A Matter of Trust Page 6

  There was one thing that had come out of that hard year: Logan would always be the one Ben and his brothers would look up to, and he was also the one always checking up on them now. Ben would have to call Logan and his new wife, Julia, maybe stop in and see how they were doing, when he was done here.

  He opened the door to his cabin and flicked the lamp on, taking in his room. The bed was made, and even the fireplace was ready to go, with kindling, paper, and cut wood all arranged. All he needed to do was light a match. Alice and Jack were thoughtful, nice people.

  Ben listened to the fire crackle for a moment and then slid his coat off before opening his laptop to check his email. One from his boss caught his eye:

  From: Peter Stillwell, CEO, Kootenai Kounty Oil

  To: Benjamin Wilde, President, Kootenai Kounty Oil

  Subject: Update on Settling the Natives

  Ben,

  What’s the news? Good, I hope. Call me anytime and update me. We want to get this project started and the problems there put to bed.

  Best,

  Peter

  Short and sweet, right to the point. Peter wasn’t going to be happy with what Ben had to report. The fire had just started to throw off some heat when he sat on the bed. He pulled his cell phone out and called Peter. Maybe his boss was sitting by the phone, as he answered on the first ring. Ben could hear voices in the background.

  “Ben, was wondering when I’d hear from you. So tell me, how did the presentation go? Did you work your magic? Tell me you have good news.”

  Yeah, he was anxious. Peter was a man who wanted answers.

  “The presentation took a different turn than expected,” Ben said. How could he explain to Peter that these people wouldn’t have listened to a slideshow or to someone singing KKO’s praises for the jobs and security that they would bring to the community? These people just didn’t buy that kind of fluff after the curveballs life had thrown their way. These people didn’t trust outsiders.

  “Different in which way?” Peter asked. He was direct, and he always came across as gruff when things didn’t go as smoothly as he expected.

  “Well, you already know I wasn’t welcome here. This is a tough community. The folks here are pessimists, always looking for what can go wrong. They already brought up our track record and that of every other oil company—though, in all fairness, all oil companies do have a history of leaving damage. The townsfolk pointed out every example they could.”

  “Sounds like you might be on their side,” Peter snapped.

  “No, Peter, listen. That’s not what I’m saying. You need to understand these people first before you can do something like what we want to do. You can’t just steamroll over these people and believe they’ll go away. It won’t work, not here, not in this town. They’ve been misunderstood for so long, beaten down, kicked in the head, and they know what struggling is. They won’t just roll over, not on this one. They’ve dug their heels in. Besides, someone in the community already suggested they ask for a bigger cut from us before there’s any further negotiation.”

  There was silence on the other end, long enough that Ben could feel the energy, the annoyance. He suspected Peter was going to take a hard stand.

  “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. Are you telling me that aside from what that shithole community stands to gain in jobs, the new hospital we’re going to fund, and the new community hall, they want more?”

  A new hospital? Where had that come from? He wondered sometimes where Peter came up with things. Since this was the first Ben was hearing of it, he figured maybe Peter had been behind the scenes, working at sweetening the pot for this community since Ben had left. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he replied. “These people are smart. They know they’re the ones assuming the lion’s share of the risk, so they want a bigger piece of the pie. This is a win-win, Peter, for us and them. We really need to come back with something so each of these families can see how they’ll gain financially from this project—not just in terms of jobs but how everyone will benefit. Right now, most here are focused on basic human needs, how to feed their families, keep a roof over their heads. They’re just getting by, little by little, so having something more will go a long way to winning them over.”

  “So it’s all about money—” Peter started, and Ben had to pull the phone away. Talking to Peter could be tough sometimes when he started down a certain way of thinking.

  “No, Peter, it’s not just money. The man here who was trying to talk sense to these people is pleading with them to negotiate a better deal, but it’s also about their community, the environment here, and an assurance of safety measures. We need to show them we’re as good as our word and that we’ll live up to what we say. We need to give them a guarantee that we’ll succeed in safety where every other oil company has failed.”

  “But we’ve already said in our report that we’re using cutting-edge technology. We’ve laid it all out.” There was a scraping on the other end and then quiet, as if Peter had shut a door.

  “And so has every other oil company with a history of lying, cheating, and falsifying reports. The paper’s worthless. We won’t just be believed—we have to prove it to them. We need the manufacturer’s report for all the equipment to show them we’re actually going to do what we say.” Ben started pacing the small cabin, listening to the sigh on the other end. “And then, of course, there’s the safety issues that were disregarded. You remember the misfiled report we never saw? That hurt us the worst. It’s not one of our finest moments, that slip, and it did appear that we buried it. I’m not surprised they don’t trust us.”

  “Rick is in charge of that now. My son will make sure that kind of slip doesn’t ever happen again,” Peter said.

  Ben had to hold his tongue, because the decision to put Rick in such a delicate position was the one area where Peter and Ben completely disagreed. “Fine, but it’s imperative the people here are convinced that we’re telling the truth.”

  “I’ll see that Rick gets you everything you need,” Peter said. “This so-called troublemaker…how much influence does he have in the community?”

  Ben knew what Peter was talking about: paying off Jack so that he would keep his mouth shut and stop stirring up the community with talk of renegotiations. That wasn’t going to happen, because Jack Richardson was a good man, and Ben wasn’t into playing dirty. He’d seen Peter do it a time or two, and he wasn’t proud that he’d sat by and said nothing. There was something about Jack and this community, though, that made him unable to sit idly by and let Peter flex his muscles. He was pretty sure Jack would stand up to him, maybe, and Carrie…he couldn’t help thinking about her. A payoff would be something she’d never understand. She would hate him.

  “He’s not a problem, he’s a voice of reason. Honestly, he’s our best hope of getting this project to go smoothly. We need him on our side. Look, you sent me here to do a job. Let me do it,” he said. It had come out a little strongly, and maybe Peter sensed something about where Ben was coming from.

  “Well, then, get the job done! This town is our last holdout, and I want this project underway with no more delays, no more problems. You understand?”

  Yeah, he understood, but sometimes he wondered whether Peter had gone so far over to the other side that he no longer understand that people weren’t chess pieces to be pushed around. This situation wasn’t something Peter could hurry by buying off a few people and using his almighty power to intimidate the town. If he tried that this time, with this project and these people, Ben realized it could be the company’s undoing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben poured coffee in the oversized red mug in the warm and cozy kitchen of the main house. It was good, strong coffee, the kind you could only get from the darkest and freshest roasted beans, freshly ground by someone who understood what good coffee was. That was something he appreciated.

  “Ben, breakfast should be ready in about ten minutes,” Alice said. “I hope you’re hungry
! I made my aunt’s famous breakfast sausage casserole.” She had such a warm smile, nothing forced. It seemed so natural, coming from her vibrant, warm personality. He could tell that Alice was comfortable with who she was.

  She wiped her hands on her red and white flowered apron, which she wore over a peach shirt and blue jeans. Her hair was held back by one of those headbands young girls usually wore, but Ben thought it looked good. It was cute, actually, and gave her a look of being fun to be around. Alice busied herself cutting up some fresh fruit—apples, strawberries, kiwi, pineapple—and he wondered how many she was planning on feeding as she organized the plate in a presentation that would rival that of any executive chef.

  She didn’t look up from her chopping when she took a breath and said, “I suppose Carrie told you what a wickedly horrible person I am.”

  That hadn’t been what he was expecting, but women seemed to hold on to things men didn’t. He believed there wasn’t a woman around who didn’t overthink things. Why he was getting dragged into the middle of this family’s issues was a big old question mark to him, but when Alice glanced up, he could tell from her expression and the deep lines around her eyes that whatever was going on, she had been working through it in her mind for a while.

  “I can see there’s some discord,” Ben finally said.

  “Discord!” She rolled her eyes, setting her knife down and wiping her hands on her apron again.

  Ben wondered, was she about to start in on Carrie and all her faults? He was sure the list was long, and he found his back stiffening as if sensing the words were on the tip of her tongue.

  “No, that girl hates me, Ben. I wish it were different.” She turned to the sink and rinsed some fruit under the tap. “I was friends with Pat, her mom, after they moved here. Carrie was young, at an age when she needed her mother most. Jack was gone a lot on business trips. He worked for a big oil firm from Seattle, but he had decided to start winding down his career by that point.”

  Ben didn’t know what to say. He sensed a lot of hurt and misunderstanding, a whole bunch of family stuff. He wanted to gently remind everyone why he was actually here, but he couldn’t say that. In fact, he said nothing, wondering why everyone seemed to think he was their confidant.

  “Oh, you’re probably shocked, too,” Alice said.

  “No, I’ve learned not to judge,” Ben replied. “There’s always another side to the story. I don’t know what happened, but I can only imagine the heartache everyone went through. I never lost a parent, but my brother’s wife died of cervical cancer. It messed him up pretty bad. He blamed himself for a long time, saying he should have made her see a doctor earlier, but they didn’t have insurance.” He turned away. “I know what grief does to a person, twisting you up inside.”

  “I loved Pat like a sister,” Alice said. “When she was diagnosed the last time, her breast cancer had spread everywhere and was in her pancreas. It was a death sentence. She knew she didn’t have a lot of time, and it tore Jack up—and Carrie…that girl had a hard time, knowing she was going to lose her mama. I moved in because it got pretty bad at the end. Pat didn’t want Carrie to see, to watch her, so I did what I could to distract her and keep her away. Yes, I would lie to her and tell her that her mom was having a good day just so Carrie would go to school. With Jack…it was inevitable, what happened between us. He’s such a good man. Pat knew, she saw us together even though there was nothing between us when she was alive. Neither Jack nor I would cross that line, but she was the one who first mentioned to me that she didn’t want Jack and Carrie alone. Their relationship had always been strained.”

  Ben couldn’t imagine how tough it would have been: the stress, the worry…watching someone you loved slip away. He found himself nodding and wondering whether Carrie and her dad had ever been close.

  “The night before Pat passed away, she called me and Jack in, sat us down to have a talk with us. She asked Jack to marry me when she died. Of course, he was outraged, and I was shocked. We had the kind of feelings good friends do for each other—but also more, if we were honest. We’d become close, sharing the care of a woman we both loved.

  “When Jack calmed down enough, Pat said her piece. She knew back then that Jack and I would be better together than she and Jack had ever been. She knew he loved her, but she told me she had always known they didn’t share a deep love, the kind where you can’t stand the thought of being without the other person for a day, an hour, or even a minute. She and Jack had never had that. She had always been fine with the long hours he worked and the separate lives they’d led.”

  The way Alice was wringing her hands with the cloth, Ben knew she was holding on to some guilt. How could any person on their deathbed just hand their husband over to another woman? It had been such an unselfish act. Any fool in the same room as Alice and Jack could see how much they meant to each other.

  “But you and Jack do share that love, and Carrie’s mom knew it,” Ben said, taking in the shocked expression on Alice’s face. She flattened her palm over her chest.

  “Yes, she did. She knew before we did. I don’t know, but I like to think it was her way of giving Jack and me her blessing. After she died, Jack asked me to stay for Carrie, but I knew he was really asking me to stay for him. He’s such a proud man, stuck in right and wrong, and he fought his feelings…but you can’t fight love, you know. Maybe we should have waited.” She firmed her lips as if resigned to her fate, and Ben was struck by the wave of emotions and confusion Alice appeared to be struggling with. “Oh, well. What’s done is done. I somehow don’t think it would have mattered if we’d waited. Carrie will never forgive me and will always see me as the other woman even though that wasn’t how it was.”

  Ben wondered if Alice had ever tried to explain to Carrie what she’d just shared, but he also realized that because Carrie took everything so personally, she might not have been ready to hear it. “You should sit down with Carrie and tell her what you just shared with me,” he said.

  Alice waved her hand and turned away to open the oven and lift out a glass casserole dish. The bubbling breakfast casserole had a spicy, fragrant aroma that made his mouth water. “I tried, more than once. Her father did, too. She just wouldn’t listen.”

  Ben stepped closer and set his cup down. “Alice, look at it from Carrie’s perspective. She needed her mother more than anything at that age, and it sounds like Pat was the center of her world. It’s probably no surprise that she couldn’t hear you then. Sometimes, being that young and torn up with grief leaves you unreasonable and inconsolable, so much so that no one can break through that wall. But you should try again,” he said. “There’s one thing about time: It does have a way of softening us. You may be surprised. This time, she just might listen.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  For a moment, Carrie worried she was being too forward as she stood on that first step in front of Ben’s cabin. Her legs were shaky, and her heart started pounding when she heard his voice inside. Maybe this was a bad idea. She considered turning around and hurrying back the way she’d come before he even realized she was there, but then she noticed him through the window as he passed by, a phone pressed to his ear. Whomever he was talking to, he was deep in conversation.

  Ben was extraordinary. Just the way he moved and carried himself was so confident that she couldn’t stay away from him. He was invading her dreams, her sleep. He had been the first thing in her mind that morning when she woke up, and the thought of never seeing him again filled her with sadness. There was an ache inside of her that she had lived with for so long, and she just didn’t want it there any longer.

  However, as she stood on that step, deciding what to do, she also realized that Ben was here for only one thing: to make sure this oil project went through easily.

  He must have noticed her, so she lifted her hand to wave, feeling like an idiot. She moved to the door, and it opened. Her chest squeezed as she looked up into those intense eyes, her hands sweating as she watched him watching h
er, a phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he said, “Verna, I’ll call you back.”

  He hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. “Good morning,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  She fought the urge to run for a second before stepping into the neat and tidy cabin. It smelled of fresh pine—and of Ben. Her eyes went right to the rumpled bed, and she wondered what he slept in. Was he a pajama man, or did he sleep in nothing at all…? She blushed. Maybe he knew what she was thinking, as he raised an eyebrow in a silent question. She lowered her gaze and then looked away to the cluttered table by the window. His laptop was open, papers scattered around it.

  “So what brings you by this morning?” he asked. He seemed distracted, and she wondered for a moment whether he even welcomed her interruption. Maybe he wanted her to leave.

  “I wanted to thank you for dinner last night.” She was such a liar. Would her burning cheeks give her away? Her restless sleep had been filled with the desire to be with Ben, wondering what it would be like to be touched by him, kissed by him. She couldn’t stop the way her thoughts had drifted after what he’d shared with her the night before. It had been so personal, as if he’d shown her a hidden side of him. Knowing he was as flawed as she was, that his family had faced struggles, too, made him seem so…human.

  The easy smile that touched his lips as he crossed his arms didn’t help to calm her nerves. She was shaking inside, and it wasn’t from fear. “You’re welcome,” he said. “You thanked me last night, though, Carrie, so what are you really doing here?”

  Oh, he wasn’t making this easy at all. She realized she was biting her lower lip. His eyes went right there, and the dark way he watched her made her swallow a gasp. “I wanted to return the favor.”

  “Oh?” was all he said.

  This was ridiculous, the way she was sweating like a nervous schoolgirl, fidgeting. She wiped her palms together to try to tamp down her insecurities. He was way out of her league, and maybe he was silently laughing at her. She couldn’t bear the thought of him humoring her. That would be so demeaning. Please don’t make fun of me! She shut her eyes and then blurted out, before she had a moment more to think or race out the door like a fool, “I’d like to cook dinner for you tonight.”