26. Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
LENA
A n organized businesswoman should have an organized office.
With Ruthie on a playdate with Dot and Ben at work, I spend the next afternoon clearing out my messy barn office.
The more I clear out and file away, the better I feel.
Ben was right—the restructuring of Saddletree is long overdue, and finally getting my shit together feels amazing.
Thinking of him brings another smile to my face. Things feel better between us. I still feel his tender goodbye kiss this morning before he said his usual, “See you later.” I can’t wait to show him my progress when he gets home.
My phone pings—a text from the new security team manning the driveway. Lauren Riley?
I stiffen. What the hell is she doing here? I type back a reluctant thumbs-up emoji.
Lauren’s white BMW gleams as she drives toward the barn. She exits the car, flipping her perfectly straight blond hair off her shoulders, and extracts a large planter buckled in the back seat.
Hugo and Penelope greet her—they love surprise guests. She dances around them, trying to satiate them with smiles and awkward head pats. She’s clearly not a dog person.
She approaches like a catwalk model—all legs, poise, and elegance in her black heels, steel-gray pencil skirt, and soft teal top.
Meanwhile, I sport my best hillbilly-chic outfit: cut-off jean shorts, a low-cut Metallica tank, and my signature black-skulled rubber boots.
This is me in my element—she’s the outsider—yet I feel small and out of place by comparison.
A bracing inhale squares my shoulders.
“Lena, hi,” she greets, her voice villainous with good cheer. “I hope it’s okay that I popped in like this.”
“Sure, but Ben’s not here.”
“Oh, I know,” she says. “I’m here to see you.”
She hands me the gorgeous blue ceramic planter bursting with a mature rosemary plant that tickles my senses as she passes it over. I baby it in the crook of my good arm. “That’s for you. It’s from my grandmother’s garden—you met Mamma Riley, right?”
“Um, yes, I must have. That’s very thoughtful.”
“Ah, well, least I could do. She’s quite the gardener and has loads of it. Ben mentioned you loved herbs.”
“I do, yes. Thanks.”
She stands there, awkwardly shifting on her heels to prevent them from sinking into the dirt, and I take a breath, trying to remember polite protocol in this situation. “Um, would you like to come up for coffee? Or something? Ruthie and I baked banana bread last night.”
“Oh, yummy, but no, thanks. I can’t stay long, and I know you’ll be fixing dinner for the family soon,” she coos like this is the greatest thing ever or my only station in life—it’s hard to tell.
Regardless, I don’t know what to do now. I set the plant on the spiral staircase by the barn door to give my arm a rest. “It’s sweet of you to come all this way to bring me rosemary.”
Her sculpted arms bounce in a shrug. “I’ve been meaning to stop by since the picnic, to be honest. It means the absolute world to me and my family that you and Ben are considering Riley Trust.”
“Oh, yes, I, um, gathered that. Ben has the greatest respect for your father.”
She smiles knowingly. “That’s definitely mutual. We’re interviewing other candidates, just in case, but it’ll break Dad’s heart if Ben doesn’t take it. Larry’s heart, too.”
“Well, he certainly doesn’t want to disappoint them, but he’s still weighing his options. Being a cop is what he knows, what he’s good at. It’s not easy to give that up.”
Her head tilts curiously. “Oh, Ben said that you were the reason he’s reluctant to accept our offer.”
“Me?” The word spits out like I’m choking on it. Hello, bus. Didn’t expect you to mow me down today.
“Believe me, I understand.” She lightly pets my arm like I’m a cute farm animal. “Ben and I share an incredible history. We were together for a long time. It must be so weird for you.”
“Um, it’s—”
“It’d be weird if it wasn’t, right?” She chuckles. “Well, I hope I can put your fears to rest.”
So, I’m the problem? I tuck my fidgeting fingers behind my back.
“It’s strictly professional,” she says in a tone that suggests it’s a public service announcement. “Ben and I have made that clear to each other…”
They had to clarify it?
“And you two are so happy. Obviously, you have nothing to worry about.”
Obviously? Her words feel laced with sarcasm, as if she’s privy to our marriage issues. Who knows? Maybe she is.
I laser in on her icy gray eyes. “I’m not worried. Certainly not about Ben. But ‘strictly professional’ seems inaccurate unless Riley Trust typically drops in for home visits on potential candidates… three times.”
Smirking, she shrugs again. “You’re right. Ben isn’t just another candidate. After his injuries, he needed us, and we failed him. I don’t want to fail him now, not with more changes ahead regarding his hearing. It’s an outstanding offer. He deserves an easier life. My family will take care of him.”
“No— his family will take care of him. He’s done just fine without the Rileys.”
“Yes, of course, he has. Ben always does just fine .” Her perfect face crinkles like the words are taboo. “But he could do so much better… I don’t want to upset you. I’m Ben’s past. You’re his present. But we both want what’s best for him, don’t we?”
Double score for Lauren for making me feel like a petty, unsupportive, selfish hag-wife, all while she smiles, looks gorgeous, and drips with concern for Ben. I should expect nothing less from the woman with zero qualms about tricking my husband into dancing with her.
“All I’m asking is that you don’t keep him from the care and support he’s going to need, especially if he gets the implants.
It’ll be a long recovery. With us, he’ll have job security.
Larry’s agreed to stay on through Ben’s recovery, part-time, full-time, whatever he needs.
Ben saved Larry’s life once… Did he tell you that? ”
My agape expression reveals my utter cluelessness. I rein it in, growing irritated. “No, but he never spoke of you, either. Ben doesn’t live in the past.”
Her porcelain face flashes with surprise and hurt that he’d left her out of his history, the same way I felt learning about her existence.
“Oh, right. I know. He’s a present-thinker,” she recovers weakly. “And a planner. Knowing him, it won’t take nearly as long as the doctor claims to recover. Right?”
“Um, probably not,” I mumble the words like my lips are sticky.
“He won’t find the support he needs anywhere else, and having a position of authority, an income, a… mission… will help Ben through what’s likely to be a tough transition mentally. I don’t want him to lose that because of me.”
My head spins—anxiety, confusion, anger, and weirdly, appreciation. Dr. Lin’s yearlong recovery time gongs in my head, and my purpose-driven husband will need a positive focus that makes him feel valued. Early retirement or a desk job won’t do that.
Even so, I hate that she’s educating me about my husband. It’s a good thing I don’t know Dot and Cherry’s jail-proof murder plan.
Lauren beams. “I’m glad we got to talk, Lena. Enjoy the rosemary.”
She front-steps away, careful of her stilettos.