"Of course you didn't, dear," she smiled. "He wanted to surprise you with a solution to your problem."
"Well, he did, indeed," I said, shaking my head. "I just . . ."
"You just don't like the way he swooped in and took over," she finished. "I didn't like the way Bernard did that, either, but over the years I realized that his intentions weren't bad. It was just that his plan of action needed fine tuning."
"But Jack's my boss," I said. "He's not my husband."
"Oh darling," Betty laughed as she patted my arm. "I think you are missing the obvious."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Jack may not know it yet, but he's fallen for you, my dear," she smiled. "He's head over heels, but my guess is that he's either not entirely aware of it or he's decided not to admit it to anyone, not even himself."
"I'm not seeing it," I lied as the memory of our first kiss flashed in my mind. "He's my boss, and he's been nothing but professional with me."
"All right, well, you two can keep playing this game for a little longer, but eventually it's going to catch up with you," Betty said as she looked out the window wistfully. "Bernard and I had a similar kind of courtship. He maintained an appropriate distance, and so did I. But in the end, we knew it was bigger than both of us. And it was."
"How long were you married?" I asked.
"Bernard and I celebrated our 40th anniversary last year," she smiled at the memory. "He booked a cruise, and we spent ten lovely days together remembering why we'd gotten married in the first place."
"Did you need the reminder?" I asked.
"Oh goodness, yes, dear!" she exclaimed. "I was on the verge of leaving him!"
"You were?"
"Bernard was a difficult man," she said, carefully choosing her words. "There were many times during our marriage that I thought about picking up and leaving. But we had the boys, and it wasn't easy. Besides, as Bernard built the business, he was gone a lot of the time, so I lived in peace for many years."
"But you stayed," I said. "Why would you stay if you were so unhappy when he was around?"
"You young girls are so funny," she said as she turned and looked at me. "You think the whole world has always existed the way you experience it. What you don't understand is that your experience rests on the backs of the women who came before you."
"But if things were bad . . ." I said.
"If things were bad, you stayed because you didn't have options," Betty explained. There was a hint of irritation in her voice as she spoke. "I didn't earn a college degree until the boys were grown. Early in my marriage, I wasn't allowed to apply for a credit card without Bernard co-signing on it. Where was I going to go with two little boys? How would I support them?"
"I have no idea," I said, suddenly thinking about my own mother.
"Of course you don't," she said. "We don't really talk about these things openly, but they're the source of frustration and regret for many women. Look, I'm not complaining. I had a pretty marvelous life when all is said and done, but I do understand the frustration you feel about having Jack take control of your situation. All I'm saying is that there's a balance."
"I can see that," I nodded as I thought about the difference between intent and action, and wondered if perhaps Jack and I needed to have a conversation about things. Then I thought about how embarrassed I'd feel if I brought this up and was wrong about his intentions.
"I don't think Jack was trying to control you, dear," Betty said as she quietly broke into my thoughts. "I think he was just trying to alleviate the stress you must obviously feel as you try to deal with work, home, and making sure Riley is well cared for."
"I can see that," I said. "I'm just not sure how I feel about this."
"Don't let pride get in the way of gaining a better understanding of his motives," Betty said as she stood up. "I don't know what they are, but I'm willing to bet they're better than what you think. Now, if you'll excuse me, dear, I'm going to show you your room and then take myself to bed."
"Oh, of course," I said, popping up off of the chaise and following her upstairs.
The room she'd prepared for me was the most luxurious place I'd ever seen. The room was done in mossy greens and earthy tones, and it felt relaxing and restful. In one corner was an inviting sitting area with over-stuffed armchairs and plump stools. There were fuzzy blankets draped over the backs of the chairs and tables piled high with the latest best-sellers. On the other side of the room was a huge canopy bed covered in the thickest duvet I'd ever seen, topped with a mountain of pillows that looked like they were made for lounging.
The room had its own private bath complete with a soaking tub and an intricately tiled shower area that covered almost an entire wall. Betty showed me that the closets had been filled with an array of clothing and things Jack thought I might need, and she gave me a tour of the bathroom, making sure to tell me that she'd placed an order for the cosmetics and personal hygiene products herself.
"Jack wouldn't have known the first thing about what you'd need," she chuckled as she pulled out drawers and showed me all of the things that had been tucked into them.
"I don't know how to begin to thank you," I said, overwhelmed by the magnitude of generosity, and a little intimidated by it too.