The Life She Wants (20 page)

“Hello?” she said again. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and turned off the car. “Let me get you on my cell. Okay. Here I am.”

“I know who you are,” she said again. “The cleaner.”

“Oh. Uh. I'm sorry I read your page. I'm not supposed to.”

“I know. I left it where you would see it.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “You want to talk?”

“I go to the counselor twice a week to talk and that hasn't done any good.”

“Oh, I'm glad, you have someone. Why isn't it any good?” Emma asked.

She was met with silence and she thought,
I'm an idiot. I should have apologized, asked her not to tell, confessed to Riley again and—

“Because they don't want to talk to me, they have to. They're paid to.”

“Ah,” Emma said. “I understand.”

“Now I think you're doing it. You some kind of spy?”

“No,” Emma said, laughing a little in spite of herself. “I'm a cleaner who's going to get in big trouble for touching your personal property. I apologize.”

“Why'd you do it, then?”

“Well... Well, there have been times I had no one to talk to. Really, no one. And I had a lot on my mind. A lot of worries and no one to listen and I know how that feels.”

“Like when?”

“Well...when I was sixteen, my dad died in an accident. I didn't have a mom. I felt kind of alone then.” It was a lie. She had the Kerrigans, though she was still shot through with pain and grief. Emma was trying to understand what this girl might be up against.

“Did you have a sister?” she asked.

“Ah...I had a stepsister. And a stepmother. It was a dark period.” She cleared her throat. “Do you have a sister?”

“No. They figured out after me that there couldn't be more kids,” she said. “My mother is dead. And I have a stepmother. I hear she's wonderful.”

“Oh? You don't sound like you believe it.”

“I guess,” she said. “My stepmother says this family is getting back in the groove.” She laughed. “How'm I doing getting back in the groove so far?”

Emma bit her lower lip. She knew nothing about this sort of thing. She'd never even been to a counselor before Lucinda. June and Riley were the nearest things to counselors she'd ever had.

But she'd had a stepmother. “Do you like your stepmother?” she asked.

“I want to. She's a good person. But I try and I can't.”

“Why?”

“Really? Really, why?”

“Only if you want to say,” Emma said. “You can talk about something else if you—”

“She wears my mother's clothes.”

Emma felt her stomach cramp and her throat closed. She couldn't speak. No one was that insensitive. No one. Not the stupidest person. Even Rosemary had been more subtle than that.

“She asked if she could,” Bethany said. “We said yes. My dad and me. But my mother's dead and she's wearing her clothes.”

“What did that counselor say?” Emma asked.

“The counselor asked me if I thought she was trying to replace my mother and that's why I was upset.”

“But you told the counselor why you were upset, right?” Emma asked.

“I was upset because she was wearing my mother's clothes!” she said, her voice suddenly strong. “They'll be worn out pretty soon and she'll have to get new ones. I hope, but I don't think so.”

“Did you tell your dad it bothers you?” Emma asked.

“My dad is...you know...he's not the same. I can tell even if he smiles all the time and acts like we all just got tickets to the Ice Capades, it's all fake. Inside he's just so sad. He can't do anything.”

Emma's cheeks were wet with tears. “You should tell him, though. You shouldn't just hurt inside without anyone to talk to. Your dad wouldn't want you to do that.”

“I have you,” she said.

“But—”

“Except I don't know your name or anything.”

I should call Adam tonight and we should have a good dinner and maybe two bottles of wine and a long night in each other's arms because I'm going to be looking for work very, very soon.

“I'm Emma,” she said. “And I've been alone and sad, too. But I'm not right now so I can talk to you. Except I'm not allowed to use my phone during work—during the day. I'm off at five. And on weekends.”

“This weekend is Christmas,” she said sadly. “It's a little harder at Christmas.”

“I know, honey.”

“I need to go,” she said. “I'll call you sometime.”

“Okay. And you can leave a message if I'm working. Or in the shower or something.”

“Or text?” Bethany asked.

“Sure. But hey. Let's talk. Okay? It's what you want to do.”

“Yeah. I think. Don't tell them, okay?”

“I'm not telling them.”
I hope. I might have to, but let's see
.

* * *

“This Emma seems like an interesting character,” Logan said.

Riley smiled. They were at the restaurant, chatting about nothing at all. “You made it all the way to the antipasto,” she said.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all. I've been expecting you to say something. You kind of came to life when Emma showed up.”

“Did I? I think I came to life when she recognized me but I didn't really remember her. Could the world get any smaller?”

“This is a small place. And Emma is very pretty,” Riley said. “Unforgettable.”

“She did the right thing, you know,” he added.

“When there's trouble of some kind, I like it if they go through me. Or Nick. Nick is brilliant with situations like that. He's not a big guy—he's a short, stocky Italian—but he manages to seem six foot six if he has to. To the women who work for us he's a sweetheart until they push him too far, try to take advantage of him, then he's great at getting serious and making his point firmly. Not meanly, but firmly. With the men, he's one of the guys until they try to take advantage and then he's clearly the boss. No one wants to mess with Nick. He's got a look. A scrappy look. Often a potential client will get an estimate from Nick and then come to me, looking to sweet-talk the lady boss into a better, cheaper deal.” She laughed and shook her head. “It hasn't worked even once.

“I'd have liked it if Nick had been there when the police came,” she went on. “I'd have liked it if Nick and I were both there when the police confronted Mr. Andrews, but that's asking for a miracle.”

“I'm sure they found him,” Logan said. “He'll turn up at work or a bar or come to the hospital to try to offer up some lame excuse for beating the shit outta his wife.”

“What will happen to him?” she asked.

“He'll go to jail,” Logan said, spearing an artichoke heart with his fork.

“His wife might think to make peace by denying—”

“There was a witness and evidence of a beating. You think the police don't know what she's up against? They know what she'll say, what she'll do and they've heard it all before. By now she's as messed up as he is. There are two lawbreakers who can't make bail—battery domestic violators and drunk drivers. They get to spend the night. In the first case so their victim has time to get away if he or she will do so and in the second case, to sober up.”

Riley thought about that. “That's very clever of the police,” she finally said. “Here I thought abusers and drunks could get away with stuff all the time.”

“They do, even with all the stops in place. But we're awful smart. We know how they think and act.”

“You are smart,” she agreed with a laugh.

“So tell me about Emma,” he said.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked.

“Because you're friends,” he said.

Riley scooped some more greens from the salad on her plate, focusing on the antipasto and not him. “We're not friends, actually. I've known her for a long time but she has only recently come back to Santa Rosa after being away for years. She needed a job. That's pretty much it.”

“Oh, no, it's not,” he said, laughing. “You two have some kind of important relationship that goes beyond work.”

“Is that so? And how would you know that?”

He shrugged. “Experience. Body language. Tone of voice. Eye contact. The way you two respond to each other. There was a lot of chemistry in your office for a little while.”

“Sassy,” she said, lifting her eyebrows. “You're a smarty-pants, aren't you? We were friends, in younger years.”

“I thought so.”

“We went to school together. But Emma went away to college, moved away after college, got married and just recently returned. After the death of her husband.”

“Aw,” he said, chewing. “She's young. That's sad.”

“I gather it was a bad marriage.”

“Abusive?”

“Why would you ask that?” Riley wanted to know.

“It would explain her sensitivity to that woman being abused.”

“Huh,” she said. “And I thought I was intuitive. But I don't know if the marriage involved that kind of abuse. Her husband was not a good man, I hear. And he killed himself. As soon as she buried him and sorted out her affairs, she came back here. I suppose she feels comfortable here where she still has a few friends.”

Logan whistled. “Suicide. That's ugly.”

“I suppose that would be hard to deal with even if you hated the guy.”

“Yeah. I hope he left her something...”

“I doubt it. If he'd left her anything, would she be cleaning houses?”

“Were you and Emma close friends in younger years? Because even though you're the boss and she's the employee, I detected something—like an element of familiarity. Intimacy.”

“Intimacy?”
she asked, aghast.

“Not sexual intimacy. Or maybe it was trust.”

“From her?” Riley asked, a bit incredulously.

“Well, from both of you. If you looked anything alike, I'd make you out to be sisters. There was that familial give and take, like sibling love/hate. You know what I'm talking about, we all have it. I can call my sister a bitch but no one else can. There was... You know each other very well.”

She smiled at him. “We were good friends as kids. But that was a long time ago. We haven't even been in touch in over fifteen years. Don't you love the Riviera antipasto? Isn't it the best there is? We should have gotten the bruschetta, which is also the best there is.”

He put his elbows on the table, leaned forward and smiled at her. “If there's something you'd rather not talk about, you can just say so.”

“When I'm on a date, which I so rarely am, I'd rather not talk about another woman,” Riley said. “Besides, if your secret motive is that you'd like to date her, I believe she's taken. And I'm not one bit happy about it, either.”

His eyebrows shot up and his eyes were as round as saucers. One look at him and she knew he wasn't going to let that one go.

“Do not be a tease,” he said.

Riley sighed in defeat. “I suspect she's seeing my brother. Adam said he ran into her, that it was really great to see her again after so many years. They went out for a glass of wine and he passed on one of my business cards. I said she'd never call me for a job, never work for someone she'd felt kind of competitive with when we were kids. Not nasty competitive, not rivals, nothing like that, but still... Adam's been curiously busy and stupidly happy lately...”

That made Logan smile. “Why Riley, you little witch.”

“Well, she works for me! Do you think I want to see her at every family function? That would be a little complicated, don't you think?”

The waiter was just passing by and tried to snatch the antipasto platter and Logan stopped him. “We're still working on this, but I'll have another beer and I think the lady will be ready for more wine in a few minutes. Thanks.” Then to Riley he said, “I think there's more to it than that, but I don't want to screw up the rest of our date. I like the way our dates end—slowly with lots of personal contact. So... How about those Lakers?”

“I didn't want to give her a job
and
my brother,” she said.

He reached for her hand. “I thought she was a good-looking woman and have absolutely no interest in dating anyone but you. You're a showstopper, Riley. And I want to make out with you like mad.”

“I might be falling out of the mood,” she said.

“Drink more wine,” he urged. “We're going to be on hiatus over Christmas and by the time we get to— Hey, should we make plans for New Year's Eve?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Can I check with my daughter first? I want to be sure she's not on the loose while I'm partying with you.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Here comes dinner. And save a little room for the tiramisu. Damn, does that look good or what?” He gave her hand another squeeze. “Come on, baby. Let's get in the same canoe here. Tonight's about us. I want to impress you with my manners, good taste, brilliance and sexual allure.”

She laughed at him. “I don't want to hear another word about your sexual allure. Especially in front of the waitstaff.”

“Killjoy. Some women find the spectacle of a man willing to make a fool of himself in public very titillating.”

“Do they, now?”

“You know they do, Riley.” And he winked.

* * *

Logan had learned something tonight, like what an idiot he could be. First of all, a detective with a working brain would have waited for her to bring up Emma before homing in on her and their friendship. And second, whatever was in their past was enough to take Riley to another place and nearly ruin the evening. Maybe he wasn't smart enough to balance a budding relationship and a case because he was hot for Riley. He liked her in a way he hadn't liked a woman in a long time.