The Life She Wants (14 page)

Emma frowned. What kind of confidential things might she witness? “I'm almost afraid to ask...”

“Inside of two months, you won't have to ask, but I'll save you some time. Obviously, you're not going to be picking through drawers or closets, reading correspondence, diaries, or studying papers on desks. We don't look at personal papers or property, we dust it.

“But you're going to see things. Mrs. X, the cheapest client we have, one who has never tipped or given a holiday bonus, has a checkbook balance of one-point-five-million and a monthly credit card bill over twenty-five thousand dollars. She leaves these papers in plain sight, very hard to miss. Mr. and Mrs. Y carelessly leave out objects of intimate pleasure.” To Emma's expression of consternation, Makenna said, “Sex toys, Emma.”

“Ew,” Emma said.

“Gloves,” Makenna said. “And Mr. Z is knocking the shit out of Mrs. Z. She thinks no one knows.”

“Oh, my God! And you don't do anything?”

Makenna glanced down at the pages of the employee manual. “Mrs. Z said someone made an anonymous call to the police department and they were visited by someone from the domestic violence unit, but I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“So—we don't get involved, even if someone's health and safety is at risk?”

“That would be one of those issues you're going to want to take to Nick and Riley. Very important that you do so, Emma. If a member of the household we service is at risk, we're at risk. If you have reason to believe someone is breaking the law, it's important you tell your supervisor. There are examples of difficult situations in this manual. The book was compiled by Riley over years. When a new situation arises it is not only added to the handbook, a confidential memo is also sent to team leaders so they can advise their crews.” Makenna peered at Emma. “Are you going to be able to ignore the obvious? Look the other way?”

Emma almost laughed. “Oh, you have no idea,” she said. “It's a skill of mine.”

Makenna cleared her throat. “Now, let's go over some important issues—cleaning supplies, techniques, basic chemistry so you don't mix bleach and toilet bowl cleaner and end up a 911 call...”

The lecture was intense and fast-paced. Makenna put all of her supplies out on the table with corresponding color photos and explained how each cleaning implement was to be used and which cleaning chemicals were provided.

“I don't expect you to remember all of this, Emma. You're going to be trained on the job this week—I'll be watching you and helping you. To that end, I'm taking you to some of our more challenging homes. You'll have to learn to do it well, fast, not be distracted by your chatty home owner, cooperate with your team and employ all the smart moves—safety first. Don't lift anything over forty pounds, use your legs, not your back. We have knee pads in the van if you want them, as well as smocks and aprons, and do protect your uniform as much as possible. You're bound to get dirty, but avoid bleach marks or grease stains if you can.” Then the little pixie smiled and said, “Ready?”

“Oh, God,” Emma said.

“Good! Help me put this stuff away.”

And with that they gathered up all of Makenna's training aides and headed out of the office, getting in the van. Two other team members—Shawna and Dellie, short for Delilah—were already there and ready to roll. Shawna held a clipboard.

“Okay, first house I have linens and dusting, Dellie has the kitchen and hardwood floors, the newbie Emma is passing the vacuum—do not forget the stairs! Do not slam the vacuum into walls or furniture! And it is with vengeful pleasure I give the bathrooms to Makenna.”

“You don't scare me,” Makenna said.

“You scare me,” Emma said.

“Make nice tracks with that machine, Emma,” Shawna said. “The clients like the tracks. The little things keep us popular.”

“Is dusting the primo job?” Emma asked.

They all laughed. “It's the least difficult,” Makenna said. “But there are blinds, high shelves, ceiling fans, plants, light fixtures, wooden furniture, books—it's endless. It's hard to be fast and keep breakage down. It takes practice. The vacuum is hard but safe.”

“And the bathrooms are the worst job?”

“Sometimes, depending on the client,” Shawna said. “Some of them aren't, how should we say it...?”

“Clean,” Makenna supplied.

“Kitchens are hard. You never know what's happened in the kitchen this week. It could've been a big dinner out or a takeout week or there could have been a lot of cooking. Greasy, splattering, nasty cooking. People with regular cleaning service get a little lazy about a thorough cleaning after cooking. They never oil their cabinets or wash the floors. I hate cleaning kitchens,” Shawna said.

Then it seemed like in minutes they were there.

“Let's do it,” Makenna said. And they hit the ground running.

* * *

Emma was home in her little house at six. She walked in and collapsed on the sofa. It wasn't until she was in that position that she realized she still wore her knee pads—the last house of the day, she got the bathrooms. Six of them. Every one had been
thoroughly
used. If possible, the sinks were the worst she'd ever seen. The family must have been the hairiest family on the planet. They were obviously descended from the Yeti. The toilets... She couldn't think about them.

When she got some energy, she would call Adam. He had texted sometime after three that he couldn't wait to hear about her day. There hadn't been a moment yet. She went from the cleaning company's van directly to her car and straight home. Her carry pouch was empty of drinks and snacks, she was famished and she was sure there wasn't anything left in the house from her weekend with the bottomless pit, Adam. He'd bought plenty of food to sustain them during their “honeymoon” and he'd eaten all of it.

There was a knock at her door. It was unrealistic to expect it was a huge takeout order. Possibly it was Penny. She lifted her head. “Please be the pizza delivery boy,” she called out weakly.

“How was your day, dear?” Adam. He stood over her, smiling.

“Oh. God.” She struggled to sit up. He was holding bags. “Oh, you brought sustenance.”

“Knee pads,” he said, grinning like a fool. “Nice touch.”

“What's in the bags?” she said, frowning at his attempt at humor.

“Food. Stuffed salmon, rice, Italian beans, bagels and muffins for morning, milk for your coffee, a couple of sandwiches for you to take to work tomorrow.”

“Oh, you are a perfect man.”

“You're hungry?”

“Starving. But these hands cannot go near food. My hands have been places...”

“Never mind,” he said. He put his parcels on the table and went to sit on the chair facing her. “I've worked for Riley. A hundred and twenty teenagers every day is like a paid vacation.” He touched the hair at her temple. “I also brought wine.”

“Can you uncork it and just pour it straight down my throat?”

“Tougher than Burger Hell?”

“She was right, I was worked hard.”

“She used to say, ‘People have dirty lives and we clean them up.' I don't have to stay for dinner. I won't be offended.”

“Oh, stay,” she said. “Can I take a shower first?”

He nodded. “I'm not staying late tonight. I promise.”

“What if I want you to stay late?” she asked.

“Just get your shower. I'll set up dinner.”

“Nothing sexier than a man who brings dinner.”

“If you had a real kitchen, I'd cook you dinner, but...”

“You provided. That's everything.” She struggled off the couch but had trouble straightening. She groaned.

“Don't forget to take off the knee pads before you get in the shower,” he said.

A few minutes later when she came out of the bathroom, the table had been set, the wine uncorked, the ibuprofen bottle sitting beside one plate.

“I hope this is a casual dinner,” she said, indicating her pajamas.

He held a chair for her. “Madam?”

She took her seat and he poured her a small amount of wine. She sipped. “Well, your sister is amazing, Adam. Her business is impressive. Complex, well thought, practical, no detail omitted. It's brilliant what she's done. I have an employee manual I can barely lift, spent the day with a trainer...” She sipped again. “I had a personal trainer in New York. I was not worked nearly as hard by him.”

Adam chuckled and served their food. “I know Makenna,” he said. “She's a little demon, isn't she?”

“Depends on what you mean by
demon
. She's quite the handler. Five feet of brute strength and fearsome threats. I guess Riley hired her when there were no mob bosses or biker gang enforcers available. Where'd Riley find her?”

“I can't remember,” he said. “She's been around forever. She's a fixture in the company. Riley keeps trying to move her into a management position and Makenna wants nothing to do with it. She likes her work and she's good at it. She agreed to work as a supervisor and trainer so it would be done right.”

“I met Nick,” she said. “He seems nice.”

“Stay on his good side,” Adam advised. “Some of the women make the mistake of thinking they can sweet-talk him. There are two people who can sweet-talk Nick and the first is his mother.”

“And Riley?” she asked.

“You've been away from Riley too long. She doesn't sweet-talk anyone. The other, oddly enough, is Makenna. Though she rarely tries. Makenna eats nails for breakfast. And she don't need no
steenking
man.”

“Hmm. This morning she had me instead of the nails,” she said. She sampled the salmon. “Ohhh, Adam. I think I'm getting turned on.”

He laughed at her.

When he was seated across from her on the green chair, she went after her dinner in earnest, trying not to gobble. “I didn't make a single mistake,” she finally said. “I did everything right. Well, Makenna inspected my carpet tracks, my shining bathrooms, my oiled hardwood and made a few comments—nothing much. Clearly it was good enough. Better than good enough. Those women are workhorses.”

“They're good,” he agreed.

“Makenna indicated I was with an exceptionally good team this week but they weren't all this good. She also said sometimes there's a weak link, but she didn't say how she knew who that was. Do they tattle on each other?”

“Sometimes, but that's not how they do it. They measure client complaints and watch for similarities. Then Nick and Makenna get involved with the team. Often they'll split them up and move them around. Once they figure out who's not getting the job done, they try training, counseling, observing. They almost never have to fire someone for not working. It's other stuff.”

“Like what other stuff?”

“Absenteeism, tardiness, breaking policy. The most irresistible is taking used clothing from clients. Obviously most of Riley's employees aren't well-off and those high-end clothes are tempting.”

“I never found out why that's not allowed,” she said.

He chewed thoughtfully. “The risk that they'll be accused of stealing them is too high and there's no way to get to the bottom of it. The safe course is just forbid it.”

She put down her fork. “Did Riley come to all these conclusions by trial and error or did she take some class or read some book about how to set up a business like this?”

“She read everything, took a few business courses and learned a lot through experience. It's really an amazing little company. The employees who work hard and honestly have excellent perks and benefits. Discounts at child care agencies was very hard to negotiate and worth a lot to a working mother. Not many companies help working mothers.”

“Takes a working mother to know about that,” she said.

She asked about Adam's day. He had a lab—that was always fun, especially if no one blew anything up. Test review for a couple of classes. He flipped a homeroom and study hall for a friend who wanted to go to the OB with his pregnant wife to see the sonogram of the baby. That had him finished at 2:30 so he went to his mother's and put up one row of Christmas lights across the front of the house for her. Then he cleaned up and stopped at the store on his way over to her house.

“Sounds like such a perfect, almost leisurely life,” she said.

“I'll get out of your hair as soon as I help you clean up the dishes. I know you're tired,” he said.

“If I'm not
that
tired?” she asked.

He left at 5:00 a.m.

Chapter Ten

Riley was very observant during Emma's first week on the job. The feedback was excellent. She was surprised, but shouldn't have been; Emma had always been a hard worker. Riley just couldn't get beyond the image of Emma riding through Central Park in a carriage on her wedding day, decked out in Vera Wang, no less. When Riley thought of Emma on her hands and knees scrubbing around the base of a toilet, she wondered what her budget for housekeeping had been in her Manhattan apartment.

She shouldn't have been surprised because when Emma wanted something, she had never been afraid to go after it. She was diligent. Determined. She wondered what Emma had done to land herself a millionaire. But in order to find out, she'd have to be on friendly terms with her and that just wasn't happening. Employer and employee—that was who they were.

Emma had always had to be enterprising. Her childhood had been tough. Her father's sudden death left her essentially alone, alone but for Riley and the Kerrigans. Somehow, Emma got through the worst of it with grace. She always managed to work hard, get by, put a good face on it. Like she was doing now, acting like it was her lucky goddamn day she got a job cleaning.

Really, she'd survived so much. Riley felt sorry for her. But she was also feeling something else. Trouble. Unease. Distrust. Maybe envy? Why would you envy someone who'd had so many bad knocks?

Because she was the beautiful, strong and tragic princess. No one would ever see Riley that way. Riley was the tough poor girl who made good. For that she'd get applause. But Emma? In her mind she saw that news clip of her on the courthouse steps, broken and crying, then rising stoically, lifting her regal chin and slowly descending as if she were on the red carpet, damaged shoe notwithstanding. Even in her most devastating moments, always chic. Always poised. In fact, Emma could wear devastation like a crown.

* * *

Friday night after work Riley dropped in on her mother. June was puttering around in her old kitchen. June was always cooking. She would never stop working even though Riley and Adam had convinced her to retire. So now she volunteered. At the church, in the neighborhood, at the animal shelter.

A mangy-looking dog wandered into the kitchen, walking slowly as if her feet hurt.

“And who is this?” Riley asked.

“This is Beatrice. Isn't she lovely?”

Riley gave a short laugh. “Actually...she's pretty ugly.”

“Shhh. Be nice now—Beatrice has had a rough time of it. She's going to need a little time to regain her former beauty. But she's a lovely lady and needs a place to relax until she has her forever home.”

“If the whole world were as kind as you...”

“Where's Maddie tonight?”

“Hanging out at Kylie's house. Studying, she said.”

“Ha,” June laughed. “On Friday night? What do you suppose they're really doing?” Beatrice wandered over to the doggie bed in the corner of the kitchen and June told her she was a good girl.

“Eating junk, calling boys, practicing dance steps, plotting things... But Kylie's mother is home tonight so they can't get into too much trouble.” She smiled as she looked at June, her
elderly
mother. June was sixty-three, kept her short hair a dark auburn color, still wore a size ten and her eyes sparkled with mischief. She'd worked hard all her life and it had kept her in excellent shape, except her feet gave her fits; she'd used them well, cleaning and waitressing, and sometimes they screamed in protest, but she was in excellent health and fitness otherwise. She looked her years, but beautifully so. She would be termed a handsome woman. “What are you building over there?” Riley asked from her place at the breakfast bar.

“I'm making a meat loaf,” June said. “I'm so bloody sick of turkey. Aren't you?”

“God, yes. But you got a lot of mileage out of it,” Riley said. “Why don't we have a glass of wine?”

“Perfect idea,” June said.

“So... Adam's coming to dinner?”

“Not tonight. He stopped by after school yesterday to put the trash on the curb because apparently I'm too feeble to get it there.” She laughed, washed her hands and wiped them on the towel.

“What are you going to do with that meat loaf, then?”

“Well, I'm going to eat some. With mashed potatoes. I could share some with you, if you're interested. Then I suppose I'll freeze it, but I'm damn sure not eating another bite of turkey. At least until Christmas. But obviously I haven't had enough of mashed potatoes yet.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of white, already opened. “It's not as fancy as your preferred label but will this do?”

“Certainly,” Riley said. June poured them each a glass and Riley took a sip. “Has Adam seemed to be awfully busy lately?” she asked June.

“I don't know,” June said. “I talk to him almost every day. I haven't needed him for anything. Just the lights, which he finished this week. I hate doing the lights...”

“I've hardly talked to him,” Riley said.

“Do you need him for something, Riley?”

“Well, no... But we usually talk longer than a minute. He hasn't been to dinner since Thanksgiving.”

“He took some leftovers on Friday night, I think. He said that should do it for him.”

“I think something is going on with him,” Riley said. “And I should probably tell you—” She took another sip of her wine. “Emma's back in town.”

“I know,” June said. “She got back a few months ago, right?”

“I gave her a job,” Riley said.

“Good for you! I hope to see her one of these days. I haven't gone looking for her—I'm sure she needs time to adjust to being back. I'm so glad she's free of that terrible mess. Does she seem well?”

“Oh, yes, beautiful as ever,” Riley said, though the words did curl her lip. “Listen, I suspect Adam might be seeing her.”

“Oh? And why do you suspect that?”

“He's seeing someone and he's mysteriously silent about it. And completely unavailable.”

“Well, then...”

“Well, then?”

June put down her wineglass. “Riley, I want you to leave Adam alone.”

“So he
is
seeing her!”

“Riley, you're not going to interfere. You're going to say nothing, do you hear me?”

“You can't tell me what to say!”

“I just did and I don't think you want to mess with me on this.”

Riley slammed her fist on the breakfast bar. “Why are you in the middle of this? You seem to know what's going on well enough that you're telling me what to do! What to say!”

“I know about as much as you do. When Adam wants us to know more, he'll fill us in. Until then, you'll leave it alone.”

“Did he tell you he was seeing her?”

June shook her head. “He told me she was back, that he ran into her and had a glass of wine with her one evening, gave her your business card and even though there's a good chance you'd work her to death, he hoped Emma would call you about a job. He had all faith you would do right by her. She'd be in a good work environment with fair pay. And I have absolutely no doubt that's what you did.”

“I don't want her with Adam!”

“I think if you voice your opinion to Adam, you're going to get nothing but trouble. Telling him who he should or shouldn't date is overstepping your rights as a sister. You'll piss him off. You'll piss me off, for that matter.”

“I don't entirely trust her,” Riley said.

“Then you'll keep your distance. What the rest of us do is up to us, not you. Besides, what makes you think Emma is ready to be seeing any man? Hasn't she been through enough with a man?”

“Well, of course,” Riley said. “But why are you acting like you know if you don't know?”

“I said he didn't tell me,” June said. “Of course I know. I've always known.”

“Known
what
?
” Riley demanded, getting pissier by the second.

June took a breath. “Adam has been in love with Emma since she was fifteen. I threatened him with murder if he went near her before she was eighteen. You were too busy minding your own romances to even notice, which I considered a good thing. But Adam did all he could to steer clear of Emma. And we both remember what happened when Emma was eighteen—she went away to college. And never came home.”

“And you think—”

“That my son hasn't found a woman who makes him completely happy in all that time? I've met a dozen perfectly nice women in the last fifteen years. A couple of them seemed to be around for a long time. That Natalie, remember her? She was looking at bridal magazines, but Adam was barely intrigued. No, Riley, in fifteen years, he hasn't said a word and I thought he was just going to live out his days as the bachelor uncle. Then he told me Emma was back and I saw a spark. He didn't say much after that and I didn't ask but I know my son. The woman he's wanted since he was a boy is back. And if you say one word, I'll make you sorry.”

Riley was struck silent. “Well, jeez,” she finally said. “Mama bear.”

June narrowed her eyes. “He's entitled to take his time and have his privacy. We both owe Adam that much. He's been wonderful to us.”

“Does he really need your protection?”

“He has it. And so would you.”

“I can't remember a time you ever—”

Riley stopped talking. Of course there was a time. When she came home pregnant and needed the support of her family. Her mother didn't demand complicated explanations, didn't ask a lot of questions, didn't force her opinion. She asked Riley what she wanted to do and stood firmly beside her. Her grandparents' first reaction was that she'd better get married and take her lumps, but June protected her, kept her safe from the opinions of others, didn't judge her. June had done everything in the world to help her.

“Never mind,” Riley said.

“Indeed,” June replied.

“Am I supposed to be happy Adam has someone even if she's someone I can never have as a friend?”

“You should be very quiet in your speculation because you don't know and neither do I. I haven't seen Emma in many years. Who knows if she feels affection or just friendship? In fact, who knows if Emma is the one he's—”

“Oh, it's Emma,” Riley said. But then she stopped herself from saying more. In her heart she knew that shy little blush was related to Adam. Because that's the kind of luck she had where that woman was involved. And also, she could still read Emma. And Emma could no doubt read her. Just like when they were young.

“I just hope I'll see her before too much longer,” June said. “I can't tell you how often I've thought about that girl, worried about her. I practically raised her. For a while there I thought she'd lassoed the moon, but that didn't last long, did it? It nearly crushed the life out of her.” She tsked, shook her head, took a sip of her wine. “I think your splitting up with Emma was as hard on all of us as it was on you.”

I was a pregnant eighteen-year-old—nothing was as hard as that
, she thought. “Always poor little Emma,” Riley said meanly. “Do you think... I mean, is it at all possible... Honestly, you think Adam has been
waiting
for her? All these years?”

June thought about that. She shook her head. “Not deliberately,” she said. “And yet...”

They sipped their wine quietly. After a long spell, Riley broke the silence. “We're going to remodel this old kitchen. Get all new appliances.”

“I like my appliances and I'm comfortable in this kitchen. It's like my skin.”

“We're going to do it anyway. For resale value.”

“When I'm dead,” June said.

“I think that will be too late,” Riley said.

“But not for me,” June replied.

“I'm going to have to pass on the meat loaf. I have other plans.”

“Oh?” June said.

“Since Maddie's going to be at Kylie's, I can grab a salad on the way home, get in my softest pajamas and read. I'm in the middle of a really good book.”

“You haven't finished your wine,” June said.

“I'm anxious to get out of these panty hose...”

“You want to ditch me so you can think about all this. Listen, don't think too much, Riley. Adam tends to act on instinct—just kind of feeling his way. You know things happen for a reason.”

Not always
, she thought. But yes, sometimes. Whether this was one of those times was still an unhappy mystery.

She stood. “I'm not going to think. I'm going to read and relax and enjoy a quiet evening. I hope I haven't disappointed you.”

“I'm fine. I've become very happy about my own quiet time.”

Riley kissed her mother's cheek. “I won't say a thing. I won't even make a face. I'll have to concentrate, however.”

“It will go better that way, I promise.”

Riley slipped into her coat, went to her car, drove to the nearest grocery parking lot and sat for a few moments. Thinking, of course. And letting her eyes well up with tears before she made herself stop. It was so crazy, thinking that Adam had, for all these years, thought of Emma, wanted Emma. Pined for her. To the point that the second she turned up, he was cooked. Done for.

Riley's hurt was deep. In all those sixteen years, Riley had felt such loneliness and guilt. And her family was now so happy, so relieved to have Emma back! Riley hadn't had the courage to trust a friend since Emma left.

She'd done everything she was determined to do in the last fifteen years. She'd focused on her business and her daughter, taking care of her mother, as well. Her best friends were the women she worked with and her family. In all that time, while other people had forged and ended relationships, sometimes moving on to loving unions that lasted, Riley had preferred not to be distracted or tempted. Even Jock, who she had once secretly wished would come to her and beg forgiveness and say he'd always loved her, had married and divorced. The only exception was her mother, and June claimed to be happy as she was; she had family and good friends and apparently no interest in romance. But Riley assumed that happened to old people.