Preston was standing at the window of the conference room in a perfect gray suit, talking loudly on his phone. His co-founder, a young man with a laptop, was setting up the screen. Ben walked in first.

“Preston, welcome. Before we start, let me introduce the chair of our investment committee. She's also BrightPath's founder.”

I walked in behind him.

Preston turned around from the window with his biggest smile already on his face.

Then he saw me.

The smile stayed exactly where it was. Everything else on his face fell off it.

“Grace?” he said. “What… are you doing here?”

“Preston, meet Grace Holloway,” said Ben pleasantly. “She started BrightPath seven years ago, tutoring kids at her kitchen table. She still teaches seventh-grade math three days a week. She just came from first period.”

Preston looked at my cardigan. At the chalk dust on my sleeve.

“You… you're the founder?”

“I'm the recluse,” I said. “Sorry I'm not an old guy from the eighties.”

His co-founder looked from Preston to me, very confused.

Preston swallowed.

Then he laughed. A big, warm, desperate laugh.

“Well! Small world! Grace, about Saturday. You know that was just banter, right? Just the guys being the guys. No hard feelings?”

“Let's hear your pitch, Preston,” I said, and sat down.