And to think, Phoebe had heard that entire speech. Holly knew it was dull, and too long. Ten minutes, that was her usual limit for herself. No one needed to listen to her talk about anything for longer than that. Not when she spoke to the parents’ association at the kids’ school, not when she gave the welcome address at the Getty Gala, not when Serafina Clark interviewed her at the Toys 4 Tots Christmas parade. Get in and get out. Leave them wanting more. Those were her rules for public speaking. But this speech felt different. The pressure to get it right, to speak out forcefully about gender equity to a room full of powerful people, to change minds without turning anyone off—it left her feeling stiff, wooden, deadly serious. She heard every cough and yawn in the presentation hall, teeth scraping against forks, bodies shifting in their seats wondering when this woman would shut up and sit down. She’d read six pages so far and still hadn’t acknowledged the women doing the actual work of Genders United, the legal victories they’d scored, or the plans to tie those wins to systemic change. If she were more caustic naturally, maybe she could’ve pulled off a livelier speech, injecting her jeremiad with some of that seething rage that landed blunt actresses in the news the day after an award show for more than just what they wore. But that wasn’t Holly’s brand.

“We need a new speechwriter,” she’d barked at Erin once James pulled up to the porte cochere and they were safe in the car again.

But when Erin pressed for details, Holly shut her down. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. She looked out the window and tried to come up with what she should have said to Phoebe back there in the lounge. Next thing she knew, she was home—or almost home, if only Sophie the giraffe and her trailer weren’t barring the way.

Holly pulled the door handle and hopped out of the SUV.

“Right, okay,” said Erin, hurriedly gathering her things, as shocked as if Holly had opened the cargo bay of a space station without warning.

Holly looked up at the giraffe towering over her. She’d been this close to one before, on a private tour of the San Diego Zoo with the children, but there’d been security and zoologists close by. She’d felt completely safe. None of the people milling round the driveway now inspired confidence. Some had come with the animal, some worked for her. She couldn’t always tell the difference.

“Can you please get this situation under control?” she said to Erin. She was taking everything out on the wrong person today, but this was what they paid Erin for, to filter.

“Yep, absolutely,” Erin said, heading toward the oldest and stoutest of the men standing near the trailer.