On the morning of December 19th, Katelyn Eubanks was jerked awake by the incessant ringing of her cellphone. It was early. Too early. She stumbled out of bed, mumbling, “Hullo?” into the phone. With her free hand, she scrubbed sleep out of her eyes. Bits of day-old mascara flaked onto her palm.

“Katelyn?” her mother asked, voice drenched in concern. Martha Eubanks’s voice was, it seemed, always drenched in concern. “Did I wake you up? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”

“No,” Katelyn yawned.

“Oh, no, dear, did you get fired?” Martha’s voice hitched with distress, edging on shrill and loud. Katelyn winced. Martha’s voice was already plenty loud. Whenever she spoke on the phone, she spoke louder than necessary. It was almost as if, on some level, she believed her voice had to travel between Kansas City and Chicago on its own, unaided by technology. Katelyn wondered if her mother spoke even louder when she called Connor in New York. Not that it mattered. Connor probably knew better than to answer.

“You don’t have to yell, mom,” Katelyn yawned again as she stumbled into the bathroom. “And, no, I didn’t get fired.”

Katelyn didn’t know why her mother would have jumped to that conclusion anyway, the only time she’d even been closed to fired was when the insurance agency that she’d answered phones for had folded. Anyway, she hadn’t been fired, she just had an interview. She’d switched shifts with one of her coworkers, a woman in her forties named Kathy who preferred day shifts anyway. Katelyn and Kathy wound up switching shifts a lot, which allowed Katelyn to work more shifts with her best friend, Jessica Sanchez.

Katelyn might have tried explaining any of that to her mother, if her mother was someone else entirely. As it was, her mother was, well, her mother, so she probably wouldn’t listen anyway. Right then, when Katelyn would have attempted explaining to someone else, Martha was far too busy shouting, “JON! JON! KATY GOT FIRED AGAIN,” to pay attention to anything Katelyn might have said. Martha Eubanks was an alarmist. She had slipped into a full-scale, and entirely unnecessary, panic. In the background, Katelyn could hear her father, with the enthusiasm of a true empty-nester, offer to move the elliptical back to the basement.

“Mom!” Katelyn said, nearly a shout. She was typically a very quiet person, though, so her shout came out as something a little more akin to a whine. “I didn’t get fired! I just have an interview! At that event planning firm. Dolores White’s. I told you about it, remember?”

It was a fruitless attempt, though. Her mother was too preoccupied to listen. She was busy saying something along the lines of, “Oh, no, dear, she might not need to move back in with us. She’s got that new boyfriend. Maybe she’ll move in with him.”

Then, suddenly, her attention snapped back to her daughter. “You’re still planning on bringing him, right?”

“Oh, well, actually...,” Katelyn started.

Katelyn wasn’t still planning on bringing Jason with her to Kansas City for the holidays. This was, primarily, because Jason wasn’t “still” her boyfriend. They had broken up the night before. He had taken her to an Italian restaurant. Then, right after the waiter took their order, Jason leaned over the table, took one of her hands in his, and said, “I think we should see other people.”

When he said it, she’d had to stop herself from laughing. Everything about the breakup had just been so...unsurprising. Katelyn would have been more shocked if their relationship had actually lasted long enough to get him to Missouri to meet her family.

Not only was the breakup unsurprising but it was also totally fine. Jason was an investment banker who talked almost exclusively about investment banking. He was a few inches taller than Katelyn, which was just another way of saying not very tall. He had light brown hair that he kept trimmed and neatly styled. He had nice shoulders and a meatloaf face that might have bothered Katelyn if it weren’t for the aforementioned nice shoulders. Katelyn had been getting increasingly tired of her short-lived relationship because Jason was pretty bland, all things considered. He was the sort of person who thought exercise was a hobby.

Since Katelyn hadn’t been all that invested in her relationship, she wasn’t terribly disappointed by its dissolution. She wasn’t altogether sure why they had been dating to begin with. So, yes, she was totally fine with the breakup. But she also knew that her mother wouldn’t be. And so, she paused. In the space of that pause, Martha’s freak-out skyrocketed.

“You guys didn’t break up, did you? Katelyn, honey! Dating just gets harder the older you get. You really have to stop being so harsh with men. You can’t afford to be so picky and critical! You’ll end up alone!” As Martha launched into a lecture about her daughter’s inevitable spinsterhood, Katelyn made the mistake of studying her reflection in the mirror. Staring intently into her own reflective eyes while talking to her mother about her non-existent love life was more than enough to spawn in Katelyn a monumentally stupid idea.

And so, Katelyn told her mother, “Stop worrying, of course, he will be there.”

“Oh, good. Good grief, Katy,” Martha sighed. “You could have just said that.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Katelyn said, biting her lip. She was still studying her reflection in the mirror. At twenty-four, she had no real reason to consider spinsterhood an inevitability. She was incredibly cute. She had auburn hair that fell in loose curls around her shoulders. Her skin was pale with a smattering of light freckles bursting out from her temples, dotting her cheekbones, and dusting her shoulders. She had green eyes with little rings of brown outlining the irises. Her lips were plump and pale pink. She was kind of short and very curvy. She was also smart and capable and charming and pleasant enough to be around. Still, she wasn’t very good at dating. Hardly anyone really interested her and then, when she “gave someone a chance” as she was so often encouraged to do, she usually bailed because she’d start to think the person was either too boring or too pushy.

Katleyn blinked at her reflection a couple of times and then snapped back to attention. Her mother was in the middle of saying, “I’m worried about the snow. You two will be coming this way tomorrow, right? When are you leaving?”

“Um, yeah, tomorrow...morning...sometime. I’m not sure when we’ll be leaving. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you when we head out. Hey? Mom? I actually have to go. You know, get ready for this interview. I love you! I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Katelyn shut off her phone and dropped back into bed. Martha’s call had woken her up more than an hour before her alarm would have. If the universe was fair, she’d be able to sleep for another half-hour or so. But, her mind was reeling, her thoughts were jumbled, and the universe, apparently, did not care about fairness.

Well before 11:30, Katelyn Eubanks arrived at Dolores White’s office. In order to seem less like a hyper-punctual freak, she tried to kill some time outside, but the Chicago air was frigid and she wound up hustling in at 11:11. Dolores White’s office looked like a home design magazine. The walls were covered in a vintage, floral wallpaper. The floors were hardwood. The front wall of the office was mostly windows. There was a waiting area to the right of the entryway and a wall filled with framed black and white photographs to the left. The waiting area housed several comfy chairs, each covered with a different pattern. While none of the patterns matched one another, they all complimented each other in pattern and color. In the center of them all was a wooden coffee table that held one glass vase with a handful of yellow flowers and a stack of magazines. A petite, Asian girl sat behind the front desk. She wore a green, plaid, 1950s-style dress. Her hair was straight, and dark, and cut at her chin.

A bell chimed when Katelyn pushed the door open, alerting the girl to her presence. She looked up at Katelyn, smiled warmly, and said, “Welcome to Dolores White’s.” Then, the phone rang. The girl extended one finger in Katelyn’s direction and picked up the phone with her other hand.

“Dolores White’s office, please hold,” the girl said. Her voice was warm and smiling. She pressed a button on her phone, set down the receiver, and looked back up at Katelyn. With a smile, she asked, “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um,” Katelyn stammered. This was the worst thing about Katelyn’s nerves: every way that they manifested themselves only served to make Katelyn more nervous.

Interviews were too much like dating for Katelyn. She had never been good at trying to impress someone that she didn’t know very well. She was terrible at it. More than terrible. Wretched. Once, in college, she interviewed for a part-time, minimum-wage gig at a fro-yo shop. The entire thing was just making sure the toppings were stocked, the building was clean, and the customers were paying. Simple, simple stuff. She totally choked in the interview, though. The guy had asked her why she wanted to work there and all she could think was: “Because I’m broke?” Knowing that was probably the wrong answer, she had rambled for about fifteen minutes about it seeming like a low-stress job and how close it was to her college and how she was hoping for a discount on fro-yo. Maybe, if she had been succinct, she would have gotten the job. Instead, it had been an all out ramble that had resulted in the interviewer looking a little bit concerned.

So, anyway, Katelyn Eubanks sucked at interviews. Even for lame jobs that she was only mildly interested in. This? This was Dolores White. Dolores White was a prominent event coordinator. She was a big name in Chicago, but she was also just a big name. She had worked with actresses, hip hop artists, late night talk show hosts, and the occasional politician. She was regularly featured in lists of Influential Women for major publications. That was all impressive enough, but Katelyn was also in awe of who Dolores White was. She was born in Chicago to a teenage mother. She grew up in the projects and attended an underfunded school. But she was able to overcome all of her disadvantages. She had worked hard to get an academic scholarship. It didn’t cover all of her tuition, so she worked to cover the difference. In one interview, Dolores White described studying flashcards on late night bus rides between home and work. “Every spare moment can be used in pursuit of your dreams,” she said. Ms. White ended up going to Berkeley, where she graduated summa cum laude. Then, she moved back to Chicago where she rose to the top of the event coordination field.

Katelyn admired her so much that her admiration turned in her stomach. She had thoroughly prepared for the interview. She’d researched Ms. White, the firm, and event coordination in general. But no amount of research could overcome her feelings of inadequacy. She had been raised with every bit of privilege that Ms. White had lacked. She had been afforded every advantage and she’d wound up with an unused BFA and a not-quite full-time job waitressing at a diner. She tutored as a side-hustle but still barely managed to make ends meet.

The girl at the front desk sat, with wide eyes and an encouraging smile, looking at Katelyn and waiting. Katelyn knew that she was supposed to be speaking, but she had momentarily forgotten how speaking worked. She sucked in a breath, let it out, and tried to steady her nerves. She imagined herself as someone confident, reached out a hand, smiled, and said, “I’m Katelyn Eubanks. I’m here for an interview.”

The girl laughed, shook her hand, and then glanced down at a paper calendar in front of her. She scribbled a note, pointed her pen back towards the waiting area, and said, “Take a seat over there. I’ll let Dolly know you’re here.”

Katelyn chose a light green chair with little gold x’s embossed on it. She was wearing a gray dress with a black cardigan and she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Looking at the colors everywhere, she wasn’t sure that she belonged. She kept thinking about the vintage, purple dress that was hanging in her closet at home, and feeling like she’d messed up her interview before even walking through the door.

As she sat down, she smoothed her dress, careful not to let the skirt catch up around her hips. As she waited, she picked little pieces of fuzz off of the shoulders of her cardigan.

Across the room, the administrative assistant picked up her phone and said, “Dolly? Your first interview is here. Okay. Thanks.” Then, she hit a button, altered her voice just slightly, and said, “Thank you for holding! How can I help you today?”

Katelyn was amazed by her.

A beautiful, dark skinned woman, with an entirely shaved head and a brightly colored, floral dress, emerged from the back hallway. She walked in Katelyn’s direction, her heels clacking against the wood floor. Tck. Tck. Tck. It was the sound of power. Katelyn’s heart flailed wildly in her chest. Her breath caught and she couldn’t quite remember how to start breathing again. She stood, smoothed down her skirt, and smiled, hoping her nerves didn’t show through it.

“You must be Katelyn,” Dolores White--the Dolores White--smiled.

“Y-yeah,” Katelyn stammered. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Dolores told her.

Katelyn’s pulse quickened.