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Jonathan barked out a laugh at the memory.

“I would have played with you,” Phoebe said. “I was always the teacher when we played school. I actually wrote up lessons on big sheets of butcher paper and taped them to our bedroom wall. My siblings usually lost interest after a couple minutes, so I ended up lecturing to my stuffed animals.”

“Big big-sister energy.” Jonathan nudged her with his elbow.

“Are we supposed to be looking for a tree?”

“Let’s try this one.” Jonathan nodded toward a towering oak tree on the edge of campus. The knotty trunk stood taller than the building it neighbored, gnarled and twisted branches stretching toward the sky.

Before Phoebe could ask what, exactly, they were supposed to be trying, Jonathan took off his backpack and sat down at the base of the tree.

“Oh, I get it.” Phoebe sat next to him. “You’re Rory Gilmore, and this is your study tree.”

“Exactly.” Jonathan extracted his laptop and balanced it on his knees.

Of course he knew the reference, because he had allowed Phoebe to show him several seasons of Gilmore Girls in college. No, allowed was the wrong word… he had been hooked after the first episode.

“Maybe you and Rory are onto something,” Phoebe admitted as she rested her back against a comfortable bit of trunk. The green canopy overhead rustled pleasantly, creating ripples of shade.

“Better than being indoors, right?” Jonathan peered down at his screen. “You did all of this today?”

Phoebe nodded. “I haven’t reread it yet, so if it’s crap, we can just delete it all.”

“Phoebe.” Jonathan looked up at her. “Come on.”

“Yeah, okay.” Phoebe hid a grin as she connected to the university Wi-Fi. “I’m fine at the writing part. But you know you’ll have to take the lead when it comes to having meetings with clients or whatever.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You know that’s my weak spot. I can do behind-the-scenes stuff, but I don’t come off as professional in meetings.”

“You don’t…” Jonathan set his laptop down on the grass, pinched the bridge of his nose, then started again. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Phoebe shrugged and asked, “remember what Professor Roberts said in my assessment? ‘Phoebe needs to work on professional body language and communication style.’ And that tracks, because my former boss basically said I’m inappropriate with clients.”

“First of all, Professor Roberts was a sexist old fart. Second of all, is that actually what your boss said?”

“He said I’m too familiar with them and that it’s unprofessional. Which, yeah.”

“That sounds to me like you’re friendly with them and they love you.”

Phoebe paused. “They do usually love me.”

“See?” Jonathan held eye contact, a smile starting around his full lips. “Remember that one project about selling new management software to a nursing home? I was on the tech side, and you were client facing. You had to have meetings with the management team and some of the old folks who lived there to see what their needs were.”

“Yeah?”

“I was with you in those meetings, and you were flawless. You gave the spiel exactly the way we’d written it, and then you had totally natural conversations with them that left them all wanting to be your best friend.” Jonathan reached over to nudge her knee. She stared at his hand as he took it away. “And we got an A on that project, by the way.”

Unexpectedly, Phoebe felt salty tears in her throat. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just…”

“Pheebs.” She looked up at the use of her nickname, her cheeks flushing. “You are a businesswoman. You’re good at all of it. Don’t let some criticism from old white guys take up space in your head. Okay?”

She ducked her head, nodding, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill out. “Thanks for the pep talk.” She said it lightly, but her heart squeezed. She’d barely let herself think about her insecurities, always striving for that next goal, but ever since she had been fired, they had been simmering close to the surface. “Really. It helps more than you’d think.”