Chapter 11: The Interview
The offices of Aura Interiors occupied the top floor of a converted brick warehouse in Belltown, featuring exposed wooden beams, polished concrete floors, and walls covered in striking architectural mood boards. Clara wore a simple, elegant navy blazer and black trousers—her only professional outfit remaining from her pre-estate days—with her dark hair pinned back in its familiar, sleek bun.
The firm’s principal designer, a dynamic woman in her forties named Julianne Vance (no relation, to Clara’s quiet relief), looked over Clara’s portfolio with genuine interest.
“Your work on the Vance Estate conservatory renovation is stunning, Clara,” Julianne noted, tracing her finger over a photograph of the light-filled glass atrium. “The lighting balance and spatial flow show a deep understanding of organic architecture. But your resume says you’ve been out of formal practice for a decade. Why the gap?”
Clara took a slow, deliberate breath, choosing her words with care. She knew honesty was necessary, but professionalism was paramount. “I spent the last ten years managing my family’s private estate and caregiving within my household. Due to restrictive domestic circumstances, I wasn’t able to take on external clients. Now, I am establishing my own independent career and am fully available for full-time project management and spatial design.”
Julianne looked up, her sharp eyes studying Clara’s face with keen intuition. She didn’t press for salacious details about the family drama, sensing the heavy boundaries Clara had drawn. Instead, she nodded respectfully.
“Independent practice requires resilience, adaptability, and the ability to handle high-pressure environments,” Julianne said. “We have a major residential renovation starting next month in Madison Park. The client is demanding, the timeline is tight, and we need someone who can manage contractors without blinking.”
“I am very used to managing demanding environments,” Clara replied, a subtle, confident smile playing at the corners of her lips.
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“Can you start Monday?” Julianne asked, extending her hand across the desk.
Clara shook her hand firmly. “I’ll be here at eight sharp.”
