So, Sherry,” Zariah’s voice rang out during the main course, silencing the table. “Marcus tells me you’re still working at that… little cleaning company.” The way she said “little” made it sound like something you’d scrape off your shoe.

Several guests turned to look at me, their expressions a bland cocktail of pity and curiosity. Heat rose in my cheeks. “I own a business, yes,” I replied quietly.