The Life She Wants (19 page)

“Well, no kidding! That would be like me being a mother! But he's older now.”

“Maddie, you have to be realistic. Your dad has been married. He loves you very much but he doesn't have any feelings for me.”

“I know. He's pretty embarrassed about that marriage. He didn't know what he was thinking. He said he should've known better. But he said he's always loved you and always will.”

“Because I'm your mother,” Riley said. “That's all it is.”

“No, Mama, that's not all. But it's okay. Logan is nice. And he's nice to you. That's what matters, right?”

“Right. Are you going to be nicer the next time he's around?”

She nodded, but bit her lower lip. “You know, you never went out on a date. I thought maybe you and Daddy still might have a thing for each other.”

“Listen, I had a couple of dates. A few, actually. I never said anything.”

“You probably said you had meetings...”

“Probably. But I was asked out. I met a couple of guys for coffee, went to a couple of happy hours, went out to dinner a couple of times, but it just wasn't the right time, I guess. I was bored. I figured if it was right I'd get a little excited.”

“Does Logan get you excited?” she asked.

“I don't know. But he makes me laugh. I'm comfortable with him. I feel good about myself when we're together and it seems like we have a lot to talk about. But, Maddie, it's not serious. It's friendly. It could get serious, but I've only known him a few weeks. Relationships take time. And I'm in no rush. Now, is there anything else you need to know?”

“One thing. I hope you'll tell me the truth...”

“Maddie, I always tell you the truth!”

“Okay. Did you ever love Daddy? I mean, really?”

It was the oddest thing—Riley felt tears in her eyes. She blinked a little wildly, willing them away. She cleared her throat. She wiped her palms on her slacks. “Yes,” she finally said, her voice soft. “Yes, I did.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Painfully so,” Riley said.

* * *

Emma steadfastly refused to announce to Adam's family that they were officially seeing each other, though everyone but Riley knew. “Let's not push our luck,” she said. She didn't want any trouble or friction from Riley and mostly she didn't want a brother and sister at odds over her during Christmas. “Riley has to be the one to invite me back into her life, even as just an acquaintance. We'll never be good friends, I get that, but I don't want to push my way into your family before she's ready.”

“You know I don't give a damn what Riley thinks about this,” Adam said.

“That's exactly what worries me.”

“Why are you so intent on having it the hard way?”

“Is that what you think? Oh, you're wrong. I want it the peaceful way. Especially now—my first Christmas home, with a nice place to live, a decent job, a great fella. I'm going to invite your mom over to see my little place and host her for a couple of hours. I'm going to spend some time with Lyle and Ethan, bring them a nice bottle of wine and some Brie and caviar, wriggle my way into Ethan's good graces. I'm spending an evening with Penny and her girlfriends—they have a little Christmas party every year and I'm now officially part of the club.”

“And me?” he asked.

“I'm sure we'll have lots of quality time together.”

“How about Christmas Eve?” he asked.

“I'll wait up,” she said.

She wanted to enjoy the days leading up to Christmas. She didn't have much to spend on her few friends and she enjoyed it more that way. She found a lovely pashmina shawl for Penny, a couple of small but pretty tree decorations for the other ladies, and for Lyle and Ethan, a Christmas serving platter. For June, a decorative Christmas table runner that was lovely and on sale. For Adam, a soft, cuddly navy blue sweater with a white button-down shirt, a pair of delicious slippers because she had noticed he didn't have any and a book, a Nelson DeMille novel. She had studied his bookcase—he loved that particular author and although he had an e-reader, he liked to read paper.

She bought herself a few modest decorations for her little house. Adam still came to her place, though she knew he really liked his house and was so happy when she was there with him. “It's going to be a long time, Adam, before I'm good for more than this, than what we have right now. I'm working through everything but it's slow. Everything that came before us is weighty.”

“Is Lucinda helping?” he asked.

“I think so, but I'm not seeing her again until the New Year. I'm feeling almost secure,” she said. “I'm afraid to blink.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he said.

The holiday decorations in the homes they cleaned were a beautiful pain in the ass—difficult to clean and tidy around. Still, Emma enjoyed them as never before. It was entertaining to see what each family had done—the Douglases with the three spoiled boys had enough presents under the tree to take care of all the children in an orphanage. The Nesbitts had grown children and grandchildren, and they kept the number of gifts reasonable, yet decorated lavishly, many of the things meant to be fun for the children—advent calendar, talking Rudolph, nutcracker soldier. The Parkers had no presents under the tree—they'd be spending Christmas in Maui.

She was looking forward to seeing what the Christensen family had done. The last time she was there nothing had been done to decorate and she feared nothing would be done. But voilà! Just in time for Christmas the decorations had appeared and they blew her mind—it was a decorator's dream. She knew the cost of many of the ornaments and tabletop decorations. A nativity painted in gold and draped in Swarovski from Bergdorf's, crystal reindeer from Tiffany's, a stunning wreath—surely those weren't real diamonds, but it was copied from the real one created by Pasi Jokinen-Carter. Their tree and staircase garland were decorated by a professional, she could tell. The few packages under the tree were wrapped in expensive paper that matched some of the glass balls; fancy ribbon was coordinated with the home furnishing colors. There were silver candelabra with red candles, fresh Christmas flowers in the dining room and foyer, an expensive tapestry hung on the staircase landing and a garland to end all garlands, fresh and adorned with balls and ribbons that matched the tree.

Dellie and Shawna gasped when they saw the house.

“Stay away from the tree and garland,” Emma told the girls. “Most of those ornaments came from jewelers, not Target.”

Both of them backed up fearfully. “How do you know that?” Shawna asked in a whisper.

“This isn't my first rodeo,” was all Emma said. “In fact...” She got out her cell phone. She called Makenna. “We're at the Christensen house and you might want to check this out. The Christmas decorations are worth more than the van. No one wants to dust them. We'll wait for you.”

They started upstairs. As usual, nothing was disturbed except for a damp towel in the hamper, which Emma scooped up and put in the laundry bag for pickup. The laundry and dry cleaning was picked up and delivered twice a week, expertly timed for the moment the Kerrigan cleaners were finished cleaning.

Bethany had left her diary open on the table next to her bed, the bed she meticulously fixed in the morning even though it was cleaning day, clean sheet day. There was only one sentence written on the page and Emma couldn't stop herself. After all those years of not noticing things, now she was a damn runaway train!

I just wish there was someone to talk to.

It clutched at Emma's heart and before she could reason with herself, she picked up the pen and wrote a note.
Talk to me.
She wrote her cell number. Then her cheeks flamed so red she thought she might pass out. This house, this family was going to kill her and she was going to end up getting fired over it. She quickly passed the vacuum, leaving perfect tracks.
I am totally fired
, she thought.

She wasn't even done with the vacuum when Makenna was at the house and with her, Nick. They took one look at the decorations and called Emma down.

“Good call,” Makenna said. “How'd you know?”

Makenna didn't know about her past? Riley hadn't told her closest coworkers their complicated history, Emma's spectacular and horrifying past? She was stunned. “I...ah...this isn't my first fancy house. Believe me, you don't want to break anything at Christmastime around here.”

“Doesn't it just give you that warm, fuzzy holiday feeling?” Makenna said. “Stay away from all the ornamentation. I'll take care of this.”

Emma wondered if there was any way to sneak upstairs to Bethany's room and remove her note from the diary. But of course it was written in pen. The only option was to tear out that page, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Makenna and Nick seemed to be outside conferring, talking on their phones for a long time. They sat in the company car for a while, talking. And then without saying another word, they were gone. Before leaving the house, Emma called Makenna. “What's the verdict on this house and the ornaments?”

“Riley will be discussing it with Mrs. Christensen. Clean around them the best you can. Riley agrees we'll need a release of liability on the care and cleaning of apparently priceless knickknacks. Leave everything.”

“Who
are
these people?” Emma asked.

Makenna sighed. “Olaf Christensen owns an import-export business and his wife is the CFO. They're very successful, very driven, both perfectionists.”

“Import-export,” Emma said. “Well, that explains some of these precious decorations. They're in the buying-and-selling business. We already dusted around,” Emma said. Then to her partners she said, “We're on the road again, girls.”

The next house was messy and dirty, which put them a bit behind schedule, but this was the way things went during the holidays, what with all the partying and clutter. The last house of the day was the Andrewses and they were a bit late. Mrs. Andrews had had her arm in a sling last week but this week no one answered the door.

“Going to fight the damn cat hair,” Shawna said. “I hate cat hair.”

There was a sudden but definite commotion inside, the sound of a man shouting and a woman's voice. Emma rang the doorbell again and a third time.

“This ain't no good, trust me,” Shawna said. “Time to go make another call to Makenna.”

“Wait,” Emma said. She leaned her ear up to the door. She couldn't hear what he was saying but he was barking, yelling, and she was wheedling, maybe whimpering. “I'm worried about her,” Emma said. “I can't leave her in there with him.”

“We call Nick now,” Dellie said.

“Open it,” Emma commanded.

“Now, that's something we don't wanna do,” Dellie said.

Emma leaned her ear against the door again and suddenly it popped open and she fell inside, right onto a skinny, smelly, worked-up man. He growled and pushed her off him with surprising strength and stood up. He muttered something then walked briskly to the car that sat in the drive.

Dellie and Shawna lifted Emma to her feet.

“See what I'm talking about?” Dellie said. “We don't need any part of that!”

Emma was still frowning after the man. He was balding, short and ugly. His ears were big, he had a beak for a nose and she was sure she saw a sizeable wart on it. He cast a mean look over his shoulder; the three of them stood on the front walk with their supplies—dusters on extenders, a big plastic carrier with all their chemicals, vacuum, bag of rags, knee pads and gloves.

He spit on the ground, got in his Mercedes and drove away.

“We're not cleaning this one today,” Shawna said. “She'll pay her bill, don't worry about that.”

But Emma walked into the house. She found Mrs. Andrews on the floor in a crumpled heap, crying. She still had her sling, all askew, and she held her arm as if it hurt. There was a fresh slap mark on her cheek and her neck was very red, like he'd been choking her.

Dellie and Shawna followed Emma slowly. Cautiously. Working together, they lifted Mrs. Andrews to the couch. “Someone get Mrs. Andrews some ice. I'll just be a minute,” Emma said.

“What are you going to do?” Shawna asked.

“Today I'm working on getting fired, it seems,” she said. She walked to the front door and standing just outside she called the police.

Chapter Fifteen

Riley's heart was heavy. Every time she thought about her conversation with Maddie she felt both confusion and regret. Confusion because she couldn't exactly remember her explanations about herself and Jock the way Maddie remembered and wondered if she'd fed her daughter a series of excuses. And regret because now that she looked back on it, she had probably glossed over things so it wouldn't sound like what it was. After about sixteen years even she didn't remember it as accurately as she should because she'd been trying to blot out some truths—that she'd fallen for her best friend's boyfriend, that she'd loved him, slept with him, expected him to stand by her from that moment, but instead she lost them both.

Sex for girls is a defining moment; sex for guys is sex.

She shook her head as if to clear the memories. After Jock had said no, he wasn't in love with her, after she had groveled and begged Emma to forgive her, after finding herself completely alone except for her mom, there was just no going back. She was completely damaged, felt like a fool, was not about to be hurt like that again.

No one could ever know how much it tore a woman apart, to trust your heart and be completely wrong. For Riley, nothing was quite as hard as being stupid.

The one thing she hadn't counted on all these years of ignoring Jock, just putting up with his attempts to be a family man, was that all that time he was talking to Maddie. Apparently honestly. From the heart. Expressing his own regrets. Who knew Jock was even capable of that! Maddie seemed to think he still wanted them to be a family.

As usual, Jock's timing couldn't be worse. Riley had only just met someone she actually liked. A smart guy with a career.

Jeanette had left the office early to do a little last-minute Christmas shopping and Riley turned back to her computer. She'd write Jock a letter. She'd never send it, of course, but she could get her thoughts and questions all lined up in her head by writing a letter. This was something she did with regularity—she often wrote letters to demanding and obnoxious clients, then hit delete.

Dear Jock,

I've been talking to Maddie and it comes to me that my perception of our history is very different from yours and I need to know—did I miss something? Was I sleepwalking through that whole time, not catching the innuendo? I'm sure I was conscious when you panicked because I said I loved you. I believe I was paying attention to detail when you said, “No—wait a minute—we can't call that love! That was consensual sex, not love.” And I was pretty pregnant when you said, All right then, let's get married. I apologize if that didn't sweep me off my feet, but there you have it. I wasn't convinced it would be a marriage worth having. When you married and divorced so quickly... Ah, well, you must understand why I wasn't convinced of your good judgment. But to tell Maddie this silly thing, that you always loved me, that you wanted to get married but I was too angry, that you probably wouldn't be worth a damn to another woman, that you'd resigned yourself that this was all you were going to get... Now, how does all that make me look? You lamebrain, you dipshit, you mental midget, you—

That was typical of her write-but-don't-send cathartics. She was reduced to name-calling. Sometimes that helped, too.
Jock, you stupid idiot, I loved you! You cast me off. I'd betrayed my best friend for you and you left me high and dry. The next years were so unbearably hard...

“Riley?”

“Eeek,” she squeaked and jumped about a mile. She grabbed her chest. She wasn't talking out loud, was she? “Logan! Dear God—”

He chuckled. “Whatever you're writing, you were really in the zone there, I guess. Your door was open.”

She cleared the screen and actually blushed. “I was... I mean... A proposal... An itemized...”

“I didn't mean to scare you,” he said.

“Come in, come in. What are you doing here?”

He walked into the room and sat in one of the chairs facing her desk. “I was in the area and hadn't seen you in a few days...”

“We talked,” she said, feeling a little defensive.

“Not quite as much fun. Listen, I have a crazy week coming up and you probably do, too. Can I take you to dinner tonight? Might be the only chance we get for a while.”

“Oh, gee, that would be...” She folded her hands on top of her desk. “We didn't really talk about this, about Christmas. I'd love to have you come over to my mom's either Christmas Eve or Day, but I figured you have to see your family. And I don't know if you want to meet everyone in my family for the first time on a holiday.”

He just grinned at her.

“But if you'd like to—”

“It's okay, Riley. My debut with Maddie didn't go all that well.”

“I'm sorry, that was so unexpected. I guess that's what I get for never dating. But I don't think it would be that awkward at my mom's house.”

“I think I'll just take care of my own family for the holidays. I can spell my partner so she can have time with her husband and kids. And God knows, I want to be available for my ex-wife—I'm sure she'll be at least stopping by. And my father.” He rolled his eyes. “But dinner tonight would be excellent. Or tomorrow night. How about it?”

“That sounds like a great idea. Where would you like to go?”

“How about Riviera Restorante?”

“I love that place!” She glanced down at herself. She was wearing pants and a blazer today. “Am I dressed all right? So I don't have to go home?”

“You look perfect.” He looked around. “I wondered about the office. This is really nice, Riley. Very—”

The outside office door opened and a moment later there was a light tapping on Riley's door. Emma peeked in the door.

“Oh. Sorry. When you're finished...” she said, beginning to pull out.

“Come in, Emma. This is a friend of mine, Logan Danner. We were just making plans for dinner. Logan, can you give me five minutes with Emma?”

“Of course,” he said, standing.

“Oh,” Emma said. “It's you! From the hospital.”

He frowned slightly. “The hospital?”

“I was waiting for a ride. I was a little upset. You gave me your flowers,” she said.

“That was you?” he asked, peering at her. “Huh, that
was
you! You said you were having a bad day.”

“That was the last day I worked at that job. I was in hospital housekeeping. I came here immediately after that. That was nice of you—the flowers.”

“I was visiting a coworker who had checked out. I wasn't going to take the flowers to her house. I saw that as problematic.” Then he grinned.

“You two know each other?” Riley asked.

“We never met, actually,” Emma said. “We both happened to be waiting outside of the ER and I looked like I felt—at the end of the line.”

“I told her to take the flowers or they were going in the trash,” Logan said. “Just a spontaneous gesture. I could have left them with the nurses but...” He shrugged.

Emma looked at Riley. “It's all right with me if he stays. It's going to take about one minute.” Emma took a breath. “I did something today that was against policy. In our last house, the man was beating his wife and I know I'm supposed to call you or Nick or Makenna with issues, but I called the police.”

“Oh, my Jesus,” Riley said. “Sit down, Emma.”

“I'm sorry, I know our policy is not to see the client's personal stuff but I just couldn't look the other way.”

“Emma, that wasn't personal, that was assault. Against the law! That's not the stuff you're supposed to pretend not to see. That Reverend Douglas likes to wear his wife's lingerie is what we don't see, not crimes.”

“Reverend Douglas wears his wife's lingerie?” Emma and Logan said at the same time.

“I didn't say that,” Riley said. “I wish you had called me, but not because I'd ignore something like that. Because I'd file the complaint, drive out to the scene and wait with you for the police and hopefully Mr. and Mrs. Andrews would blame me and not you. Hopefully they'd forget you had anything to do with it.”

“That wasn't going to happen,” Emma said. “I was listening at the door to see if I could hear her crying for help and he opened the door suddenly. I fell on him.
Splat!
The mean little squirt.” She huffed a little. “I wish he'd taken a hand to me!”

“Was she badly hurt?” Riley asked.

“I don't know how badly but they took her to the hospital in an ambulance, and that took some convincing. I have a feeling they've been there before. He might've broken her arm. And he tried to strangle her.”

“Oh, my God!” Riley said. “Okay, listen, Emma—this isn't the first time we've faced an abusive situation. When we enter their homes and clean their personal space, we enter their lives in ways even they don't comprehend. If you ever suspect abuse or unlawful behavior, please don't hesitate to say something to me. Or if you're not able to reach me, call Makenna or Nick. We've been doing this longer than you have.”

“I just couldn't wait,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Riley said. “I would have done the same thing. You did fine. I just like to take my employees out of the equation when possible, if possible. They'll discontinue our service, there's no question—we saw too much. Good riddance.” Riley smiled. “And I heard about your call on the Christensen home—smart move.”

“I was afraid to breathe,” Emma said.

“I can't wait to hear what that's about,” Logan said.

“Go ahead. Tell him,” Riley said.

She looked confused for a moment. Tell him what? “Well, in a previous life I had some experience working with decorators and I recognized the Christmas ornaments and decorations in one of the homes were very expensive. And very fragile. Even the most careful housecleaner can upset an ornament—these were balls from Wedgwood, from jewelers, crystal from high-end stores like Tiffany's and Waterford.”

“What's expensive?” he asked.

“One Waterford ball—couple of hundred. A couple of Tiffany reindeer statuettes, fifteen hundred. A Swarovski wreath. Everything was high-end.”

“Wow,” he said. “You must have had a lot of experience handling that stuff.”

“A little,” she said. “I didn't want me or my team getting stuck with a big bill just for dusting.”

“Mrs. Christensen has decided to have her decorator come in and make sure all her priceless decorations are shiny clean. We're going to leave that stuff alone,” Riley said. “Thanks for stopping by to explain, Emma. I'll follow through.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, noting the meeting was over. She stood. And so did Logan.

Logan reached in his pocket and fished out a card. “If you ever have a problem or need some advice on police matters, don't hesitate. Use the cell—I'm in the field a lot. I'm only in the office a few hours a day.”

“You're a police officer?” she asked.

“Yep. And if I don't know the answer to your question, I can get it. I worked some battery domestic and assault as a patrol officer and I have friends in those specialized units. We're not a huge department.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Danner...”

“Just Logan, Emma.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. She looked at Riley. “Hopefully the rest of the week is a little less exciting.”

“Things always get a little wacky during holidays. Have a good week.”

“Thanks,” Emma said.

She's very pretty
, Riley thought.
Even at the end of a difficult day
. Wouldn't it be tidy if Logan took to her? He seemed to light up a little bit when he saw her.

And why would you think that?
she asked herself.

* * *

Emma's mind was really working as she drove. The domestic battery was so disturbing, so in-your-face horrid. The first thing she told herself was that her situation had never been as bad as that! She'd never been abused like that. Never.

But then how many of her New York household had noticed that her husband didn't hold her, that the troop of worker bees who often traveled with them were not all for work, that he had such a developed sense of entitlement he had a mistress right under her nose and bilked his clients for a hundred million dollars. No, she'd never been abused, nuh-uh. Her life had been ruined by the very man who vowed to love and protect her.

Mrs. Andrews must ask herself those same questions every day. How did I marry that man? How did I trust him with my life, my future?
And now she was undoubtedly asking herself how she could get away from him.

Emma didn't have to go to Riley's office. She could have just called Makenna and Nick and chances were one of the other girls had after it was all over. But Emma wanted to look Riley in the eye as if to say,
Here's your chance. I blew it. I didn't follow the rules—fire me.

But Riley stood up for her. Supported her. Wanted to protect her. Emma didn't kid herself that it was because she was Emma, it was because she was an employee. Adam had been so right about his sister—she ran a good company, provided a safe work environment, took good care of her people, was steadfast. Riley could ignore the fact that she really didn't want to be around Emma and see the situation professionally and fairly.

She sighed. Ah, what did it matter? She didn't want a new best friend. She just wanted to work, live, enjoy a simple peace that helped her heal. That was all.

Her cell phone rang and it picked up in her car. She didn't recognize the number. “Hello,” she yelled into the speaker.

“I know who you are,” said a very timid, female voice.

Emma was right in front of a side street and made an abrupt turn, no signal involved, earning her a blast from a car behind her. She pulled over.