“Are You the Help?” the CEO’s Wife Asked — By Morning, I Was Calling the Board to Order

desk. The numbers are better.”

“It’s a start,” I said.

Across the room, Diane approached in a silver gown, her steps slower than last year.

“Ms. Monroe. Zoey.” She remembered my daughter’s name. “I owe you an apology.”

“You do,” I agreed.

Her eyes widened. “I was unspeakably rude last year. I made assumptions based on appearance and spoke to you as if you continue reading …