“I can’t imagine.” Jessa guessed some neighbors and a few people at the country club Retta and Earl belonged to likely questioned their right to be there. Jessa didn’t have any personal experience with that sort of biased, unfair scrutiny. Back at Georgetown, some students had sniffed out how she only owned four shirts and a ripped, too-small winter jacket and made snide comments, but this was a completely different thing.

“The angry whispers flew when we won the bidding war for the estate, but we’re still here,” Retta continued. “People couldn’t question if we had money. Earl’s transportation company had grown. He bought land other people undervalued and didn’t want and built there. He made his services enticing and created the infrastructure to support his plans. He had the power to smother the stray grumbling.”

Jessa thought about Earl and his gray beard. That big smile. His watchful eyes didn’t miss much. “He’s never been anything but kind to me.”

“He’s very giving to the people he cares about. Loyal and fierce. But he’s ruthless in the way he walks through this world. He’s had to be.” Retta lifted an eyebrow. “You should take a lesson.”

Jessa envied the confidence of a self-made millionaire. “I don’t have that kind of . . . what, voice? Presence? Seniority?”

Retta made a strained noise before she spoke. “Demand it.”

“Okay.” Jessa didn’t know what else to say, so she went with that.

“I have a suggestion.”

Thank God. “I’m open to any advice.”

“I belong to an exclusive group of talented, professional women.” Retta settled back farther into her chair.

“Are you talking about the Sophie Foundation?” Jessa knew of it. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure what it did or who worked there except that it sponsored events and clothing drives.

“That’s the official charity. I’m referring to a group behind the Foundation. Some members are officially affiliated with the Foundation. Some aren’t.” She hesitated for a second, as if expecting a question. “We meet in private and don’t advertise the work we do. The membership is confidential. We don’t seek out press.”

Jessa tried to wade through her growing excitement at being considered for a private group and all the words to figure out exactly what Retta was talking about. “What kind of work?”

“We help other women find their footing. Give support. Sometimes more.”

“That sounds perfect.” A little light on details, but Jessa hungered for a support group. For people who understood her position and the pressures of having everyone throwing self-focused advice at her.

Retta rubbed her hand up and down the armrest. “Your membership isn’t guaranteed, but the two of us could start meeting more regularly. Run through scenarios. Get you ready to take on the whole group.”

Jessa couldn’t remember engaging in a more cryptic conversation. “You mean research?”