Cole has gone quiet behind me, and my stomach tightens. The interviewer is asking about my biggest challenges, and I watch myself explain about timelines and logistics, trying to sound confident and knowledgeable.
But all I can think about is how young I look on screen, how inexperienced I must seem compared to the established players in this industry.
“The holiday auction for the New York Renegades is our most ambitious project yet,” I continue. “We're expecting to raise over half a million dollars for the children's hospital.”
Cole's fingers pause again, and I realize I'm holding my breath. The segment feels endless, every word I said nowsounding wrong in my ears. Too eager, too rehearsed, not professional enough.
When it finally ends and cuts to the next story, the silence stretches between us.
I turn to look at him. “What did you think?”
His face breaks into a grin that could power half of Manhattan. “Are you kidding me? You were incredible. Professional, articulate, confident.” He cups my face in his hands. “I'm so proud of you.”
Relief floods through me. “Really? I felt like I was rambling.”
“You were perfect. That interviewer couldn't keep up with you.” He kisses the top of my head. “You looked like you belonged there.”
My phone starts ringing before I can respond. Ariel's name flashes on the screen.
“I just saw you on TV,” she shrieks before I can even say hello. “Harper, you were amazing. You looked so professional and put-together. I'm so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I say, warmth spreading through my chest. “I was nervous it would come across badly.”
“Are you insane? You sounded like the expert you are. I'm going to watch again.”
After we hang up, the phone rings again. It’s Brett this time.
“Stubbs!” His voice is full of pride and excitement. “I just caught your interview on the hotel TV. You killed it!”
“You saw it?” I'm touched that he was watching.
“I caught the tail end. The guys were impressed, too. You represented the family name well.”
We talk for a few more minutes before he has to go. Cole is watching me with an amused expression, still running his fingers through my hair.
Then my phone rings a third time. This time I groan. It’s my mother.
“Harper, sweetheart.” My mother's voice is unusually animated. “Your father and I just watched your interview. We're so excited.”
“Really?” I sit up straighter, caught off guard by her enthusiasm.
“Oh yes, you looked so good. We recorded it to show the neighbors.” She pauses. “Speaking of family success, have you spoken to Brett? They're saying he might make sportsman of the year.”
And there it is. The familiar pivot away from my achievements to Brett's. My shoulders sag as my mother launches into a detailed recap of Brett's latest statistics, barely pausing for breath.
Cole must notice my expression change because he reaches for the phone.
“Mrs. Hayes?” he says, taking it from my hand and putting it on speaker phone. “This is Cole Maddox. I hope you don't mind me interrupting.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed.
“I just wanted to tell you how impressed I am with Harper's work. She's revolutionized our entire events program. She's exceeded every expectation we had.”
My mother is about to say something, but Cole doesn’t let her.
“The charity auction this weekend is projected to raise over half a million dollars,” Cole continues. “That's largely due to Harper's vision and execution. You should be very proud of her.”
“Oh,” my mother says. “Well, yes, we are. Harper has always been so organized.”
