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“I didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart, I just thought you should know how much you meant to him. And how I’m starting to get it. I’m understanding that he loved you not just because he had to, not only because you were his granddaughter, but because of the person you are. Because you brought laughter and light into his life. Because spending time with you, was time well spent.”
“Please don’t say these things,” she whispered. “I don’t know why you’d say this. I can’t—won’t—change my mind about us. About this marriage. It’s not real. I deserve more than this. More than you. And I don’t think Gramps would have wanted this for me if he knew… if he knew what I knew.”
“What is it that you think you know, Lilah?” Why did he have to sound so damned patient and understanding? She hated it. Hated that it put her on the back foot and made her feel like she was the one who was wrong about this.
“I know that you don’t love me.”
“I care about you. And I find that I quite like you. A lot actually. More and more each day.”
She gave him a mute, frustrated glare, and shook her head in anger.
“Ben, stop playing these stupid mind games, please,” she begged, digging her thumbs into her temples. “Just stop. You know what I mean. We were having a good day. We were enjoying each other’s company. Why did you have to…”
Her thick voice faded as she found herself physically incapable of speaking.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have brought this up right now.”
“No, you shouldn’t bring this up ever. There’s no point.”
“I disagree.”
“Ben.”
“I disagree,” he repeated staunchly.
“Well, then… I suppose that’s your prerogative. But I have nothing left to say on this matter.”
Three weeks later, on a chilly, but clear Saturday afternoon, Lilah was up in the roof garden with her hoes. They were all dressed in their finest gardening ensembles—t-shirts, sweatpants and sunhats or bandannas—and had each been assigned a particular section of the rooftop. They weren’t talking much, but had plans to follow up the day’s Big Plant with ice cold cocktails and snacks.
“Afternoon ladies,” Ben’s deep voice called from the door. “I thought you could all do with some refreshments. You’ve been at it for hours.”
Lilah, who’d spent most of the morning kneeling while planting wild rosemary and lavender bushes in massive wood pallet planter boxes, stood upright and winced when her back protested the sudden movement. She put her hands into the dip below her spine and stretched, trying to relieve the kinks.
Ben—looking sinfully hot in faded thigh-hugging jeans and an open-necked black dress shirt—stepped into the garden, clutching a tray of tall, icy drinks. Whatever they were, he must have made them himself since he—they—didn’t have any live-in staff and Trudy had weekends off.
“Oh, my God, Benjamin Templeton, you’re always such a frikkin’ lifesaver,” Kes crowed from the colorful, mixed salvia corner she was working on. The other women chorused their agreement and all flocked over to the man bearing drinks. Everyone except Lilah, who stood watching him warily.
They’d barely spoken since their lunch three weeks ago. He no longer came home unexpectedly during the day and, because he was still doing damage control after Gramps’s death, he’d spent most of the last couple of weeks traveling both in country and abroad. In fact, just yesterday, he’d returned from a trip to Copenhagen to speak to one of their biggest shipping container partners about the future of their relationship with BME. According to what he’d told her last night, just before falling into an exhausted slumber, the meeting had been a complete success, and the news of the continuing partnership had settled a lot of investor and shareholder nerves. It seem as though the company was stable again; Ben’s leadership was assured and Gramps’s legacy would remain intact.
Despite her lack of interest in the inner workings of Gramps’s company, Lilah had been relieved to hear that. For Ben’s sake more than her grandfather’s. God knew, Ben didn’t know how to fail and a lesser outcome would simply never have occurred to him, but Lilah was relieved nonetheless.
With one hand still pressed against the niggling ache in the small of her back, she watched him excuse himself from the circle of animatedly chatting women, one drink still balanced on the tray.
“You okay?” he asked once he’d reached her, his eyes on the hand massaging her back.
“Stiff back from bending over all day.”
“It’s looking great up here,” he said, his eyes skimming over the rooftop, taking in the amount of work they’d done in just one morning.
“It’s a two-day job, minimum. It was a logistical nightmare getting enough soil and compost up here, but luckily my favorite garden center came through with the delivery. The ladies’ll be back next Saturday for the finishing touches.” He handed her the glass and placed the empty tray on a nearby bench.
