​You hear Adam Price before you see him.

​The laugh comes first. It's not a polite chuckle or a quiet office laugh. It's the kind that travels through walls, bounces down hallways, and makes people in adjacent rooms wonder what they're missing. When he walks into a room, he fills it. Not loudly. Just completely. It’s his. He leans in when he talks to you. He makes eye contact. He remembers your name. He looks like a guy who came to stay.

​None of this was planned.

It began on a December night in 1999.

​But it wasn't a boardroom or a warehouse, but a nursery bathed in the glow of a nightlight and soft music. Jessica Rudolph, a mother with three children under the age of three, sat in a rocking chair. She couldn't hold all her babies at once as they drifted off to sleep, so she did the next best thing: she knitted. She knit a few rows of a blanket every night so that even as they closed their eyes, her children could see her presence. They could feel the tangible evidence of her love.