Snapshot: Chapter 29

I’ve survived my first month at Hessler Group by making myself scarce. Here and there, I sign paperwork, but I seldom talk to anyone outside of Spencer. She guards my office door like a loyal rottweiler. We fill nine in the morning until one in the afternoon by talking about all the things I wish I could implement at Hessler Group. The numbers are weird. The leadership team all make seven figures when we still have entry-level employees like Spencer who have been here for years, barely making more than minimum wage. They work harder than most of the top dogs from what I’ve seen.

Hessler Group has two different call centers. One about forty minutes from headquarters and another in the Midwest. Being a customer service survivor myself, I asked Brookes from call center operations if I could do a site visit. He simply told me that he’d pull a fresh set of reporting so I could see the margins.

That’s not what I wanted. I don’t want to know how much money we’re saving and how large our profit margins are. I want to know how morale is. I want to know if Hessler employees are as miserable as the ones at Advantage Insurance. I have some ideas on how we can make their day-to-day more tolerable—like allowing them to hang up on ruthless, foul-mouthed assholes.

But no one wants to hear what I have to say. So, I spend my mornings making plans I’ll never implement. Then, Spencer and I have lunch in the cafeteria together. I stretch the clock as long as possible before I can justify us leaving our workday early. I know I’m not particularly helpful on the business front, but I have to earn the money Dex gave me somehow. I can’t stand the idea of being paid simply to be his wife.

After a long week of feeling out of place and useless at the office, on Friday evening I just want to cuddle up with Dex. I want to enjoy my new relationship, hidden away from the world. I thought weekends would be ours, ordering takeout, falling asleep on the couch, watching sitcom re-runs. But instead, we have a fancy charity ball to attend.

By six o’clock, I’m sitting in my enormous bathroom in a salon chair that was specially delivered to prep me for a black-tie affair. The event cost Dex nearly one hundred thousand dollars for a table. That’s just the door fee. He’s expected to make a much more generous contribution to a cause and he’s not even sure what they do. It’s something I’ve witnessed based on the small glimpse I’ve gotten into his world, from the tail end of his phone conversations that I’ve caught, or from the very brief complaints he makes here and there before he recomposes himself. It’s very clear that Dex may have the money. But he’s not really the boss. If anything, my husband is bullied and pushed around by his status. Told what he should want, believe in, and support. Dex is like a shuttlecock, being smacked back and forth over a net, used for everybody else’s agenda. This is what he meant by money not necessarily being power. Sometimes, wealth is a prison.

Denny’s been an enormous help since she’s been back. She’s running interference as the stylists ask if they can cut my bangs and re-dye my hair a “sensible color”—their words, not mine. She bats them away like she’s protecting me from a hungry pack of scavenging hyenas. Denny’s normally domineering personality can be off-putting, but tonight, I’m incredibly grateful.

“What about a little lavender eyeshadow? And then a deep plum at the corners.” She runs her fingers through a tendril of my hair. “Let’s lean into the purple, not dye over it,” Denny says.

I smile at her through the mirror. “Love it. Except red for my fingernails. For Dottie.”

Denny nods, holding up her own red manicure. “Couldn’t agree more.”

The nail tech smiles. “I have the perfect jungle red in my other bag. I’ll be right back.”

Much to her dismay, the stylist doing my hair and makeup unsubtly rolls her eyes. “Purple…goodness,” she grumbles. “I’ll see what I have.”

Once they both leave the bathroom, Denny and I finally have a moment of privacy. “Dex told me about your mom. I’m so sorry.” I reach out to squeeze her hand.

“I told you about my relationship with my mother,” Denny replies. Her bright red lips curl into a tight, cool smile. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Loss is loss,” I say. “I don’t think you have to be on great terms with someone to miss them when they’re gone.”

She sighs. “Can I be honest, Lennox?” Denny steps in front of me and leans against the bathroom counter, now facing me, instead of looking at me through the mirror. “When I first met you, I thought Dex was thinking a little more with his dick than his brain, but your resiliency… I would’ve booked a one-way ticket to Bora Bora after that article Tearney put out. But you were unbothered.”

I laugh. “Are you kidding? I cried myself to sleep for three nights straight. But I’ve seen people come back from so much worse. I figured I’d wait it out.”

She lifts her brows. “Your dad?”

I nod. “It got dark for a while.”

“You know Harrison made a really big blunder once. He did some business with a corrupt bank. By the time he got to the bottom of the shell accounts he apparently funded, it was too late. The SEC was so far up his ass. The entire legal team was terrified. It looked like Hessler Group was going to have to strip down to pieces and sell off their assets piece by piece. He nearly took down an empire in one drunk bumble.”

My eyes pop open wide. “How did he get out of that one?”

Denny smirks. “Bribery. A little blackmail. And a whole lot of lying. That’s the Hessler way,” she says. “Until Dottie, that is. She was the only one who ever operated like she wasn’t afraid to lose her wealth. Every decision she made was for the good of the people, so to speak.”

“Dex is like that,” I add.

Denny lifts her brows. “You sure? I see more Harrison than Dottie in Dex. He’s his spitting image.”

Denny’s like a snake, I swear. Let your guard down, and she’ll strike when you’re least expecting it. Triggered at her accusation, I can’t stop the word vomit. “That’d be impossible since Dex isn’t Harrison’s. He’s all Dottie, both in looks and heart. I’m really proud of the man he is.” I instantly regret the words. Fuck. Why did I do that? Me and my big mouth. My heart accelerates to the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, and I quickly try to digress. “Quick question about the dinner tonight. I really don’t know what to do when there are more than two forks. Dinner fork, salad fork—those make sense. But what’s the tiny trident for?” I give her an innocent, toothy smile.

Denny levels her stare, her bright eyes fixed on mine. “Mhm… What do you mean Dex isn’t Harrison’s? I was there the day he was born. I held him hours after Melody gave birth to him. What are you insinuating about my family, Lennox?”

Shit. That went left, fast. “No, no, Denny. I didn’t mean…” I sigh. “Dottie left some letters.”

Denny blinks at me silently. I glance toward the opening of the bathroom as the nail tech returns. Denny holds up her hands, her eyes never leaving mine. “Rachel, we need another moment. Would you mind putting two bottles of champagne on ice? Everything you’ll need is underneath the bar. Dom will be fine.”

“Aren’t we running out of time, though?” Rachel asks.

“Dex is the guest of honor.” Denny’s tone is calm and even but wildly intimidating. “They’ll hold the whole damn event for him if necessary.” Rachel scuttles back out of the room with a simple head nod.

“Lennox,” Denny continues, “if there are three forks to the left of the plate, the outer fork is usually for fish, such as a smoked salmon appetizer. Now, would you care to explain what was in these letters? Or, if easier, may I read them myself?”

No. Hell no. I know Denny was like another daughter to Dottie, but I have the strangest gut feeling Dottie would never want to share these stories with her. She wouldn’t understand Dottie’s connection to Jacob and how it impacted her entire life.

“I do wonder if Melody was Harrison’s by blood. By choice, of course. But I’m not sure if maybe Melody was conceived prior to Dottie meeting Harrison,” I explain.

She takes a few controlled inhales and exhales before responding. “That’d make sense. Harrison had some medical issues in early adulthood. He thought he was infertile,” Denny says. “If Dottie was pregnant prior to meeting him, perhaps that was his way of securing an heir. Not to mention, an unwed mother would have no prospects at the time. It wouldn’t be the first scandal the Hessler’s covered up.”

Now, it’s my turn to be inquisitive. “Such as?”

“All this stays between us, right?” Denny asks.

“Absolutely.”

Denny’s big eyes narrow. She smooths her hair on either side of her part. “Harrison had a bastard child. I’m not sure if Dottie knew.”

She knew. But this time, I keep my mouth closed. It’s not my secret to share.

“He did everything in his power to cover it up. His parents…” Denny lets out a sharp breath. “He got his drinking from his mother. His father was a very cruel man. They took the poor woman he got pregnant, paid her off, and threatened her. She was so scared and without an ounce of fight or good sense. She could’ve ruined them. Instead, she took the money and disappeared. The child was a bargaining chip.”

Crossing my arms, I cradle my elbows, feeling the goose bumps against my forearms. “How do you know all this?”

Denny’s eyes drop to her clean, black Manolo’s. “You don’t hang around the Hesslers for decades without overhearing some secrets.”

Lies. My Nancy Drew instincts kick in, and I’m more certain than ever… All the pieces are clicking together like finding the final part of a 2,000-piece puzzle. Here it is: Dex is not a true Hessler.

But Denny is.

“Goddamn,” is all I can say when I see Lennox fixed up like royalty. She’s wearing a strapless, floor-length, sparkling pearl gown. Her makeup matches her hair. Colorful but elegant. I can’t really see her shoes, but judging by the way she’s walking so carefully across our living room, I know they must be dainty stilettos.

She shows me my favorite sassy smile. “Same to you, Sir.” She stumbles as she takes another step. “Dammit.”

“Are they too uncomfortable?” I ask, holding out my hands to her.

“No, not bad. I’ve worn worse. It’s just…” She drops her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to mess them up. I googled these shoes. They are custom Stuart Weitzman’s, and the internet says they are worth half a million dollars, Dex. The stylist didn’t bring me any other options.” She teeters and holds up her foot. The thin straps are embedded with small diamonds. “I mean, they’re real. There are enough diamonds on here to fill an entire case at Kay Jewelers.”

Lennox’s hair is slicked back, tucked behind her ears, not a stray hair out of place. Her hairstyle shows off the massive diamond studs in her ears. I touch the stones one by one. “They are indeed real. These too.”

“Dex, this is bananas. My shoes are worth more than a diamond engagement ring.”

I scoff. “Baby, the ring I put on your finger will be worth way more than these shoes.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to it.”

“Good. Don’t,” I say. “Then I’ll have a lifetime full of surprising you. Actually, speaking of which,” I say, reaching into my inside coat pocket. I pull out a small plastic bag with my present for Lennox. “It’s nothing too fancy. But it’s your favorite color,” I say as I pour the thin bracelet into my palm. I hold the end clasps in my hands, ready to put it on her. “I think it matches well enough.”

“You’d have to check with my stylist. It might ruin the ensemble,” Lennox says, rolling her eyes. She eagerly holds out her wrist. “You picked this out for me because it’s purple?” she asks, bright-eyed.

“Sort of. I told you me and my mom were born in February, right? This is Amethyst. Her birthstone. It was her favorite bracelet. It’s the only piece of jewelry of hers I have. Happy accident that it’s your favorite color.” I fasten the bracelet around her wrist, a perfect fit. I glance at her eyes, starting to water. “Don’t cry on me now, baby. You’ll ruin your pretty makeup.”

She sniffles and shakes her head. “No, no, it’s basically superglued on. I was in the chair for like four hours. I didn’t realize how long it takes to get glam.” She chuckles as she sniffles again.

I gently dab her cheek with the tip of one finger. “Still… You look so beautiful. And I hate making you cry. You were never a crier until I brought you out here.”

“Wrong.” She holds up her wrist, examining the little purple stones alternating with small, round diamonds. “I cry a lot, just not in front of people. I don’t like when people think I can’t handle things. Crying makes me feel vulnerable. But I guess now I’m willing to be vulnerable with you.”

I pull her into my chest, hugging her tightly. I breathe in the smell of all the hairspray, perfume, lotion, and makeup as I kiss the top of her head. She smells like a meadow of about five different types of flowers. “Me too, Len.”

Pulling away, she asks. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then may I ask… How come you don’t like talking about your mom? She seemed like such a wonderful person.”

“She was.” I feel myself shutting down, the way I always do when Mom gets brought up. I don’t avoid the topic because of anything other than human nature. It’s still too painful. Isn’t it basic instinct to avoid the things that hurt us most?

“It’s okay, Dex. You don’t have to⁠—”

“I feel robbed,” I admit. It’s Lennox. If I don’t open up to her…then who? This is my wife. My partner. I have to at least try.

“What do you mean?”

“Mom never really bought into the whole heiress mentality. She had such a love-hate relationship with Grandpa. She loved him as her dad but never loved what he stood for or how he treated people. Now, in a way, I think I’ve turned into him. When I fired Jensen…” I think about Grandpa, red-faced and angry. His cheeks used to puff out when he was about to rip someone a new one. His eyes were always slightly bloodshot from all the bourbon and whiskey. I remember being afraid of him sometimes. “It was exactly how my grandpa would’ve handled that situation. I don’t know if I should be proud of that.”

Lennox reaches up to straighten my bow tie. “You start nice and clean up even nicer, Dex. Your mom would be so proud of you.”

“Would she?” I ask. “Or did she die, and then I turned into the exact opposite of the man she would’ve raised me to be? I don’t like talking about her because I know I let her down…in most ways.” I kiss Lennox gently. The thick, sticky gloss she has on transfers to my lips. “She would’ve loved you, though. I know it. You bring me back to the man I think both my mom and grandma wanted me to be.”

She tilts her head to the side. Lennox keeps opening her mouth, then shutting it, like she’s about to say something, then keeps stopping herself. “Who do you want to be?” She goes to work, wiping my lips off with her thumb, cleaning her makeup off of me.

“Right now, exactly who I am. I was always destined for the job, but now I have my girl. I’m happy with you by my side.” I smile at her, but she doesn’t return it.

“But does the Hessler part really matter? If it was just you and me and none of the glitz and glam? If you could be a scuba dive instructor, and your wife and children didn’t care if we were broke, living paycheck to paycheck, would you still be happy? Am I enough for you?”

“Wow, baby. Those are a lot of big questions.” I drop to my knee and lift her long dress so her shoes are visible. Running my fingers over the diamond-studded straps, I say, “Don’t worry, Len. You’ll get used to all this. Maybe one day, you’ll even like it.” I plant kisses up her leg but stop at her knee. “We’re already late. Otherwise, I’d take this dress right off.”

She puckers her bottom lip. “Can we stay in next Friday? Just you and me? Movie night. Junky snacks. Turn our phones off?”

I frown. “I’m so sorry. Next week I’m in New York until Sunday. Then the week after that is the dive trip, remember? Last one.” I run my thumb across her cheek. “Don’t worry. It’ll slow down soon. We’ll make some time.” She mumbles something under her breath in a bitter undertone, so I add, “I promise.”

“Okay, fine. Is Joe downstairs?” I nod in reply, and she proceeds to make her way to the elevator. Lennox stops and spins around in place when she notices I’m not following. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just enjoying the view.”

She laughs and continues to the elevator, exaggerating her walk so her hips swing dramatically side to side. The nerves calm as I hear her sweet laugh. My favorite sound in the entire world. Everything is okay. I can make this work. Keep my company afloat, keep my wife smiling.

Hesslers always find a way.