She could still feel the weight of Noah’s gaze on her as she trembled from head to toe with joy.

Drake poked his head out of the craft service tent. “What’s all the racket?”

“Cat got her grant,” Henry called out.

“No shit?” Drake whooped and caught her in three steps, swinging her around in a wide circle. “That’s my girl!”

Cat was dizzy enough that it took her several seconds to realize Noah was gone.

“Tonight, we celebrate!” she announced.

--------

Trailer Town, as it was affectionately known by its temporary residents, was hopping. After knocking off shooting for the day at a reasonable hour, Cat organized a progressive drinker. It was like a progressive dinner, only with less food and more alcohol. They started off with champagne toasts to Cat’s awesomeness in Drake’s luxury RV.

Still high from the day’s win, Cat felt the flush on her cheeks that had nothing to do with alcohol. She had a strict rule for overdoing it only once during a shoot, and she’d already used up that freebie. Besides, she’d just added an entire mountain range of work to her already steep to do list. Every spare second of her days would be focused on tackling the next steps.

They were crowded around Drake’s dining table and spilling into the bump out living room, laughing about the last toast when a production assistant shyly raised her glass. “To Cat, for being the kind of role model we can all look up to,” she said, blushing furiously.

“To Cat!” the rest of the crowd echoed.

Cat smiled and gave the girl’s hand an appreciative squeeze.

“Are you going to teach?”

“When does the school open?”

“Are you offering financial aid?”

“Will any of the instructors be men?”

Cat’s head spun with the questions she hadn’t answered for herself yet.

“Guys!” she laughed. “Let’s talk about something else. Who else has good news?”

It turned out everyone did. Sound Guy Eddie’s girlfriend was not pregnant. Story editor Noelle had just wrapped up online classes to earn her bachelor’s in creative writing and scored a date with a cute local. Gaile, a camerawoman with twenty years in the industry, announced that her mom’s biopsy came back negative. Flynn had managed his handy little hammer trick on camera today, making Gannon buy lunch for everyone. And Drake—dear, handsome, Drake—everything was always good in his universe. He had a line of area rugs coming out with a high-end retailer in the new year, and he’d wrangled a new, fat contract with the network.

Henry, the workaholic, pushed a bottle of water at her and some printouts. “New Duluth ads for your approval.” At her behest, the company had happily created a campaign using real female blue collar workers.