Chapter 7

Savannah sat in her office, basked in a wash of amber from the floor-to-ceiling windows. She wasn’t working, not really. She was smiling at nothing in particular, fingers lightly grazing the trackpad, screen dimmed.

It had been almost a year. A whirlwind. She used to scoff at the term, chalk it up to Lifetime delusion. But there it was.

Seb had repaired Edna’s AC last week—the second time this month he’d helped her—and now Edna swore by him. Told Savannah she’d picked well. Edna didn’t say things like that often. Or ever. Savannah had lived next door for three years before Edna stopped calling her “the gal with the Camry.” So yes, life was clicking. And maybe for once, she was letting it.

A soft knock pulled her from the thought.

Barely audible. Like wind trying to find its voice.

Savannah turned. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Aisha stepped through. All quiet steps and polite posture, like she didn’t want to bruise the carpet. She offered a timid smile, manila folder clutched like a security blanket.

“Hi, Miss Spencer. I—uh—have the comparative notes you asked for.”

Savannah smiled and waved her in. “You don’t have to call me Miss Spencer. Savannah’s fine.”

Aisha nodded. “Oh. Right. Thank you.”

She was sweet. Polished. Probably came from the kind of family that believed in quiet excellence and sending polite thank-you cards. One of the rare PNW Black girls who still wore hope on her sleeve. But she faded into a room like office drapes—neatly there, but forgotten.

Savannah took the folder, glanced it over, then set it aside.

“You’re good,” she said. “Your work’s strong.”

Aisha blinked.

“I mean it. You belong here. Don’t shrink just because the volume around you is loud.”

Another blink. This one softened into a shy, grateful smile.

“You have something to say. Let people hear it. That’s the job.”

Aisha nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now go act like you believe it.”

She nodded again—firmer this time—and slipped out.

—

The design sync was already in progress when Savannah walked in. Half the room scribbled notes; the other half watched the clock. Dan was mid-monologue, as usual.

“I just don’t understand why this is suddenly a problem,” he huffed, flipping through his own deck like it owed him something. “Cassie’s team approved this last week. Now she’s angry?”

Cassie opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “It’s not anger, Dan, it’s clarity. We told you—”

“Okay, okay, let’s take it down a notch,” Savannah said, settling into her chair with practiced calm. “Sounds like you’re making it emotional, Dan.”

He blinked.

She leaned forward, voice even. “The senior product design lead mocked up a UI flow that can’t be replicated in the live dev environment. What part of that isn’t landing?”

Silence.

She gestured lightly, like she wasn’t pressing—just presenting.

“Let’s pause. Everyone here wants the same thing: a buildable product that doesn’t crash on launch. So maybe we take the temperature down, step back, and figure out how to make the vision viable across teams.”

Dan looked like he wanted to rebut, but Sven cleared his throat. Hard.

“Let’s do that,” Sven said, tone final.

The room exhaled. Savannah didn’t flinch. Sven met her gaze and gave a small nod of thanks.

—

Later, Cassie popped into her office.

“That was masterful,” she said, flopping into the chair across from her. “You’re like, unshakeable.”

Savannah smiled, still typing. “You get used to it.”

“I mean, really. I wanted to throw my pen at him.”

“We don’t have that luxury.”

Cassie let that settle.

Savannah glanced up. “Don’t sweat it. Stick to the facts. Keep it cool. Let them burn themselves out.”

Cassie smirked. “Noted.”

She shifted. “So… Georgia. You excited?”

Savannah relaxed back into her chair. “Yeah. I am.”

“Think he’ll propose?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “It’s been a year, not a decade. I don’t even know if it’s on the table.”

“But?”

Savannah’s smile dimmed, just a touch. “But I’m excited to go home. I haven’t been back in a while. And… I want him to see where I’m from.”

Cassie nodded.

“I couldn’t introduce him to my parents when they were alive,” Savannah said, voice low. “But this is the next best thing. He’ll get to see that corner of me. The one that raised the rest.”

Cassie didn’t press. Just gave a soft “yeah” and tapped the edge of Savannah’s desk before heading out.

Savannah sat still for a long while after. Not because something was wrong. Just because—for once—it wasn’t.