Chapter 3
B en studied his daffodils as he ate his usual breakfast—a protein bar and black coffee—standing at his kitchen counter. He’d put the flowers in a pitcher two days ago, and they hadn’t started to wilt yet. Tillie’s sold high-quality flowers, he’d give them that.
Every time he walked into the kitchen, the yellow cup-shaped blooms reminded him of the woman who’d barged her way into his brain with a shattering of glass.
Nell’s expression had been so bright as she’d handed him the flowers. If he hadn’t heard her bleak description of her morning a few minutes before, he’d almost have believed her smile was real.
The huge tip had probably been a mistake. She might not want a stranger offering her money. But he couldn’t do nothing, not after what she’d told him about being evicted and her son being sick.
She’d seen him at his worst, and hadn’t judged him. She was, in fact, the only person who knew the state of him right now. Her eyes appeared in his mind throughout the day, distracting him from work.
The obvious way to ease his conscience and get her out of his head was to help her out. Then he wouldn’t feel this nagging sense of worry that she wasn’t okay. He’d never see her again, anyway.
In a few short minutes, she’d changed his situation, though. He’d sat with her on his porch and told her the ridiculous truth.
I seem to be having problems, he’d said. And saying it aloud made it that much more real.
His laptop chirped with a video call a few minutes after he’d settled at his desk upstairs, and Vanessa’s face appeared on the screen when he clicked the answer button.
“Ben, it’s been forever.” Her voice was cheerful and upbeat, but her brows lowered with worry. As the co-founder of the clinic and his long-time friend, she’d seen all his moods, and her current level of concern was not comforting. She leaned in closer to her screen, as if she could examine him through it, her auburn waves filling the entire screen. Her cat-eye reading glasses made her green eyes look comically large.
“It has been awhile.” Ben tried to project confidence in his tone, keeping his arms relaxed on the armrests of the desk chair.
“And how are things going there? Work’s not too fast-paced?” Now she was using her therapist’s voice on him, never a good sign. It was the kind of question you’d ask a pleasant stranger, and Vanessa had known him forever.
“Good. I’ve had a couple of new clients come on board this month.”
“Good. That’s good. And … working from home is still your preference right now?”
“Quit beating around the bush and ask what you really want to ask,” he snapped. If she wanted to pry, she should go ahead and try it, rather than treating him like one of her patients.
“Fine.” She flopped back in her pink velvet wingback chair and gave a dramatic sigh. “Damn it, Ben. I wish you’d talk to me about what’s going on.”
At least she sounded more like herself now.
Ben cleared his throat and prepared his usual excuses. Oh, but they were getting harder to spit out.
“I’ve told you. I have a few extra things on my plate right now, and working from home is more flexible. But I’d like to come in one day soon to make sure everything’s in order at the clinic. I’ll schedule a time with Cameron.”
“Only one day, though?” She cocked her head to the side.
“I’ll start with one and see how it goes.” Most likely, it wouldn’t go. At all.
Vanessa drew in a breath, started to say something else, then closed her mouth. A minute later, she tried again.
“Ben. How you run your practice is your business. And I don’t want to pry into your private life. Even though we’ve been friends for … How long was it?” She tapped her chin with a finger, pretending to think. “Ten years?”
“So don’t. Don’t pry. Trust that I know what I’m doing.” He had no idea what he was doing.
“Okay.” She drew in a breath, focusing on the camera. “And what about the conference in Chicago next month? Are you still planning on going to accept the award?”
The Well Space had been nominated for a national award, recognizing their innovations in therapy and the patient experience. But getting on a plane to attend the conference would be about as easy as getting to the moon.
“I don’t have the plane tickets yet, but I’ll get them booked soon.” He swallowed. “But it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a backup person, in case—”
“A backup person?” Her voice rose sharply. “That’s not a good idea, and you know it. People come to those conferences to see you. If we win the award, you have to be the one to accept it.”
“I know I’m the one who wrote the books—”
“You put The Well Space on the map.”
“But you and I came up with the concept for the space together. We started it as partners. It’s your place as much as mine, and you know it.”
“It is, but I’m not the one people want to see. You’ve always been the face of the clinic. If you can’t go, we’ll need to cancel the clinic’s attendance altogether.” Vanessa made a slashing gesture across the camera.
“We won’t need to cancel it.” Ben ground his molars together. “It’s still two months away.”
“And we haven’t seen you in weeks.” Vanessa’s eyes flashed, her rare temper making an appearance. “I want to respect your privacy, but this isn’t just about you anymore. It’s affecting everything.”
“What do you mean?” He sat up straighter in his chair.
She cleared her throat. “We’ve seen some ups and downs with patient intake levels over the years.”
“We have.”
“Well. I thought you’d want to know we’re losing people. We’re at our lowest number of patients in two years. People are leaving for the new startup on the north side of town. Harmonious Mind.”
“The one that’s imitating us?” Ben lunged out of the chair and paced the room. Vanessa would just have to deal with seeing his legs pass back and forth across her screen.
“The very one.” She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Look. People talk. They haven’t seen you around the clinic. Someone started a rumor you’re leaving the practice.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“Do I?” She raised a brow. “You’re not telling me much these days.”
“I’m not leaving the practice. I’d tell you if I was considering it, and you know I’d never keep something like that from you.”
Ben shoved a hand through his hair and stopped pacing long enough to meet her eyes. “You know what I put into starting the clinic. You know what it means to me. I’d never just—”
“Disappear?” she supplied. “But it kind of looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not disappearing. I’m still here. I promise.” A note of desperation crept into his voice.
She leaned closer, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m really sorry if there’s something going on with you I don’t understand. But I can’t understand it if you won’t tell me anything.”
“It’s personal.” Ben’s gaze slid away from the camera.
“So you’ve said, and I hope you can find a way through it. We need you around here. No one dresses up as fine as you do. You keep the place pretty.”
He snorted a laugh. “Nice try.”
Her expression turned earnest. “Please take care of yourself. And let me know if I can help.”
“I don’t need any help.” It was a colossal lie. “And I’ll come back soon. You have my word.”
“All right.” She sounded somewhat convinced.
“And will you tell people, if they ask, that you’ve spoken to me, and I am definitely not leaving?”
Vanessa frowned. “I’ll try. I’m not sure they’ll believe me, though. They want to see your face, Ben.”
“They want to see my face.” He transferred the call to his phone and paced downstairs, not caring that it was unprofessional, and Vanessa could see his living room in the background.
“There’s nothing special about my face. There’s nothing—”
He stopped short when he reached his kitchen, where the flowers were a bright spot of color amid the steel appliances and granite countertops.
“Vanessa.”
“What?”
“People like getting flowers, don’t they?”
“Who doesn’t like flowers? Why are you asking?”
“Nothing. I just … had an idea for a minute there.”
“Keep having those good ideas, champ,” she said, her tone fond. “That’s what got us where we are now.”
“Will do.” He regarded the flowers, his mind whirring with possibilities.
“You know …” Vanessa leaned toward the camera. “You look a little bit like the old Ben right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. But your eyes lit up a minute ago. When you asked about the flowers.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m very observant.” She straightened her glasses frames.
“Well, go observe a patient. I’ve got a few calls to make.”
“Bye, Ben.”
She clicked off the call with a wave, but Ben was already setting his phone on the counter.
Everyone liked flowers, and flowers would be a great way to reconnect with his patients. If he ordered flowers for every patient in the practice, that would show them he cared, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
He couldn’t lose his practice, not because of this … particular weakness of his. And flowers could be a first step to going back, an apology for his absence. He’d call Cameron and have his assistant send him the full client list with all the addresses. His patients had already opted in to receive mail and deliveries from the clinic. He’d send these flowers, using his own money.
If Nell worked on commission, even better. A large order might give her another financial boost. He could say she’d sold him the flowers.
And after sending the flowers to his patients, he’d go back to the office. As soon as possible.
The four walls of his townhome suddenly felt more confining than they had for the last four weeks. If he could just go for a run outside like he used to, his sneakers eating up the long miles, then everything would make sense again. At the memory, his body perked up like a dog hearing the word “walk.” He needed to get out, to move .
He made it as far as the front door, hesitated with his hand on the knob, and thunked his head against the wooden panel.
He would try again tomorrow.
He picked up the phone and called Tillie’s Flowers.
* * *
The next morning, Ben startled when the doorbell rang. It couldn’t be who his imagination told him it might be, and yet a glance at the doorbell camera showed Nell’s face.
He ran a nervous hand over his vest front as he strode to answer the door. His heart thudded underneath the vest, rushing in his ears. If he didn’t go outside, he should be fine to stand in the doorway and have a normal conversation.
“Hello.” Her expression was guarded, but she looked better rested today. She must have gotten some sleep. She held a tall potted plant in her hands, the wide, waxy green leaves obscuring most of her torso.
“Good morning.” He cleared his throat. “I’m assuming this time, it’s not a mistaken delivery?”
“No, this is for you.” She held the plant out to him and he took it automatically. “To say thank you. For the tip.”
She didn’t sound very happy about it.
“It was nothing,” he said, studying the plant in his hands so he wouldn’t look past her and see the porch and the front yard.
“It wasn’t nothing.” She pinned him with a direct look. “It was more money than anyone’s ever given me. Why did you do it?”
“Because—” He drew in a sharp breath, chest tightening.
Her expression changed, softening. “I’m sorry. It’s hard for you to stand out here. I forgot. Would you … Can I come inside?”
“Of course.” He took a big step backward, relief loosening his throat as soon as the door shut behind her.
She stood still for a moment, her eyes wide as she took in his kitchen, which was state-of-the-art, but also pretty bare, truth be told.
Her eyes landed on the daffodils. “You kept them.”
“I didn’t want to waste them.” Ben set the potted plant on his countertop, next to the flowers. “And how is your son?”
Her gaze swung around to him. “Better. He’s hardly ever sick, but when he does catch something, he gets over it fast. I’m lucky.”
“Good. That’s good.” Now that she stood inside his house, looking up at him with eyes as luminous and complex as he’d remembered, his train of thought eluded him.
“So. The tip.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a hip on his counter. She wore a white T-shirt and black joggers today, her hair in the same high ponytail.
“You want to know why I left it for you.”
“I do. And I also want to know why last night, my boss called and told me you placed an order for 174 flower arrangements. You told her I sold those flowers to you, but I didn’t.”
“She told me for larger orders, like weddings, her employees earn a commission. So I gave her your name.”
“But I didn’t sell you anything,” she repeated.
Ben folded his arms over his chest, mirroring her posture. “You did, in a way, the other day. You convinced me that flowers are good for people’s mental health. So I sent flowers to my therapy patients.”
“You’re a therapist. I thought you said you were a doctor.”
“I am. I have a doctorate in psychology. I can even prescribe medications for my patients.”
Nell processed that for a moment. “And the flowers are … to cheer up your patients?”
“Yes.”
“But why me? Don’t answer that.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, looking embarrassed. “I know you felt sorry for me the other day. I said too much about my situation. But I’m fine.”
“You said your landlord—”
“Really, we’re doing okay. I’m looking for another job, and I know something will work out for me. I wish I hadn’t said all that.”
She dropped her hand and met his eyes again, dead serious. “Nobody gives someone a five hundred dollar tip and a commission worth another two thousand if they don’t want something in return.”
“What? No—”
“What do you want from me? Because I don’t date, if that’s what you were hoping for. I won’t.” Her chin went up a notch.
Outrage climbed up his throat. “That is not what I meant. I’d never ask for that in exchange for a gift.” He filed her statement away for later, though, because the therapist in him needed to know why she didn’t date.
“Then why?”
Ben searched for the right words. “I wanted to help you. Partly because you needed it. But also because you helped me.”
And I couldn’t get your face out of my mind.
Nell stared at him, her expression shifting from disbelief to confusion. “I didn’t help you very much. I sat with you for five minutes.”
“It helped.” Best to keep the explanation simple. No need to tell her that no one else in his life knew how bad he’d gotten. “And this was something I could do in return. Something that would benefit both of us. My patients get flowers, and you get a commission.”
“Yeah, but it’s too much. I can’t take it. I can’t be indebted to you like this.”
“You need the money, though.”
She dropped her head, her ponytail swishing forward to cover half her face. “Yeah. I need the money.”
“It’s okay to accept a gift.”
“No.” Her head snapped up again. “Not from a stranger. Not that much money. But I’ll pay you back. I can work on your lawn on the weekends. I’m good with landscaping.”
“You don’t need to do that.” His townhome had a team of landscapers who kept every lawn looking almost too perfect.
“Please let me do something.” Her eyes begged him to understand, and Ben couldn’t say no. Her pride wouldn’t let her accept the money otherwise.
“Well. You did help me with … No. That’s a bad idea.”
“What? What were you about to say?”
“When you sat with me on the porch, I got over my … problem a lot faster than usual. And I had the thought I could go with you one time when you deliver the flowers. As a way to test the waters. Get out of the house.”
As soon as the words were out, he wanted to take them back. Of all the stupid ideas.
“You want to deliver flowers with me,” she said.
“I told you, it’s probably a bad—”
“It’s a great idea.” Her eyes lit with purpose. “I can help you get out of the house as a way to pay you back. That many flowers will take three or four days to deliver at least. Maybe a week.”
Ben held up a hand. “Can we start with one day? Maybe even one errand.”
One hour might be too much for him, in all honesty. But the earnest hope in her face was too much for him to squash this terrible idea now.
“Okay. One day. We’re ordering the flowers now, but a big order takes a few days to come in. They should be in the shop by Monday. I could pick you up at 8:30?”
“8:30 on Monday,” he repeated, heart pounding in his chest. What had he just agreed to?
“Great! I’ll see you then.” She stepped away from the counter and smiled up at him, her first genuine smile since walking in the door. “And thank you. I really do mean it. That money … It was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
She was breaking his heart. “I told you, it wasn’t that much—”
“But it was.” She gave a nod and turned to go. She’d reached the door when Ben stopped her with a question.
“What kind of plant is that? The one you brought today.”
“Oh. It’s a ficus. Some people call it a rubber tree. It reminded me of you, I guess. Because it’s tough. And it grows without much sunlight.”
“I—” Ben was rarely at a loss for words. “Thank you.”
She gave him a small smile over her shoulder and shut the door behind her.
He crossed the space to the counter and adjusted the ficus so it stood closer to the daffodils. He stood there for a long time, looking at both plants. Nell was pure sunshine, and he was … what he was.
She’d already seen him at his worst, so it couldn’t hurt to try going out with her on one small errand. She was the only person who’d witnessed his panic attacks, and while it wouldn’t be ideal for her to see another one, at least it wouldn’t be a surprise.
It could be good practice, for when he went back to the office. He’d call his doctor today and ask about changing the dosage of his anxiety med, to be safe. This could be the first step to getting his life back together, pulling his own weight again.
Some plants needed less sunlight, and maybe that was okay.