After the last question, she stepped back with an inclusive gesture. “Thank you, everyone, for your attention and kindness, and many thanks to the organizers of today’s Women’s Forum. I’ve got business cards galore here at the front, with a note on how to get a discount on your set-up fee. Thanks again.”

The applause was polite but abbreviated as women gathered up their belongings. Marissa lingered near the podium, first slipping her earring back on, then packing up her laptop as she chatted with women who came to the front to get business cards. It was a low-key sell because that was their style. Finders Keepers wasn’t about pressure. One of the first things they told clients to do was simply relax.

The next sessions got under way and Marissa escaped to the parking lot with her laptop case slung over one shoulder. Dappled sunshine warmed her face and for just a moment she heard the hiss of surf spreading on hot sand. She shook the sound out of her head. It was just as quickly replaced by the low question, “Is this what you wanted, Marissa?”

She made herself think about the unusually warm winter weather, about her shoes, about statistical regression—anything to silence that memory. She was enjoying the record high temperatures for January, she told herself cheerily. San Francisco, over the hills and on the water, was also setting records.

The San Ramon Ranch Conference Center was not far from the FK office and she had elected to walk for the exercise. It was only five minutes and she wasn’t going to get in a run until tomorrow, after all. Sunny, beautiful day. Who needed a tropical paradise when the Amador Valley would soon be green with spring while the rest of the country still froze?

“It went great,” she told Heather as she collected her messages at the reception desk. “There were probably two dozen cards taken, so we’ll see six contacts or so and might sign three.”

“Good work.” Heather brushed back her hair with a long hand. “Octavia left for that marketing association thing and said the servers are slow again.”

“She thinks lightning is slow. Your hair looks great, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She brushed it back again. “I think I need a clip or something, though.”

“The price of fashion,” Marissa quipped. “My underwire is piercing my armpit right now.” She took her leave as Heather laughed in sympathy.

The soft, deep purple carpet of the reception area gave way to a more durable gray as she punched in the code and passed through the double doors to the main farm. Cubicles occupied the center of the large space. She dropped off her laptop case at the overflowing desk in her office and removed her rings and the chunky gold necklace and earrings that matched. Another set of codes gained her entrance into the server room and she gratefully sank down at the administrative workstation. She’d always found the chilled air and steady hum calming.