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I needed to know that when his next big client came along, he wasn’t going to leave me behind. I wanted to be someone’s first choice, especially when it came to my husband.
* * *
Archer
I didn’t get done by three like I’d planned. I had stayed and combed through all my leads, new listings, old listings, and cleaned up my email to ensure I hadn’t missed a thing.
Irritation toward my boss and mentor was unfamiliar, but it burned hot. Mr. Truitt had acted similarly when I’d gone to Vegas with Delaney.
Looking back, he’d been harder on me during the year after I was married. He’d claimed it was so I could make partner. He had faith in me and he’d known I had potential since he’d met me. But over the last year and a half, the talk of making partner had faded as I had toiled away to attract another client like Jaycee Henry or at least gather enough in sales that would’ve matched what she would’ve brought in.
Had I made progress and Mr. Truitt worried I’d put it at risk again?
Something about that thought didn’t sit right. He’d been my champion. He’d guided me. So why would he want my career to stagnate?
But I couldn’t forget the night Delaney left me. One moment I was chatting with Ms. Henry and had a good feeling she’d agree to work with me. Mr. Truitt had sought her out, invited her into the office and introduced her to me. She was an older woman, divorced, with two adult children. She had been the CEO of a Fortune 100 company, and while Mr. Truitt had seemed to raise her hackles, she and I had a good rapport.
And then Delaney had tried to get my attention, and when my friends had intervened, she’d snapped at them. Not the impression I wanted to leave with Ms. Henry when she was supposed to trust me with helping her buy a hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar property.
The irony that Ms. Henry might’ve been one of the most sympathetic in the room had I taken the time to hear Delaney out wasn’t lost on me. I’d fucked up.
Balancing my job and my marriage shouldn’t have been hard. Perhaps I’d been wrong to look toward Norville Truitt when it came to work-slash-life balance. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the third Mrs. Truitt filed for divorce in the next few years. Wilson wasn’t much different, but he hadn’t cheated on Briony yet.
I shut down my laptop, tablet, and grabbed only my phone. I left everything else behind as I drove to Diamond UU. Every time I moved, the pinch from Delaney’s bite on my shoulder reminded me what it was like to feel her come around my fingers.
I shifted in my seat. I had to think about something else. I concentrated on the scenery.
Cows and calves grazed quietly in the pastures. The corn was waist high, and sunflower faces were tipped to the sun. I wanted to enjoy the scenery more, but like every other time I drove to Diamond UU, I reverted to the habit I’d gotten into as a kid—wondering what it would be like to drive up on all this and know it was mine. To know I had a say in how it was taken care of and I didn’t have to depend on some ignorant jackass to know what the hell to do.
One of the things I did in my job that maybe a lot of other land brokers didn’t was to offer personalized advice. If the buyers weren’t going to run and manage their ranches, I encouraged them to review reports and to really listen to the people with the expertise. It was my way to give back to kids like me who were growing up under ranch managers and had nowhere else to go and no other skills but roping and riding and keeping cattle alive.
I pulled into the yard, but Delaney’s pickup wasn’t parked in its normal spot by the barn. Was she fixing fence? As a kid, I never thought there’d be a point in my life when I missed fixing fence. But I’d miss doing it with my wife.
Cheryl wandered out of the house, her little dog at her heels. My mother-in-law’s stern glare followed me as I got out of my car and headed toward them. Portia barked but didn’t charge me and run at my heels like I’d seen her do with the delivery driver the other day. In my years visiting land for sale, most of them farms and ranches, I’d learned how to approach strange dogs, or more importantly, how not to.
Portia was most comfortable when I pretended she didn’t exist. She didn’t trust treats from anyone who wasn’t Cheryl, but since I avoided direct eye contact with her and let her get used to my scent and my behavior, she didn’t go berserk when I was around anymore.
I think the dog liked me better than Delaney’s mom did.
“Evenin’. Delaney around?”
“She ran to the vet for some supplies.”
I would’ve asked what supplies, but I got the sense Cheryl didn’t want to talk to me more than she had to. “Is there anything I can do while she’s gone?”
“You can turn your fancy car around and drive back to Texas.”
So that was how it was going to be. Firmly, I said, “That’s not going to happen yet.”
“Exactly.Yet. You think you can get Laney to go back with you?”
I thought there wasn’t much here for her. Could I offer her more in Dallas? “I think I’m not ready to give up on our marriage.”
Cheryl swaggered closer to me. It didn’t matter that I was several inches taller than she was, she stared me down like a bull with a grudge. “You’re going to hurt her worse than he did.”
“Derek?”
She ran her tongue across her teeth. Portia yapped as if she sensed the hostility rolling off Cheryl. “There ain’t a soul in town who won’t tell you what a good kid he was. And he was, most of the time. I’m sure he was a good husband. But he was a shitty boyfriend to Laney. He let his family railroad him into treating her like she was nothing, like she had no worth.”
