The Life She Wants (16 page)

“I can if she's not in any way involved in a conspiracy to receive or help someone receive stolen money or property.”

“But you won't know that unless you're undercover. I have no problem passing this to another team and...”

“And dropping it after months of work? What do we have—a surplus of bored detectives around here looking for extra work? By the time the warrant is expired we'll know what we're dealing with!”

“And you'll be in over your head,” she pointed out. “You'll screw it up.”

“No. I. Won't.” He took a breath. “I know how to keep my work and my personal life separate. I've done it for fifteen years.”

“Well...” she said.

“Okay, once or twice I might've blurred the line a little, but I'm not exactly famous for it.”

She leaned on her hand, looking at him earnestly. George was beautiful. She was five-ten with shoulder-length bronze hair, big brown eyes, a knockout body and a drop-dead intelligence that she'd completely betrayed by marrying and reproducing with a big, burly firefighter. Cops had a love-hate relationship with firefighters. The smoke-eaters always got the girls and it just wasn't right. If Logan had seen George first, he might've married her, but unfortunately he'd been married to someone else back then. But he drew her as a partner and in that got one of the smartest detectives he'd ever known. He knew he should probably listen to her now, take her advice.

“I got it, George,” he said.

“Why don't you go ahead and tell me how you justified this in your tiny little brain,” she said.

“I was befriending her! I never would've gotten interested if I thought she could possibly be involved with our suspect! But then... I just found out, okay?”

“You've had five minutes, which is about all the time you give matters this important. Go ahead. Tell me.”

“It's not going anyplace. So they know each other, so what? Everybody knows everybody—it's her hometown, that's why she's back. That doesn't spell conspiracy or fraud or anything. It's too soon anyway. If I'd been married to a multimillionaire who got all his money through fraud and if I had a little of that stashed somewhere I wouldn't tap it in six months. I'd wait a few years till there was no scent on the money. If she wanted some money, why didn't she take the settlement she was offered?”

Georgianna pulled a face. “Because she looks better this way and what she's got stashed is more.”

“Then why didn't she take the settlement, move to the islands or something and have both? We talked about this. One of two reasons—either she's afraid she won't be able to travel because she'll end up extradited and prosecuted or maybe, just maybe, she's not guilty of anything.”

“Danner, here's what you don't get—they were
married
. They lived together. They slept in the same bed. He probably talked in his sleep. They socialized with his employees and his clients. Do you really think he pulled off a Ponzi and she never thought something was weird? Really?”

“And here's what you don't get, George—not everyone is married like you are. Most of the cops in this shop don't tell their wives what happens at work and their wives don't ask. Not all married couples talk. Al's wife has these huge bills and he doesn't want to ask her what she's spending the money on and for that matter Al has a little issue with the slots, so he's not into sharing. Not all couples have that whole transparent thing going on like you and Mr. Universe.”

Georgianna smiled. “He likes that you call him that.”

“Great. Then I'm going to stop.”

“So let me tell you another thing you don't get. If she didn't communicate with her husband, then if she has a secret of any kind she'll tell her girlfriend. Guaranteed.”

“Shit,” he said, knowing she was right.

“So what do you want, Danner? A new squeeze or a case?”

“Leave me alone. I can do this.”

“I'm watching,” she said.

* * *

Here's what was going to happen, Logan thought. He was going to work the case with George—they were considered a dream team because they were smart, instinctive and experienced. He'd listen to phone tapes and scrutinize bank records. He would gladly tell George anything he learned from Riley that had anything to do with a possible conspiracy and pointed a finger at Emma Shay. He would not share the personal and intimate details he hoped to achieve with Riley Kerrigan, and very soon. He would keep those two parts of his life separate.

If he learned from Riley that her girlfriend Emma was coming into money or had hidden money, then Logan would do the right thing—he'd tell George and they would hand over the case and report it to the FBI. Logan wouldn't break the law. Not even for his own mother.

But he was going to have something with Riley because he was irresistibly drawn to her. He thought he caught her scent several times through the day and night even though she wasn't anywhere nearby. He thought they could have one of those unique give and take relationships that was part fun, part intense, part sexual. He was into her, that's all. He might be an idiot about women, but he was into her and he was going for it until it worked or flopped.

He might've noticed Riley at first because he was checking out some of Emma's old friends, but that connection faded fast and he kept finding her because she appealed to him. And there was nothing illegal about that.

* * *

The second week in December was bitterly cold, with frost on the ground, dark clouds overhead, fires in every home with a hearth. But in Riley's heart there was a special warmth that she hadn't felt since her youth.

She laid her plans carefully. She left work early, went to the grocery store, picked Maddie up after cheer practice and took her home. Then she got busy in the kitchen. With her mom and Adam always ready and eager to plan family dinners, it wasn't necessary for Riley to cook very often. Of all of them, her hours were the longest. Adam was usually done at school by four at the latest, June was busy but liked to deliver her meals early in the afternoon—her elderly clients liked to eat early and looked forward to her visits. She was always finished before five in the afternoon. When they weren't eating at June's, Riley and Maddie often grabbed takeout, something for which her daughter was usually grateful.

Tonight she was making corn chowder, salad and biscuits. She set the table even though they usually ate in front of the TV. A fire blazed in the family room. She even refreshed her lipstick.

“I have some things to talk to you about,” Riley said when her daughter joined her in the kitchen.

“Wow,” Maddie said. “Must be deadly serious. Fancy spread.”

“It's not. I mean, I think it's important but... Well, I just wanted to tell you—I met someone. A man.”

Maddie grinned. “And you're finally going to tell me?” Maddie said, dipping a spoon in her soup and blowing on it.

“What does that mean? Did Grandma say something?”

“Well, she did, but only a couple of days ago. Really, Mom? You think I haven't heard you whispering into your phone late at night? And giggling? Or that I haven't noticed how nice you've been lately?”

Riley stiffened. “I'm not usually nice?”

“Sure you are. In a very businesslike way.”

“Wow,” Riley said. “I thought we were very close.”

“We are. I know you love me. Now tell me about this guy. We don't want to waste this cozy setting.” Then she smiled prettily.

“Hmm,” Riley said. “Well, I met him accidentally several times—grocery store, Starbucks—he lives around here. He's a police officer in Santa Rosa so I saw an opportunity to ask him to check on you and make sure you're not getting into any trouble and if you were, to tell me.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Maddie said, outraged.

“Touché,” Riley said, smiling. “He is a police officer, though. And I got a kick out of him—he's cute and kind of funny—and I thought, if I want to have a date again, maybe a cop would be safer than someone who had no ties to the community. Know what I mean?”

“You checked him out,” Maddie said.

“Well, I'd have checked out any man before dating him...”

Maddie laughed. “Oh, Mom.”

“What? I don't meet them in school, you know!”

“I think it's great. Do I get to meet him one of these days?”

“Sure. Yes. Of course. There's something else I wanted to tell you. It's about an old friend of mine. Emma.” She took a deep breath. “Emma Shay. We were best friends all through school and when she went away to college in Seattle, your dad was actually her boyfriend. But...” She shrugged and looked into her soup. “Emma kind of lost interest in him and, well, we started going out.”

Riley looked up and Maddie was staring at her patiently. Waiting.

“I got pregnant. I suppose that's why things didn't quite work out with your father and me. He'd actually been Emma's guy. But...well...”

“I know all that. You and Daddy weren't really a couple but you got together and—bingo.”

“You know all that?”

“Uh-huh. Daddy told me. A long time ago. At least a couple of years ago. Maybe more. He said it was all his fault and the biggest mistake he ever made.”

“Well, that was delicate of him...”

“Not because of me! Because it screwed things up with you, Mom. He said the biggest mistake of his life was not begging you to marry him.” She slurped a little soup. “I think he's still kind of in love with you.”

Riley was momentarily stunned. “Well, that's news to me. He certainly has an odd way of showing it.”

“He's kind of stupid that way,” Maddie said. “But he's a very good guy.”

“Well... So there's a reason I wanted to tell you about Emma. She's been through a really hard time. She married after college, had a miserable marriage, her husband committed suicide and Emma came home. She's had a struggle. So I gave her a job, of course. Grandma was also close to Emma when we were kids and can't wait to see her again, so I guess she'll be around. Also, I think Adam might be dating her, but I haven't asked, it's just that I have a good nose. So I wanted you to have all the information so you wouldn't be completely shocked if you actually meet her. There are lots of connections and complications there.”

Maddie stabbed some of her salad. She pulled it off her fork with her teeth and chewed. “I know all that, too.”

“Oh, really? And who explained all that?”

“Well, Uncle Adam wanted to give me a heads-up—he has a girlfriend and he hasn't brought her around yet because you're Emma's boss and she has history with the family, not all of it good. I figured out she's the one who used to be your friend and Daddy's girlfriend. And Adam suspects you might still be enemies.”

“Huh,” Riley said. “Is there any reason for me to be here right now? Anything I can tell you that you don't already know?”

Maddie took another bite of salad, chewed and swallowed. “I seriously doubt it,” she said.

Riley put down her spoon in exasperation. “What did Grandma tell you?”

“Hmm.” She stalled. “Well. She said after all these many years you and Adam were starting to get your stuff together. She didn't say
stuff,
but you know Grandma can swear sometimes. And so do you, and yet I will be punished if I— Okay, so she said after all these years it appeared Adam might have a serious love interest and she caught you finally on an actual date. With a decent-looking guy who was nice and polite and kind of interesting...”

“She doesn't know anything about him!”

“You sure about that?” Maddie asked. “Who knows what she knows? This is really good soup.” She slurped a little more. “I like these talks, Mom. When am I going to meet your friend Emma?”

“Aren't you more interested in the guy?” Riley asked.

“I want to know about you and Emma, like when you were kids. And when you were teenagers,” Maddie said.

“What do you want to know?” Riley asked.

“Everything,” she said. “Uncle Adam said if I wanted to know all that I had to ask you. I asked him was there secret stuff? Was that why I had to get it from you? And he said it wasn't because it was secret. It was because it was special. Really special.”

Riley thought for a moment. “It was,” she said. “She was the first friend I had here. We were nine...”

Riley told her daughter all the details, from nine to nineteen, and Maddie understood it all because she had best friends—the laughter, the fights, the trouble, the way they'd always helped each other through dark times. Although it was frightening, Riley also told about the end. She didn't quote Emma or herself, but she admitted there were hateful things said.

“Mom,” Maddie said. “Mom, you're crying...”

Riley wiped at her cheeks. “I didn't realize,” she said. “I didn't think it was still so real. It was such a hard thing... And then there was you, and you made it all worth it. Because I had you, my regrets were gone. I was sorry I hurt her, though. And I said so, I really did.”

“Is she still mad?” Maddie asked.

Riley shrugged. “I don't think so. We haven't had that talk. We nibbled around the edges of it. She said she got over it a long time ago and I said that I'd begged her to forgive me and she never did. But then we left it without a real talk.”

“Are you going to?”

“I'm her boss now so I don't know,” Riley said.

“You better,” Maddie said. “Know why? Because I don't think I've ever seen you cry before.”

“Oh, Maddie, I've cried so much!”

“Not around me,” she said. “And you know what? You're more real when you cry.”

Chapter Twelve

Emma had to concentrate very hard just to keep up with the rest of her team so for the first two weeks in her new job she saw very little besides the dust and dirt she was waging war on. It wasn't just important that she be flawlessly thorough, but also fast. Clients had an expectation of not only a perfect job, but an on-time job, too. In most of the houses no one was home and it was usually planned that way; people didn't like being underfoot while the house was being cleaned.

Nick came by a couple of times as she was working to check on her. He was a happy and energetic guy in his early thirties, and two things were immediately clear—all the women liked him and he had eyes only for Makenna. He joked with her, complimented her, asked her a lot of questions, but she kept moving and gave him mostly short answers. Emma was amused by the way she tried to ignore him. Makenna was much friendlier with the women, though she was their superior. If Emma knew her better she might tease her, but she really didn't dare.

In fact, there wasn't much she dared. She very much wanted to prove she could clean as well as she could supervise a household staff. That first week, she didn't notice much, but there was one thing that drew her attention. The trash in the wastebasket of a fifteen-year-old girl. It appeared she'd thrown away some clothing. Emma didn't mean to inspect her trash, but she couldn't help but notice the price tags still on the clothes. She pulled them out—two pair of pants, three tops, a scarf, a blazer—all stuffed into the trash can. A wad of gum was stuck to a brand-new Free People long-sleeved knit top that sold for eighty-five dollars. There were designer labels on the other items. Prada. BCBG. Christian Lacroix.

She smoothed the clothes out on the girl's bed.

“What are you doing?” Makenna asked.

“She must have made a mistake,” Emma said. “She threw away brand-new, very expensive clothing—these still have the tags on.”

“It's not a mistake,” Makenna said. “They're in the trash.”

“But...”

“And please, don't talk to Dellie about the clothes in the trash. Dellie has three daughters, no spousal support and seeing this careless treatment would be hard on her heart.”

Emma frowned. “But why?”

“Because her ex is an asshole, why else?”

“No—why are these things in the trash?”

“Some of that stuff we don't see, Emma. Her parents are never around, her mother's assistant buys the clothes, Bethany doesn't want them. In fact, she resents them and does it out of spite. But they can't end up on an employee's daughter. Who knows how much trouble that could create.”

“Shouldn't her mother know?”

“Do you know her mother?” Makenna asked, lifting her dark brows.

“Well, no, but if I—”

“Don't project. Don't extrapolate. Telling her mother might only create bigger problems for us.”

“How?”

“She'll fire us and hire a new service merely because we looked too closely and presumed to know more about her family than she does. Trust me. Or, to keep from getting in trouble with her mother, sweet little Bethany will claim we stole the clothes.”

“Doesn't she care?” Emma asked Makenna.

“I don't know. And neither do you.” And with that, Makenna stuffed the beautiful clothes back into the trash can and handed it to Emma.

Emma did as she was supposed to do and emptied that trash can into the big plastic bag she was carrying from room to room. She so hoped she'd see some of those expensive new things on a homeless person. “If she were mine...”

“I'm sure you'd care enough to take her shopping, listen to her likes and dislikes and be a perfect mother. Congratulations to you.”

“I bet there are some homeless people who'd like to know where the best trash cans are,” she muttered when she was out of Makenna's earshot.

She didn't say another word but she could begin to see how you could become hard, cynical. If the dirt the clients left behind wasn't enough to turn you, the private lives they thought no one could see might.

“We need to be invisible,” Makenna reminded her. “We can't afford to be enmeshed with the client. It's not good for business.”

Emma was surprised no exposé had been written by a member of her Manhattan household staff. Had she and Richard been more clever in concealing how obscene their private lives were? Looking back she thought she'd been a very decent mistress of the house but it was true; she didn't remember the names of all the people who served them. She knew the housekeeper, the driver, the cook, her part-time assistant. The cleaning people changed regularly, the florist's delivery people were always different, she'd had seven different personal shoppers in five years.

They had been invisible to her.

* * *

At the end of the second week on Friday afternoon, she went with Makenna back to the office to pick up her car.

“Here's your schedule for next week. Meet your team here. You can take a van to your appointments. And Riley asked me to tell you she'd like to see you if you have some time.”

She was the boss. How could Emma not have time?

When she got up to the second floor, Jeanette was gone for the day and Riley's door was ajar. There was laughter coming from inside. Emma tapped lightly.

“Come in, come in,” Riley called. “Well, you look pretty decent for a Friday night.”

“I do?”

“You do,” she laughed. “Emma, this is Brazil Johnson, our accountant and CFO. We go way back. Brazil, this is Emma Shay and we go back even further—we first met in fourth grade.”

Brazil, a tall, lanky African American woman in jeans and crisp blouse with a scarf tied around her head, stood and put out a hand. “Emma,” she said. “I like that. Emma. Is it short for anything?”

Emma shook her head. “No, and I wasn't named for anyone that I know of.”

“I used to clean houses with Brazil,” Riley said. “We were almost the original team.”

“I'm happy to meet you,” Emma said.

“Come in and sit,” Riley invited. “Brazil isn't around the office too much and when she is I like to take advantage of her stories.”

“My mother is an invalid now,” Brazil explained. “I work from home as often as I can so I'm there for her. Most days she drives me out of my mind. But it's very good practice for me—might make me conscious of what it's like and keep me from burdening my daughter with the same.” She shook her head. “Woo-eee, Denise wouldn't put up with a tenth of what Mama gives me!”

“Denise is an attorney,” Riley said. “Also a single mother. So many of us.”

“Do you have children?” Brazil asked Emma.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It's just me.”

“Well, your old friend Riley has created a company that welcomes single parents and makes it easy for them to work at a decent wage. She should get a medal.”

“I'm thinking a statue in the town square,” Riley said with a laugh. “How's work going? Any problems or revelations?”

Emma was a little uncertain. She bit her lip for a moment. “Work is fine. Is there a suggestion box around here?”

Riley's eyebrows were raised in question. “You have a suggestion? Already?”

“Just a thought,” Emma said with some trepidation. “I understand why it's a bad idea to accept used clothing from clients...”

“It can be disastrous,” Riley said.

“I was wondering, if it was managed and there was a receipt from the donor so there wouldn't be any misunderstanding...”

“I don't think it's a good idea to have our clients think we're needy, Emma.”

“I understand, but the client doesn't have to know where donated clothing goes. In fact, we could send out a notice to clients saying that if they choose to donate to a variety of worthwhile outlets from shelters to dress for success organizations that help to clothe people for job interviews...”

“The clothes you were forced to throw away wouldn't have made it into donation, Emma,” Riley said. “That screwed up fifteen-year-old girl's clothes wouldn't have been donated. She was making a statement when she put them in the garbage.”

“You know about that, huh?” Emma said.

“There's very little I don't hear about,” Riley said. “I'm sorry, Emma. I think it's a bad idea.”

“If someone came to you and said, ‘Would you like to donate these nice clothes?' what would you think?” Brazil asked. “You'd think, ‘Why's that cleaning woman picking through my trash?' that's what.”

“Our clients want to think their cleaners don't need charity. They like thinking we don't see their castoffs, that we don't notice things like that.”

“Tempting though, ain't it?” Brazil said.

“It is,” Emma said.

“Look the other way, Emma,” Riley said. “Anything else on your mind?”

She shook her head.

“I'm glad it's going well for you. Makenna tells me you're doing a very good job.”

“Thank you,” she said. “The team does a very good job. They're good girls. Women.”

“That's all I have for you,” Riley said. “I just wanted to check in with you. And here's your check,” she added, handing Emma an envelope. “From now on Brazil will have your pay deposited in your account and Nick will give you the stub showing your deductions. Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks,” she said. And took her leave.

* * *

Emma had been in touch with Adam every day without fail. On those few nights they weren't together, they talked on the phone. Tonight Emma was going to Adam's house for dinner. When she was there, which had only been twice so far, she put her car in his garage so that if Riley drove by she wouldn't see it. When she arrived, he was busy in the kitchen, slicing and dicing, garlic being sautéed in the pan on the stove.

“It already smells wonderful.”

“I have something to tell you,” he said. “My mother asked me if I happened to have a phone number for you. She's planning to call you. I gave her the number. I hope you're okay with that.”

“Will she tell Riley?” Emma asked.

“You can ask her not to, Emma. I don't think Riley finding out we're seeing each other will be as much of a problem as you think.”

“It will be a problem for her, I guarantee it.”

“I hope you're wrong, but we'll do things your way. My mother wants to see you. She knows Riley has your number and she didn't ask her.”

“I don't know what's going to piss her off more—us being together or hiding it from her.”

* * *

Every time Emma's phone rang, she jumped. She looked at the caller ID and it was either Adam or Lyle. Then on Wednesday while she was working, her phone vibrated in her pocket and she didn't dare answer it, even though the home owners were not home. When they took their break between houses, she listened to the message.

“Emma, it's June Kerrigan. Adam gave me your number and I've been looking for a time I could ask you to dinner when it would be just us so we could talk, catch up with no interference from eavesdroppers or others. Maddie is having a sleepover Friday night so her mother will have to stay home with them. How I got out of sleepover duty, I'll never know, but finally the house is my own. Can you come to dinner? At about six? When you were a little girl you loved my fried spaghetti—it was your favorite and your little feelings were hurt if we had it without you. If I make fried spaghetti, will you come? I think I've waited long enough!”

Tears came to her eyes and she sniffed loudly enough that Shawna turned from the front seat and asked, “You okay, girl?”

“Yes, sorry. I just got the sweetest message from an old friend...”

“It your birthday or something?” Shawna asked.

“No,” she said, laughing. “She's going to make my favorite dish from when I was a little girl—fried spaghetti with pesto, black olives and pepperoni.”

And both women oohed and ahhed.

On Friday afternoon, immediately after work, she went to the flower shop. She'd called Lyle and asked him if he'd make a Christmas centerpiece for her to give to someone special. When she got to the flower shop the guys were both there. With the holidays upon them, they were keeping the shop open a little later and Lyle hadn't gotten around to her centerpiece.

“Who's getting my masterpiece?” Lyle asked.

“You have to promise not to tell,” she said. “June called me and invited me to dinner, just the two of us. Adam gave her my cell number.”

“Adam?” Lyle and Ethan said in unison.

“Yes, Adam—and you have to keep him a secret, too. It started out that he was a very nice and helpful friend. You know, a little glass of wine, a cell number in case I needed a hand with anything, lunch at a vineyard bistro, then...”

They were leaning toward her. “Then...?”

“It got a little...you know...romantic.”

“OMG, she's doing Adam, the love of my life,” Ethan said, swooning into Lyle.

“Get a grip,” Lyle said. “He's straighter than my hair.”

“He actually is,” Emma said. “Could you get on my page here? I'm reuniting with June tonight and I need a centerpiece. A lovely centerpiece. One that says I'm grateful for everything, for accepting me without questioning about Richard's crimes, for missing me, for welcoming me back, for still loving me.”

“I've had a crush on Adam since the first day I met him,” Ethan said.

She looked at Lyle. “What's going on here? Is Adam his hall pass?”

“It's completely meaningless,” Lyle said. “Adam couldn't be less interested in Ethan. Come on back to the playroom, Emmie. You can supervise my creation.”

“I'd love that,” she said.

“And why are we keeping Adam and June secret?” Lyle asked.

“Riley is my boss and until Riley invites me to join her and the family, I'm staying back. She's keeping me at arm's length. Maybe someday, but not someday soon. But I so miss June.”