Chapter 3 — Cookies and Allies
Amelia
The marketing department buzzed with subdued energy as Amelia stepped off the elevator, her tote bag slung over her shoulder and a cheerful grin fixed on her face. The space had a clinical feel to it—rows of open workstations, bland gray carpeting, and white walls adorned with uninspired motivational posters like “Teamwork Makes the Dream Work,” their tired messages feeling more obligatory than genuine. The muted hum of typing and the faint drone of an air conditioner filled the air, punctuated occasionally by the low murmur of conversation. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly welcoming, but Amelia wasn’t one to be discouraged. If this place lacked warmth and personality, she’d bring some herself.
Her first move? Cookies.
Placing a large, neatly arranged tin on the communal table in the center of the department, she carefully set out a handwritten note beside it: “Help yourself! Homemade with love – Amelia 😊.” The sweet aroma of chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin began to mingle with the faint scent of stale coffee and printer ink, cutting through the sterile atmosphere. A small smile tugged at her lips as she stepped back and surveyed her work. Simple, but effective.
Curious heads began to pop up over the tops of cubicles, and soon enough, the first brave soul made his way over. A young man with slightly disheveled dark hair and a tie that hung just a bit loose strolled up, his eyebrows lifting as he read the note.
“Homemade cookies? You’re officially setting the bar way too high for the rest of us,” he quipped, grabbing one and taking a bite. His eyes widened in delight. “Oh, these are dangerous.”
Amelia laughed, tucking a stray strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. “Dangerous in a good way, I hope?”
“In the best way,” he replied, already reaching for another. “You might have just single-handedly saved Monday mornings around here. I’m James, by the way. Junior associate, occasional over-thinker, and aspiring cookie connoisseur.”
“Amelia Bennett. New to marketing, occasional over-thinker, and aspiring to make this place a little more… lively.”
“Well, you’re off to a strong start.” He gestured at the tin. “This is going to make you very popular. Though, fair warning: not everyone around here is as friendly as me.”
Amelia tilted her head, intrigued. “Is that so?”
James leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say the higher up the ladder you go, the frostier it gets. Case in point: Nathan Carter, our ever-charming VP. And, of course, the man himself, Daniel Hayes. Good luck cracking that one.”
Amelia chuckled, filing the information away for later. “Noted. Thanks for the heads-up.”
James flashed her a grin. “Anytime. And if you ever need a partner in crime for a coffee break, I’m your guy.”
As he wandered back to his desk with another cookie in hand, Amelia felt a spark of hope. At least there was one friendly face in the sea of unfamiliarity. She was about to head to her own workspace when she noticed Linda Harper, the office administrator, standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
“Linda, right?” Amelia said, offering a warm smile. “I think we met briefly on my first day.”
Linda nodded curtly, her glasses catching the fluorescent light. “That’s correct. I’m the one who keeps this place running.”
“Well, it seems like you’re very good at it,” Amelia said genuinely. “I’ve already noticed how smoothly everything operates.”
Linda’s expression softened slightly, though she didn’t smile. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, dear. But I do appreciate someone who takes the time to make an effort.” Her gaze flicked to the cookie tin. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”
“I just thought it might brighten everyone’s day a bit,” Amelia said, though she suddenly felt self-conscious. “It’s always nice to have something sweet to look forward to.”
Linda hummed thoughtfully, and for a moment, Amelia thought she caught the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. “We’ll see if that optimism of yours lasts.” With that, she walked away, her sensible shoes tapping softly against the carpet, leaving Amelia both puzzled and amused.
As Amelia turned toward her desk, her confidence wavered. Linda’s words lingered, and for a moment, doubt crept in. Was she coming on too strong? Would her efforts be dismissed as naïve? She hesitated, her hand brushing against the strap of her tote bag as if grounding herself. Then her gaze fell on the tin of cookies, now drawing more curious employees, and she straightened her shoulders. Change didn’t happen without effort, and she wasn’t about to let skepticism deter her.
Her desk was tucked into a corner near the large windows, offering a sweeping view of the bustling city streets below. She took a deep breath, letting the sight calm her nerves. She had already started to make the space her own—there was a small potted plant, a collection of colorful pens, and her vision notebook sitting front and center, its pages filled with brainstorming diagrams and vibrant sketches. Her hand brushed over its cover, a quiet reminder of why she’d taken this job: to bring creativity and connection into a world that so often overlooked them.
Her thoughts drifted to Daniel Hayes and the sharp criticism he’d leveled at her pitch last week. His steel-blue eyes and clipped tone had made it clear that he thought her ideas were frivolous. But as dismissive as he’d seemed, there was something about him—something tightly wound but not unreachable. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she was determined to prove to him that creativity and connection weren’t just ideals—they were powerful tools.
By mid-morning, she decided to take a proactive approach. She drafted a quick email inviting the team to a casual brainstorming session that afternoon. Her finger hovered over the “Send” button for a moment, nerves tightening in her chest. What if no one showed up? What if they dismissed her ideas outright? She tapped her fingers against the desk, rereading her words for the third time. Finally, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and hit send.
When the session began, the small conference room filled with a mix of curious and skeptical faces. Amelia stood at the front, her vision notebook in hand and a nervous knot in her stomach. She took a steadying breath and smiled.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began. “I know everyone’s busy, so I really appreciate you taking the time. I thought this could be a chance for us to share ideas in a more relaxed setting—no pressure, no bad ideas, just creativity.”
James raised his hand, his grin mischievous. “Does this mean we can suggest turning the office into a giant ball pit?”
The room chuckled, and Amelia laughed along. “Maybe not that far, but I like the enthusiasm. Let’s channel that into something a little more… feasible.”
At first, the team was hesitant, their suggestions cautious and measured. Nathan Carter made an appearance, his polished shoes clicking against the floor as he leaned against the back wall, his arms crossed. His calculating gaze swept the room, and Amelia caught the flicker of a smirk when one of her ideas was met with silence.
“Well, it’s… ambitious,” Nathan said, his tone dripping with condescension. “But I’m not sure it aligns with our current priorities.”
Amelia held her ground, her voice steady. “Ambition is what sets us apart. Sometimes the boldest ideas have the biggest impact.” She didn’t miss the way his smirk faltered, though he said nothing more.
As the session progressed, skepticism began to give way to curiosity, then to genuine engagement. Team members tossed out ideas, building off each other’s suggestions. Amelia guided the discussion with warmth and encouragement, jotting down notes and sketches in her notebook. At one point, Linda poked her head in, her expression unreadable as she observed quietly from the doorway. Though she said nothing, the brief nod she gave before leaving sent a quiet thrill of satisfaction through Amelia.
By the end of the hour, the room buzzed with energy. Amelia felt a profound sense of accomplishment as she wrapped things up, thanking everyone for their input. As the team filed out, James lingered behind, his expression thoughtful.
“You’ve got a way with people,” he said. “I’ve never seen this group so… engaged.”
Amelia smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “That’s the goal. I just want everyone to feel like their ideas matter.”
“They do,” James said. “And so do yours. Don’t let anyone—Nathan included—make you think otherwise.”
His words struck a chord, and Amelia nodded, her resolve strengthening. She had a long way to go, but she was determined to prove herself—not just to her colleagues but to Daniel Hayes as well.
As she returned to her desk, the tin of cookies now nearly empty, Amelia felt a flicker of hope. Change didn’t happen overnight, but it started with small moments, like a shared laugh or a brainstorming session. And if there was one thing she believed in, it was the power of small moments to spark something bigger.
