The Life She Wants (5 page)

“How'd you end up with Richard Compton?” he asked.

“Oh, the usual way. I met him when I was out with friends. In a restaurant. I was in the bar with my girlfriends and he was having dinner with clients. We had a nice conversation. He was clearly interested, which was flattering. He asked for my number and I wouldn't give it to him. I took his business card but he intimidated me, so I didn't plan to call him. A few weeks later he showed up in the store where I worked—he'd been back at that restaurant and one of my friends told him where I worked. I made him work really hard for a date, but honestly? I was completely smitten. Richard was very handsome, very classy. So charming. You don't weasel people out of a hundred million dollars by being an asshole. He could charm the pants off anyone.

“I didn't know how rich my husband was when I married him. I mean, I knew he was successful and lived well, but I didn't know much more than that. I certainly didn't know he was getting rich illegally. Had I known, do you think I could have stayed with him? But it's not like I ever saw a tax return. I didn't have a key to a safe-deposit box or anything. I didn't know there was a safe in his study. I guess because there was another larger and visible safe, the police never expected it, either. It was hidden behind a bookcase. Richard was not what you'd call transparent.”

Adam frowned. “Didn't you sign the tax return?”

She shook her head. “We filed separate returns—Richard took care of it. There was a prenup, a generous prenup that would settle me with more money than I'd ever know what to do with. Of course I came to understand about his wealth, that he could afford almost anything. He never questioned what I needed.”

In vitro, Emma? What the hell. Knock yourself out.

But, Richard, you'll have to have a few tests...

No problem. I'll schedule us with the best doctor in the city.

“This is a whole new world,” she said. “No one is going to pity me, learning how to live on two hundred a week after nine years with a Manhattan apartment and a vacation home in the islands. But... Well. Once I get a second job or a decent first job, things should be easier.”

Adam smiled at her. “I'll keep my eyes open,” he promised. “If you find something around here and need a strong letter of recommendation...”

“You're going to say you're pretty sure I'm not a bad person?” she asked.

“I'll say I've known you almost my whole life and have always known you to be strong, smart, honest and reliable.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and withdrew a card. He wrote something on the back and handed it to her. “My cell number. I don't very often find myself at the Burger Bomb in south Santa Rosa. Call anytime.”

She turned it over and saw it was a business card. Kerrigan Cleaning Services.
Industrial, business, residential. Riley Kerrigan, President and CEO.

Emma looked up into his eyes with a question.

“The work is hard but she pays over minimum wage and promotes from within the company. She's a good leader.” He shrugged. “If desperation for rent and food ever take precedence over bad feelings about the past.”

“Never gonna happen, Adam,” she said, handing back the card.

He closed his hand around hers, refusing to take it. “The first thing you're going to have to learn about scrabbling to get back on your feet—never turn your nose up at an opportunity. Especially for pride's sake.”

“You're reading me all wrong,” she said. “I don't have any pride left. But I do have to protect myself in the clinches.”

“As you should. And know this—my sister has done a lot for women, women like you who are trying to get on their feet, start over, build a functional life and their self-esteem, usually out of the ruins of divorce or being widowed.”

“You're proud of her,” she said.

“Oh, yes. Riley amazes me. Keep the card. It has my number on the back.”

She slid it into her purse, thinking it would be a cold day in hell before she'd ask Riley Kerrigan for help.

The very next day the mean little tyrant at Burger Belch fired her.

Chapter Four

Riley Kerrigan ran a tight ship and an efficient workplace. She kept her office in Santa Rosa, for easy access to Marin County, San Francisco, Davis, Napa Valley. It had been her goal from the start to service companies and individuals who could afford the best. The fact that this demographic was also the most difficult to please, the greatest challenge, was irrelevant to her. She was confident she had the best service providers.

There were only two full-time office staff: Riley, and her secretary, Jeanette Sutton. She had had five rooms—a spacious office for herself, a front reception area for Jeanette, an office for Brazil Johnson, the CFO and numbers woman, a conference room for meetings and a small lunchroom and restroom. Brazil was rarely in the office; she worked from home whenever she could. Riley's director of operations, Nick Cabrini, worked in the field, but there was space for him in the office if he needed it, either in Brazil's office or the conference room. Makenna Rice was the head housekeeper and trainer; she used the conference room occasionally.

Riley kept an office because customers responded to it, particularly business clients, although some home owners also liked to see her base of operations. It gave her credibility. Nick drove one of the company cars; he dressed sharp, carried a computer in his expensive briefcase and when he gave estimates or checked on cleaning crews he looked professional. She had two hundred employees, most of them part-time by choice. Some of her full-time employees took care of the same properties on a regular basis. She had night crews who cleaned office buildings, day crews in residences and crews on call for emergencies like fire or flood damage—regular hazmat duty. Her liability was high and well managed, her income was in the mid hundred-thousand range, her business net worth was now extremely high, her mother's house was paid off, her retirement savings gaining strength, Maddie's college fund nearly maxed and her state of mind—excellent.

It had been a long time coming. Many years of eighty-hour weeks.

When Riley was eighteen and a new high school graduate, she took a few classes at the community college that very summer and helped her mother with her housecleaning jobs. Back then they worked for cash, under the table, and too often they were treated like they belonged under the table, out of sight. Customers would take last-minute trips or vacations and forgo housecleaning service for a couple of weeks, not paying them. Clients complained about the cost; they added duties without making preparations in advance, without asking or offering to pay extra. “Oh, June, I have to run a couple of errands. You don't mind keeping an eye on little Eric, do you?” or “June, I'm way behind on the laundry, can you pitch in?” and “Junie, darling, looks like it's time for a good window washing.” And as far as Riley knew, her mother hadn't had a raise in at least ten years.

“We have to fix this business,” Riley had said. “Even some of your oldest customers take complete advantage of your good nature.”

“I think of some of these people as my friends. I just like to help when I can,” June always said.

“Well, they don't think of you as a friend. They treat their friends with far more respect, so don't be fooled. And none of them are worried about your retirement. We're going to find a better way to get it done and earn a decent living. And maybe a little security.”

Riley set up a business plan at the age of eighteen, recruited a couple of college girls who were going to school part-time just as she was, got a business license for two hundred dollars and went looking for more clients. She called her company Kerrigan's Kleaning and had business cards printed. At first, she didn't have any overhead except the personal time it cost to do paperwork because Riley was paying taxes, social security, salaries and issuing 1099 statements to employees. Within months Kerrigan's Kleaning was humming along and even growing.

Then she got pregnant.

What a dark, terrifying time that was. Emma abandoned her, which came as no surprise, and Jock was suddenly MIA. He offered to give her money for an abortion, then he offered to marry her, but he had a black eye in the suspicious shape of Adam's fist. She turned down both offers. She did threaten to sue him for support, however, because in all areas she had a mind for business. She remained at home with her mother, brother and grandparents, where she had loving support.

She continued to work with her cleaning service. The bigger she got, the more she thought she'd better make this idea work because there was certainly no man waiting in the wings to take care of her. In fact, not only were Jock's support payments spotty at best, he didn't even show up at the hospital when she went into labor. Adam and her mother were with her, her grandparents waiting in the hall.

Jock came much later, after her family was gone, and though she tried to forget it, the image of him crying as he held the baby was forever burned into her mind. But she wasn't falling for his malarkey again.

The whole pregnancy was emotionally difficult and Riley felt she'd ruined her life with one terrible choice. But when she saw Maddie's perfect little face, everything changed. She might've had regrets, but now she also had purpose. And she worked like a demon because she had a daughter, and her daughter was going to have a devoted family, a good home and opportunities.

Jock started coming around after Maddie was a few months old, and the hurt and anger were almost too much for Riley. How dare he pretend to act like a father now! Every encounter was a strain; they fought and sniped at each other and not to be left out, Adam got into it, threatening Jock. Maddie was about nine months old when they had a blistering fight because Jock wanted to take her to his mother's house so his family could meet her, and Riley said she'd be damned if he was taking her anywhere.

“Stop!” June said. She took the baby from Riley, passed her to Grandma and sat the three of them at the table. “Don't anyone say a word if you value your life. That child is a happy baby who will live to be ninety if I have my way. But if all she hears from her parents and her uncle is fighting, what do you think that will do for her self-esteem?”

“We don't have any joint custody thing going on here,” Riley snapped.

“You have money for a lawyer?” June asked Riley. She turned to Jock. “Do you?”

“If he wasn't responsible enough to take care of the mother, what makes you think he's responsible enough to take care of a baby?” Adam nearly shouted.

“Do you want this little girl to grow up wondering who her daddy is?” she asked Adam. “Or wondering why her mother and uncle kept him from her? This stops here and now. We don't raise voices around her, and Jock deserves a chance to grow into a good father. Part of that is spending time with his daughter. And if you two keep bullying him the only one who will suffer will be Maddie.”

“I just want to do the right thing,” Jock said.

“Too late!” Riley and Adam said. And then they both said, “Sorry,” as they saw June's black scowl.

“Of course you can take the baby to your mother,” June said. “First you have to learn the car seat, and I'd make you show me you know how to change a diaper but since your mother will be there, I think we're safe. I'll make you up a bottle and I want you to have her back in three hours. After today there has to be notice, Jock. Riley's a good mama and she is not the least bit flexible. Planning will be the key. We will all be cooperative and the number one priority will always be Maddie.”

“If he'd planned before, Maddie wouldn't be here,” Riley hurled.

“Was that a thank-you?” Jock asked.

“I'm warning you...” June said.

After that confrontation, things went a bit more smoothly with Jock but it was at least a couple of years before Riley's resentment of him calmed into a tense acceptance. This was not the life she had planned—a baby with a reluctant father who had no real love for her. And the fact that she had loved him, however briefly, only made her shame burn brighter.

Her mother had said one more thing to Riley. Privately. Knowing her daughter so well. “That pride will be the end of you,” June said. “Try to put your focus on Maddie, not your injured pride. Please.”

She built herself up one emotional brick at a time, becoming a tough, professional businesswoman. Her residential service grew. When she scored her first office building cleaning contract, she celebrated. She also provided what they called a mover's special—the cleaning of empty houses to get them ready for new occupants. That was a tough job that paid well and sometimes she, her mom and Adam would put in twelve-or fifteen-hour days to get it done. Sometimes Jock would babysit...at June's house.

Then she started researching industrial cleaning services, instinctively knowing the real money was there—mold, water damage, fire damage, sewage and odor removal. The only things she left alone were harmful chemicals and crime scene cleanup. She contracted one team, giving them the lion's share of her profits. But then she had them train a second team of industrial cleaners and they became
hers
. She ran her business from her mother's dining room table while spooning strained peas into Maddie's mouth and later, while helping Maddie with her spelling words and math exercises.

As a family, they had a bit of a setback when her grandparents passed, but she found that as long as she stayed ahead of the personnel and contracts, the company functioned very well. June worked part-time for Riley's company, a few jobs a week. The rest of the time she helped raise Maddie. When Maddie was ten, just five years ago, Riley changed the name of her company to Kerrigan Cleaning Services, rented office space and
cleaned up
.

From that home pregnancy test to here was a long and difficult passage. But she had people she knew who, barring death, would never desert her, would always forgive her, love her as unconditionally as she loved them. Maddie, her mother, Adam. Since Jock, she had not been in a romantic relationship.

Nor had she had another best friend.

Today was a fairly typical day. She started with a meeting with Brazil and Jeanette, going over office matters. She approved billing, answered emails, took a meeting with a man who was looking for a full-time domestic for a 14,000 square foot house. He'd already been given an estimate and offered a contract by Nick but was seeing the owner, Riley, because he balked at the idea that it would require a contracted team who would be paid by the hour when additional out of contract duties came along, chores such as, “Clean up after this wedding reception held in our house and courtyard.” He could spend ten million on a house but wanted upkeep cheap. She stood firm. She let him go. He would be back.

She visited three teams on-site, found two to be managing well and one to be having some internal difficulties. It was a team of three housekeepers, two of whom had created a bond of friendship, probably behaving meanly to the third, an older woman she'd known a long time, who had been a team trainer and team leader. She'd been down this road so many times—the team leader was undeniably trustworthy with extremely high standards. The younger women wanted to get their eight hours done in six, probably cutting corners. They could take advantage of the trainer's skills, letting her take the detail work, but apparently they were shortsighted. She could have a meeting with them, counsel them, give them pointers on working together effectively. Instead, she said, “I'll create a new team for you, but for the rest of this week work together with no friction.”

Then she turned it over to Nick Cabrini, her director of operations, with instructions to redistribute them. All three of them. Those two snotty women who abused the older cleaner weren't getting away with this.

The women loved Nick; her few male employees respected him. In fact,
she
loved Nick. He was young and personable but very rigid about their policies. He was never too harsh, that she knew of, but he was always firm. He was also bilingual. He had a good education and hoped to start a company of his own in another specialty—he wanted to get into transportation, limo and car service. But his best quality? His mother taught him to clean like a wizard. He could spot a smear or speck of dust at fifty yards.

His counterpart was Louis Spinoza, a retired firefighter who headed up their industrial restoration division. Louis had tons of hazmat experience, had worked construction on and off and, as many firefighters did, had worked a second job for years—in cleanup.

Riley grabbed a chicken salad on her way back to the office and ate it at her desk. Just when she was starting to feel that afternoon lull, who should show up but Adam. He gave a couple of raps on her door and stuck his head in.

“Is madam busy?” he asked.

She pushed her salad aside. “I'm always busy, but you're so welcome to come in. Out of school early today?”

“Nah, I just don't have any other duties.”

“Good, I'm dying to hear about Maddie's driving test from an objective person. She says it took her fifteen minutes and she aced it.”

He grinned. “Twenty minutes and she missed one, but she challenged it and even showed them the page on which her answer was located. I'd have given it to her.”

“You'd give her a kidney,” she said, laughing at him.

“Well, true,” he said, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. He balanced an ankle on the opposite knee. “There is something we should talk about. I ran into Emma yesterday after the driving test. I met her later for a drink.”

Riley frowned. “Oh?” she said. “Ran into—”

“We stopped for a hamburger on the way home from the test and guess who was working there? Little paper cap, apron and all.”

“Maddie didn't say anything...”

“She teased me a little bit on the way home. I just told her Emma was an old friend we went to school with.” He took a deep breath. “You're going to have to tell her, Riley. You're going to have to explain about Emma and Jock. And you.”