5. Five #2
She opens the binder upside down so I can read it. “We’re very excited about the prospect of you joining our team. Let’s discuss what’s in it for you.”
A confident professional replaces the nervous Lauren of moments ago.
I like her much better. She goes over health benefits, life insurance, vacations, and personal time.
She gives detailed answers to my questions and elaborates on stock options and financial planning—incentives the bank provides its staff.
The proposed salary is nearly three times what I make now, but I’m not surprised.
Spare no expense is the Riley family motto.
“We’ve launched our new charitable giving program. Dad calls it The Lauren Project,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We want to make giving easy and support the charities that matter most to our work family. It’s an automatic payroll deduction for your favorite charity that we match every pay cycle.”
“That’s generous.”
“We value our community roots and love supporting local charities. Dad claims it’s the reason we’ve been so successful. Karma, I guess.”
I nod, impressed. “You used to say you’d never work for Riley Trust.” Nothing personal. Shit.
“I didn’t appreciate it then. Didn’t appreciate many things… I thought it was all about numbers and software, but it’s about people. Relationships and connections are imperative to a positive work environment—that’s the part I love. It’s my job to nurture that for Riley Trust.”
Her soft smile stirs memories of why I was drawn to her in the first place. Everyone wanted Lauren Riley back then. Her world felt larger than life, yet she was the girl next door—sweet, beautiful, and friendly. It surprised everyone that she chose to be with me, me most of all.
Sitting across from her, that familiar feeling of disbelief returns. “Why me, Lauren? Why now?”
“Our head of security is retiring, and he recommended you,” she says quickly. She expected this question. “Remember Captain Lawrence Tenor?”
“My former training officer.”
“He heard that you might be looking for a change.”
I don’t like people discussing my private matters, though it doesn’t surprise me.
News travels fast in law enforcement, and my captain knows of my recent concerns.
I’ve requested fluff assignments lately because I no longer feel confident going on calls.
It’s clearer to me by the day that I need this job. “A coincidence, then?”
Her shoulders slump slightly. “Not entirely. We need people we trust, and your name still comes up often at family dinners. You were everything to me once—”
“Times have changed—”
“Ben, I know… but when your name came up, it felt like a chance to set things right. I’ve never forgiven myself for what happened. It’s good knowing that you’re okay. Might help me let go of the past.”
“You should. I’m better than okay. I have Lena and Ruthie. It’s been over a decade.”
“Oh, I’ve missed your directness.” She chuckles while catching the dampness under her eyes with her fingertips.
“Please, understand—I’m only here about the position. Not reconciliation. If the offer is genuinely extended, it should be because of my skills and experience, not because of us. I don’t want it if you’re the reason I’m here.”
“You’re here because you were recommended.” Her mouth twists into an awkward smile. “But I understand your reluctance. We will rarely run into each other here if that helps.”
“It does.” Pull it in.
Her jaw shifts like she’s been punched, compounding my regrets. Though still angry, I didn’t come here to hurt her. I barely think of her anymore. She’s locked away with everything else that I prefer to stay hidden.
But jobs like this don’t come up often.
Her translucent eyes skip over my expression, hunting for emotion she won’t find. Not because it isn’t there. She’s one reason I became so excellent at hiding it.
A beat passes.
“Okay. I understand and appreciate your honesty.” Lauren closes the binder. “We’re overdue for the tour.”
We traverse the extensive campus on a golf cart.
It resembles Googleplex—peaceful, amenity-rich, and more resort-like than a business.
Playgrounds, picnic tables, and gardens soften the glass and hard corners of the buildings.
Small groups work on whiteboards under park-like shelters.
Picnic blankets speck the expansive lawn, where people work on laptops while eating.
“We like to think of it as a home away from home,” she explains as she drives.
“We have a small convenience store and pharmacy, cafeterias, fitness facilities, a hair salon, dry cleaner, massage therapists, a library, a daycare center, basketball and tennis courts, a swimming pool, and even a small movie theater on-site. Whatever our staff needs, it’s right here for them. ”
The security offices delight me, though I don’t let on. Everything is state-of-the-art, from the full wall of touch screens revealing every corner of the property to the fingerprint readers and bomb detection equipment. Riley Trust Bank has better resources than the police department.
“We rarely have problems here,” she says. “But that’s because we’re prepared for them. Complacency is the worst mistake an organization can make.”
“Agreed.”
“Should you take the position, you will be expected to hire and spend as needed. You’ll have a handsome budget.” She motions me into a large office with two walls of windows overlooking gardens and a koi pond. “This is where you’ll work when you aren’t out with your team.”
It is spacious and minimally decorated—just as I’d prefer it.
We enter her father’s suite, one floor up and down the hall. When he sees me, Mr. Riley pops from his desk chair and crosses the room for a warm embrace. I don’t mind. I’ve always had the greatest respect for John Riley, and when I was with Lauren, he was a second father to me.
“Ben, it’s been too long, son.” His thick arms tighten around me. “I’ve missed you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You look well,” he says, giving me a once-over. He scratches his shaved chin. “Staying fit, I see. How old are you now?”
“Forty-two, sir.”
“Hell, wish I looked that good at forty-two. Come in. What can I get you to drink?”
“Water is fine, thank you, sir.” Before joining him and Lauren in the sitting area, I admire a wall of pictures.
Younger Mr. Riley stands outside of the Blackhawk helicopter he once piloted.
His sister, Miranda, poses from a Coast Guard helicopter.
Their father stands by the guns of an aircraft carrier.
Military service is a tradition in this family, and I followed in those honorable footsteps.
But maintaining my composure proves difficult when I find my formal Army Ranger portrait hanging next to theirs.
The picture was taken after Ranger school, and I can’t help but remember how accomplished I felt, donning my tan beret and the Airborne patch on my arm.
I was hopeful then, unscarred, and committed to two things—the army and Lauren.
It’s strange seeing my portrait with theirs, though. A thin line of dust along the frame’s top edge assures me this wasn’t hung in preparation for this meeting. It’s been here.
John puts his heavy arm around my shoulders again. “Things happened—I understand. But I never stopped considering you family, Ben. Thank you for your service.”
My stone-like demeanor cracks as our former connection returns. We were family once. His war stories, combined with the distinguished and admirable man he is, led me to consider the military in the first place.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Riley.”
“Call me John,” he says, slapping my back. “Come. Sit.”
He directs me to the plush leather chairs, where Lauren occupies the long couch opposite. I sit across from her, looking away as she crosses her legs and tugs her skirt down around her thighs. She’s always been self-conscious about showing too much skin—a sweet quality, I used to think.
John rattles instructions to his assistant before sitting next to his daughter.
His determined brown eyes lock on mine. “So, has Lauren dazzled you into signing yet?”
“No, sir. I don’t make snap decisions.”
“Of course not. You’re a smart man.”
He updates me on their family and asks about mine, condensing twelve years into twenty minutes.
My phone vibrates repeatedly in my jacket pocket, but it’d be rude to take it out.
Not wanting to offend John, I ignore the faint buzzing and soon take my jacket off and drape it over the couch beside me.
He asks about my injuries, but in a way that I don’t mind, before commending me on my excellent reputation with the police department. “You’ve always had a heart for service.”
“A mission you inspired, sir. I mean, John.”
“I can’t take credit. When I remember the last time I saw you at Walter Reed…” His head shakes, and he looks away as if overcome. “Anyway, your recovery has been impressive. Not many soldiers bounce back like you have, though I understand there are still some repercussions.”
“My hearing. Yes, sir.”
For the first time during our conversation, he glances at Lauren. “Did you discuss that part?”
“Not yet.”
“We take care of our wounded vets at Riley Trust,” he says. “As part of your package, we’ll supplement your medical costs. I hear you’re considering cochlear implants. With us, you won’t have to settle for standard-issue care. You can get the Rolls Royce of implants if that’s what you want.”
Acute uneasiness overtakes me. I should’ve consulted Lena. It feels wrong to discuss this with them when I haven’t with her. A headache pecks my temples. My neck burns with frustration, and my palms sweat.
People discussing me.
My hearing being a subject for conversation.
Lena not knowing anything, even that I’m here.
I stand to refill my empty water glass at the bar. The room spins. I stumble against a winged chair. The glass falls and shatters on the hardwood floor, a new memory mixing with the old.
“Ben!” Lauren rushes over and wraps my midsection, holding me up.
“Edward! Get the nurse up here!” John calls to his assistant.
“That’s unnecessary.”
“I insist, Ben.” He helps me into the nearest chair. “Let us take care of you. Lightheadedness should be taken seriously.”
Lauren fans me with papers. John gets me a fresh glass of water. The nurse arrives and performs tests—all my numbers are fine.
The spell passes, and I rise. “My apologies. I should’ve mentioned my occasional balance issues before discussing this offer. Forgive me for wasting your time.”
“No, son, wait. That doesn’t change anything,” John assures me. “Tell us. What will it take to get you on our team?”
That he still wants me here after my embarrassing display stuns me.
I’m not one to allow my feelings much space. I prefer evidence to supposition, facts to thoughts, and the present to the past. But I’m besotted with emotion.
Gratitude—my employment opportunities will soon become increasingly limited.
Relief—seeing Lauren again wasn’t the nightmare I imagined.
Regret over Lena and all the words I have trouble saying.
And, most unexpectedly, pleasure.
I remember what it was like to be a part of the Rileys’ inner circle. They heard me out on matters I couldn’t discuss with my family. For a young man with a learning disability, unsure about his future, the Rileys held up a mirror that revealed my true self and put me on a better path.
Surrounded by their familiar care and attention, I wouldn’t mind being a part of their circle again. Taking this job would give me that.
No more noisy traffic situations, disgruntled citizens, or children imprisoned in dog crates.
Like he’s reading my mind, Mr. Riley says, “You’ve done enough out there, son. You deserve something better.”
John Riley understands service, family, and me in a way few people could. His words feel like permission.
Dream something better. The framed note from Lena’s mom comes to mind. It led Lena to imagine Saddletree. I wonder if this position at Riley Trust could be my something better .
“Dad, don’t be so aggressive.” Lauren squeezes my arm. “Ben needs time to think about it and talk to Lena.”
John raises his hands submissively. “Of course. Forgive my impatience, but I’ve had my mind made up since Larry mentioned you. Take all the time you need, Ben.”
“I will give it my utmost consideration.” I emerge from their protective cocoon and reach for my jacket.
My phone slips from my pocket and slides onto the couch.
Terror seizes me like a hand squeezing my throat. Twenty missed calls. Forty-three missed texts… Forty-four… Forty-five.
The screen alights with Jack Harvey’s name. I answer.
“Ben, Lena’s been in an accident.”