Over the months he’d got to know her order so that by the time she’d paid, her cappuccino was right there on the counter, complete with her name spelled out in the foam. The first time it had happened she’d been thrilled, and not only because tall, rangy Jordan had evidently remembered her name. It was also the first time she’d felt acknowledged as a regular. Someone from around here. A person with as much right to call herself a New Yorker as anyone else.

Up till then, she always felt like the proverbial country mouse. Her pretty face, bright-eyed perkiness and neat figure might have opened doors back home in Aubrey, Texas, but she’d felt like an imposter even trying to make a life for herself here. There had been times she wondered why she kept on at it—the grungy apartment, the daily commute, the low pay. Except that she was driven by a greater purpose. Like countless others before her, she’d hoped that by simply being here she would discover a way to bring her deepest wishes into reality.

Until then, Brew Ha was her sanctuary, her feel-good place. For as long as it took to drink her cappuccino, every Friday she would reflect nostalgically on the good things back home in Aubrey, like Mr. Deal and the horses she used to care for at Bluegrass Horse Sanctuary, especially her beloved Flash, who she’d ridden since childhood. She’d also remind herself why she was here.

Friends back home had always been complimentary about how she’d styled her bedroom in a way that was contemporary and chic, even if they didn’t have the language to describe what she’d done or how it made them feel. She had the right eye, they’d say. She knew how to put things together. Which was why she’d set her heart on getting into interior design someday, once she’d got to understand how things worked in New York City and found the confidence to bring her dreams to life.

On weekends Amy would walk round her new Brooklyn neighborhood and pause outside some of the buildings and wonder about what it might be like to live there. One in particular, the spectacular art-deco Woodrow Wilson building was her all-time favorite. She was so drawn to it she’d even walked into its gracious, marble lobby and marveled at its landscaped gardens. Apartments in the building started out at half a million plus, with two bedrooms costing at least double that. She’d have to be a trader at Sharma Funds before she could even think of earning enough.