CHAPTER THREE
“A chance worth taking.”
By Monday morning, Zara had applied for twenty-three jobs.
By Tuesday afternoon, she'd received twelve rejection emails.
Three hadn't replied.
Eight wanted "New York experience."
One had offered her an unpaid internship.
She deleted that email immediately.
By Wednesday, her savings had dropped below six hundred dollars.
She sat at the small kitchen table in Miss Claudette's apartment, laptop open, coffee growing cold beside her.
"What are you looking for?" Miss Claudette asked as she folded laundry.
"Anything."
"Never say anything."
Zara looked up.
"Why not?"
"Because 'anything' usually turns into accepting things you don't deserve."
Zara sighed.
"I don't exactly have the luxury of being picky."
"No," Miss Claudette agreed. "But you do have the luxury of knowing your worth."
She disappeared into the hallway before calling back.
"Check your spam folder."
"My spam folder?"
"Just check it."
Confused, Zara refreshed her inbox.
Nothing.
Then...
Spam.
One unread message.
Bellamy & Co. Luxury Events
Her heart skipped.
She clicked it open.
Dear Ms. Brooks,
Thank you for applying for the Assistant Event Coordinator position.
We would like to invite you for an interview tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. at our Manhattan office.
Kind regards,
Camille Bellamy
Managing Director
"Oh my God."
Miss Claudette peeked around the corner.
"You found something."
"I have an interview."
"I know."
"You knew?"
"I've lived long enough to know good news usually ends up in the spam folder."
Zara laughed so hard she nearly cried.
...
The next morning she woke before her alarm.
She spent nearly an hour deciding what to wear.
Eventually she settled on black tailored trousers, a crisp white blouse, a fitted blazer and the only pair of heels she owned.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Professional.
Capable.
Almost confident.
"You've got this," she whispered.
Whether she believed it or not was another matter.
...
The Bellamy & Co. offices occupied the twenty-third floor of a sleek glass building overlooking Midtown Manhattan.
Everything inside looked expensive.
Cream marble floors.
Fresh white orchids.
Soft jazz playing through hidden speakers.
Employees walked with purpose, balancing coffees and tablets while speaking into wireless headsets.
It was another world.
The receptionist smiled politely.
"You must be Zara Brooks."
"Yes."
"I'm Olivia. Miss Bellamy will be with you shortly."
As Zara waited, she couldn't stop staring through the enormous windows.
From this height, New York looked endless.
A city where millions of stories unfolded at the same time.
Maybe hers could begin here.
"Ms. Brooks?"
Zara turned.
A woman in an elegant cream trouser suit stood a few feet away.
She was in her early forties, poised, effortlessly polished, with dark curls pinned neatly behind one ear.
"I'm Camille Bellamy."
They shook hands.
"Please, come with me."
Camille's office was minimalist but warm.
Bookshelves lined one wall.
Framed photographs of extravagant weddings and charity galas covered another.
Every image told a story.
"I've looked over your résumé," Camille began.
"You've coordinated events before."
"Mostly weddings, community fundraisers and church events."
"In Memphis."
"Yes."
Camille nodded thoughtfully.
"So why New York?"
Zara had rehearsed an answer.
She could say career progression.
She could say better opportunities.
Instead, she chose honesty.
"I needed a fresh start."
Camille studied her.
"That's not a professional answer."
"No."
"It's a truthful one."
"It is."
Silence settled between them.
Finally Camille smiled.
"I appreciate honesty."
Relief washed through Zara.
Camille continued.
"Tell me why events."
Zara leaned forward slightly.
"I've always believed people remember how a moment made them feel."
Camille listened carefully.
"They won't remember every flower arrangement or every menu."
"They'll remember how the room felt when they walked in."
"They'll remember whether someone anticipated their needs before they asked."
"They'll remember if they felt seen."
Camille folded her hands.
"And that's what you do?"
"I try."
"No."
Camille shook her head gently.
"I asked what you do."
Zara paused.
Then answered more confidently.
"I create spaces where people can celebrate some of the biggest moments of their lives."
For the first time since the interview began, Camille smiled fully.
"That's exactly what we do."
...
The interview lasted nearly an hour.
By the end, Zara had answered questions about budgeting, supplier management, difficult clients and impossible deadlines.
She admitted what she didn't know.
She never pretended.
As she gathered her bag to leave, Camille stopped her.
"One final question."
"Of course."
"If I hire you..."
"...what makes you different from every other applicant?"
Zara didn't answer immediately.
She looked around the office.
At the photographs.
The awards.
The skyline beyond the windows.
Then she smiled.
"I've spent most of my life making beautiful things in places that weren't beautiful."
Camille tilted her head.
"So?"
"If I can do that..."
"...imagine what I could do here."
The room fell silent.
Camille stood.
"I'll call you."
...
Zara wasn't expecting her phone to ring before she'd even reached the subway.
She answered breathlessly.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Brooks."
Camille.
"We'd like to offer you the position."
Zara stopped walking.
"I'm...sorry?"
"The role is yours."
She couldn't speak.
It had happened too quickly.
"We start with a three-month probation."
"The hours are demanding."
"Our clients are demanding."
"I can be demanding."
"I understand."
"But if you work hard..."
"...you'll do well here."
Zara finally found her voice.
"Thank you."
"No."
Camille laughed softly.
"Don't thank me yet."
...
That evening Miss Claudette insisted on celebrating.
She cooked jerk chicken, rice and peas, fried plantain and homemade rum cake.
"I told you this city rewards courage," she said, placing another spoonful of rice onto Zara's plate.
"It hasn't rewarded me yet."
"You got the job."
"I got the opportunity."
Miss Claudette pointed her fork at her.
"Exactly."
"They're not the same thing."
"The opportunity is the reward."
"What you do with it..."
"...that's your responsibility."
...
Later that night Zara stood by her bedroom window overlooking Brooklyn.
The skyline glittered in the distance.
Somewhere out there, people were falling in love.
Getting married.
Closing million-dollar deals.
Starting over.
She smiled to herself.
Tomorrow she would officially become part of Bellamy & Co.
Tomorrow her new life would truly begin.
She had no idea that within a week, a chance encounter outside one of the city's most exclusive hotels would introduce her to a man whose past was as complicated as her own.
A man who would eventually change everything.
But for tonight...
She allowed herself to simply be proud.
She had made it to New York.
She had found her first opportunity.
And for the first time in a very long time, hope felt stronger than fear.
End of Chapter Three.