Ben's Wife

by Charlotte Douglas

  Ben didn’t hesitate. “Show him in.”

  Harper disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived.

  “Shall I leave?” Disappointment rang in her voice as she contemplated the unexpected delay. After waiting so long, she had hoped Ben would settle the issue of Josh’s employment quickly.

  Ben shook his head. “Terrence Appel is a member of Chemco’s board of directors. You’d better hear what he has to say.”

  Chemco’s board was the least of her worries., “Will you fire Josh?”

  “I’ll have to think about it.” He wheeled toward a group of chairs in the center of the room. “Come sit beside me and follow my lead.”

  Wondering how long Ben would take to decide Josh’s fate, she exchanged her chair in the corner for one next to him. Moments later, Harper ushered an older gentleman into the room, then withdrew and closed the doors.

  Although at least seventy, Terrence Appel moved with the vigor of a much younger man. His face, lined with age, was tanned and ruddy with seeming good health, and his clear blue eyes gave the impression of missing nothing. He crossed the room in. three long strides to shake Ben’s hand.

  “Sorry to disturb you, my boy.” Appel’s booming voice matched the vitality of his appearance. “But strange things are happening I felt you should know.”

  “It’s good of you to come.” Ben nodded toward Morgan. “You’ve met Morgan Winters, Frank’s daughter?”

  “Of course. At the funeral.” Appel approached and enveloped her hand in both of his. “I’m so sorry about your father, my dear. He was a first-rate chemist and a remarkable man. Chemco is much the poorer without him.”

  “Thank you.” She said no more, ceding control of the conversation to Ben.

  “How are you, Ben?” Appel’s leathered forehead wrinkled in concern. “There’ve been so many blasted rumors—”

  “As well as can be expected,” Ben said. “Have a seat, Terrence, and tell me what brings you here.”

  Appel sat on the edge of his chair, his physical tension a stark contrast to the casualness of his canary yellow shirt and green-plaid golf slacks. “It’s Rob Lashner. He’s causing trouble.”

  Morgan stiffened at Lashner’s name, but Ben appeared unperturbed.

  “What’s Rob done?” Ben asked.

  “You know about the upcoming board meeting?” Appel asked.

  Ben nodded.

  “Rob came to see me this morning with some pretty harsh accusations. Said I should be aware of certain circumstances before the meeting.” Appel cut his eyes toward Morgan, then back to Ben. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private.”

  Morgan started to rise, but Ben waved her back into her chair.

  “Morgan,” he said, “is a major shareholder in Chemco and will take Frank’s place on the board. She should be aware of what’s going on.”

  Appel scowled. “She’ll never sit on the board if Rob has anything to say about it. He’s filed a lawsuit to contest her appointment.”

  Fury exploded in Morgan and ate at the lining of her stomach. She’d harbored no doubts of Lashner’s ruthlessness, but his infelicitous lawsuit, coming out of left field like a wild throw, stunned her.

  Ben’s bandages hid his reactions to Appel’s announcement, and his voice remained calm. “Lawsuit? On what grounds?”

  “Rob doesn’t need grounds,” Appel said. “He has friends on the bench who’ll drag the suit out, delay hearings, grant continuances. Hell, I could be dead and buried before the suit ever comes to trial.”

  Ben turned to her. “Have Lashner’s attorneys contacted you?”

  Morgan shook her head.

  Appel issued a gruff snort. “How can Lashner contact her when nobody knows where to find her? He’s informed everybody else—me, Rhonda Covill, William Holton.”

  “Everyone on the board except me,” Ben observed.

  “He wouldn’t dare come to you with the tales he’s spreading,” Appel said. “The man’s up to no good. He seems more interested in his own glory and wealth than the interests of the company.”

  Morgan’s interest in Appel quickened. With his blatant animosity toward Lashner, the old man might prove a valuable ally in keeping the dangerous gasoline substitute off the market.

  “Those are serious charges.” Ben’s bandaged face and covered eyes revealed nothing of his reaction to Appel’s words. “What’s Rob been saying?”

  “He’s claiming you suffered head injuries in the explosion that have affected your sanity.” Appel studied Ben as if seeking verification of Lashner’s claim. “From what I can tell, your mind’s as sound as ever.”

  “What’s Rob’s point?” Ben asked.

  Morgan suppressed a smile. Ben knew full well what Lashner was up to. He merely wanted Appel’s slant on his opponent’s tactics.

  “Rob contends you’ve made crazy claims about an instability in Frank’s last discovery, that you blame the compound for the lab explosion and are totally irrational about keeping the formula off the market.” Appel spread his hands wide. “Let’s face it. The sale of a substitute for gasoline could make us all billionaires. I can’t blame Rob for being antsy at the possibility of anybody discrediting the product.”

  Morgan scooted forward in her chair. Appel had to be convinced of the compound’s danger. “Dad’s formula—”

  “Can be discussed at the board meeting,” Ben interjected smoothly, “with everyone present.”

  Appel turned his shrewd attention to her. “Lashner said you would back up Ben’s crazy claims. He implied you want your father’s discovery and its profits all to yourself.”

  Morgan opened her mouth to protest but caught the brief shake of Ben’s head and kept silent.

  Ben activated the control on his chair and wheeled toward the foyer doors. “Terrence, I appreciate your telling me about Rob’s lawsuit and other charges. Perhaps he and I should have a little chat before the board meeting. I tire easily these days, so if you’ll excuse me…”

  Appel shoved to his feet and walked to the doorway, where Harper appeared as if by magic to escort him out. When the double doors had closed behind his visitor, Ben turned back into the living room.

  “What are you going to do about Lashner’s lawsuit and his wild stories?” Morgan asked.

  A ghost of a smile was visible through his bandages. “Exactly what he wants me to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  Ben’s shoulders sagged with fatigue. “First I need some rest and time to think.”

  In light of his obvious weariness, she hated to burden him more, but no matter what Ben decided about Lashner, she couldn’t face working with Josh again. “What will you do about firing Josh?”

  He raised his head and gazed at her behind the opaque lenses of his glasses until she turned away from his scrutiny. “I’ll tell you what I’ve decided tonight after dinner.”

  The wheelchair motor whirred softly, and when she turned around again, he was gone.

  MORGAN ATE DINNER alone at the elongated dining table. Mrs. Denny, in her inimitably snooty fashion, had informed her that Mr. Wells would dine in his room and meet her on the terrace after eight.

  Brooding over her inability to ferret out proof of Lashner’s guilt or to resist Josh’s appeal, Morgan picked at her beef bourguignonne and drank too much red wine. By the time Mrs. Denny had cleared the untouched dessert from the table, Morgan’s head buzzed with frustration and slight intoxication. Hoping the brisk night air would clear her mind, she abandoned the dining room.

  The grandfather clock in the foyer was striking eight as she entered the dimly lit living room. Harper stood by a door opened to the terrace.

  “Mr. Wells is waiting for you on the lower level, madam. Please watch your step. His eyes are bothering him, so I’ve turned off the outside lights.”

  She crossed the terrace and moved out of the circle of illumination cast by the living room lamps. At the far side of the upper level, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Starlight br
ightened the surface of the gulf, and in the distance, running lights of a fishing boat winked in the blackness.

  Gradually she distinguished the encircling high wall that divided the lawn from the beach, the stairs to the lower terrace and Ben’s dark form in his wheelchair, barely discernible beneath an arbor of dense bougainvillea.

  Giddy from wine and the fear Ben might refuse her request to dismiss Josh, she trod carefully down the steps. When she reached within a few yards of him, she could still see nothing but his silhouette against the night

  A strange reluctance to confront her problems seized her. How much nicer simply to enjoy the starlight, the gentle night breeze and the heady fragrance of night-blooming jasmine in the air.

  “Are you feeling better?” She took a seat in a wrought-iron patio chair a short distance from the arbor.

  “More rested, at least.” His wheezy voice floated eerily from beneath the darkness of the vines.

  She suppressed a shudder. This was Ben, after all, her father’s trusted friend. The husband she’d grown fond of. She had nothing to fear.

  The semitropical night seduced her with its sounds and scents, and the tender caress of the breeze resurrected memories of Josh, his embrace, his lips on hers.

  Ben spoke again, shattering her reveries. “Have you figured out what Lashner’s up to?”

  “Besides trying to kill us?” she answered in confusion.

  “Killing us is his primary goal, of course. His lawsuit and rumor-mongering are only means to that end.”

  “I don’t understand.” She thrust thoughts of Josh into the back attic of her mind and slammed the door. She owed Ben, her husband and protector, her full attention. They could deal with Josh later.

  “By filing suit to keep you off the board, and by going to Terrence Appel, Rhonda Covill and William Holton with tales of my mental instability,” Ben explained, “Lashner is trying to force me into the open. Only with a personal visit to each individual on the board can I counter his accusations and garner the votes I need while your voting rights are in legal limbo.”

  “You don’t have to go out in public. You could invite them here.”

  “By refusing to leave my home, I would appear weak. And such eccentric reclusiveness would reinforce his portrait of my dementia.”

  She wished she could see his face. Between Lashner’s threats and Josh’s attentions, her nerves were already overstrung. Talking to a shadow only added to her tension.

  “The moment anyone speaks with you,” she said, “they’ll know Lashner is lying. You’re one of the sanest men I’ve ever met.”

  “Sanity is a hard quality to judge, especially when doubt has already been planted in the observer’s mind. But thanks for your vote of confidence.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice, and her jitters eased, until he spoke again.

  “With his legal action and rumor campaign, Lashner has also thrown down the gauntlet to you.”

  She choked back a caustic laugh. “As if murdering my father wasn’t challenge enough.”

  “So far, Lashner has been unsuccessful in locating you.” Ben’s distorted voice drifted from the shadows. “He’s probably assumed we’re in touch, that I’ll divulge how he’s slandered you.”

  “He’s tried twice to have me killed.” The words left a bitter taste on her tongue. “Surely he doesn’t believe I’ll do something foolish just because he’s added legal briefs and name-calling to his attacks?”

  “My guess,” Ben said, “is that he’s hoping you’ll be compelled to defend your motives by confronting the board members with the truth.”

  She shivered in the warm night breeze as the implications of Ben’s words hit home. “If either or both of us venture out in public to meet with these people, we become accessible targets for his hit men.”

  “His scheme is obvious. If he can’t eliminate us before the board meeting, he will at least have thrown doubt on our credibility. And his lawsuit prevents you from voting. Lashner’s betting the board won’t take the word of a brain-injured invalid or a greedy daughter. Without your ballots to stop them, they’ll vote with him to sell the formula.”

  With nerves wound like a spring, she bounded to her feet and paced the flagstone terrace. “We can’t let that happen. If the compound is produced, hundreds of innocent people could die horrible deaths in the resulting explosions.”

  “In the overall scheme of things, a few hundred deaths among millions of users would be merely a statistical hiccup.” Irony edged Ben’s voice. “Sometimes it takes years to pull a faulty product off the market. Just ask Ralph Nader.”

  A black depression washed over her. “And the blame would be laid at my father’s feet, while Lashner and his billions in profits will have conveniently disappeared. We can’t let that happen.”

  “I don’t intend to.” Ben’s voice rang louder and stronger on the night air. “I’ve sent the formula to three independent labs for testing. I hope we’ll have their results in time for the board meeting.”

  Gratitude merged with her affection for Ben. “Thank you, for my father’s sake.”

  “The battle isn’t won yet. I’m certain Lashner will present a few independent studies of his own to contradict ours. But if we can prove he killed your father to gain control of the formula, his proposal to sell it won’t stand a chance of board approval.”

  Morgan sank into her chair, and its cold, filigreed iron bit through her clothes. “We’re back to square one, then, without a scrap of evidence that Lashner is a murderer.”

  “We have over a week before the board meeting, and I have a plan.”

  “You and Josh had a plan before, and look where it got us.”

  “I was wrong to place you in harm’s way. This time I will be—how did you put it a few days ago?—the sacrificial lamb.”

  “But you can’t,” she said with alarm. “You’re not well.”

  “Tom Hendrix says with a couple more days’ rest, I’ll be strong enough for what I have in mind.”

  Uneasiness replaced her alarm. “What do you have in mind?”

  The chair’s motor hummed as he rolled from beneath the arbor, but in the moonless night, he remained only a silhouette, barely visible against the backdrop of dark green leaves. “I’ve considered very carefully your request that I dismiss Josh.”

  Her heart suspended its beating and her lungs couldn’t draw air. “And?”

  “I’m going to fire him and send him away. You’ll never have to deal with Josh again.”

  He had agreed to her demand, but his acquiescence gave her no pleasure. Instead, at his words, a yawning emptiness opened inside her.

  “I’m your husband, your father’s friend, and the CEO of Chemco. It’s my responsibility to bring Lashner to justice for what he’s done to you and to the company.”

  She gripped the iron arms of the chair.

  “From now on,” he continued, “we will appear in public together, call on the board members as a team. Maybe even confront Lashner himself.”

  His words barely registered. Her devastation at never seeing Josh again crushed her mind, tortured her body.

  His chair whirred as he wheeled to the table beside her. “I think it’s time you had a good look at the man you married.”

  His dark glasses clinked against the tabletop, and the oxygen mask dropped beside them. Light flared from a match as he lighted a citronella candle atop the table. In the resulting illumination, he turned, his face and hands free of bandages.

  For the first time, she looked at her husband’s face.

  Josh’s deep brown eyes stared back at her.

  Chapter Ten

  Shock.

  Disbelief.

  Unmitigated fury.

  Ben watched emotions dart like thunderheads across Morgan’s face and, although he’d expected some repercussion to his deception, the magnitude of her anger staggered him.

  “You!” She clenched her fists on her lap as if holding back from an attack, and her eyes
blazed like blue fire in the candlelight. “How dare you!”

  “You have every right to be furious—”

  “Furious?” She spat the word at him. “Furious doesn’t come close to how I feel.” Wariness joined the anger in her eyes. “Where is Ben Wells?”

  His heart lurched at the distress he’d caused her. He’d lied and pretended about almost everything—except loving her—and he wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave him. The prospect terrified him. If she didn’t, his life would never be the same.

  “I am Ben Wells. And I’m also Josh. Benjamin Joshua Wells.”

  She jumped from her chair and backed away. “You could be the devil himself, for all I know.”

  “I have documentation in the house, papers and photographs, to prove my identity. Morgan, I swear to you, I will never lie to you again.”

  “You’ve got that right,” she fired back. “I won’t stick around to give you the chance.”

  She pivoted on her heel and would have run if he hadn’t leaped from his chair and grabbed her hand. “Wait.”

  She jerked from his grasp.

  “Please,” he begged, “let me explain. Then, if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

  He held his breath as she hesitated. If she walked out now, he would lose her forever. Lashner’s hired killers were waiting for her.

  She stomped back and flung herself into a chair. “I’ll listen. But I can’t imagine any excuse to justify what you’ve done.”

  He exhaled in relief. “I didn’t say I could vindicate my actions. I can only share my motives.”

  “Why did you trick me?” The pain in her voice stabbed him with fresh guilt.

  “I admit, in retrospect, my plan appears absurd. But when you first arrived, I had to learn whether I could trust you. Having Josh, my alter ego, interrogate you seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  She lifted her face and unshed tears glistened in the candlelight. “You haven’t trusted me enough to tell me until now?”

  “No, you mustn’t think that.” Sensing the anger still seething beneath her tears, he restrained from wrapping his arms around her. “After that first night at the cottage, I was totally convinced I could rely on you.”