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“Thank you… But, um, Denny, why are you telling me all this?”
“To try and connect with you.”
Her blatant response catches me off guard. “Oh.”
She relaxes her shoulder and pats her knee. “I usually have a hard time relating to people, but I think you and I are a lot alike. I also grew up on the outside looking in, Lennox. Had an opportunity like Dex presented itself, I would’ve jumped as well. It’s just good sense. I’m not faulting you. This can be a win-win situation for everyone.”
I sigh heavily, unable to mask my frustration. “Dex is not an opportunity to me. I’m not trying to win anything. I care about him. I have for a long time.”
Denny holds her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, poor choice of words. I just mean I’m trying to understand the situation. Look, Lennox—obviously, you’re very important to Dex. Which means now, you’re very important to me too. I’d love it if we could get along. I want to help you both however I can.”
There’s something about Denny I just can’t put my finger on. It’s like tiptoeing by a sleeping crocodile. I most certainly don’t feel safe. On the other hand, if Denny is truly all Dex has left in Miami, I can’t imagine me being at odds with the only other person he calls family. I don’t want to make his life even more complicated. Denny deserves a chance, at least.
“Thank you, Denny. I appreciate that. I’d really like for us to be friends.”
She exhales, a relaxed smile spreading across her flawlessly smooth face. Denny may be in her fifties, but she could easily pass for late thirties. “Me too, Lennox,” she says. “Not to mention us women have to stick together. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Hessler Group is a boys’ club. There’s notone woman on the advisory board and the entire executive team is comprised of white, middle-aged men who love to mansplain how to properly drink bourbon.” She rolls her eyes dramatically as she makes a “C” with her hand, pretending to pour a drink into her mouth. “In my experience, it’s as simple as getting the liquid into your mouth, but who am I to speak, right?”
I chuckle at her sarcasm until I realize her message is laced with a bitter undertone.
“I thought Dex mentioned you were their household manager. Do you also work at Hessler Group as well?”
She shrugs, leaning back into the seat before crossing her legs. “In a thankless way.”
“Meaning?”
“I was Dottie’s sounding board for the better part of two decades. When she first took the helm, nobody respected her. They thought she was a silly housewife playing dress-up in a suit, trying to run a company she had no business running. There was a lot of pressure for the company to go public, take on shareholders, and more investors who—and I quote—‘knew what they were doing.’ Nobody wanted her making the big decisions.” Denny purses her lips and shakes her head like she’s trying to brush off a memory that still bothers her. “It was so damn satisfying to watch her prove all their judgments wrong. Dottie was more equipped to run Hessler Group than Harrison ever was. He was a mean, coldhearted drunk. I’m shocked Dottie married him, and even more shocked Melody came from him. Those women deserved better.”
From what I remember, Dex has never mentioned his grandpa was mean. “I thought Dex and his grandpa got along?”
Denny nods. “Oh, yes. Because he’s the male heir Harrison always wanted. He was mostly a cruel, arrogant, insufferable old man, but he minded himself around Dex. His little protégé.” She bites out the last part of her sentence. “Meanwhile, poor Dottiedid the backbreaking work, and he never once told his wife how proud he was of her. Never gave her the credit she deserved. I was right there with her, talking out every business decision, picking her back up after every mistake. I probably know more about the inner workings of Hessler Group than any executive or advisory board member… That’s why they don’t like for me to be in the meetings. I’m happy to call them on their shit.” Her cackle is shrill, and the corner of her mouth curls up into what is unmistakably a snarl.
She must’ve worked very hard her entire life just to be told her opinion was only useful in whispers, behind closed doors. I thought Denny was arrogant and elitist. Turns out she’s just pissed neither she nor Dottie got the credit she feels they deserve. The woman I disliked is now the woman I pity. I feel the overwhelming need to comfort her.
“Do you want to be?”
“Pardon?” Denny asks.
“Do you want to be in the meetings? Is that what you wanted all this time? To work for Hessler Group instead of as a household manager?”
She takes a moment to consider her response. “No, I can’t,” she finally replies with no further explanation.
“Why not?” I ask. “If I can, I want to help you. I’m sure Dex does, too. Why couldn’t we hire you at Hessler Group? You obviously have the experience.”
“We,” she parrots absentmindedly. “I’m still getting used to that. Dex with a wife.” She pats my knee. “Dex with a kind, empathetic, loving wife who already reminds me so much of his mother and grandmother.”
I know she’s kissing ass, but I still melt into a puddle. It’s the highest compliment in the world to be likened to Dottie Hessler.
“I’ll talk to Dex,” I say. “I’m not sure how to promote someone or what that entails, but I’ll figure it out. If you don’twant to be a glorified personal assistant, I don’t want that for you either. I know my position as CEO is mostly a placeholder until Dex takes the reins, but if I can do some good, I promise I will. I’d love to help you however I can.”
Denny beams at me. She stretches out her arm and wraps it around my shoulders. I steady my mug, trying to keep the liquid from sloshing over the rim as she yanks me into an awkward hug. Pressing her cheek against mine, she makes a kissing noise. This close, I recognize the scent… Dottie’s fancy French perfume.
Poor thing. I’d do the same if I lost my mother. I’d wear her perfume to keep her close, surrounding myself in the comfort of memories. Maybe I’d also distrust anybody who suddenly came into my family, threatening to disrupt the foundation the matriarch built. Denny just needs some time to heal.
“Lennox,” she finally says. “You’re too kind.”
“Thank you.” I show her a sheepish smile of modesty, but her expression grows grim, and she slowly shakes her head back and forth.
“No, sweetheart, you’retookind. They are going to chew you up and spit you out in Miami.”