And when Jen tries to start sewing seeds of doubt about Stuart (who is now a "friend" and not a business partner that Jen hand-feeds bananas to), Heather just takes another bite of mashed lunch steak. When Jen says that she didn't ask for a lawyer because she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, Heather simply gulps her lemon water. When she says she thought she was on her way to an ailing Sharrieff, but was then surrounded by cars that she assumed were there to kidnap her, Heather simply nods and eats her wedge salad. And when Heather sits down with Jen, she doesn't ask any questions - not in a way that would harm Jen, but more notably, not in a way that would help Jen, either.Įach time we've heard from Jen since she was arrested, she's made sure to note that it was Sharrieff's number that called her on the party bus, but it wasn't Sharrieff talking on the other end. Heather says that when she was at her lowest, she simply needed someone to hold her hand and not ask too many questions. I worry for Heather's ride-or-die stance with Jen, given the serious allegations against her, but I was also impressed with the delicate way she approached it. The juxtaposition of their reactions is as delicious as the wedge salad Heather and Jen ultimately share. Meanwhile, Heather answers the phone in the middle of a conversation with her daughter, and agrees to meet Jen during the day at a steakhouse of her choosing.
Lisa tells John she needs some time to figure out where she stands with Jen after the way she's treated her the last few weeks - it has absolutely nothing to do with the federal indictment - and she'll respond to her when she feels ready. She has a new number (presumably because her old phone was seized), and she's texted to see if Lisa would like to get coffee. This should have been a boring montage given that we've already borne witness to it all, but there were just so many delicious moments to take in. It all starts with the gals debriefing the Vail chaos to their closest loved ones, whether that be a teenager, a step-grandfather-turned-husband, or a man silently dying inside while Lisa Barlow prevents him from retrieving his BigGulp from the kitchen until she's done talking. Because I somehow agreed with… all of them? And also… none of them? (Of course, I've never related to any single Housewives guest star more than the closet organizer who was so stunned by the sheer Mary-ness of Mary that she couldn't even speak during her one precious moment on national television.) And yet, I was riveted - eyes absolutely glued to the screen - as Jen casually returned to the land of the un-indicted, and everyone went round and round about whose behavior has been most egregious while surreptitiously attempting to throw one another under the bus. Hardly anything of substance happens in this episode of RHOSLC beyond establishing that it costs approximately the same amount of money for a Housewife to mount a legal defense against a federal indictment as it does for a different Housewife to change the name of her skincare line. Stretch that feeling out into a whole season, and you've got yourself a ballgame distill it down into one conversation inside a barn that's inexplicably been dressed up to look like a West Elm showroom so that Lisa can scream at Meredith… and baby, that's lightning in a bottle. The best, most dynamic Real Housewives storylines happen when every scene, every sentence, every moment has you changing your mind on who's right, who's wrong, and in the case of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, who's potentially going to jail.
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