Chapter 1 - The Woman Who Smelled Like Coffee
“Yes,” Jada said. “Nine-thirty interview.”
The receptionist glanced at the clock.
“You’re early. That’s good.”
Jada almost asked whether arriving early compensated for smelling like a breakfast buffet, but the woman was already handing her a visitor badge.
“Have a seat. I’m Valerie. Someone will be down shortly.”
“Thank you.”
The waiting area had leather chairs, spotless windows, and a large photograph of refrigerated trucks lined up beneath a sunrise. Along the bottom, silver letters spelled out a promise.
EVERY DEGREE MATTERS.
Jada looked down at the stain above her cardigan.
Apparently, every degree had mattered to the man who spilled his coffee too.
She sat with her portfolio over her lap.
Across the room, a man in a navy suit looked up from his phone. His gaze lingered on her blouse before he returned to the screen.
Jada concentrated on breathing normally.
Her mother’s voice came back to her.
A stain doesn’t answer interview questions.
At nine twenty-seven, a woman stepped from the elevator.
“Jada Monroe?”
Jada stood.
The woman introduced herself as Marissa Cole, human resources manager, and offered a firm handshake.
Her eyes moved briefly to the stain.
Jada decided to address it before embarrassment took over.
“I had an accident at a coffee shop. I apologize for my appearance.”
Marissa considered her for a second.
“Were you burned?”
“No.”
“Good. Then let’s discuss the job.”
Something in Jada’s chest loosened.
Upstairs, a second interviewer waited in a small conference room. Gavin Mercer, director of operations, wore a watch that probably cost more than her car.
He did not stand.
Marissa explained the opening: operations analyst, supporting dispatch, inventory reporting, and route performance.
The salary range was enough to keep Denise housed and let Jada stop calculating grocery purchases against gasoline.
Gavin opened her résumé.
“You’ve worked primarily on warehouse floors.”
“And in inventory control,” Jada said. “I also trained incoming employees on exception reports.”
“But no corporate analyst position.”
“No. That’s why I’m applying for my first one.”
Marissa’s pen paused.
Gavin leaned back.
“Why should we take that risk?”
Jada folded her hands beneath the table.
“Because when a report says a shipment is delayed, I understand what that means beyond the spreadsheet. Someone missed a loading window. A driver needs instructions. A customer needs an accurate update. I know where the numbers come from.”
Gavin’s expression remained unreadable.
He slid a printed worksheet toward her.
“Show us.”
The exercise described three refrigerated shipments competing for two available loading bays. Each had different arrival times, staffing requirements, and delivery commitments.
Jada read quietly.
Then she turned to the second page.
Something was missing.
“What are the product restrictions?”
Gavin frowned.
“The exercise is about scheduling.”
“Scheduling depends on them.”
“You have the delivery times.”
“But not whether the trucks can safely wait, whether either load is already under review, or whether the receiving locations have different requirements.”
Marissa looked at Gavin.
He tapped the page.
“Make reasonable assumptions.”
Jada picked up the pencil.
She wrote three questions before drawing a schedule.
Then she explained what she would prioritize and what information she would verify before moving anything.
Halfway through, the door opened.
The man from the coffee shop stood in the hallway.
He had changed jackets.
Jada had not changed anything.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he looked at the worksheet in front of her.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
Gavin straightened.
“Mr. Whitfield.”
Jada’s stomach dropped.
Of course.
Of all the coffee shops in Chicago, she had managed to be publicly impatient with the man whose name was on the building.
Thomas Whitfield looked at her stained collar.
Then at the interview panel.
“I didn’t realize you were coming here.”
“Neither did I,” Jada said.
Marissa covered a smile with one hand.
Gavin did not.
Thomas stepped inside.
“I owe Ms. Monroe a blouse.”
“You owe me a dry cleaner,” Jada replied before caution could stop her.
Thomas laughed once.
“Fair correction.”
Then she remembered the call.
“The shipment?”
His expression changed.
“Contained. A replacement vehicle reached the driver. Quality is reviewing the records before anything gets released.”
“Good.”
“You were right to ask what we were carrying.”
Gavin looked between them.
“You know each other?”
“I ruined her morning,” Thomas said.
Jada kept her eyes on the worksheet.
“I’m hoping we can keep that separate from the interview.”
The room went still.
Thomas studied her.
Then nodded.
“Absolutely.”
He turned toward the door.
“Marissa, let me know when you’re finished.”
After he left, Gavin closed the résumé.
“Interesting coincidence.”
Jada heard something beneath the words.
She sat straighter.
“I’d prefer you judge the work.”
He pushed another page toward her.
“Then here’s more.”
This worksheet showed delivery records from an actual route, with customer names removed.
Jada scanned the timestamps.
Then scanned them again.
Six separate temperature checks appeared beside six separate stops.
Every reading was identical.
To the decimal.
She looked up.
“Is this part of the exercise?”
Gavin’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
“The readings. I’d want to know whether these were automatic entries or manual ones.”
Marissa leaned forward.
“Why?”
May you like
Jada rested her pencil on the page.
“Because if somebody copied them, the schedule isn’t the biggest problem in this room.”
