Mary loved Chicago. She loved the heartbeat of the city and how, when she walked its streets, she felt alive. She was sure that as long as this city was the backdrop of her daily life, she would be happy no matter what. Of course the beautiful day helped elevate her mood even more than normal. Nothing could be better than a beautiful late spring day in Chicago. Chicago's winters were harsh so the first day it was over 60 degrees out, nearly everyone in the city could be found outside. They were out in shorts and t-shirts barbequing with friends and family, walking their dogs, playing with their little ones at the park, or aimlessly wandering the city just so they could be out enjoying the day.

Mary was one of the many walking the sidewalks of Lincoln Park today, enjoying the sunshine and 72 degree weather. However, unlike the many others that looked to be just out enjoying the beautiful Saturday morning, Mary had a destination and corresponding appointment to get to. She was headed toward the redline stop at Fullerton that would take her into downtown Chicago. The walk to the L-train stop was a short distance from her apartment and the ride downtown was only 15 minutes, and so, Mary spent the short commute trying to calm her nerves.

For most of her closest university friends, stress was a thing of the recent past. Finals were over for them all last week and now most of her friends' worries revolved around when they would sober up for the day so they could start drinking again. She had gone out with them to celebrate the end of term the previous weekend, and had woken up last Sunday with a blistering headache, sour breath, and a thick tongue, but Mary was not one to party every night just because it was summer break and she could. No, after the required celebratory weekend where she racked up at least a hundred dollar bar tab Friday night and a two-hundred dollar bar tab Saturday night (why did she think it necessary to buy all of Napier's drinks and several rounds of shots), Mary immediately started looking for another job.

She had to have a job. She was not like many of her other friends whose parents supported them throughout school. Not that her parents wouldn't if they could, but they simply could not afford to while she went to school in the city. Thank God, she received academic scholarships for both undergrad and grad school, but she still had to pay for living expenses. Sure, she could have taken student loans to live off of but she couldn't stomach the idea of paying 8% interest when she could work instead. And so, up until a month ago, she had been working as a nanny and going to school for 6 of the past 7 years.

She had worked for three different families over the past seven years. She worked for the Roth's from age 18 to 19, for the Little's from age 19 to 22, and the McKinney's from age 23 to 25. She was an excellent nanny and would have loved to keep working for the McKinney's until she finished her masters in a year's time, but Nick McKinney was transferred to another city a little over a month ago. She hated to see the family go. Both Nick and Sarah were excellent, hard working, and caring parents and their seven-year-old twin boys, Sam and Scott, were sweet and loving. She had been their summer and afterschool nanny for a little under two years and missed them all terribly. Both boys and Mary cried nearly the entire last day they spent together.

The McKinney's had left a few weeks before Mary's final papers were due and she decided to wait until the end of term before trying to find another family. She had worked for the same nanny agency since she was 18 and thus had a good relationship with the people there. So, when Darcy, her favorite coordinator at the agency, telephoned her a couple days ago and told her that she had another family for her to interview with, one that would pay more than double of any of her other families, Mary was ecstatic. The agency had her resume and recommendations from her previous families already available for the prospective new family to look over, so the over the phone interview two days ago with a close associate of the family, not the actual mother or father, was fairly straight forward. When was she available? Monday through Friday in the summer, from two in the afternoon to nine at night in the evening during the school year, holidays would be discussed when they came round. Was she willing to stay the night and work weekends if need be? Would rather not, but could be open for negotiation. Was she able to remain discreet? Yes. (Who were these people?) Would she require transportation? No. (Were they willing to buy her a car?) And other basic interview questions. The associate, an older sounding female, seemed to like what Mary had to say because she wanted to know if Mary could come over that coming Saturday to meet the child, a five-year-old girl, tour the home, meet the family, and, if all went well, sign a year's contract. Mary agreed and set an appointment for ten in the morning that coming Saturday.

It was 9:30 as Mary took her set on the underground subway train. It would be a fifteen-minute ride to her stop at Monroe and a five-minute walk to The Pearl at Millennium Park. She had seen The Pearl many times on her numerous trips to visit Millennium and Grant Park over the years. It was an enormous, all glass skyscraper that held offices, banquet halls, a hotel, luxury apartments and several penthouses, one of which would be her final destination. She had certainly never worked for quite as wealthy of a family before, even though all of her previous employers had been very well off. The Little's, the wealthiest of the three families, had been worth about 25 million but they could have never afforded a penthouse in downtown Chicago. Mary wondered what this Crawley family did. Was it family money? Were they entrepreneurs? Or perhaps they were famous, but she, Mary, was so out of touch with everything that wasn't European History or the fascinations of small children, that she wouldn't have known it.

When she arrived in front of The Pearl twenty minutes later, her nerves had still not settled. She was unsure why she was so nervous. Was it because all of the money on the table? The Crawley family was willing to pay her over double what she was making previously and with that amount of money, not only would she easily be able to pay her bills and have fun with her friends, but also really be able to add to her small, but still existent, savings. Or was it because she didn't know what to expect from this family? She had always done the first phone interview with a parent and, therefore, knew the type of family she was going to encounter once she entered their home. The older woman whom she interviewed with was very professional, kind, and unintimidating; however, the associate, who went by the name of Ms. Hughes, had made it very clear to Mary that she was not going to be Mary's employer, nor would Mary be working in her home. Mary had never gone on a secondary interview so in the dark. Or was it because Mary was just simply weary to get settled with a new family and do the final big push until she was able to graduate? Just one more year until she could start her "big girl job." Why oh why, couldn't have the McKinney's stayed just one more year?

As Mary looked up the tall, all glass façade of the western side of The Pearl, a crushing sense of inadequacy rushed over her. What was she doing at a place like this? She was so below these types of people, with there Fortune Five-Hundred sized bank accounts, entourages, trust funds, and no-limit credit cards. She was a girl from Southern Illinois. A girl from a town of two-thousand and the only one she knows of, besides her two sisters, that has left the county lines for more than a weeks vacation. She was not poor, but her family was the very essence of middle class. Her father was a small-time farmer and varsity football coach; her mother was a high school English teacher. She was sure this Crawley family would take one look at her and decided that she was not the right type of person to play such an integral role in the raising of their child. But Mary needed this job. Darcy didn't say that any other families were looking for a nanny that fit her school schedule.

With a sinking heart, Mary closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The third time a large amount of oxygen left her lungs, she felt a wonderful cool breeze come off Lake Michigan and ruffle her ponytail. With her eyes still closed, she turned her body to the east and felt the warm sun across her face and smiled at how it warmed her lips so pleasantly. She then opened her eyes and saw the life, the heartbeat, of the city around her. Immediately, like emerging from dark, icy water, the heavy weight on her chest lifted. With this stage, this city, this world, how could one not be optimistic about the future? The people who lived in The Pearl were the minority in this world and people like her, ones who studied hard, worked hard, and played hard, were the majority. Mary knew that life was full of a thousand different defining moments that could change her entire existence completely, and if this was not one of those moments, then she would go out and look for the next one. She would be fine if she didn't get the job. She was young and smart and attractive. She had the same dark brown hair and smooth, fair skin as her mother, her grandfather's dark, nearly black, eyes and full eye-lashes, pink lips, and a tall and lean, dancer like, body. She had always able to find something and this time would be no different. Who cares if the Crawley's found her inadequate? She knew that it would be their loss in the end. She was good at what she did and she knew that, so who cared if the Crawley's were too pretentious to see it.

With that self-assurance and mini pep talk on her mind, she entered The Pearl with her head held high and a small smile on her face. She walked straight up the front desk where there was a young man who was probably not much older than she was. He wore a black suit and tie that matched his slicked down black hair and had a red name badge pined to his lapel that read, "Welcome to The Pearl, my name is Thomas," written in haughty, barely legible cursive. When he noticed her approach, he put down his pen and gave her a small, clearly forced smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Hello Ma'am, and welcome to The Pearl. What can I assist you with today?"

"Hello, my name is Mary Crawley and I have a 10 o'clock appointment with a Ms. Hughes," Mary responded with the same newly acquired confidence.

"Ah, yes. Ms. Hughes said that you would be calling this morning," Thomas responded blandly and continued by asking, "You're interviewing for the nanny position?"

"Yes I am. I know I'm a little early. I hope it's alright?"

"Of course ma'am," Thomas responded with the same forced kindness. "Could I please see a photo ID?" Thomas must have read Mary's confusion and explained while a slight edge of irritation, "It's for security purposes since you are going up to one of the penthouses. Security for our members is of the upmost importance. If you get the job, all lobby and security staff will be notified and you will be issued a Pearl ID with a set of key cards that will gain you access to the private elevators and the Crawley penthouse its self," Thomas explained coolly.

"Oh ok," Mary responded now that she understood. She turned slightly to retrieve her driver's license from her black leather satchel bag, which was swung around on her left hip. She felt Thomas's eyes on her while she rummaged through her bag but when she turned back to him, license in hand, he had only the same cool and aloof smile for her. She handed him her license all while starting to feel the same insecurity she felt outside creep back in on her. Thomas grabbed it quickly from her grasp, laid it face down on a scanner, and pushed a series of buttons, nearly in the same motion. Mary heard the slow progress of the scanner and started looking around the vast lobby for something to do. It was decorated mostly in black marble with gold and pearl colored accents and it had more than several large tropical looking plants, set into enormous red pots.

"So," Thomas started, and Mary turned back to look at him, "a Miss Mary Crawley to see Mr. Crawley. Are you related to Mr. Crawley?" Thomas asked it in a way that made Mary feel like he wasn't inquiring to make small talk, but rather just to be nosey.

"No we are not," Mary's response was short but she still said in a more or less friendly manner. She wasn't often rude to people just because they were less than kind to her. 'Kill 'em kindness,' her mother always told her, and so that was how Mary tried to live her life. It might be a very 'country' and naïve principle for her to act by, especially in a large city, but it had worked for her so far in life.

"We, the staff that is, figured you'd be related to Mr. Crawley once we saw your name on the call sheet this morning. Especially seeing as how the girl's last care taker had been Mr. Crawley's mother," Thomas replied.

"No. It's just a coincidence I assure you," Mary replied confidently hopefully putting a stop to his questions. True, even she had wondered once Darcy had told her the family name of the people she would be interviewing with. Mary guessed that Crawley was a fairly common name; sure it wasn't Smith or Jones, but she couldn't expect to be related to every other Crawley in the country. However, she did call home and asked her dad if they were related to any other Crawley's in the Chicago area and he assured her that they were not. When she questioned him about it again, he responded by saying, "Mary, I think we would know if we were related to a multi-millionaire who owned a penthouse in downtown Chicago. I'm sure your mother would tell everyone that she met." Mary couldn't argue with that logic.

Mary saw Thomas type a few things on the keyboard and click his computer mouse a few more times, before he handed her license back to her. Mary quickly returned it to her bag and saw Thomas signal to someone across the room. A moment later another tall young man was standing next to her. He was blonde and dress in a red jacket with gold trimming and a black bowtie.

"William, could you please escort Ms. Crawley to the Crawley penthouse?" Thomas asked William, and continued by explaining, "She is here to interview for the nanny position."

"Of course," William responded to Thomas, who then turned to Mary and said while holding his arm out in from of him, "Right this way ma'am."

Mary offered a quite thank you and corresponding smile to Thomas before she turned to follow William, who was making his way to the elevators in the middle of the lobby.

"It was a pleasure ma'am," Thomas responded coolly, "and good luck." The way he said 'good luck' troubled Mary slightly. He said it with just a hint of sarcasm and a heavy dose of haughtiness. However, she quickly brushed off his comment, hardly having room in her brain and gut to worry about what Thomas thought of her, when she had to worry about what the Crawley's perception of her would be. Never the less, she remained cognizant of Thomas's eyes on her as she followed William to a small but luxurious elevator slightly removed to the left of the other, larger elevators. Her suspensions were confirmed as she turned around to face the entrance of the elevator car, and saw Thomas's judging eyes on her from where he stood behind the long, black marble lobby desk. She saw him tilt his head to the left and give her one last cool smirk before the doors closed him out.

Mary saw William bend, insert and retract a shiny, all black key card, and press one of the only seven buttons inside the elevator. The back lighting behind the button labeled 'P5' glowed red and after a seconds pause Mary felt the elevator rush upwards at an alarming rate. Her stomach dropped for a second but her body quickly acclimated its self to the rate she was going. The elevator was quite and Mary took advantage of her last moments to calm herself. She took a deep, controlled breath, and adjusted her blazer and high ponytail. She wore a white V-neck fitted tee underneath her navy blue blazer, skinny dark wash blue jeans, nude pumps, and "diamond" studded silver hoop earnings.

"Nervous ma'am?" William asked kindly.

"Is it that obvious?" Mary responded in a higher, slightly trembling voice as she turned slightly to look up at William. He chuckled once and offered her a warm, large closed mouth grin. Where Thomas's presence had made her feel on edge and inadequate, William's made her feel comfortable and relaxed. Seeing Williams large smile, Mary could only smile herself and let out a nervous little laugh. Just then she felt the elevator slow and a moment later come to a complete stop. She allowed her self one more controlled deep breath, just as the elevator doors opened with a small 'ping' sound. Mary offered William a quite thank you and started walking towards a large set of dark wooden double doors at the end of a short dimly lit corridor.

"Good luck, ma'am," William called after her and she turned to give him a parting smile. There was nothing forced or faked about Williams remark or corresponding smile, and she once again found her mood lifted by his sincere kindness. She had know William for all of two minutes and she already knew that if, by some small miracle, she got the job, they would be friends. She returned his warm smile just as the elevator closed around him and Mary was left totally alone. Without William's presence, the crushing weight of anxiety found her chest again. She wanted William with her again: heck, she would have even gladly taken Thomas at this point. Another large breath of air filled her lungs again and as she exhaled, Mary made herself start walking the rest of the way down the corridor.

Within less than 10 paces she found herself in front of the large double doors. She adjusted her ponytail, straighten her blazer, swung her bag around to where it rested against her backside, raised her right hand and gave two loud knocks. She dropped her hand back by her side and took more steadying, controlled breaths. By the third time Mary exhaled she heard slight shuffling on the other side of the door. The shuffling soon turned into audible footsteps that got progressively louder with each step and a moment later there was the sound, directly on the other side of the door, of someone undoing a series of locks. As the door swung open all and a bright light hit her making her squint, all Mary could think of was whether or not this would be one of her defining moments.