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The next day, when Margot enters my office holding her iPad, I am more than surprised.

What stuns me more is her greeting of, "Good morning Rory, do you have time to work on the Buchanan Charity Ball with me for a few hours?"

I sit in my desk chair in silence, pressing my back against the firm furniture to ground myself in reality. Margot Lawson is seeking my opinion two days in a row?

I must be dreaming.

My silence is prolonged as Margot takes a seat next to me, my lack of dismissal prompting her to make the decision for me. When the chair she has dragged across creaks under her weight, my body finally catches up with my brain and I scramble to adjust the angle of my computer and open a new tab, leaving the tab regarding the budget for the end-of-season Soccer Banquet for another day.

"Yes of course," I manage in reply, belatedly agreeing to work with Margot. I cringe at the redundancy of my words considering Margot is already seated beside me with her iPad open to display what appears to be photos of individuals at various events.

Margot smiles and the familiar sight of her almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners immediately puts me at ease. Superpowers.

"So here I have a list of potential photographers for the ball," she begins and the display on her iPad makes much more sense now. "Because my usual and favourite photographer Damien Lovell is unavailable." Margot hesitates, but it's clear that she would like to say more. Hey eyes flick to mine for a second before returning to her iPad screen. "But none of them match Damien. And all the photographers that have photos even remotely as good as Damien's cost a fortune. Thanks to your brilliant maths yesterday, I know what I can fit into the budget, and an experienced photographer whose photos look as good as Damien's doesn't fit."

Margot looks up at me again, the eye contact maintained to let me know that she has finished.

I mull over her words in silence, unsure of whether I should say what I'm thinking or just wait and go through the photographers Margot can choose from.

I've heard of the magnificence that is Damien Lovell - he's essentially the Margot Lawson of event photographers. And he certainly doesn't come cheap, so he and Margot must have a very strong professional relationship.

And the only reason I've even heard of Damien is my best friend, Nora.

It's the openness in Margot's eyes that allow me to say what I want to, albeit hesitantly.

"Well, I've actually seen a lot of Damien's work thanks to a friend of mine, Nora Latham. She's a 24-year-old event photographer." I feel like I've already said too much and wasted Margot's time, but her smile is as kind as always and it provides the confidence I need. "She's very talented. Of course, I don't want to step on any toes and I'm sure you've got a lot of incredible photographers that you could choose from, but I'm more than happy to show you some of Nora's work. Just as an option - which would be cheaper of course, since she's quite young." When Margot's smile doesn't morph into an angry expression at my potential nepotism, I exhale in relief.

Margot's words are soft when she speaks, exposing how obvious my hesitance is.

"Rory, I would love to see some of your friend's work. Does she work for a company, or have some social media displaying her work?"

Once more today, Margot has stunned me into silence.

I react quicker than before.

"Yes, she is a freelance photographer so she has her own social media," I answer, grateful for the distraction of grabbing my phone and pulling up Nora's instagram.