and on into professional football, after which he became one of the most successful athletic scouts in the country.
Braithwaite, though never an athlete despite being even larger than the brick-like Henneke, similarly started in a tiny wooden house in St. Lucy parish in Barbados. The difference was that Brathwaite put himself through law school by means of prodigious labors in the sugar cane fields rather than coal mines. His desire to never harvest sugar cane again propelled him to the top of his law class.
After several years of practice in Barbados, he jumped at the chance to leave behind the white wigs and black robes of Barbadian advocates to practice trade law with the up and coming Miami firm of Benning, Bynum, Caxton.
He was used to proving himself on a daily basis, so being the only non-American and only black lawyer at the firm was no hardship—quite the contrary. His Caribbean contacts brought many clients to the firm, with the result that he was made a full partner in only three years. Successful as he was, he never forgot where he came from, and despite a gruff exterior and carefully cultivated formality he was always looking to encourage young people, especially Barbadians, to excel.
Cheryl Ford was only his latest project. Her friend Ana Darcy might qualify as another, if she worked out. He couldn’t determine whether her beginnings had been humble or not, but she was certainly humble at the moment. Cheryl told him she carried everything she owned in one backpack. He loved pluckiness and he loved an underdog.
Braithwaite and Henneke stopped chatting and watched thoughtfully as Cheryl and Darcy entered the firm's smaller meeting room. Darcy saw Henneke's note pad on the table along with several other neat piles of paper. Braithwaite had a welcoming expression on his face. Henneke had no expression, as usual.
"I hope you are both well this morning," Braithwaite began.
"We are, thank you, sir," said Darcy. "And thank you for the lovely hotel room, the wonderful food, and all my clothes!"
"You are very welcome, young lady," said Braithwaite. "We'll get to the matter of those clothes and your situation shortly, but if I may I'd like to begin with Ms. Ford. If you will allow me?"
Darcy allowed, and Braithwaite and Henneke and Cheryl began going over the arrangements the firm would make for her. It sounded as if they were going to pay for all her transportation, her training at an American Olympic training facility, and handle all legal and financial matters that pertained to the Olympics as well, provided she qualified at the trials, of course. What they asked in return seemed quite modest to Darcy, amounting to endorsements and the use of her name and images. It looked as if Cheryl would have all her expenses paid for the next four or five months.
A secretary was called in to witness Cheryl's and Mr. Braithwaite's signatures. As the secretary left to make copies, Braithwaite turned to Darcy. "Now, Ms. Darcy. May I call you Ana?"
“Of course.”
He looked at his papers. "Mr. Henneke thinks you have great potential as an Olympic athlete."
Immobile, Henneke continued to look like a statue.
"He recommends that we sponsor you, if possible."
Darcy held her breath.
"I agree, based on what he told me, and I will recommend that to the partners, provided we can iron out a few details."
Realizing that she was staring at him, Darcy looked down at the tabletop.
Finally, Braithwaite continued, "You have indicated to Ms. Ford that you would be willing to be a member of the Barbadian team. Is that correct?"
Darcy nodded. "Yes, sir. I would."
"All right. Then that brings us to the question of your citizenship. What is your citizenship? That is, where were you born?"
Darcy cleared her throat, inaudibly, she hoped.
"Uh, it's Canadian. I mean, I think it's Canadian."
"I see. Canadian. That's fine. So, somewhere in Canada there is a record of your birth?"
"I don't know," she said softly. She shot a glance at Cheryl. "You see, I'm an orphan, sir. My parents are no longer living."
"Hmmm." Braithwaite paused. "I'm sorry."
He suddenly looked down. Darcy's heart sank.
"Well then, we may have to resort to a certain legal nicety. I happen to be Barbadian, Ms. Darcy. I am quite familiar with Barbadian naturalization law. If the Barbadian government were to agree, you could become a citizen of Barbados after six months' residence on the island, and, assuming you qualify, take part in the Olympics as a Barbadian citizen. Would you be willing to do that?"
Darcy's eyes widened. "Yes, sir! I would! But..."
"Yes...?"
"Don't the Olympics occur in four months, four and a half months?"
"Yes, they do. That should be no problem. I will apply to the government on your behalf for a waiver of the six-month residency period, and I expect it will be granted. The ministers involved are all old acquaintances of mine. But you will have to do your training there, of course, as a part of your residency. Will that be a problem for you?"
"No, sir! Thank you, sir!"
"Excellent! That pleases me immensely, Ms. Darcy! Now let us discuss the details of our proposal to you."
Cheryl clasped Darcy’s hand below the tabletop and squeezed it hard with both of her own.
“All riiiight!” she whispered.
