“Come on, come on.” Soph grabbed my hand and led me through a glass door that opened into a large meeting room. It was empty at the moment, but the wall boasted a huge smart board, and I surmised this was where the big meetings took place. We passed through another glass door on the opposite side, stepping into a large communal work space.

My artist’s heart did a pitter-pat as I surveyed what could only be described as graphic designer nirvana. There were drafting tables; workstations with iMacs, Macbook Pros, iPads with Apple Pencils; shelves full of paper and art supplies. On a large table, I saw mood boards with color swatches, sketchbooks, Pantone color books, paper samples, and a fat stack of design annuals.

And, oh, my heart. There was artwork on the walls! Great big pieces of hand lettering, and poster designs from famous designers I recognized—Milton Glaser and Seymour Chwast—as well as some fine art prints from Keith Haring and Andy Warhol.

“It’s great, right?” Soph asked.

“So great,” I agreed.

No one was using this communal space at the moment, and we plowed through the room to a row of offices, situated all along the exterior of the floor, giving each one floor-to-ceiling window views. Sophie passed two of them and then paused. She held up her hands like a game show model, and it was then that I realized the frosted glass door had an engraved nameplate. Etched into the brushed copper was Annabelle Martin, Creative Director.

“Oh, wow,” I said. I ran my fingers over the letters. They’d been done in an original font exclusive to Vasquez Squared. Somehow, seeing my name on the door made my being here seem more real. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I knew how Soph wanted me to feel, and I cried, “This is the best!”

“Isn’t it?” She did jump, just a little one, this time. She reached past me and opened the door, pushing it wide.

I walked in feeling as if I’d crossed over some mythical threshold into adulthood. This was not a space to be inhabited by a woman who wore yoga pants and T-shirts. I felt an itch in the middle of my back and wondered if I was developing a rash. I’m not allergic to full-time work, I swear. I am a little skittish about working for other people, even best friends, however.

“We’ll leave you to get settled,” Miguel said. “Staff meeting in the conference room at ten.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised.

Soph hugged me tightly about the neck. “I’m so glad you’re here. This is going to be fabulous.”