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“Thank you, Eleanor,” Harper replies.
The woman clasps her hands on the table, examining them with an almost clinical intensity.
“I’m also pleased to see that you’ve put aside your habit of tearing each other apart in public.”
Several advisors stifle a smile. Victoria leans back in her chair with enviable composure.
“We’re professionals, Eleanor. You know perfectly well that we know how to do our jobs without letting personal disagreements get in the way.”
“Of course,” Eleanor replies with suspicious tenderness. “I’m just glad to see how well you work together when you put the past aside.”
The silence that follows in the room is tense. Harper stands tall, though inside she feels the ground shaking beneath her feet.
“And that’s precisely why…” Eleanor continues, activating the secondary screen, “I want you both to represent the magazine together at the New Voices Fashion Gala in Chicago.”
Marissa Chen raises her eyebrows.
“The gala at the Museum of Contemporary Art?”
“Exactly,” Eleanor says, holding up the event program. “The foundation brings together the best of young talent: photography, sustainable design, avant-garde styling. We need to spot new brands before the competition snatches them up. And I want you two to be the ones to go.” Harper rests her elbows on the table, looking at the woman. “Bring me a brand, a photographer, or a visual narrative that breaks the mold. A calculated risk.”
Victoria turns her head toward Harper. Harper looks back at her. A shared, genuine, unguarded smile breaks out between them spontaneously.
“Sounds like a fun challenge,” Harper admits.
“Dangerously fun,” adds Victoria.
Eleanor sighs with a mixture of condescension and triumph.
“Try not to burn Chicago down. I’ve booked you a room at the group’s usual hotel.”
Harper freezes for half a second. Victoria’s smile vanishes instantly. The memory of their last business trip comes to mind for both of them at once.
As the meeting comes to a close, the executives begin gathering their folders and leaving the room. Victoria carefully puts her pen away in her briefcase. Harper waits for the board members to walk out the door before leaning toward her.
“Do you also get the feeling that Eleanor is toying with us?” Harper whispers.
Victoria doesn’t look up from her briefcase.
“I’m certain that woman knows exactly how many hours we slept this weekend.”
“Impossible. We’ve been super discreet.”
“Harper, Eleanor’s been in this business for thirty years, detecting lies. She can read people better than you and I combined.”
“Well, as long as she doesn’t have any proof and the results turn out well, she can’t use it against us,” Harper argues, adjusting her jacket.
Victoria closes the briefcase clasp and looks her straight in the eye.
“Before, you would have been terrified if she’d suspected anything.”
“And I also thought you were coming to take my job and ruin my career,” Harper confesses with a candid smile.
Victoria returns the smile, slowly and with that newfound warmth that softens her gaze.
“I can still try to take it away from you, Brooks.”
Harper takes a step toward her, defiantly.
