Chapter 2 - Twenty-Four Roses
My mother left me money when she died. Not a fortune by Scottsdale standards, but enough to matter: the proceeds from her small house and thirty years of careful saving. I kept it in an account in my name. Landon knew its approximate balance because we had discussed buying a studio someday. I had never agreed to invest it in Bellwether House. Until Friday morning, I had never even heard him mention buying the place.
I called my bank and asked whether anything unusual had happened. There were no completed transfers I did not recognize. Relief arrived so sharply that I had to sit down. Then I changed my online password and requested alerts. The employee spoke to me kindly, without making my questions sound foolish. After we hung up, I called the attorney who had helped settle Mom's estate. Her office scheduled me for Monday morning. I printed the brochure photograph.
Saturday afternoon, Brit drove us through the pale desert light. Keeley sat beside me in the back, holding a bag of sandwiches we had bought because practical things still needed doing. Landon texted a picture of a conference badge. I enlarged it. The date was from the previous year. For the first time, I did not ask him to explain. I saved it, set my phone facedown, and watched the mountains sharpen against the sky.
We reached the resort restaurant before eight. I wore the navy dress Landon once loved and earrings my mother had given me. I chose them because they belonged to happier memories that were mine to keep. Our table stood near a planter, twenty yards from his. Landon arrived first. Then Sloane stepped onto the terrace wearing a cream dress and the easy expression of someone who expected to be welcomed. He stood to kiss her.
Not a greeting between colleagues. Not a mistake of perspective. His hand settled at her waist as hers touched his cheek. Keeley closed her eyes. Brit put her glass down very carefully. I felt something inside me become quiet. All those nights I had argued against my own instincts ended in that single unhurried kiss. The affectionate man I missed still existed. He had simply decided I no longer deserved to see that version of him.
At eight fifteen, I spoke privately with our waiter. I asked whether flowers could be delivered to another table without announcements or photographs. He directed me to the restaurant manager, who arranged it with the resort florist. I paid for twenty-four roses and borrowed a pen. My first attempt at the card shook so badly I tore it up. On the second, I wrote slowly. There was room for only the truth, and that was enough.
“For Sloane: Twelve years ago, Landon promised me a future. Before you build yours with him, ask whose money he plans to use. He is still married. I am his wife. Harper.” Below that, I added: “Landon, I found Bellwether House. Do not touch my accounts. Further conversations will happen in writing.” I folded the card into its envelope. My hand steadied. Brit read it once, then looked at me. “Are you ready?” I nodded.
May you like
While the manager arranged the delivery, I walked into the restroom and locked myself inside a stall. For a minute, I considered leaving. I could go home, pretend the confirmation meant nothing, and preserve one more quiet Sunday breakfast. Then I pictured myself sitting across from Landon while he described meetings that never happened. I placed both feet on the floor. Whatever waited outside, I would no longer have to invent explanations for it. When I returned, Keeley had ordered water. I drank every drop. My friends stayed close beside me.
At eight thirty, the waiter crossed the terrace. Sloane smiled at the roses. Landon looked pleasantly surprised, then amused, as though the universe had recognized his romance. She opened the envelope first. Her smile disappeared before she finished reading. Landon reached across the table, but she moved the card beyond his hand. I stood. He saw me over the flowers, and the color left his face. Sloane turned in her chair. “He said your divorce was already final,” she whispered.
