P.S. I've been sketching some thoughts about the "fairy doors" you mentioned. Nothing as professional as your drawings, but I thought they might spark some conversation!
Attached is a PDF labeled "Reading Nook Ideas." I open it to find hand-drawn sketches of tiny doors with different themes—one shaped like an open book, another with a miniature ladder leading up to it, a third with what looks like a tiny mailbox beside it. The drawings are charming, enthusiastic rather than technically precise, with little notes scribbled in the margins: "For returning secret library cards?" beside the mailbox, and "Maybe lights inside?" next to one door.
I find myself smiling at the screen. Her excitement is palpable even through email, a stark contrast to my usual client communications about measurements and timelines.
I type a response, delete it, try again.
Ms. Harper,
Thank you for the notification. I'm available to meet Thursday afternoon if that works for your schedule. Your fairy door concepts are interesting. I've been considering similar interactive elements.
Cal Rhodes
I read it over, frowning. It sounds stiff, impersonal. Not how I want to start this project. I delete it all and try once more.
Molly,
Thanks for the good news. I'm looking forward to the project.
Thursday afternoon works for me if that suits you. 2:00 at the library? Your fairy door sketches are great—especially the book-shaped one. I've been thinking along similar lines.
Cal
Still brief, but less formal. I hit send before I can overthink it further.
Her response arrives within minutes:
Thursday at 2 is perfect! I'll reserve our small conference room so we can spread out materials. Can't wait!
-Molly
I close my laptop and return to the cherry boards I've been prepping, but my mind keeps drifting to auburn hair and enthusiastic sketches of fairy doors.
Thursday arrives with unexpected nervousness. I haven't felt this way about a client meeting in years. I tell myself it's the project—something different, challenging, with higher stakes than a dining table or bookcase. But as I gather my portfolio and materials, I know it's more than that.
The library is quiet when I arrive, the afternoon lull between the morning children's programs and after-school rush. I find my way to the administration area, where a woman at the front desk looks up with a smile.
"You must be Cal Rhodes. Molly's expecting you in Conference Room B—just down that hallway on the right."
I nod my thanks and follow her directions, pausing outside the door marked with a simple "B." Through the glass panel, I can see Molly already inside, arranging what looks like dozens of books, papers, and fabric swatches across the table. She's wearing a deep green dress that makes her hair look even more vibrant, and she's talking to herself as she moves things around, occasionally gesturing with her hands.
I knock lightly, and she looks up, her face breaking into a smile that seems to illuminate the room.
"Cal! Come in!" She waves me inside with enthusiasm. "I hope you don't mind, but I went a little overboard with inspiration materials."
"I can see that." I step inside, taking in the organized chaos spread across the conference table. Children's books stand open to specific illustrations. Color swatches are grouped by theme. There's even what appears to be a miniature tree made from cardboard and green tissue paper.
"I'm a visual thinker," she explains, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "When I get excited about something, I tend to... externalize it."
"It's thorough," I say, setting my portfolio on the one clear corner of the table. "I appreciate thorough."
She beams at this, apparently taking it as high praise. "Great! I thought we could start by discussing the overall concept, then get into specific features. I've collected some of our most popular picture books to show the aesthetic that resonates with our young readers."
For the next twenty minutes, Molly walks me through her vision, moving from book to book with infectious enthusiasm. She shows me illustrations fromWhere the Wild Things Are,The Giving Tree, and newer titles I'm not familiar with, pointing out color palettes and spatial arrangements that engage children.
"What I love about your tree concept," she says, "is how it creates distinct spaces within a unified whole. Like this—" She opens a book calledThe Magic Faraway Tree. "See how there are different worlds at each level? That's what children crave—variety within safety."
I nod, studying the illustration. "Different experiences depending on where they are in the structure."
