45. Forty-Five
Forty-Five
LENA
M onday morning, I host a full kitchen at home.
Ruthie chomps down on blueberry pancakes next to Dot, who’s doing the same.
Jaye enjoys coffee beside her, laptop open.
Cherry picks at oatmeal and fruit, sipping chai tea and skimming her phone.
I fan a tray of cinnamon rolls, hot from the oven, to ready them for icing.
Ben peeks out from the hallway with a quick “Lena” and waves me over.
He nods toward his outfit. Gray pants and a blue button-down. “This okay?”
I fiddle with his collar only because I want to touch him. “Handsome as ever. Very business casual. The cinnamon rolls are almost ready.”
“Good.” He checks his watch. “Leaving in fifteen.” He disappears to the bedroom after a short kiss.
He almost looks nervous, though meeting with human resources at the police department to discuss job opportunities that fit his unique situation shouldn’t cause distress.
Nor should the lunch meeting he has with a friend in private security to see what else might be out there for him. He shouldn’t be nervous but excited.
Unless it’s not what he wants.
We spent Sunday doing relaxing family things—church, lunch, walking the property, and enjoying our horses, dogs, bunnies, chickens, and each other. Though the studio would return Monday morning with its usual noise and drama, Saddletree felt like home again.
We talked about the future. Indecisive Ben has retreated—he’s returned to his former always-have-a-plan self. That means sorting out his career before undergoing his cochlear implant surgeries next year. It’s a comfort seeing him forging ahead to find his new purpose.
“You’re my purpose,” he told me yesterday when I said that to him. “You and Ruthie… but I want a job, too.”
Now, watching him disappear behind our bedroom door minutes before he’s due to leave, I feel uneasy. I don’t know why, other than, hello, anxiety .
I distract myself in the kitchen. I place the naked rolls in a pink box before dousing them in my signature cinnamon-brown sugar icing and roasted pecan topping.
“Mom, I don’t have any room for those rolls,” Ruthie declares, rubbing her belly as she pushes it out.
“These aren’t for us. They’re for Dad’s workmates,” I say before explaining to the rest, “He’s interviewing with HR for other positions in law enforcement.”
“Wow, he moves fast,” Cherry says. “But I say, sayonara to Riley Trust.”
“Seconded,” Dot says as Ben enters the living room. “Yo, Ben, I could always use a hand on my truck.”
“Oh, and I’d love a PA,” Cherry grins.
“I bet you’d make a pretty good editor,” Jaye offers, not to be left out, and they all laugh.
Ben smirks. “All good offers, but I’ll pass, thanks.”
He grabs his keys, wallet, and a file folder from Mom’s refinished hutch before heading to the kitchen. He reaches for a travel mug. “Rolls almost ready?”
“Almost.” I drizzle faster.
“Your weird neighbor sent out a text alert yesterday. Did you see it?” Cherry asks, holding up her phone. “T o the family and friends of Lena Buckley-Wright … with a picture.”
Ben and I lean in to see us sharing a smiling kiss by the Jeep before heading inside for church yesterday morning. Since Alice Harvey brought Ben into my life in the first place, I can’t be upset with her for publicizing our reunion. I guess.
Ben smiles easily. “Good picture.”
Jaye and Dot crowd around Cherry’s phone as she scrolls through the follow-up messages.
“She also shared a picture from your wedding,” Jaye coos. “Aw, you did it at the tree. How perfect.”
“That was a fun day,” Dot says. “I was the Best Woman—my version of her maid of honor.”
Wedding memories warm me with joy and gratitude, making me beam. Ben’s hand circles my side, and I lean into him.
“You should do more weddings here,” Jaye says. “It’s an incredible venue. I wouldn’t mind getting married here.” A tiny smile creeps up her cheek as Dot turns bright red.
“Um, yeah, weddings make bank, Lena, babe,” Dot recovers. “I picture a gazebo by the pond.”
“Draped in peonies and lilacs,” Cherry chimes in.
“And twinkle lights,” Jaye says, like it’s a game. “To mimic the stars, and—”
“Fireworks,” I say dreamily. Ben’s hand tightens against my waist.
“We’ll happily host your happily-ever-after, Jaye,” I say with a wink, “but not everyone’s. I can’t add another thing to Saddletree’s workload. I’m busy enough already.”
And refuse to let work come between Ben and me again, I think, but don’t say.
Cherry moans. “But Lena, even I love a good wedding. It’d fit your vibe and your new logo.”
“I’m pro-weddings, too. With proper planning, weddings could be high-profit, high-publicity, with minimal work and time… They’re sweet, too,” Ben adds with a light smile.
“I don’t know. I’m setting boundaries. I’m already expanding the groups.”
“Dad loves the groups,” Ruthie says, running her fingertips through the leftover syrup on her plate. “It’s his favorite thing, after us. And the dogs. And the horses. And our bunny friends.”
Ben goes to Ruthie, kissing her forehead before taking a wet towel to her fingers. His green eyes land on mine as he works. “I’ll help if you want to consider it.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” My anxiety upticks again, especially when Ben announces that he should go. I finish the cinnamon rolls and secure the lid on the pink box.
With a deep breath, I hand it over and smile through my growing anxiety. “I’m sure you’ll find something you love, Ben.”
His broad shoulders shrug lightly. “A job’s a job, but thanks. Let’s research wedding venues tonight. I have some ideas.”
A weak nod suffices as my answer. He gives me a soft kiss and a smile, “Love you. See you later.”
“Love you, too.”
The door clicks shut. Ruthie rushes to her room to finish getting ready for preschool. Jaye closes her laptop and steps aside for a phone call.
Cherry and Dot stare at me like I’m naked, and they’re stalkers outside my window, in full ogle. “What?”
“A job’s a job?” Dot repeats Ben’s words. “Eesh. That’s depressing.”
“Right?” Cherry scoffs. “He got more excited about hosting weddings.”
“Yeah, like me when I get a new project,” Dot says, “or fix something better than the other guys.”
“Or when I get creative tingles seeing a space for the first time,” Cherry says. “It makes me giddy.”
Dot laughs. “Who knew Ben could almost sound giddy about something?”
Their eyes fall on mine expectantly, and lightbulbs flicker on in my head.
I race for the door. Ben’s Jeep leaves his space beside my truck.
I take the spiral staircase two steps at a time, nearly tripping.
Spilling out at the bottom, I topple into Elsie Todd with her clipboard and dart around the set crew, moving gear into the barn.
He’s already on the driveway next to the main house when I dash across the lawn in my stupid rubber boots that aren’t getting me there fast enough.
A simple text could’ve prevented my frenzied chase.
But that’s the thing about frenzied chases—it’s hard to think of anything else but what the universe demands.
Still, I feel my pockets for my phone. It’s not there, of course, but on the kitchen island, where it served as my baking timer.
I take the alley between the main house and the driveway, gaining on him.
Then, I pivot right and jump in front of the Jeep. It jolts as Ben slams on the brakes. Hands against the grill, I lean over, catching my breath and watching dust clouds flitter from his tires.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asks, getting out.
“Sorry,” I pant. “Don’t go.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to take a job just to have a job,” I admit. “We said no holding back, and I’ve been holding back.”
“Um, okay. But why?”
“You loved being a cop. I don’t want you to settle for anything less than a new dream, Ben, and I don’t think you’ll find that in HR or security.”
“My dream is to support my family the best I can,” he counters.
“Then, I have a better offer.” I take a breath, nerves rising. “Manage Saddletree.”
His brow furrows.
“Hear me out. I know you said you couldn’t work for me—I get it.
Chaos. Dog park. Whatever. Saddletree was a mess.
But that’s not true anymore. By implementing all the strategies that you suggested, Saddletree will reopen with more efficiency, more help, and higher profits.
If you’d give it a chance, I believe you’d enjoy managing what you started.
I don’t want you to work for me , Ben. I want you running Saddletree. ”
A tiny smile appears, encouraging me to continue.
“I want to be in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes and mentoring Tessa, or out in the dining room, talking to people without worrying about falling behind schedule. I want to do more special orders and vet treats and expand that side of the business because that’s what I’m good at.
With you in charge—and I mean it, you’d be in charge—we could both focus on what we love.
People and baking for me. Management and groups and, hell, weddings if you want, for you.
What better way to support your family than to turn Saddletree into a true family business? ”
Over Ben’s shoulder, moving shadows catch my attention.
Dot, Cherry, Ruthie, and Jaye stand at the sidelines of the driveway, holding coffee mugs like they’re watching a parade.
Ben doesn’t notice their arrival, thank goodness.
I don’t want him to feel any more pressure.
His green eyes fixate on mine in deep contemplation.
Though his lingering silence unnerves me, I say nothing more but give him the space he needs to think. Ben doesn’t make snap decisions.
He sighs and checks his watch like he’s worried about being late. My heart sinks.
But then, he grins and latches onto me. “You had me at don’t go .”