The associate rushed after me.
“Miss,” she said, voice breathless. “Miss, wait.”
I turned.
Her eyes were glossy.
“I’m sorry,” I said automatically. “I shouldn’t have made it worse for you.”
“No,” she said quickly. “I wanted to thank you for standing up for me.”
I tried to smile, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
The associate swallowed. “I deal with it a lot. People like her think they own us.”
I nodded, because I understood that too well.
“I would have said something but…,” she said, then paused.
I said, “You’re doing great. Don’t let her make you forget that.”
“Thank you again,” she said quietly.
“Take care of yourself,” I replied.
I got into the Navigator and drove home, gripping the steering wheel too tight.
The woman’s words played
