31. Bennett
BENNETT
The knock at the door wasn't expected.
I was in the kitchen with Kate, still in the warmth of the afternoon we'd just had.
The season-closing event was over. Priscilla was beaten and gone.
Kate wore her wedding ring again, plain and gold on her hand.
The divorce papers were filed away somewhere, stopped.
We'd come home together after the event.
I'd stepped in for her in front of everyone, and she'd had the last word with Priscilla.
Everything felt settled. Like we'd finally turned a corner and could breathe.
Then I opened the door and saw my mother standing on the porch.
She didn't ask to come in. She walked past me into the hall, her shoulders back and her chin up, her posture exactly as it always was.
She had her coat on, buttoned to the throat, and her purse over one arm.
She looked around the house like she was inspecting it.
Like she was checking for dust or disorder.
I shut the door behind her, and my chest tightened.
Part of me — the stupid, hopeful part — wanted to believe she'd come to apologize.
Maybe she'd heard about what happened at the event.
Maybe she'd seen Priscilla leave and finally understood what she'd done to Kate, to our marriage, to us.
I told myself she might have changed. That she'd come here to make things right.
God, I was an idiot.
Kate came out of the kitchen and stopped dead when she saw Imogen in the hall.
My wife's hand went to the hall table beside her, steadying herself.
She didn't say anything. Her wedding ring showed on the hand she'd put out to the table, and I saw my mother's gaze land on it for half a second before moving on, like it didn't matter.
"Kate," Imogen said. Her voice was pleasant. She sounded like she was visiting a neighbor she barely knew, someone she ran into at the store and exchanged polite words with.
Kate didn't answer right away. She crossed her arms, her shoulders squared, her spine straight. I stayed by the door, watching them both. My pulse kicked up. The air in the hall felt thin.
"Imogen," Kate said. Her voice was flat.
I moved to stand beside Kate. My mother glanced at me, then back to Kate. She set her purse down on the hall table like she belonged there. Like this was still her house and we were guests in it.
"I thought I'd stop by," Imogen said. "I haven't been to your home in some time."
Nobody had asked her to come. I hadn't called.
Kate certainly hadn't. The break I'd made at the family table was months old now, and she was acting like it had never happened.
Like I hadn't sat at her table and told her I wouldn't sit at it anymore.
Like she could just walk in here and pretend everything was fine, and eventually it would be.
"You didn't need to," I said.
She smiled at me. It wasn't warm. It wasn't even polite. "Don't be ridiculous, Bennett. You're still my son."
Kate's jaw tightened. I could feel the tension coming off her, sharp as a live wire. I wanted to reach for her hand, but I didn't. Not yet.
Imogen turned to Kate and tilted her head, studying her.
She looked at her the way she always had, like Kate was a fixture in the house that didn't quite match the decor.
Something that had been put there by mistake and never corrected.
"I hope you've settled back in. It must have been disruptive, moving out and then moving back again. "
My stomach dropped. That was the tone she'd always used with Kate.
Polite on the surface, cold underneath. Dismissive.
She'd been using it for eight years. I'd heard it a thousand times and waved it off.
Told myself it wasn't that bad. Told Kate she was reading too much into it. I couldn't wave it off now.
Kate didn't flinch. She held my mother's gaze. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
"Good," Imogen said. She glanced at me again, then back to Kate, her expression bland. "I ran into Priscilla's mother yesterday at the club. She said Priscilla is leaving for Europe. Apparently she has an opportunity there. Such a shame. She was a wonderful instructor. The guests loved her."
There it was.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. She knew what Priscilla had done.
She'd helped Priscilla do it. I'd told Kate three weeks ago that Priscilla set up the cabin with Imogen's backing, and Kate already knew what my mother had done to her for years.
Imogen knew I'd broken with her at the family table.
She was standing in our home acting like none of it mattered.
Like Priscilla was just a talented employee who happened to be moving on.
I wanted to keep hoping. I wanted to believe she'd come here to make it right, to finally see what she'd been doing and feel something about it.
But she hadn't. She was doing exactly what she'd always done.
Pretending Kate didn't matter. Pretending I hadn't chosen my wife.
Pretending everything would go back to normal if she just ignored it long enough and waited me out.
The hope in my chest felt like a weight. This was about standing beside the woman I loved and not letting my mother treat her like this anymore.
Kate stepped forward, and I felt her shoulder brush mine. Her voice was steady, but I could hear the anger underneath it, tight and controlled. "Priscilla didn't just decide to leave, Imogen. She set me up. She arranged for Bennett to be in that cabin with her, and you helped her do it."
Imogen blinked. Her face stayed smooth. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Kate."
"You do," Kate said. "You've always known exactly what you were doing.
You wanted me gone. You thought Priscilla would be better for Bennett, better for the family, better for the resorts.
You didn't care what it did to me. You didn't care what it did to our marriage.
You just wanted her here and me out of the way. "
My mother's expression didn't change. She didn't look guilty. She didn't look sorry. She looked mildly inconvenienced, like Kate was making a scene over nothing and she was too polite to say so.
"Kate," Imogen said, her voice patient, "I think you're being dramatic. Priscilla is a professional. She's always been professional."
"No," Kate said. Her hands were shaking, but her voice didn't waver.
"I'm not being dramatic. I'm being honest. You've looked down on me since the day Bennett brought me home.
You've made me feel small and worthless and like I didn't belong in this family.
You backed Priscilla because her family had money, and you thought that mattered more than I did.
You didn't care that she was trying to destroy my marriage.
You helped her. You let her think she had a chance with Bennett, and you gave her every opportunity to take him from me. "
Imogen smoothed the front of her coat, her hands slow and deliberate. "I think of Bennett and the resorts, as I always have. Priscilla's family brought significant investment into the star instructors expansion. That was a business decision, Kate. Nothing more."
All of it was a brushoff. A way to make Kate sound unreasonable.
"It wasn't just business," I said. My voice came out harder than I meant it to. "You brought her family's money in because you wanted Priscilla close to me. You wanted an excuse to keep her around. You wanted Kate out of the way, and you saw Priscilla as the solution."
Imogen turned to me. Her eyebrows went up. "Bennett, you're being unreasonable. This is about the resorts. It's always been about the resorts."
"I'm not being unreasonable," I said. I took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm.
My throat felt tight. "I know Priscilla set up the night in the cabin.
I know you helped her. I know you've been treating Kate like she doesn't belong here for eight years, and I should have stopped it a long time ago. I should have seen it."
My mother's mouth tightened, the only crack in her composure. "Priscilla is a talented instructor. Her family's investment was important to the expansion. If you can't separate business from personal feelings, Bennett, that's not my fault."
"I don't care about her family's money," I said.
The words came out sharp. "I care that you used it as an excuse to keep her around.
I care that you've never respected my wife.
I care that you're standing here right now, in our home, acting like you didn't do anything wrong.
Like you can just walk in and everything will go back to the way it was. "
Kate's hand found mine. Her fingers were cold, but her grip was steady. I held on to it.
Imogen looked at both of us, her gaze moving from me to Kate and back again. Her face was unreadable. She didn't apologize. She didn't admit anything. She didn't soften. She picked up her purse from the hall table and slung it over her arm, adjusting the strap.
"I see," she said.
That was it. Two words. No explanation. No remorse. No acknowledgment of what she'd done or what Kate had said. Just two words that meant she'd heard me and didn't care. She wasn't going to change. She wasn't going to apologize. She was done with the conversation, and she expected me to let it go.
I'd spent months hoping she might come around.
I'd told myself that maybe, if she saw how serious I was, she'd think about what I'd said at the family table.
She'd see what she'd done to Kate and feel something.
Regret. Guilt. Shame. Anything. I'd wanted her to be better.
I'd wanted her to choose us, to choose Kate, to see my wife the way I should have been seeing her all along.
She didn't.
She wasn't going to.
I let go of the hope. It hurt more than I thought it would, a sharp ache in my chest that settled into something duller.
She was my mother. I'd wanted her approval for most of my life.
I'd wanted her to see me, to be proud of me, to think I was doing the right thing.
But she wasn't going to give me that. Not if it meant accepting Kate.
Not if it meant admitting she'd been wrong.
I couldn't keep waiting for her to become someone she wasn't.
I stood beside Kate and looked at Imogen. "You need to leave."
"Bennett," she started, her voice taking on an edge.
"No," I said. I kept my voice even. I wasn't cruel.
I wasn't shouting. I was just done. "I told you at the family table that I choose Kate.
I meant it. You've had months to think about that, and you came here acting like nothing's changed.
You didn't apologize to Kate. You didn't admit what you did. You're not going to. I know that now."
Imogen's lips pressed together. "I'm your mother, Bennett."
"I know," I said. My throat was tight, but I pushed through it. "But you're not welcome here anymore. I'm not asking you to like Kate. I'm asking you to treat her like a human being. Like my wife. And you won't do that."
She stared at me. For a moment I thought she might say something. An apology. An acknowledgment. Some sign that she understood what I was telling her and it mattered. Anything.
She didn't.
Her face stayed blank. She adjusted her purse again and turned toward the door.
I opened it for her. The evening air was cool, and it rushed into the hall.
She stepped out onto the porch and looked back at me once.
Her expression was unreadable. She didn't say goodbye.
She didn't say she'd think about it. She just turned and walked down the steps to her car.
I closed the door and stood there for a second, my hand still on the handle. My chest felt tight, but not in the way it had when she'd first arrived. This was different. This was lighter. Like I'd been holding my breath for months and could finally let it out.
Kate was still beside me. She didn't say anything. She just slipped her hand back into mine, her fingers warm now.
I turned to look at her. She was watching me, her eyes searching my face. I knew what she was checking for. Regret. Doubt. Second thoughts about what I'd just done.
I didn't have any.
"Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice was soft.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"You're sure?" She squeezed my hand. "Bennett, that was your mother."
"I know," I said. I pulled her closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me, and I felt the tension drain out of both of us. The house was quiet again. The hall was empty. We were still here, still together, and my mother was gone. "I'm sure."
Kate rested her head against my shoulder.
I could feel her breathing, slow and steady.
We stood there for a minute, neither of us moving.
The weight I'd been carrying — the hope that my mother might change, that she might see what she'd done and care — was gone.
I'd let it go. I'd chosen Kate. I'd meant it.
I was at peace with my choice.