The Life She Wants (23 page)

“No! To put our family together the way it should be! To be with you! But you never got over blaming me for all your problems. Me and Emma. So let me clear that up right now—we all make our own messes and as messes go we got real damn lucky. We got ourselves a beautiful fifteen-year-old mess who's going to do great things with her life in spite of us.”

“You didn't want me,” she said. “You were married six months later!”

“Yeah, another brilliant move of mine. I was so hungry for someone to love me, to want me, I married the first woman who convinced me I was trusted, that I was desirable. It lasted less than a year but it was over in a day.”

“Bullshit. Women have always wanted you!”

“Just not the right one! Don't you get it, Riley? I did my best. My best has never been good enough.”

“Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself. Maddie's proud of you.”

“Kids will do that.”

“She nearly ruined the first dinner we had with Logan. All she did was brag about you. It was very uncomfortable.”

Jock smiled. “I'll have to thank her. She run him off?”

Riley raised her chin. “No. He doesn't scare easily, I guess. I'm going to go,” she said, feeling exhausted.

“The next time you want to talk, give me about forty-eight hours advance warning, okay?”

Chapter Seventeen

After leaving Jock's, Riley had herself a hard cry, something she hadn't done in quite a while. It felt as though everyone was showering love on Emma and just not acknowledging how this might affect her, how she might feel like the bad girl, being punished all over again. Left out and unloved. Damn Emma! Had she come back and taken over Riley's support group?

She felt like a thirteen-year-old girl. A baby. An ogre who tried to prevent Adam and her mother from embracing their old friend. Tried and failed and now they knew how selfish and mean Riley could be.

At midnight she heard her phone chime with an incoming text. It was Logan.

Just wondering if everything is okay?

Crap! She'd never called him. Although she was in bed and had a stuffy nose, she called him.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I'm fine. I got caught up in a difficult family discussion. You know how those things can sneak up at holidays.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “My dad and I usually entertain the family by acting like assholes. We did pretty well this year. We stayed on opposite sides of the room and there wasn't too much friction.

“It's funny, here we are, twenty-five years later and I'm still a pissed-off little boy. Everyone else has forgiven him and let him back in the family. My mom and dad are as close to being a couple without being one as you can get. They're not remarried or anything, but he's at every family thing. I think he should be shunned.”

“Gee, only twenty-five years?”

“You're probably not going to believe this, but I'm actually a pretty easygoing guy. I think. I wouldn't have a problem in the world if my mother just hated him.”

“Sadly, I understand completely. Let's talk tomorrow,” she said. “I've had such a long day.”

“Sure,” he said. “And, Riley? We have a new year ahead of us. Let's make it a good one, okay?”

“Absolutely, Logan.”

What a nice guy, she thought. She snuggled back into the covers. But she didn't think about Logan. She wanted to. A smart woman would make something positive out of that relationship.

Why do people do these things on the holidays? she asked herself. Why couldn't Jock have saved his outburst for another time, another day?

Jock's outburst?
her conscience mocked her.
You started it! You always start it!

Maybe she should start to admit it if only to herself. She was so scared and hurt, felt so alone even though she had Adam, her mother and her grandparents for a little while after Maddie was born. When she wasn't crying she was bitching. In the beginning, when she was pregnant, Jock didn't come around much. When Maddie was born he only came around when he felt safe, when Adam wasn't around. He often visited Maddie when June was watching her because June might've been unhappy with Jock but she was never mean. Though he didn't come to see the baby on a schedule or often, he did come regularly. And he called. He called Riley until he could just call Maddie.

It seemed like forever that every time she saw him her heart ached and her throat burned with tears she wouldn't shed. But she got over it. As she grew older and met more and more women who were raising children on their own, she learned how to bear it.

But it left her hardened and somewhat bitter. She didn't want to be that way. Here she was, the mother of a beautiful and brilliant daughter with everything in the world to be grateful for and she could behave in the most ungrateful manner sometimes.

It had had the opposite effect on Jock. Having Maddie had sweetened him. Mellowed him and made him more mature.

I made one mistake
, she thought wearily.
And it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Yet I've managed to suffer for it for years. How do I stop it?
How has Jock moved on with grace?

How has Emma?

Just before falling asleep she remembered,
I fell for you
, he had said.
I was never good enough for you
, he had said. Was that what he'd said? She must've misunderstood.

* * *

Emma wasn't at all unhappy with the quiet way she spent the holiday weekend. On Christmas Eve she went with Lyle and Ethan to Ethan's sister's house for dinner. Given that Lyle and Ethan had their own flower shop, a centerpiece wouldn't do, so she borrowed Penny's kitchen and recipes and made crab croquettes and a cheese ball. It was a rather hectic and noisy evening; Ethan's sister was pregnant and his niece was two. Emma enjoyed the two-year-old for about an hour and then started to wonder how young mothers did it—the toddler was tired, cranky, hungry, restless and generally bad. One of her first rebellious acts was to pitch the cheese ball at their Labrador retriever.

“Yeah, this is about ninety percent of the time these days,” Ethan said.

“I don't think I was prepared for how fast a two-year-old can move,” Emma said.

“Watch your valuables,” Lyle said. “She swallowed Mommy's diamond engagement ring about six months ago.”

“It's okay, I got it back,” Ethan's sister yelled from the kitchen.

“Ewww,” Emma and the two men said together.

When she got home at nine that night, Adam was waiting for her. She regaled him with stories of dinner and the fate of her cheese ball. She insisted he open his gifts; she wanted him to try on his new slippers. He liked the book and sweater and had a gift for her, a very big box. Inside was a black waterproof trench coat, a very stylish maxi length with a belt. She told him to wait right where he was. She took it to her little bedroom to try it on and when she came back he admired the sleek design with her pumps. Then she untied the belt, opened the coat and flashed him with her nakedness. Although they roared with laughter, it only took a minute for it to be replaced with the sound of kissing and panting, the new coat on the floor on one side of the bed, Adam's clothes on the other.

On Christmas morning she woke up to see Adam raised up on an arm, watching her. “I've made a decision,” he said. “I've decided to wake up like this every Christmas morning.”

“Ah. Will Santa approve?”

“I'm very nice,” he said. “And you're a little naughty. Sounds perfect to me.”

While Adam did his family thing, Emma relaxed, gathering her strength in the quiet of the day. She'd been warned that the week following Christmas was sheer hell at work. Some of their clients had been out of town over the holidays but many more had extra people in, company from out of town, lots of refuse from the gift exchanging, greasy and splattered kitchens from the constant cooking and baking. School was still on break until after New Year's, which meant general messiness everywhere and a tougher time cleaning while stepping over people.

And there were a few things she was eager to find out. First, was Bethany okay? She hadn't called since before Christmas, but the Christensen house was one of the first on her schedule for Monday. When they arrived, she ran right up the stairs, tapped quietly on Bethany's bedroom door and when the girl told her to come in, she stuck her head in. “Okay?” she asked quietly.

Bethany gave her a sheepish smile. “Okay,” she answered.

“Was it a nice Christmas?”

She nodded. “And I saw my grandparents. I'm just so glad it's over. I feel so much more in control now.”

“Life will be easier now, I think,” Emma said. “Holidays are always a bit tough when you've had losses. You have my number.”

“I do. I'll call you.”

When Emma was pulling the door closed she turned and came face-to-face with Shawna, who was frowning. “You're gonna make trouble for yourself,” she predicted.

“It'll be all right,” Emma said, because that's what she'd been telling herself.

The Christensen home reminded her a little bit of her own New York apartment—spacious, pristine, the furnishings rich and carefully chosen, and while it was filled with warm colors and dark wood, you could almost feel the emptiness. It was too quiet. Homes were made to be filled with conversation and laughter and even arguing from time to time. It was too clean, too orderly. It felt so lonely here.

Emma, Shawna and Dellie got busy and as predicted, there was more cleaning than usual. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had not canceled the cleaning service. Nick caught up with them on Tuesday to tell them he was sending a different crew and he would be watching closely to be sure there wasn't any trouble. He wouldn't allow Emma's crew to return to that volatile house. “For two cents, I'd cancel them,” Nick said. “For now I'll be keeping a very close eye on that house.”

At the end of the week when they were nearly finished with the last house, Riley texted Shawna and asked that the three of them stop by the office when they returned to turn in the van. They found a full staff gathered—Nick, Makenna, Riley and her young assistant, Jeanette.

“Come in, please,” Riley said. “Something terrible has happened and I wanted to tell you. You'll hear about it tonight if you watch the news. Mr. Andrews is dead. It appears Mrs. Andrews shot him. The police have taken her into custody.” Riley cleared her throat. “Our crew let themselves in and found them.”

Emma actually swooned against Shawna. “Dear God,” she whispered.

“Here, sit down,” Nick said.

“That man probably got what he had coming,” Shawna said. “He was beating that woman.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Emma asked.

“We've had a delicate situation or two over the years. One of our clients was found unconscious—he had a stroke and went to the hospital and from there into a special care home. Nothing like this. People don't just have dust and dirt,” Riley said. “They have complex personal lives. Some of them have serious problems. And we're in their private space. We have to be vigilant and blind—it's a very difficult balance. I'm sorry this happened.”

“The other crew,” Emma said. “Are they okay?”

“Not at all,” Nick said. “It was Cora, Maria and Connie—and they're shook up. They're going to take Monday and Tuesday off and if they need to see someone, like a counselor, we'll find someone.”

“Was it horrid?” Dellie asked.

“One bullet in the back of his head,” Nick said. “He still had the TV remote in his hand. Looked like it might've happened much earlier or even the night before.”

“Ew, that ain't gonna play good for her,” Shawna said.

“Had he been beating her again?” Emma asked.

Everyone shrugged.

“I'm sure we'll get more information as time passes. I just wanted to be sure to tell you personally since you know the couple and had some dealings with them and the police. Everyone okay?”

“Sure,” Dellie said. “They have kids, you know. Grown kids in their twenties.”

“I know. Emma?”

“Yes. Fine.” She shuddered, remembering Richard. Remembering the cruelty of his suicide. The horrific sight. The smell of blood and gun powder. His open eyes and gallons of blood. The smell of death and all its atrocities. “Fine,” she said again, standing.

“Then I think we're finished here. Nick, you'll let me see that memo before you send it out to our crews.”

“Definitely.”

“Thanks, everyone.”

Emma lingered as people slowly left, talking among themselves. When Riley was alone behind her desk, gathering up her purse and briefcase, she approached. “Um, excuse me. When would be a good time to talk? There's something I should tell you.”

“Is it going to upset me?” Riley asked.

“Probably.”

Riley hesitated. “Sit down. Let's get it over with.”

Emma told Riley about Bethany's house, Bethany so frail and pale, Emma leaving her phone number and Bethany calling it. “You have got to be kidding me,” Riley said.

Emma shook her head. “And I don't regret it. She sounds better since the holiday is past, but I have no idea how to help her. The family situation sounds so sad—her stepmother wearing her dead mother's clothes? My God, I don't know what to say or do. I just know that it won't help her if I cut her off, if I don't take her calls. Mostly I just listen. Are you going to fire me?”

“You've put me in a terrible position here,” she said. “You know perfectly well I can't fire you. My family will only come down hard on me if I do that. My mother, who I have learned you've been seeing, my brother, who is your current champion...”

“Adam has been a good friend. He's the one who suggested your company, which, by the way, I happen to like.” She laughed and shook her head. “I actually look forward to work. The girls I work with are fantastic. The clients range from difficult to weird to sweet. Some of them I would actually miss.”

“Employees with a high school education and citizenship usually stay with this company for an average of nine months. And I am stuck with you.”

“I should think it would give you great satisfaction,” Emma said. “But tell me truly, Riley. Just for a second put aside whatever differences we've had and tell me—if you'd been in my position and saw that note, would you have done something? Anything? You have a fifteen-year-old daughter—what if she were that lonely? And had no one? Would you wish someone had answered her call, even if it was a lowly cleaning lady?”

“First of all, cleaning ladies are not lowly. Haven't you learned yet? We know more about our clients than they know about each other! Second, I don't know that I'd have done
that
!
”

“Oh, you would, too,” Emma said. “Just as you'd have called the police on Mr. Andrews.”

“I wouldn't have left my number,” Riley asserted. Then her own phone chimed. She looked at it and pressed a button, sending it to voice mail. “I admit I would have watched. Waited. Tried to think of a solution. A counselor...”