Page 43 of Book Club Confidential

They discussed the pros and cons of the space and rehashed the necessary repairs as well as a probable timeline, then looked through online photos of the other spaces.

When they put their phones away, Grant stared across the small space between them.

“So.” He folded his hands on the table. “How are things at the office?”

Tessa instantly frowned, then reset her features.

“Uh-oh, what was that?” He cocked his head, eyes widening. “I was just making small talk, but that”—he pointed to her face—“says something’s wrong at work.”

“No. Everything’s fine,” she assured.

“You aren’t wearing your take-a-stand dress,” he said. “Hoping you won the battle.”

“I’m working on it,” she said. Then she smiled as she told him about her morning deliveries, the gift she’d received in return, and how much it had meant to her. “Pants and sneakers just made more sense today.”

“How can I join the Helping Hands group?” he asked. “I’d love to get involved in that.”

Tessa fished one of Monique’s cards from her purse. “She’s amazing, and she can get you started. Tell her I sent you.”

He tucked the card into his pocket. “Thanks. Now, tell me about the frown you tried to hide?”

She smiled. “It’s nothing.”

“It was something,” he said. “For the record, I’m an excellent listener, and I’m not bad at working through business concerns.”

She knew she shouldn’t share her work problems with a client. It would be unprofessional. But she also realized, to her surprise, that she wanted to talk to him about her work issues. They were becoming friends, and he had an excellent track record on business matters. Grant might be a great person to weigh in on her concerns.

“I have this friend,” she said.

“Excellent.” He crossed his arms and leaned them on the table. “Go on.”

She described the situation at her office as generically as possible and in the context of a law office, which she reasoned would have similar circumstances with attorneys and workloads.

Grant listened patiently, his handsome face giving little of his thoughts away.

When she finished, she reached for her glass of wine. “That’s the gist of it,” she said. “Not the end of the world, but incredibly frustrating for my friend nonetheless.”

Grant followed her lead, taking a sip of the merlot before speaking. Emotion flickered over his features when he met her eyes. “I can understand your friend’s frustration,” he said. “It sounds as if she’s dealing with some last-century nonsense. Has she spoken with HR?”

Tessa warmed, bolstered by his agreement. “No, because everything is subjective, and ultimately the owner of the company is in charge. He could say anything to support his decisions. Maybe, in his eyes, the younger, newer employee is truly better suited to this client.”

Grant released a long soft breath.

“What?”

“I think that’s likely untrue, but it’s also possible that you’re right.” He lifted his palms briefly in acquiescence. “The bias is blatant, but the issue is subjective. Maybe that’s why no one’s held the owner accountable. So he gets away with it, because if nothing is reported, there’s no chance for change.”

Tessa’s shoulders sank. He meant well, but there was a wide divide between them that he hadn’t considered. “You make it sound simple to speak up against him. A man. A boss. But women don’t report a lot of things because we so often aren’t heard. Or worse, we’re mocked and called hysterical, emotional, unstable—”

His eyes widened at her gentle reproach. “I didn’t— I mean, I never meant to—”

She forced a small smile to ease his discomfort. “I’m sure she assumes that if she reports him, nothing will change, but everyone will know she went to HR, including her boss. That would make her workplace even more uncomfortable, and her boss might treat her even more unfairly.”

Grant sat back in his seat, tapping his thumbs against the table’s edge.

Tessa braced for whatever he’d say next, imagining the inevitable argument to come. The defensive stance she’d be forced to take, the one he’d force her into. Exhaustion seeped through her, and she released the stem of the glass she’d fiddled nervously with while she spoke.

Grant stretched an arm across the table slowly and touched the tip of her pointer finger with his. “I am so very sorry.”