A young woman on my flight kept throwing her long blonde hair over the back of her seat, allowing it to brush against my face and land in my coffee and lunch.

By two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, the rugged sagebrush of eastern Oregon had melted away, replaced by the breathtaking, moss-covered basalt cliffs of the Columbia River Gorge.

The mighty river stretched out beside Interstate 84 like a shimmering ribbon of sapphire glass, flanked by cascading waterfalls and towering Douglas firs. The scent of damp cedar and fresh mountain pine drifted through our open truck windows.

According to our GPS, we were thirty-two minutes from downtown Portland.

Brianna was sitting in the passenger seat, having traded driving duties back to me after we crossed the Oregon border. She was dressed in her emergency backup outfit—a tailored charcoal blazer, crisp white blouse, and dark denim trousers that looked remarkably polished despite having spent twenty-four hours in a duffel bag.

Her laptop was open on her lap. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she finalized her presentation deck.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

The screen displayed a local Portland area code. The caller ID read: *KAIZEN ATHLETICS GLOBAL HQ.*

Brianna froze. Her eyes darted to mine, wide with terror.

“Put it on speakerphone, dear,” I said softly, keeping my eyes fixed on the winding river highway. “You have earned this moment. Take what is yours.”

Brianna took a deep breath, touched the green icon, and held her head high.

“Good afternoon, this is Brianna Vance.”

“Hello, Ms. Vance,” came a crisp, authoritative female voice. “This is Evelyn Cross, Vice President of Global Brand Strategy at Kaizen. We had you scheduled for an in-person panel interview at ten o'clock this morning.”

“Yes, Ms. Cross,” Brianna said, her voice completely steady and professional. “I apologize profusely for not arriving at ten. My flight out of Chicago was diverted due to the severe supercell storm over Nebraska, grounding all regional air traffic.”

There was a skeptical pause on the other end of the line. “I see. We did hear about the weather disruptions. However, company policy for senior leadership candidates requires in-person presence for the final culture assessment. Our panel is adjourning for the weekend at three-thirty.”

“I am currently crossing through the Columbia Gorge,” Brianna stated with quiet power. “I will be walking into your corporate lobby at precisely three-fifteen.”

A sharp intake of breath sounded over the speaker. “You… drove from Nebraska?”

“Fifteen hundred and forty miles in twenty-six hours through a blizzard, a flat tire in the Medicine Bow Mountains, and zero sleep,” Brianna replied, glancing over at me with a wink. “Because when I commit to a brand, Ms. Cross, I don't let mechanical failures or acts of God prevent me from delivering results.”

Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds.

Then, a slow, appreciative chuckle emerged from the speaker.

“Well, Ms. Vance,” Evelyn Cross replied, her tone shifting entirely. “That is precisely the kind of grit our athletic campaign is currently missing. The fourth-floor boardroom will remain open until three-thirty. Don't bother changing into a formal suit. Come exactly as you are.”

“I’ll see you in fifteen minutes,” Brianna said, ending the call.

She looked at me, her hands trembling—not with panic, but with triumphant disbelief. “She said yes. She’s waiting for me!”

“We have one small problem,” I said, tapping the truck’s dashboard clock.

It was 2:48 PM.

The University of Portland commencement ceremony at the Chiles Center had begun forty-five minutes ago. According to the graduation program Sarah had emailed me, the College of Arts and Sciences—Maya’s department—was scheduled to walk across the stage between 3:15 and 3:45 PM.

The corporate headquarters of Kaizen Athletics was in Beaverton, ten miles southwest of downtown. The university campus was five miles north.

In Saturday afternoon Portland traffic, going to Beaverton first meant I would miss Maya’s name being called by twenty minutes. Going to the university first meant Brianna would miss her 3:30 corporate deadline.

Brianna looked at the map, then at me. The joy vanished from her face, replaced by a look of profound heartbreak.