The Life She Wants (11 page)

“I should get the wine and cheese,” she said. “After all you've done to help me...”

“You can do it next time. I'll stop on the way over. You'll have to tell me where you are.”

Emma had had many boyfriends and one husband, but she'd never had a man she could talk to like she could Adam. He had evolved in exactly the way she would have expected him to. Looks aside, though his hard good looks must melt female bones all over Sonoma County, he was also smart, mature and engaging. So well-spoken, as one would expect a teacher to be; when he began to talk, he had her complete attention. He was also funny, making her laugh. And earnest—that was paramount. If he talked about his family, about Maddie, Riley or his mother, both the seriousness and sincerity of what he was saying rang through.
Mom hasn't changed since you knew her. Family is still everything to her and it's obvious she's nervous about idleness, having always worked hard
.
Now that she's finally been convinced not to work all the time, she volunteers. She does meals-on-wheels almost every day and sometimes she fosters rescue animals until they find a permanent home.
And,
Riley takes her achievements in stride but she takes her failures, however small, way too seriously. She's the overachiever in the family.
And,
If there's anyone in our family who understands pure joy, it's Maddie. She loves everyone, all of us, including Jock, and without any effort, with such simple authenticity, makes sure each one of us knows it.

I live in a family of women, which can take its toll but keeps me sharp. I can't get away with anything. They lean on me, crowd me, are overprotective of me and demanding of me. They're in my business all the time. And I find I like it that way.

Emma wondered what it must be like to live with a man as strong and sensitive as Adam. She couldn't stop looking at his hands, scarred with hard work, so beautiful and strong. She learned he had worked in the vineyards, scarring his knuckles on the rough, hard vines. Also construction, where he learned enough building and carpentry to do all the fixing up and renovation to both his own house and his mother's—that work had also taken its toll on his hands. Those hands represented to Emma that he hadn't ever taken the easy way, but only traveled the path that demanded stamina and hard work. Honest work, something that had come to mean everything to her.

She was so grateful for him. Just knowing he was her friend, that he was in her camp, gave her a feeling of peace and comfort she hadn't felt in so long. She adored him. But at the end of the evening, when he was leaving, when he leaned toward her, she jumped away from him. She just couldn't let him muddy his relationships and his sturdiness by getting too close to someone like her. “No, no...” she said in a whisper.

“Sorry, Emmie. That was insensitive of me,” he said. “You're recently widowed...”

“No, it's not that, it's...”

“Shhh,” he said, putting a finger to her lips. “I'm with you. We don't want to complicate our friendship.”

“Right,” she said, because she was at a loss as to how to explain herself. If she'd ever wanted to be kissed, it was now. And if she ever wanted a certain person to kiss her, it was him. But it wasn't friendship with him she feared complicating. It was hurting him just by being in his life. She couldn't bear the thought of being Adam's problem.

That's when he smiled, looked at his watch and said, “I've stayed way too late.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not at all. I hope we'll do this again very soon. Very soon.”

“We will.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

After having a conversation with Penny, Emma made some plans for her little bungalow. She was on a mission. She had very little time before starting her new job and she put it to good use. First of all, she bought a couple of cans of paint—a pale yellow, a pale blue and a nice supply of extra-light tan, a kind of heavy cream color. She wasn't exactly overconfident but she did feel she could spend a little on renewing her digs since she was absolutely determined she'd be able to keep her job indefinitely. As long as she stayed out of Riley's way.

She painted her bathroom to match the towels she'd brought with her. One wall in her tiny living room became yellow and the alternating walls the tan so light it was off-white. She was all over the small towns in Sonoma County on Saturday, haunting the garage sales, and found colorful throw pillows, a decorative blanket to cover the sofa back, small wicker shelves she could stack her bathroom towels on, a beautiful basket she could fill with fruit or gourds for the small table, a couple of bronze picture frames and a framed print for the bedroom wall. It was a Matisse and the frame was excellent. She found wood trays she loved and could use to serve wine and cheese because now she knew she'd have guests sometimes. She also found some beautiful wineglasses and dessert plates she didn't need but couldn't resist. And a distressed white denim jacket called out to her. “I gained weight,” the lady who was selling it told her. “It's hardly been worn.”

“Well, you look amazing and I lucked into a great jacket,” Emma told her. So the woman threw in a navy blue scarf, a thin, soft knit that was almost pashmina quality.

The weather was perfect for walking the old-fashioned, tree-lined neighborhoods. Children still played in the street around here; there were a lot of front porches on old brick two-stories and people were out raking leaves, watching kids, chatting over fences. It was sunny, low sixties, and grocers put their late fruits and vegetables outside in large racks. She couldn't resist apples, zucchini, tomatoes, a couple of peppers, a fistful of green beans and a few onions. One of the things she had missed most in New York were the vegetable stands along the roads, owned and operated by the farmers who grew the stuff—it was as if you could taste the sunshine and hard work.

When she went home, she was pleased to see her little bungalow already had a newer, more cheerful look, more like the old Emma. She went back to the hardware store. She painted her little table bright yellow, one of the chairs bright blue and one Irish green.

It looked a bit like a summer house, she thought.

She invited Lyle to an antipasto and wine dinner so she could show off her new-old house, including the framed picture of Emma, Lyle and Riley, cutting up at a pep rally in high school.

“This is interesting,” he said, picking it up. “Does this bode well?”

“I was saving this for our toast, but I can tell you now. Riley gave me a job in her company.”

“Ah,” Lyle said. “So at least one of you is open to reconciliation.”

“Oh, don't get too excited. She was very cool, very professional and made it clear I wouldn't be getting any special treatment. We're not going to be friends. It's a job, that's all. But I'm very grateful. She'll be paying me almost twice per hour what I've earned since I've been back. Plus benefits.”

Thanksgiving, possibly the last holiday she'd have off for a long time, was such a pleasure, such a breath of fresh air after the holidays she'd had the past several years, she wished it would never end. She not only bought wine for the meal at Penny's and had Lyle create a lovely centerpiece, she also spent the entire morning helping Penny clean the house, prepare the turkey and other food and appoint the table. It was so companionable, so stress-free.

“I wish I'd had a daughter,” Penny said as they worked in the kitchen together.

“Do you have any children?” Emma asked.

“No,” she said. “Bruce and I had a happy marriage, but we weren't blessed.”

“When did he pass away?”

“Oh, it's been over twenty years now. It was awful hard at first, having no kids, you know...”

“I'm so sorry, Penny,” she said. “You must miss him so much.”

“Sometimes. But then I get ready for a celebration like this and I forget I was once married for thirty-five years and hardly did anything without him. We're all widows, in a way...”

“In a way?” Emma asked.

“Well, Susan is divorced from her second husband, a long while ago, but her first is now dying, hanging on by a thread, the old bastard. She never did get really free of him. Dorothy is divorced and her ex-husband finally kicked. Ew, he was a son of a bitch. Marilyn lost her darling husband a few years ago. They hadn't been married too long. Married late, had a good decade together. She's pulled it together pretty well. Not a one of us ever got a daughter. The injustice...”

Emma smiled. “I'll be your proxy daughter,” she said. “I've been on the lookout for a quartet of hip mothers.”

“We've been known to cause trouble,” Penny said, grinning.

“Even better,” Emma said.

Chapter Eight

Adam called Emma the Friday after Thanksgiving. He asked her if she'd like to drive up the road to Napa and have lunch at one of the vineyard bistros before she settled into her new job. “If you're free tomorrow,” he said.

“That would be perfect,” she said. “I'm anxious to hear about your Thanksgiving. And to tell you about mine!”

“Great. I'll pick you up around eleven-thirty.”

He didn't linger on the phone. He was relieved by her cheerful mood, by her quick acceptance. He'd been worried that Emma might've been put off by his advances, concerned about what he wanted. He'd moved too fast, leaning toward her for a kiss. God, this was a whole new ball game! And so awkward. He was thirty-seven—he didn't think about things like this. First-date kisses were routine. Expected, even. A woman would think she didn't appeal to you if you didn't at least try... But Emma was different.

She wasn't even close to ready to entertain the notion of a man in her life and when she would be, there was no reason he should expect it to be him. He told himself that her husband hadn't been gone that long. He probably hadn't been a husband to her for at least three years, but her ordeal wasn't far behind her. She'd only been back in California for a few months.

He tried to remind himself: she'd come home, but she hadn't come home to him.

He intended to back off. She'd find her footing. He hoped she'd show signs of recovery pretty soon because he was dying to get his arms around her.

Amazing, how that feeling had come right back to him. The moment he saw her he was filled with it, like stepping back in time. When she'd finally come of age so many years ago, when it would finally be permissible to pursue her, there couldn't have been more complications if they were at war. She was in Seattle, he was struggling to keep up with work and school, then
bam
!
—Riley was having Jock's baby. So he did what he had to do—he reeled the feelings back in.

But Emma never came home. She went from college in Seattle to New York. He'd just been working up his courage for a trip to New York to see her when she'd announced she was engaged. To the most wonderful man in the world.

He was hoping for a second chance, but Adam was realistic. This might be something he'd always wanted, but that didn't mean Emma did. Then he picked her up and she was absolutely alive with happiness to see him. She met him with a hug, her eyes glittering and her smile so beautiful. All the way to Napa, she chattered like a girl about what she'd been doing—painting, decorating, hitting all the garage sales she could find.

“I even bought this jacket,” she said, laughing. “Used clothing from a garage sale! I hope Richard is spinning in his grave!”

“Emma!” he said, laughing at her.

“Is it too much to hope he's being eaten by worms by now?”

“What's gotten into you today?” he asked.

“It's hanging out with those merry widows, I think. You should hear the way they talk, especially about departed and ex-husbands who were not the best. They're incorrigible and I love them. Penny and I played host for Thanksgiving and we had a blast. It wouldn't have had to be much to outshine the holidays of the last several years, let me tell you, but it was fantastic!”

“I hadn't even thought of that,” he said. “I'm sure your life the last few years didn't include festive holiday celebrations.”

“It didn't before, either,” she said. “Before the indictments came down, holidays were rich family showcases—parties, celebrations and open houses meant to outdo each other. I got into that, you know? I'm a designer by trade. It was once my goal to design and decorate big hotels, which included ostentatious holiday themes. There wasn't anyplace better than New York for that. But memorable family holidays that filled a person with comfort and joy?” She shook her head. “Richard didn't even invite his family to our home. He was very strategic. He gave them first-class tickets to the islands so they'd be conveniently out of town.”

When they arrived at the restaurant she stopped talking while they were led to a pretty table for two in a small arbor. It was a little chilly in the shade, but there were a few space heaters around the patio. Even though it was a holiday weekend, there weren't many for lunch. The tasting rooms seemed to be overflowing and plenty of people were visiting the valley, but the patio of the small restaurant was quiet. Adam couldn't have planned it better if he'd called ahead and asked for a special table.

Emma was so animated, enjoying herself so much, you'd think it was her first lunch date. Maybe it almost was, he thought. Once they'd ordered she wanted to know all about Thanksgiving at his house, every detail, down to the kind of stuffing June made. So he told her everything, including the fact that Jock dropped by to see Maddie and stayed for dessert.

“I'm so glad to hear that,” she said. “Does he try to be a good father?”

“He's a good dad, I think,” Adam said. “His parenting has been complicated by the fact he lived in Sacramento for a few years for work. Then there was a brief marriage to a woman with children, and that didn't always go well. But on the upside, he's never missed a birthday or holiday and when she plays soccer and basketball, he makes almost every game, even when he had to come over from Sacramento.”

“Tell me about you, Adam. How can you be single? You're such a catch! Surely there have been girlfriends.”

“If you want to know if I dated, the answer is yes. I even had a couple of near misses, relationships that lasted a couple of years.”

“And yet you didn't marry? You, such a family man? Why?”

“I don't know. It just didn't feel right. I wasn't in love enough, I guess.”

“I wish I'd thought of that,” she said.

“But you loved him, Emmie,” he said. “From the way you described him, he walked on water.”

“I loved him,” she admitted, growing serious. She put down her fork. “I was twenty-four when I met him. He proposed almost immediately. I realized much later, I was hand-picked. He was looking for an idiot who could pull off the millionaire-wife image, from haute couture to decorating to entertaining to social grace under pressure. And of course I had to be able to take orders.” She finished her glass of wine. “I'd like to tell you something.” But then she stopped.

“Another glass of wine?” he prompted.

“I think I'd like a cup of tea. When the waitress comes back, I'll ask her. But I wanted to say something. I might've misled you. About investigating Richard so I'd know how I ended up in this place. I've already read everything, Adam. If there's anything new, I don't need to know about it. For over three years I was completely addicted to the news. I was glued to everything that floated across the internet. The books and biographical pieces started turning up long before he even went to trial. I read every court transcript, although I was usually there, in the courtroom. I had my own lawyers. For a long time they were the only people who talked to me.

“It didn't take long before all the things I suspected proved logical. Richard had strong sociopathic tendencies. As far as I know he didn't murder the neighborhood pets, but according to old classmates he lied and cheated his way through school. He used people. He enjoyed getting away with things. He liked deceit and winning by any means and he had no empathy. The state and the feds might've been able to prove his fraud and theft, but there was only conjecture about most of the other things, the things having to do with his ethics, his personality disorder. It all became so clear before his trial was over.”

“Emmie,” he said sympathetically, touching one of her hands.

“I didn't know, yet I did know, Adam. I lived under the same roof with the man, after all. Even though we weren't close, even though I can't say we had a loving marriage, I lived in his house. I traveled with him. The first time I suspected there was a mistress we'd only been married a year. He smiled indulgently, kissed my forehead and said, ‘Why in the world would I have a mistress? I have you, the most beautiful woman in New York City.' I bought it, of course. He was so confident and convincing. But there came a time I just knew something was off. I overheard things—he had employees and they were well aware of what he was doing, feeding his business from the bottom, paying out dividends here and there when it would bring in more capital. He referred to it as seeding... Seed money... Satisfied clients brought in more clients. We never discussed it, but after we'd been married a few years, I heard things like that when he was talking to someone who worked for him or when he was on the phone with a client. I heard him moving money around to offshore accounts. He thought I was an idiot, at least about financial matters. I never really knew anything, but I strongly suspected that my slick and sleazy husband would stop at nothing to make big money.

“And I came to know about the mistress. Andrea Darius. I met her for the first time before we were married. Beautiful woman, so beautiful. Smart, classy, very high-society type. She looked kind of like Katherine Heigl—that stately, confident, above-it-all look. I'd suspected from the first time I met her. There was something in the way she looked at him, it was just there. She was an image consultant, a public relations expert who specialized in the financial sector. Lenders and investors are constantly scrutinized, especially private companies and hedge fund managers. But that was just a front. That was one of the first issues I faced when I looked the other way. I made excuses to make my existence more acceptable in my own eyes.” She laughed hollowly. “While I'm a leper in Manhattan, Andrea is still a prominent figure in New York society. There's been speculation that she's a high-priced prostitute or even madam. Who knows? Who cares?”

The waitress came to their table, picked up some plates and took their beverage orders. Adam really wanted another drink but he asked for a coffee.

“See, I didn't have any proof of any kind, but things he said and did made me wonder why I didn't understand him better. Then one day I realized I was married to a man I didn't know, a man who had no conscience. But by then it was too late.”

“Why didn't you testify against him?” Adam asked.

She shook her head. When her tea came she added milk and sugar and stirred slowly.

“I really wanted the whole thing to just go away so I could make my escape, which I fully intended to do. I have no real defense, but it is true that any testimony I might have given wouldn't do any good for the defense or the prosecution. It was suspicion, hearsay, speculation. Nothing, really.”

“You were trying to have a baby with him?”

She winced. It was unmistakable.

“It was madness. I don't know what I was thinking. We hadn't been married that long, a couple of years, and I was still so young, but I knew something wasn't quite right in our marriage. I thought I could fix it. I thought we could be a family and he would become more...
conscious
of me.” She shook her head. “How stupid was I? Anyone knows that babies don't fix things! And God knows nothing was going to cure what he had! It's a blessing I couldn't get pregnant. I finally realized what a catastrophic mistake that would be.

“So you see, Adam—it's not necessary for me to gather up all the things written about Richard and the case against him. Or me. I'm up to speed on all that. I very rarely watch the news now. And those bios?” She shook her head. “I don't know if they're half true. But they sound suspiciously as if they could be.”

“I'm so sorry, Emmie,” he said.

“I haven't really talked about this. I can trust Lyle and I dumped on him a little bit while I was going through it, but I didn't want to make his relationship with Ethan tense—Ethan thinks very little of me as it is.”

“But Lyle...”

“The best,” she said immediately. “So loyal, so wonderful and always there for me. And believe me, I put him through some drama.” She sipped her tea. “I'm so grateful for Lucinda Lopez, who I've seen twice now. She's perfect. She makes telling it all so easy, and every once in a while she leads me to a perfect conclusion that explains everything, that makes me understand. Men like Richard Compton have a gift for finding the right sucker. He needed a girl who'd lost her parents, who had nowhere to go, who wanted someone who could make her think she was a fairy princess. Someone who wouldn't question his motives. And that was me to the core. Adam, I want you to know who you've gotten yourself mixed up with.”

He frowned. “You think I didn't know most of that? I didn't know how you coped but I found out all that stuff—his scheme, his mistress, his lack of conscience, all the speculation from old acquaintances that he'd always been sociopathic. He was so narcissistic it's odd he killed himself.”

“People think there's money hidden somewhere,” she said. “I certainly don't know of any and I don't have any, but I think his suicide was part revenge and part
gotcha.
He didn't have much value for life, now did he? Not even his own.”

“In the end, you were sure your conclusions about him were right?” Adam asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “During our marriage, through the investigation, through all the depositions, he was one cool dude and we didn't discuss any of it. But in the end, when he'd been warned he was looking at anywhere from forty to seventy-five years in prison, he let the floodgates open and did some incredible lashing out. He proved to me and anyone within earshot that he was a beast with no remorse.” She sighed. “There are things I just can't repeat, they're so vulgar.”

They were quiet. She sipped her tea and he drank his coffee. The waitress silently refilled his cup and brought her more hot water, along with the check.