Chapter8
913 Words
Elena turned reluctantly, her curiosity piqued by the voice that called her name.
Standing a few feet away was an older man in his late fifties, brown eyes sharp behind wire-framed glasses, his white mustache neatly trimmed.
She squinted, trying to place the face. Then it clicked.
Her jaw dropped.
“Mr. Nicholas?” she gasped.
“Elena, he said, his face lighting up with a warm, wrinkled smile.
He had been a close friend of her late parents, a familiar personality from her childhood who used to visit often, until her parents died, and he disappeared from her life.
She rushed forward and hugged him. The embrace felt both strange and comforting.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still trying to process his sudden reappearance.
Before he could answer, realization struck, she was already running late for the interview.
“Um, I'm sorry, Mr. Nicholas. I'll have to catch up with you later,” she said quickly, glancing at her wristwatch and tilting her head apologetically.
He smiled knowingly. “Are you here for the interview?”
She blinked. “Yes… how did you…?”
“Come with me,” he said, and without waiting, pushed the door to the interview room.
Elena's heart dropped.
“What is he doing?” she panicked internally. Is he about to ruin this for me?
She scurried after him, ready to apologize profusely, but what happened next left her completely stunned.
“Is she the one you're interviewing for the Art Team department?” Mr. Nicholas asked in a firm, commanding tone.
“Yes, sir,” one of the panelists stuttered. The entire room stood at attention, each member rising to their feet and bowing slightly.
Elena's eyes widened. What the hell is going on?
“She's with me,” Mr. Nicholas announced. “There won't be any need for the interview.”
A wave of gasps and murmurs rippled through the panel.
He's the director? Elena realized. Mr. Nicholas is the director?!
He turned to her, gently taking her hand like a proud father. “You've got the job.”
She was too shocked to respond.
“When do you want to start?” he asked with a light chuckle.
Her lips parted, but no word came. Then finally, “Tomorrow is fine.”
“Excellent. You'll receive your appointment letter via email,” he said, patting her on the back before walking out.
Elena stood there, stunned.
Her very first job offer… and she hadn't even been interviewed.
Minutes later, Sandra found her sitting outside, dazed.
“So? How did it go?” Sandra asked, leaning in curiously.
Elena blinked as if returning from a trance.
“Are you okay?” Sandra pressed.
“I… I got the job.” Elena said slowly, a smile starting to tug at her lips.
“You aced it?” Sandra beamed.
“There was no interview,” Elena said, laughing softly.
Sandra's smile faltered. “Wait, what? How did you get the job if there was no interview?”
“I left you in front of the interview room.”
Elena pulled her aside and whispered, “I didn't say I didn't go in. I said there was no interview. Because someone canceled it.”
“Who?”
“The director,” Elena said, smirking.
Sandra's jaw dropped. “You met the director?”
“He was a family friend. My parents knew him well,” Elena said, exhaling, wiping her teary eyes.
Sandra hushed at Elena, using her finger to hold her lips.
“I fully understand. Sometimes miracles happen in the least expected ways.” Sandra said, hugging Elena closely.
“So, when do you start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well then, we better go home and get you ready.”
The Next Morning…
Elena stretched and dragged herself into the bathroom while Sandra sat on the bed, already dressed in a grey pantsuit and white shirt, applying a final touch of lipstick.
“You're just waking up?” Sandra teased.
Elena's eyes widened. “You're ready already?”
Sandra had slept over at Elena's place.
“I don't wait for sleepyheads,” Sandra replied, chuckling.
Elena scrambled to get ready. Minutes later, she stepped out in a black skirt and crisp white shirt, her hair loose and flowing.
“How do I look?” she asked, turning.
Sandra smirked. “Perfect. Except the heels…”
“What's wrong with them?”
“They scream 'law court.’ Try a splash of color.”
Elena swapped them for navy-blue heels with silver accents.
“Better?”
“Now you look like you're about to own the place.”
They headed downstairs and grabbed a quick breakfast Nan had prepared. Before Elena could rush out, Nan wrapped her in a hug.
“Good luck today, my dear,” she said softly.
Elena smiled, touched. Sandra signaled that they needed to go.
“I'll be fine, Nan. I promise.”
Outside, Nan gently caught Sandra's wrist. “Take good care of her.”
Sandra nodded. “Always.”
They made it just in time for the 7:30 a.m. bus. Fifteen minutes later, they hopped off at Velvis City Art Gallery.
Then came the unexpected.
A sleek black car swerved from a side corner too quickly.
The tired screeched against the wet pavement, splash!
Water covered Elena's legs and skirt, soaking her from the waist down.
She gasped, stunned, and shivering.
“Seriously?!”
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