* * *
It turned out she had no readily definable tour duties. She would, Norman told her, be Lor Lu’s assistant, expediting various tasks as they came up, and “soaking up the experience.”
Anger swelled. She recognized flunky work when her nose was pushed in it. “For that he pulled me off my regular job?”
“My impression is that Dove and Lor Lu have a future role in mind for you, and this will help prepare you for it.”
“A future role? What future role?” The words spilled out rapidly. “I need to know more about this! Why are other people told these things, but not me?”
“I don’t know what role, Lee,” Norman said patiently. “I simply put two and two together. Ask Lor Lu. He’ll know.”
She left glowering, the slim packet of briefing sheets in an envelope, along with general instructions. Ask Lor Lu! Huh! He’d say ask Dove.
* * *
By the time she’d finished reading the briefing and policy, she’d semi-cooled down. Calling Lor Lu, she asked what to do next. “I’ve finished reading the stuff Norman gave me, and it’s not even noon. Should I go back to what I was working on before? Or what?”
“I’ve pulled Ben off Accounting for now,” Lor Lu answered. “He’ll work with you on what comes next.” He paused. “I’m afraid you’re ill-prepared for this, but don’t worry, you’ll do just fine.”
He disconnected then. Ill prepared? she thought angrily. Don’t worry? And Ben will work with me? He’s an accountant, for god’s sake! What in hell is going on? Why is this happening to me?
* * *
At noon the family met in the dining hall, as usual. But Lee insisted that she and Ben eat at home, leaving the girls at the dining hall without supervision. She was upset, angry, feared she’d lose control, and didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. Ben of course was agreeable, and they walked home through a lovely summer day at 7,800 feet elevation, the sun bright, the sky a vaulting, vivid, high-country blue, the temperature 74 degrees. Behind them, as they walked, the high peaks of the Sangre de Cristo, twenty miles west, formed an array of dark stone and bright snowfields. She noticed none of it.
“What are you supposed to work with me on?” she demanded. “You’re not in Tours. Lucky you! And what’s so goddamned ill-prepared about me? Even I know I’m ill-prepared! That’s the one goddamned thing I do know! I didn’t need some goddamned Asian ‘holy man extraordinary’ to tell me that! If he knew you were in the goddamned basement doing the goddamned laundry, why didn’t he know how goddamned ill-prepared I am?”
Ben walked faster. “I’m going to put a Mexican pizza in the oven,” he said. “You can help me eat it, or you can fix something else. You don’t have a clue how ill-prepared you are, and it’s mainly my fault. Now shut up before you piss me off!”
His response stunned her, jolted her out of her tizzy. Ben had never spoken to her like that before. She said nothing more all the way home. There he opened the door, held it for her, and when he’d closed it behind them, grabbed her and kissed her, hard. Then he held her at arms length, looking at her seriously.
“I love you, Lee,” he said, “even though I got exasperated just now. I love you dearly. And the girls do, too, so we’ve been trying to spare you upsets and confusion.”
Her mouth was slightly open in surprise, and he let her go, striding into the kitchen while she stood watching. She heard the oven controls beeping; the freezer lid open, then close; heard the oven door. Shaking herself free of astonishment, she followed Ben into the kitchen and went to the beverage station.
“Seven-Up?” she asked. “Pepsi?”
He turned. His grin was back. “How about rue? Some bitter rue would be about right.” Laughing he added, “This time I’ll try root beer. The girls prefer it with pizza. I ought to give it a try.”
The words echoed in Lee’s mind: “The girls prefer it. . . . I ought to give it a try.” There was a double meaning there, deliberate or otherwise.