By now, the receptionist, a young woman named Melissa, had hurried over. “Honey, you can’t just—”
Clara interrupted, her voice steady though her hands trembled slightly. “She’s been trying for years. She prepares every night, even when she’s tired from her second job. I know everything she wanted to say. I just need one chance to tell you.”
The lobby had grown unusually quiet. Employees paused at the elevators, staring. Melissa exchanged a helpless glance with James. Then, unexpectedly, a middle-aged man in a gray suit stepped forward. He was tall, with graying temples and the calm demeanor of someone used to making decisions.
“I’m Richard Hale,” he said, extending a hand at Clara’s height. “Chief Operating Officer.”
Clara shook his hand without hesitation.
“Tell me,” Richard asked gently, “why do you think you can speak for your mother?”
Clara’s eyes shone with determination. “Because I’ve listened to her practice a hundred times. Because I know her story better than anyone. And because if she doesn’t get a chance, she’ll never believe she deserves one.”
The silence in the room deepened into something else—anticipation. Richard studied her for a moment, then turned to Melissa.