Know Your Worth

The late afternoon sun filtered through the Presbyterian Hospital blinds, casting golden stripes across Lucious Stewart's massive, weathered hands. At eighty-seven, he still had the strongest grip Anna Belle had ever known, though now it trembled slightly as he held hers. The machines around him beeped softly, a digital lullaby that couldn't quite mask the weight of sadness infused in the moment.

"Anna Belle, sugar," he said, his voice carrying the same warmth it had when she was seven and scraped her knee on the front porch, "there's something I need you to understand before I go meet your grandmother in Heaven."

Anna Belle squeezed his hand tighter, her throat constricting. "Granddaddy, you're not going anywhere. The doctors said so."

"The doctors don’t know a damn thing," Lucious chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. "I know what is happening. Now listen to me, child." His steel blue eyes, still sharp but clearly tired, locked onto hers. "You need to know your worth. Not what your mama thinks it is, not what some college professor told you, and sure as hell not what some fool who thinks he’s a man might try to convince you it is."

Anna Belle felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I know my worth, Granddaddy."

"Do you, really?" He raised an eyebrow, his signature method of showing disbelief. "Because the world, sugar, will always treat you no better than what you see you're worth as. And right now, sitting here looking like you've been carrying the weight of everyone else's expectations on your shoulders, I'm not so sure you do know."

She glanced down at her bartending uniform from the upscale country club where she'd been mixing drinks for people who treated her like expensive furniture. College degree gathering dust while she served martinis to men who made more in a day than she made in a month.

"The job pays the bills, Granddaddy, but it's not exactly what I dreamed of doing with my business degree."

"Tell me something I don't know," Lucious said with a slight smile. "You've been walking around like an apology for months now. Ever since you graduated, you've been asking permission to exist in rooms where you should be demanding a seat at the table."

"It's not that simple, Granddaddy. Good jobs are hard to come by these days."

"Harder to find than hen's teeth?" He nodded slowly. "You think I didn't know about challenging work situations? When I started my construction business with nothing but a used truck and more determination than common sense? You think your grandmother didn't know about uphill battles when she opened her bakery and half the town thought a woman couldn't handle the business side and her only place was at home?"

Anna Belle had heard these stories a hundred times, but somehow they felt different now, heavier with meaning.

"The difference," Lucious continued, his grip tightening with surprising strength, "is we knew our worth before we walked into those rooms. We didn't wait for permission to be valuable. We just knew we were. Your grandmother used to say, 'Luci, confidence isn't thinking you're better than everyone else. It's knowing you belong wherever you choose to stand.’"

"But what if I don't know how to do that?" The words came out smaller than she'd intended.

"Then you figure it out, sugar. Because your ambitions, they're what make you who you are. A woman's worth is no greater than her ambitions, but it's no less than them either. So the question is always going to be, how big are you willing to dream?"

Anna Belle leaned forward, resting her forehead against their joined hands. "I want to matter, Granddaddy. I want to build something that lasts, something that brings people joy. Something like what you and Grandma built."

"Then do it," he said simply. "But do it knowing you deserve to succeed, not hoping someone might let you. Promise me, Anna Belle. Promise me you won't settle for being treated like you're worth less than you are. Ever, under any circumstance."

"I promise," she whispered.

They held each other then, grandfather and granddaughter, as the sun set through those hospital blinds. Two days later, Lucious passed peacefully in his sleep, leaving Anna Belle with his words echoing in her mind and an inheritance she didn't know she needed, the permission to value herself.

Six Months Later: The Software Company

"So you want to leave bartending to work in tech?" The interviewer, Janet Morrison, looked skeptical as she flipped through Anna Belle's resume. "Customer service isn't exactly a career track position."

Anna Belle straightened in her chair. "I want to start in customer service and learn the business from the ground up. But I don't plan to stay there long."

"And why should we hire you over candidates with actual tech experience?"

"Because I've spent two years managing drunk millionaires at the country club," Anna Belle replied with a smile. "If I can handle a hedge fund manager having a meltdown over his golf handicap, I can probably handle a frustrated customer who doesn’t know where to click in your software."

Janet laughed despite herself. "That's actually a very fair point."

"Plus, I've been studying your software in my spare time. I've identified three areas where the user interface could be more intuitive, and I think I understand why your churn rate spikes in month three of customer contracts."

"Is that so?"

Anna Belle pulled out a folder she'd prepared. "Would you like to see my analysis? I figured if I'm going to work here, I should understand what we're actually selling."

An hour later, Janet offered her the position at $32,000 a year, much lower than her bartending earnings.

"The salary range posted online was $35,000 to $40,000," Anna Belle said calmly.

"That's for candidates with relevant experience."

"I have relevant experience, it's just not traditional tech experience. I'm worth $35,000 minimum, and frankly, after what I just showed you, probably more."

Janet paused, then smiled. "You know what? $35,000 it is. When can you start?"

"How about Monday? Fair warning though, I plan to make myself indispensable here pretty quickly."

Two Years Later: The Promotion

"Anna Belle!" Her manager, David Chen, called her into his office with barely contained excitement. "I have good news for you. The product management team wants to interview you for the junior PM position."

Anna Belle had been expecting this. In eighteen months, she'd moved from customer service to technical support to client success, learning every aspect of their software platform. She'd also submitted three product improvement proposals that were currently in development.

"What's the salary range?" she asked.

"Well, it's a big jump from client success. They're thinking $55,000."

"David, the market rate for junior product managers with my experience is $65,000. And I'm not exactly junior. I know this product better than half the senior PMs."

"But you don't have formal product management experience."

"I've been doing product management work for six months while officially in client success. I've been analyzing user data, writing feature requirements, and coordinating with the development team. The only difference is my title."

The interview process took three weeks, but Anna Belle knew she'd nailed it when the VP of Product, Sarah Williams, asked her, "What would you do differently if you were running product strategy?"

"Honestly? I'd focus on the enterprise clients you're ignoring. Small businesses are great, but there's a huge opportunity in the mid market segment that nobody's addressing. I've run the numbers."

"Show me."

Anna Belle pulled out her laptop. She'd been hoping for this question. "Based on our current client data and market research, we could increase revenue by 40% within eighteen months by developing an enterprise tier. Here's my analysis."

Two hours later, Sarah offered her the position, at $68,000.

"I was thinking $70,000," Anna Belle countered. "But I'll take $68,000 if you include stock options."

"Deal. But Anna Belle? I have high expectations."

"Good. So do I."

Three Years Later: The Executive Suite

"Congratulations, Anna Belle." CEO Michael Patterson shook her hand warmly. "Senior Director of Product Strategy. How does it feel?"

Anna Belle looked around the executive conference room where she now had a permanent seat. In five years, she'd gone from customer service to the senior leadership team, with a salary that would have seemed impossible when she was slinging drinks at the country club.

"It feels like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," she replied. "Though I have to ask, when do I get an office with a window that doesn't face the parking lot?"

Michael laughed. "Corner office privileges come with the VP title."

"Is that a challenge or a promise?"

"With you? Probably both."

Anna Belle had earned her reputation as the executive who got things done. Her enterprise product line had exceeded projections by 60%, and she'd built a team of twelve product managers who'd follow her into battle. But something was nagging at her. It was a restlessness that success couldn't quite satisfy.

During the company's annual retreat, she found herself sitting by the hotel bar, nursing a glass of wine and thinking about Lucious's words.

"You look like someone who's won the lottery but lost the ticket," said a voice behind her.

Anna Belle turned to find Marcus Thompson, the company's CFO, settling into the adjacent seat.

"Just thinking," she replied. "You ever feel like you're successful at something you never actually wanted to do?"

Marcus ordered a scotch. "Every damn day. What's eating at you?"

"I love what I do here, don't get me wrong. But I got into business because I wanted to create experiences that matter to people. Software is great, but it's not exactly feeding people's souls."

"So what would feed your soul?"

Anna Belle smiled, remembering Sunday dinners at her grandparents' house, the way Lucious would light up when everyone gathered around the table. "Hospitality. Food. Creating spaces where people make memories."

"You thinking about leaving?"

"I'm thinking about a lot of things."

One Year Later: The Leap

"You want to open a what?" Anna Belle's mother, Patricia, stared at her across the kitchen table where Anna Belle had grown up absorbing Lucious's wisdom along with Patricia's famous apple pie.

"A high end restaurant. Fine dining, but approachable. The kind of place where people go to celebrate life's big moments." Anna Belle's eyes were bright with excitement. "I found the perfect location in Century City, you know, close enough to where all the tech executives and doctors live. The lease is expensive, but the demographics are perfect."

"Honey, you've got a six-figure job and stock options. Why would you throw that away to get into the restaurant business? Do you know how many restaurants fail?"

Anna Belle smiled, remembering similar conversations Lucious must have had with his own family. "Because good enough isn't the same as meaningful, Mom. I want to build something that brings people joy, that creates memories. Plus, I've been saving and planning for two years. I can afford to fail spectacularly and still be fine."

"What do you know about running a restaurant?"

"More than you'd think. I've been taking culinary classes on weekends, I've worked with a restaurant consultant, and I've got enough saved up to cover eighteen months of operating expenses. Oh, and I convinced three of my former country club customers to be investors. It turns out networking while making their drinks actually paid off."

Patricia was quiet for a long moment, then reached across the table. "Your granddaddy would be proud as punch. What are you going to call it?"

"Stewart's Table. After Granddaddy and all those Sunday dinners where he taught me that feeding people is about more than food, it's about creating community."

Eighteen Months Later: Grand Opening Night

Anna Belle stood in the kitchen of Stewart's Table, watching her team of twelve put the finishing touches on dishes for the restaurant's grand opening. The dining room was already full of food critics, local business leaders, friends, family, and several of her former software company colleagues.

The space was everything she'd envisioned. It was elegant but warm, with exposed brick walls, soft lighting, and an open kitchen where diners could watch the culinary magic happen. She'd spent months getting every detail right, from the locally sourced menu to the custom cocktail program.

"Chef, table seven wants to send their compliments," called Maria, her sous chef. "They said the duck confit was transcendent."

"Tell them I appreciate it, but I'm Anna Belle, not Chef. We're all in this together."

Her head server, James, poked his head into the kitchen. "Anna Belle, there's a gentleman at table twelve who says he knows you. Marcus something?"

Anna Belle smiled. Marcus Thompson had driven two hours from San Diego for opening night. She walked out to greet him, still wearing her chef's coat.

"Marcus! You made it!"

"Wouldn't miss it," he said, standing to hug her. "This place is incredible, Anna Belle. The food, the atmosphere. It's exactly what you described."

"Thank you. That means everything coming from you."

"I have to ask though, do you have any regrets about leaving the tech world behind?"

Anna Belle looked around the dining room, filled with people laughing, celebrating, and making memories over carefully crafted food. A young couple at table four was clearly on a first date, nervous but excited. An older couple by the window was celebrating what looked like an anniversary, holding hands across the table. A group of friends near the bar was toasting someone's promotion.

"Not a single one," she replied. "This is what I was born and raised to do."

As the evening wound down, Anna Belle found herself in the kitchen with her team, sharing a bottle of champagne and rehashing the night's successes. Her phone buzzed with notifications. Five-star reviews were already appearing online, and three food bloggers had posted glowing coverage.

But the moment that mattered most came when her mother approached, tears in her eyes.

"Anna Belle, sugar," Patricia said, pulling her daughter into a fierce hug, "your granddaddy would be so proud of you right now."

"I hope so, Mom. I keep thinking about those Sunday dinners, how he'd get this look on his face when everyone was gathered around the table. Like he'd created something magical just by bringing people together over good food."

"That's exactly what you've done here."

After the last customer left and the team finished cleaning, Anna Belle stood alone in her restaurant, looking around at what she'd built. She pulled out her phone and scrolled to a photo of Lucious from his 80th birthday party, laughing at something she'd said, his eyes bright with joy and mischief.

"Thank you, Granddaddy," she whispered to the photo. "For teaching me that a woman's worth is no greater than her ambitions, but no less than them either. And for showing me that success isn't just about making money, it's about making memories."

She walked to the front window and looked out at the quiet street. Tomorrow, people would come here to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, promotions, first dates, and last dates. They'd make memories over her food, in the space she'd created with her own hands and heart.

Anna Belle Stewart had built something that would last. More importantly, she'd built it knowing exactly what she was worth. And everything she'd dared to dream was now seasoned with love and served with pride.

The small sign by the door caught the streetlight as she locked up. It read, "Stewart's Table: Where Every Meal Tells a Story."

Perfect.