Martha listened while she rolled dough.

“People like to talk about courage as though it’s one beautiful speech,” she said.

“Most days it’s getting up and choosing the difficult thing again.”

I watched her press the rolling pin across the countertop.

My father had died before I founded my company.

For years, I had imagined how proud he’d be if he could see the office.

More recently I had wondered whether he would be disappointed in how long I’d tolerated Spencer’s contempt.

I asked Martha that question carefully.