“Neither,” I protest weakly. “He’s reserved. Decent. And you saw him at trivia. Infuriatingly knowledgeable.”
Elijah slaps his hands on the table, making me jump. “Ah, yes. Decent and knowledgeable. Truly tragic qualities in a man.”
I groan dramatically, but it does nothing to suppress my laughter.
Over the next two and a half hours, the interviews begin toblur together. One oversharer, one incessant phone-checker, one guy convinced it was a landscaping gig. But just as hope is about to flatline, Elijah perks up.
“Next up, Naomi Kapoor.”
A young woman strides in with an open smile, her thick, wavy hair gliding just past her shoulders. Her denim overshirt and cropped pants are professional yet youthful. Like she knows she belongs exactly here.
“Hi! Levi, Elijah…thanks so much for making time to meet me,” she says, offering a firm handshake.
“Glad you could make it, Naomi. Ready?”
She nods eagerly. “Absolutely.”
We settle into our seats. Me, nervous optimism; Elijah, neutral scrutiny; Naomi, confident poise.
“So,” I begin, scanning her résumé, “you’re a third-year business major at Stonevale College with a minor in environmental science. Interesting combo. Can I ask why you chose those fields?”
Her face lights up. “I’ve always loved plants. My grandmother had the most incredible garden. But I’m equally fascinated by business. Marketing, budgets, planning…the invisible threads that help things thrive.”
Elijah tilts his head. “Spreadsheets in your veins, huh?”
She laughs easily. “Something like that. I’ve handled budget proposals for campus sustainability programs, organized charity fundraisers…wrangled thirty-two volunteers for a zero-waste fair with only pizza and a free Canva trial. I’d love to bring those skills to a community project like yours.”
Elijah gives me a subtle but significant nod.
“Have you been following the community garden plans?” I ask.
Naomi brightens further. “Definitely. Your ‘Blossom in Winter’ fundraiser was genius. I shared it on campus and it generated genuine excitement. Students keep asking when they can volunteer.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. Her words validate the late nights, the crumpled drafts, the second-guessing. This project isn’t just another line on my anxious to-do list; it’s a love letter to Stonevale, a town that has given me everything, even when it took so much away.
“That’s…honestly great to hear,” I say. “Sometimes it feels like shouting into the void.”
“Oh, you’re not,” she assures me. “And if I can help streamline grant applications, schedule volunteers, or even help plan your next event…I’d be thrilled. This project perfectly bridges sustainability and community outreach. It’s exactly the kind of work I’m passionate about.”
Elijah leans in, intrigued. “You’re comfortable managing volunteers and contacting local businesses for sponsorships?”
“Absolutely. Plus, I’ve done some basic graphic design. Not professional level, but enough to get eyes on your events.”
I glance at Elijah, fighting back a grin. Naomi Kapoor is the missing puzzle piece. Organized, passionate, competent. “That’s fantastic.”
Elijah smiles at her, a rarity during this process. “And you wouldn’t mind working alongside this colorful weirdo?”
Naomi laughs. “Are you kidding? I’ve never met a colorful weirdo I didn’t like.”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, sunshine personified. We finish the interview effortlessly, discussing day-to-day expectations and answering her thoughtful questions.
Once Naomi exits, the door closing behind her, Elijah and I exhale.
“So,” I ask cautiously, “she was great, right?”
Elijah taps his pen. “Exceptional. If you don’t hire her, I’m staging an intervention.”
I laugh, relief flooding my chest. “Noted. I’ll send the offer tonight.”
