The Life She Wants (3 page)

They sat in a small booth, ordered coffee and held hands across the table as they caught up on the more personal news. His wife had passed away a few years earlier, his grandsons were teenagers and he'd taken them on a few exciting trips. He was relieved to see her looking so well, as beautiful as ever and he was glad she was back. Finally, after about twenty minutes, he asked her if she could talk about it.

She tried to give him the bullet points; how shocked she was by the facts, stunned to learn she was married to a stranger, how the walls came tumbling down and Richard bailed out. “Once they were satisfied that I had nothing to do with the scheme, I was offered a settlement. My conscience wouldn't let me take it, of course.”

“Your father would have been proud of that,” Aaron said.

“If my father had witnessed that horrific takedown, he would have been mortified.”

“He was a staunch and conservative man,” Aaron said. “It sounds as if he would have approved of the way you chose to handle it. I hope your father's trust helped out a bit.”

She laughed. “What trust, Aaron? Rosemary said there wasn't much.”

“I seem to remember it being a tidy sum for his family.”

“Eighteen years ago, maybe,” Emma said.

He frowned. “I realize you were only a girl and John hadn't wanted the balances to be reported to anyone—it might've filled the three of you girls with fanciful notions, sent you out car shopping or something. But it was divided—your share and those of your sisters could only be used for health and welfare. Rosemary would have needed it to sustain the family, and there was tuition to pay, of course...”

Emma was shaking her head. “I borrowed and had a partial scholarship. She might've used it for education for Lauren and Anna.”

“Didn't Rosemary give you money for college?”

“She sent me spending money from time to time. Maybe she was afraid to touch the money, saving it for her old age. She ended up marrying a real jerk. They moved to Palm Springs.”

“Rosemary changed lawyers immediately,” Aaron said. “I have no idea what's happened in the last eighteen years, but you were due to inherit from your father's estate—half at the age of thirty and half at thirty-five. It was important to John that you learn to make your own way and earn a living before you came into any money or you'd have blown it on shoes or something.”

She smiled. “That sounds like him,” she said. “He was so cautious.”

“It was an irrevocable trust, Emma. As trustee, Rosemary could only use your portion on your needs, not on Anna's or Lauren's. Have you ever had an accounting done?” Aaron asked.

“Of what?”

“Of your father's estate. The terms of his will.”

“Aaron, I was married to one of the richest men in New York. Why would I worry about my father's will? He had a small office in a small town and lectured me if I threw a pen out before it was writing in invisible ink! I wouldn't call him a tightwad, but he didn't let go of a dime before he'd squeezed all the juice out of it.”

Aaron laughed. “It's true. And he married a woman who liked nice things...”

“Well, she didn't waste any money on me. After my first year of college I admitted defeat with Rosemary and hardly ever came home to visit. And you know what happened when I struck out on my own. I fell in love with and married a thief.”

“May I make a suggestion? You should ask for an accounting of your father's estate. There's still the house. It's a substantial house.”

“She said the mortgage alone was killing her,” Emma pointed out.

“Emma, the house was insured against your father's death. There was no mortgage. I still have a small practice, mostly just for old clients and friends. If I were your attorney, I could look into this.”

She started to laugh. “Oh, Aaron, you are so sweet. I can't afford an attorney! I'm working at a fast food restaurant! Besides, if there turned out to be something left of his estate after all these years, would I have to fight for it? Because I can't even consider going to court. Not ever again.”

“Here's what would happen. I would see her lawyer or accountant, petition for an accounting of the proceeds of the estate on your behalf, and if there turned out to be something left for you, you'd have to sue. It usually doesn't go that far unless there are millions at stake. If it's a small amount, the trustee is usually happy to settle to save money. And if there is anything, I won't charge a fee of any kind until you can afford it. It wouldn't be a contingency or percentage, just my usual fee. Which,” he said, laughing at himself, “is a steal.”

“Well, I won't be suing anyone, that's for sure. I won't even ask for anything from her—she hates me and at this point the feeling is mutual. I'm starting over. But you are kind and I appreciate your generosity.”

“Let's find out, Emma. There was once some money involved. And your father's house. That was a rich house, wasn't it? Everyone envied it.”

“He built it with my mother,” she said. “He never said but I think they hoped to have a few children.” She shook her head. “Even the idea of money makes me sick. I live in two rooms. I pinch my pennies in a way that would make John Shay so proud. And I can't bear the idea of owing you money for services that you're really doing as a favor.”

“If it turns out there's nothing there or if you choose not to pursue the recovery of it, my fee will be zero.”

Her eyes got a little round. “Why, Aaron, I think you wouldn't mind catching Rosemary with her hand in the cookie jar!”

“You found me out,” he said. “John was such a gentle man. She seemed to suck the life out of him.”

“I think he married Rosemary to have help with me,” she said. “It must have been so hard for him. And everyone who knew my mother loved her. I don't think people even like Rosemary. She's a hard woman.”

He was quiet for a moment. “John was a good friend. He was careful with his will. It would take months to get an answer, Emma. Months before you have to decide how to proceed. For your peace of mind, I'd be happy to look into this for you.”

She shrugged. “Why not? What can it hurt? I won't get my hopes up. If Rosemary was involved, I'm sure she's had a real party spending it. She quit working the week my dad died.”

“Then I have something important to do and it makes me so happy to do it for you.” He squeezed her hand. “I'm glad you came home, Emma.”

* * *

Lyle was finishing up for the day, standing at the counter while he looked at the orders for Saturday delivery. In August sales started picking up again after summer. In summer there weren't any floral holidays and people had their own blooms. Summer in Sonoma County was pure heaven.

The door to the shop opened and he smiled to see Riley Kerrigan come in. Took her long enough, he thought. He hadn't seen her in at least a couple of months. She looked fantastic, as usual. You'd never guess by looking at her that she owned a domestic and industrial cleaning service. She looked more like a bank executive or high-powered attorney. After all her years of secondhand clothes followed by scrimping to get by and build her business, Riley was making up for lost time in the wardrobe category.

“Hi,” she said. “I thought I might catch you before you left for the day. How's it going?”

“It's all good. How's everything at Happy Housekeeping?” he asked, knowing full well that was not the name of her business.

“Happy, happy, happy. So. Is she back?”

He nodded. “Over a month now,” he said. “Tell me something—did it take willpower to wait this long to ask?”

“I didn't expect her to call, if that's what you're getting at. How is she?” Riley asked.

“Doing very well, in spite of everything.”

Riley's smile was very small. “Emma has a way of bouncing back.”

“If she can bounce back from this, she's a superhero. She stayed in that apartment alone, slept on a cot, even though her husband's blood was all over his study. Because no one offered her a guest room, not even the legal team who were so well paid. And she wasn't safe in a hotel—too many victims of Richard's fraud threatened her. I offered to go out there but she wouldn't have it—she didn't want me in jeopardy. She made the drive to California by herself—she said she needed the time alone and away. Her husband has been dead a few months. It took her a month here to find a bad job. She says she's holding up very well. I'm amazed she's even standing.”

“I'm sorry she's going through this, but she wouldn't want my sympathy or my help. If you think of anything I can do without, you know, getting involved, let me know.”

“Sure,” he said. “She says she's over it, by the way. Your feud.”

“Me, too,” Riley said. “But still...”

“She said that, too.”

Riley smiled at her dear friend. They'd been the three musketeers in high school—Emma, Lyle and Riley. She gave a quiet laugh and shook her head. “Can I buy the man in the middle a drink?” she asked.

“By all means,” Lyle said. “I think she's forgiven you by now.”

“Good to know. I still hate her, but I'm not mad at her anymore.”

“Oh, great.” He started turning off lights. “Let's go drink.”

* * *

Riley stopped by the grocery after a glass of wine with Lyle. They'd been friends for a long time. Usually threesomes don't work very well, but in this case, Lyle being a guy and all, there was no issue. At least not until Emma and Riley had their epic breakup. Then Lyle was stuck in the middle, trying not to take sides. He'd managed to remain loyal to both women for sixteen years.

She was lost in thought, her hand absently palming a honeydew melon.

“I'm not sure if you're going to bowl with that or put it in your cart,” a male voice said.

She looked up and smiled. She'd seen this guy before. Starbucks, maybe. “Sorry,” she said, taking the melon, though she didn't really want it.

“They look good today, don't they?” he asked. “Hey, do you know where I can find roasted peppers? Fire roasted,” he said, consulting a list.

She shook herself for a second, coming back to grocery land and leaving thoughts of poor Lyle and their triangle far behind. “Um, over there with the olives are some prepared in the jar. That's all I know about.”

“Artichoke hearts?”

“Same place in the jar, or some in the frozen section.”

“Parmesan?”

She smiled at him. He was very good-looking. “You're making artichoke dip, aren't you? Let me see that,” she said. She glanced over the recipe. “There aren't any roasted peppers in this recipe.”

“I know—it's for something else. I'm just picking them up for a...a neighbor.”

“Thank goodness. Okay, be sure the artichokes are packed in water, add a half cup of mozzarella, a sprinkle of chili powder and a cup of chopped spinach and some lucky woman will propose.”

“Dynamite. Thank you,” he said, turning to go. Then he turned back and said, “Chili powder?”

“With the spices. Not too much, now.” She blessed him with a sweet smile. Then she resumed her vegetable shopping.
Hmm
, she thought.
A straight guy in the grocery store. If he were gay, he'd know how to make artichoke dip.

Her thoughts fled instantly back to Emma and Lyle. Well, they were going to have to share Lyle. He was the best friend she had.

Chapter Three

Emma faced an entirely new set of priorities. She was able to pick up extra hours at Burger Purgatory and in her spare time she looked for a better or second job. They kept her hours just under full-time to save costs on benefits, but she had to buy health insurance anyway—it was now the law. Terrified to touch that emergency money she had stowed away, she was stretching her money as far as it would go—rent for Penny took the top position because she was certain the elderly darling needed it. Plus, she needed a place to live while she starved to death. Utilities for her little bungalow was second and she conserved dramatically, even shortening the length of her hot showers, which was a huge sacrifice as she now smelled like French fries all the time. Car insurance and gas came next and only then did she buy food. She did manage to eat at the burger joint sometimes, though that was problematic. First of all, it wasn't part of the deal, but she noticed that all employees partook. There seemed to be an unwritten policy—they'll never miss a few fries, but let's not be obvious about it. And
never
in front of customers. Also, it was not healthy! It was calorie intense, carb heavy and salted to the max. After a few weeks, her pants felt uncomfortably tight and her ankles seemed chronically swollen.

September arrived and with the start of school, the teenage employees vacated the day hours, so at least she worked that shift. She was sure there had to be a better job for her somewhere and equally sure it wouldn't be easy to find it. Emma never thought of herself as having it easy while growing up—she held part-time jobs during high school and college, went to college on loans and scholarships, but she was given an old car to use to get to school and work. Still, she'd had it a lot easier than Riley had.

Her first couple of years in New York had been a real eye-opener—urban living was incredibly expensive. But she was a beautiful, single young woman in a city full of them and in no time she had roommates. She took the subway, learned all the cheap haunts for entertainment and had dates—quite a few of them. The thing about New York City—she never felt alone.

And here, in her two rooms in Sebastopol there was an interesting transformation—the girl who had wanted to design and decorate the interiors of mansions and five-star hotels found living simply to be a welcome pleasure. There was no flab in her life, no unnecessary junk to carry.

She had one dinner with Lyle and Ethan and it had been passably friendly on Ethan's part. She visited with Penny when Penny was enjoying the patio, but fall was approaching, the weather was getting cooler, so Penny wasn't outside as much. Penny's car was often gone; she was a very active senior and had many friends.

Emma walked through Sebastopol on her days off, anonymous and reluctant to look for work there for fear she'd alert them that the notorious widow was among them. She answered every ad for work in Sonoma County that paid more than minimum wage.

Sebastopol was lovely; old buildings and storefronts were brightly painted, many with their wares and fresh fruits and vegetables on sidewalk display. Ethan liked to put out big pots of fresh blooms, and Emma stopped there often, complimenting him lavishly, fully intending to win him over to her side. She loved buying two apples, two tomatoes and one banana at a time. She even occasionally splurged on a small bunch of flowers and when she did, she noticed Ethan gave her a discount and Lyle smiled slyly.

And, after eight weeks, when the leaves were just beginning to turn, she went home from Burger Brain-Bleed, hungry and swollen, smelling like grease and body odor, and lay down on her bed and cried. If this was what her life was going to look like from now on, she wasn't sure she had the stamina for it. And she was damned afraid if she started dipping into her precious nine thousand dollars, she could end up homeless.

Spoiled
, the devil on her shoulder chided her.
You said walking away from the money was the least of your concerns, but did you really mean it? Because here you are, working for a living like the rest of the world and you can't take it!

She was immediately ashamed. So she got in the shower to cry, trying to hide from her conscience. Then she got out and dried her hair and heard that voice again.
If you think it's hard busting your ass for minimum wage, think about how you'd feel when you learn your life savings is gone. That it was spent on a second home in Aruba and a private jet.

“I can't do this,” she said aloud. “Please, it wasn't my fault. Please.”

* * *

The next afternoon, while she was wiping down tables in the burger joint, she saw a familiar face. Actually, she saw the familiar back of a head. She knew it was him; she'd know that thick, willful brown hair anywhere. Adam Kerrigan, Riley's brother. He was with a teenage girl who had to be Maddie, Riley's daughter. She took a couple of steps, smile on her face, then stopped herself suddenly. What if he hated her? Adam had kept in touch for a while after Emma's falling out with Riley, but when she married Richard she didn't hear from him anymore.

But why should he hate her? Because of what Richard had done? Would he, like so many others, assume she knew what was going on? Or that she had some stash just waiting for the heat to fade?
Let's just find out
, she thought.
Let's find out right now.

“Adam?” she asked.

He looked up, his mouth full of burger. His eyes were round and surprised. He chewed and swallowed quickly and the girl covered her mouth as she laughed at him. He wiped his lips with a napkin. “Emmie Cat?” he asked in disbelief, falling back on an old pet name he'd given her when they were kids. It was short for Emma Catherine.

The nickname reassured her and made her smile. “It's me. How are you?” He started to get up. “No, no,” she said with a laugh. “Don't get up.” And she slid onto the plastic bench at the table across the aisle from him, hanging on to her cleaning rag.

“You work here?” he asked.

“I do,” she said. “And believe me, I do work. No wonder this place runs on teenagers. They're the only ones with the energy to keep up. How are you?”

“I'm well, thanks. Emma, this is Maddie. Maddie, meet Emma Shay. We went to school together.”

“Although he's much older,” Emma teased. He was, in fact, three years older.

“How long have you been back?” he asked. And he asked with a distinct absence of hostility.

“A couple of months. Remember Lyle? He found me a little place I could rent and it seemed like the logical thing to do.”

“Of course I remember Lyle. I see him all the time. How is it? Being back after all this time?”

She shrugged. “Tough,” she said. “But tell me all about you. I confess, I haven't been in touch so I have no idea—”

“Excuse me,” Maddie said. “I'm going to take a quick run to the ladies' room while you two visit.” She grinned impishly. “I'll try to stretch it out.” And with that, she slid out of the booth and left them alone but for the half dozen customers at the counter.

Emma smiled. “She's so beautiful, Adam. And so sweet.”

“She is,” he agreed.

“And how about you? Did you marry?”

She thought his expression was sweet and maybe a little sad. “I came close a couple of times, but it wasn't in the cards. Uncle duty keeps me busy enough.”

“Isn't Jock around?”

“Sure, he's around now and then. He was briefly married when Maddie was very young and...well, no one knows better than you how hard it can be if the chemistry isn't right with the stepmother...”

Only too well
, she thought. And suddenly she fought tears. Not because she was faced with the child of her best friend and boyfriend.
Ex-
friend and
ex-
boyfriend. Conceived while she was away at college. “Wow,” she said, her eyes having gone a little liquid. He would probably think she wept from some long-ago broken heart, but that had nothing to do with it.

Adam surprised her by reaching out, putting a big hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn't have stayed so out of touch, Emmie Cat. Fifteen years is too long for old friends.”

“Uncle Adam,” she said uncomfortably, looking down and giving her eyes a wipe.

“Well, it turns out it really does take a village,” he said with a laugh. “Riley, me, my mom, Jock—it was a community effort. Worked out pretty well,” he added. “Maddie is an awesome kid.”

“I bet you're an awesome uncle.”

“I do my best. I teach high school so I'm kind of an expert on her species. And Jock works at an electronics store so we have all the phones and toys and laptops we need.”

“The same store he worked at way back when?” she asked.

“Same one, but he's a manager now.”

“And you're still teaching?” Emma asked. “I guess you chose the right profession if you're still at it.”

“I think that's a yes. Listen, I'm sorry about everything you went through. Condolences, Emmie.”

“Thank you.”

“There were a hundred times I thought about getting in touch, not knowing how you were holding up. When I did finally get to it, your number had changed so I just checked with Lyle now and then. Everyone knows you had nothing to do with anything...illegal.”

“Thank you, again.”

“We were just talking about you a few weeks ago, wondering if you had made it back home. We were remembering the old days.”

“We?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Me. Mom. Riley. This is a coincidence, running into you here, like this.”

A tall, skinny kid came over to the table. “Taking a break, Ms. Shay?” he asked.

“Just answering a couple of questions for a customer, Justin.”

“Can I help?” Justin asked, turning to Adam.

“I don't believe so,” Adam said authoritatively. “I'll just take a moment of Emma's time. If you'll excuse us.”

Justin looked taken aback, but then he turned and left them.

“He's a despot,” she quietly informed Adam. “But jobs are in short supply, it seems.”

“Could you use a letter of recommendation?” he asked.

She stood. “I could use a do-over,” she said. “But thanks for asking. Do you teach around here?”

He shook his head. “Napa. High school science. I'm playing a little hooky with Maddie today. We were at the DMV so she could take her test for her learner's permit. Riley wanted to do it but the truth is, Riley and Maddie don't do well in the car together so Maddie prefers driving with me or with Jock, and he's working this afternoon. Of course Maddie couldn't wait. When do you get off work?”

“Not until nine, why?”

“We should have a cup of coffee or glass of wine, talk about how you'd like me to word that letter of recommendation.”

Maddie was back, sliding into their booth.

“Oh...ah... Listen, you don't know what you're suggesting...”

“I don't? Why not? We're still friends, right?”

“It's not that... Well, it's partly that since, you know...” She took a breath. She wasn't going to say in front of this sweet fifteen-year-old,
That's my boyfriend's baby and probably the major reason I went off the rails in the first place.
She leaned closer to Adam. “Take a whiff of this place. This is what I smell like after work.”

He threw back his head with a hearty laugh. “See you later,” he said.

She meandered back behind the counter, kind of dazed. Half of her wanted to run and hide—being around Adam would only serve to remind her of the past and all she'd lost. But the other half was elated. Could she and Adam be friends? They'd talked a few times after Maddie was born, but their conversations had been so superficial, both of them afraid to let the standoff she had with Riley taint the relationship she had with Adam, who she had always so admired. Truth was, she'd always wondered if Adam had kept in touch out of guilt over what his sister had done.

She'd done all right in the friends department during college and her first years as a single woman in New York, but she'd always kept people at a safe distance, afraid to trust again.

That was perhaps the deepest wound of all.

* * *

Emma's earliest memory of Adam was him standing by the fence outside the school playground to make sure Riley got home all right. Even before she realized she liked Riley, she wished she had a big brother like Adam. When she left Burger or Bust that night, he was across the parking lot, leaning against the hood of his SUV, arms crossed over his chest. Waiting. He looked like an older version of that twelve-year-old boy. Except he looked a lot happier now, like maybe the chip on his shoulder was gone.

Yeah, that's what it had been—that serious, stubborn, perhaps fearful boy in his scuffed shoes and torn jacket, left to take care of the family after his father had died. Emma had worried about this faux date all afternoon until she saw him and then realized she was always thinking about herself, her troubles. She was always afraid of being found out, exposed, blamed. But Adam had been only a kid when he lost a parent, but a kid old enough to understand and remember his loss. And he'd been so brave, always looking out for his mother and sister. He was right there at St. Pascal's until high school, but even when he was older and went to a different school, he was so often on hand to watch over Riley. And Emma, as well.

“I can't believe you're really here,” she said. “You have a date with someone who smells like burgers and fries.”

“I think we'll get through it. How do you feel about a glass of wine or a drink?”

“I'd love a glass of wine.”

“Great. Where do you hang your hat these days?”

“A little spot in Sebastopol. Not too far from Lyle's.”

“Perfect. I know just the place, right on the way to your place. Follow me?”