He cuts me off, closing the fat binder on his desk, moving a blank notepad on top of it so the label is obscured. Then he sits back with his hands behind his head, elbows pointing out. Maybe he thinks he looks bigger this way, more powerful.

“See,” he says, “this is why the old way didn’t work. There’s always something. Always some sick kid or a school play or menstrual cramps or maternity leave. Always a problem.”

I open my mouth, but not to speak. It just falls open in disbelief.

Morgan hasn’t finished. He picks up a pen and jabs the air with it. “You need to get it in your head, Jean. You women aren’t dependable. The system doesn’t work the way it was. Take the fifties. Everything was fine. Everyone had a nice house and a car in the garage and food on the table. And things still ran smoothly! We didn’t need women in the workforce. You’ll see, once you get over all this anger. You’ll see it’s going to be better. Better for your kids.” He stops stabbing. “Anyway, let’s not argue about it. You be a good girl and get in here at nine from now on, and I won’t report this.”

“I have Fridays off,” I say. “It’s in my contract.” I need every bit of concentration to keep my voice steady and my hands still.

“Well, I changed your contract,” he says, tapping a folder on his desk. He still hasn’t asked me to sit down. “Before you signed it. And we’re moving up the deadline to the third week of June.”

“Why?”

Now he’s talking like a teacher to a small child. “Jean, Jean, Jean. You don’t need to know.”

“Fine, Morgan. Whatever. By the way, we’ll be working over the weekend and running a trial on our first subject this Monday or Tuesday.” I take a seat in the chair facing him.

He looks shocked.

“Surprised?”

“Well, yes. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think what, Morgan? That Lorenzo, Lin, and I could actually make this work? Come on. You were in the department with us. You know Lin’s a rock star.” I don’t say, You probably had to lower the chair in her office so your feet could touch the ground. It wouldn’t do to piss him off, not when I need something.

He studies me with those beady eyes, bright and alert, like a terrier’s. No. That’s not quite right. Terriers are clever little things. “That’s just terrific, Jean. Really terrific.” He stands up, an indication the visit is over. “I knew we could do it.”