by Robyn Carr
“Can I go shopping with you?”
He smiled at that. “So you’re not hiding us from the world, just from Riley. Just for now.”
“That’s about right. Can you live with that?”
“It’s okay, Emma. I know the ground still feels pretty shaky. But I think everything is going to be okay.”
She hoped so. But she knew things would only become more difficult if Riley and Adam were pitted against each other because of her. And that would be terrible.
An hour later they were back at home with potato-cheese soup, mini ham sandwiches and antipasto from the deli, plus a nice bottle of wine. They ate on the couch in front of the TV then curled around each other for a while before going to bed. Adam didn’t ask if he could stay; he just stayed as long as she didn’t ask him to leave. She hung on to him all night long as if lost at sea, and rather than try to shed her clinging arms, he held her firmly to him.
In the morning they had bagels and cream cheese with their coffee and then went for a walk through the quiet town. Then back to Emma’s place for more cuddling on the sofa.
“So this is normal, is it?” she asked, relaxed and blooming under his touch.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said.
Chapter Nine
After Thanksgiving dinner, Riley checked on a few of her cleaners, but only by phone. Of course they had clients who couldn’t even wash their own dishes on a family holiday. Some people entertained on Thanksgiving, and while she found the fact that they hired help away from their own families on such an occasion somewhat tacky, it was also profitable. Riley made it profitable for her employees, too. And from what her people in the field said, all went smoothly.
It was a tradition for Riley and Maddie to help June decorate the house the day after Thanksgiving. Riley dropped Maddie off at June’s then went out to run a few errands. By the time she got back to her mother’s, Jock was in the garage, getting out boxes for Maddie and June.
“I didn’t expect to run into you today,” she said. “Isn’t the store busy?”
“Worse than busy. I was there for a couple of hours this morning when they opened the doors to the crowd. And I’m going back later to work tonight. It’ll be a zoo all weekend.”
Black Friday was sale day and nothing sold like electronics. Computers, TVs, everything from headphones to cell phones. Jock was the manager now at least and had a little more control over his schedule, and though she hated to have to admit it, he put in some hard weeks.
She went into the house. She didn’t like to look at him. He was still so good-looking that it kind of pissed her off. Couldn’t he at least age badly? But he was still drawn to sports, worked out, played a little football, a little basketball, golf—and he was as fit as he’d been in high school. He still looked like the guy who’d stolen her heart and then broken it.
June was in the kitchen getting out all her Christmas cookie cutters. “I didn’t expect to see him here,” Riley said.
“I think Maddie asked him to come,” June said.
“Why didn’t she just ask Adam?”
June sighed in some aggravation. “Because Jock is her father, I suppose. And much as it galls you, they enjoy each other.”
“It doesn’t gall me,” she lied. “What can I do?”
“Do you want to help go through the decoration boxes in the garage?” June asked with a sly smile.
“What can I do in here?”
“As soon as they find it, you can put the garland up on the bannister, string it with lights and hook up the extension cords.”
“Fine,” she said, heading for the coffeepot.
When Maddie was a baby, Jock spent time with her more often at June’s house than anywhere. When he wanted to take her to his parents’ house, he talked to June rather than Riley because June was more accommodating. When Maddie was in grade school, he pushed his presence more forcefully, but still cautiously. He insisted on being notified of school activities, from parent-teacher conferences to carnivals. He couldn’t make them all, but he wanted to at least be told. “I’d rather not ask the teacher, Riley.” Riley most often asked her mother to let Jock know.
Then there was that time when Maddie was ten that Jock suggested to Riley that they revisit the idea of joining forces. “I think we should get together, just you and me, maybe leading up to a date,” he said. “Let’s get to know each other again, see if we can remember what it was that brought us together in the first place.”
“You’ve completely lost your mind, right?” she said.
“Not at all. I know you don’t like it but I consider you and Maddie my family. Since there’s no getting around it, we could explore it.”
She was appalled. “I wouldn’t even consider it,” she said. “And why would you? You’ve dated a lot since Maddie was born. I don’t consider you my family! Get someone else to take a chance on you.”
“I hardly ever date,” he said. “You really don’t know anything about me.”
“I think I probably know enough,” she said. “Aren’t you the guy who talked me out of my clothes and then dumped me?”
“You have a real blind spot when it comes to me, don’t you, Riley? I apologized a hundred times for being a stupid eighteen-year-old when that happened but I really cared about you. I just got scared off. Mostly by you!”
“And what makes you think I’d be willing to take that kind of risk again?”
“Maybe because I’m not eighteen anymore and we have a daughter together?”
“Even more reason I should be cautious!”
And of course their conversation had deteriorated from there. They often did. She’d push his buttons, she’d get pissed off all over again and before they knew it they were sniping at each other.
So Jock married someone else, a young woman with two sons. The ink was barely dry on the marriage license when he was back on his own and the woman was back with her ex. And Riley felt vindicated—Jock was not capable of a committed relationship.
Starting in junior high, Jock began to communicate directly with Maddie and Riley would run into him at everything from car washes to softball games. And now she never knew when she’d run into him at her mother’s house.
On Saturday Riley had worked for a couple of hours and Maddie had girlfriends over for the night, so she was trapped at home. On Sunday afternoon Maddie and June were going through the recipes and planning their Christmas baking. Riley was there by four o’clock to share a family dinner of Thanksgiving leftovers with them. All but Adam, who had begged off because he was busy. He’d told his mother he was running errands and getting his schoolwork done since he’d been out with a friend Saturday night. “Oh?” Riley had asked. “What friend?”
“He said I don’t know her,” June said.
It was hardly noteworthy. Adam was known to date, though circumspectly. As a rule, he didn’t introduce a woman he was dating to the rest of the family until it had been weeks or months, proving they stood the test of time.
Riley met Monday with some excitement, some trepidation. Emma was starting work. She’d begin her training with Makenna Rice at 7:00 a.m. and Riley thought Makenna might scare the life out of Emma. Riley had made a secret pledge—no arguing or fighting. It was one thing to clear the air upon their first meeting—they had been alone in the office. But from now on they were only employer and employee and they’d be professional and courteous or Emma would have to go. “It’s my company,” Riley kept reminding herself.
Riley was at the office at six-thirty and, unsurprisingly, Makenna had beat her there. She already had her training manuals and supplies scattered around the boardroom.
“Well, good morning,” Riley said. “Getting an early start, I see.”
“I don’t want us to be late for our first job. That would set a bad example.”
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br /> Riley laughed. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“I’m all set, thanks. I didn’t start the pot in the kitchen, knowing you’d be bringing your Starbucks. I guess I’d better put on the coffee, huh? Ms. Shay might need a cup.”
“I’ll do it while you set up here,” Riley said.
Makenna was an interesting character, one of Riley’s first employees. She was tiny but strong. She had spiked orange hair and dark brows, plenty of piercings on her ears and a couple of eyebrow piercings, a few colorful tattoos that had expanded over the years. The only one that showed while she wore her work uniform was a serpent that wiggled up the back of her neck. She reminded Riley of a biker chick but she was a straight arrow. She was a single mom like so many of Riley’s employees—one fourteen-year-old son who towered above her already. And she was a strict mom. As far as Riley knew, Curtis didn’t give her any trouble. Hell, Riley was afraid to give her trouble.
All the doors between the offices and conference room were standing open, the front door unlocked, the coffee brewing, and at six-fifty Emma arrived, ten minutes early. Good. She carried a tote that presumably had her drinks and lunch for the day, her uniform was new and pristine and she looked far too good to be cleaning houses. But that was the look Riley wanted her employees to have because that was how her clients wanted the hired help to look.
“Good morning,” Riley said.
“Good morning,” Emma replied.
She blushed just slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but she glanced briefly away.
Was that about the words they’d exchanged when Emma was interviewed and hired, or something else? Did Adam really have errands? Errands my ass, Riley thought.
“How was your weekend?” Riley asked.
“Very nice, thanks. I had the best Thanksgiving. The lady I’m renting from and her girlfriends, all widows a bit beyond a certain age, had dinner and included me—it was fantastic.”
“Good. What about Rosemary?”
“Didn’t you know? Rosemary and her third husband, Vince, moved to Palm Springs years ago. I haven’t heard a word from Lauren or Anna. I’m not even sure if they’re still around here. With any luck, Rosemary and I are finished. I haven’t heard from her since...since Richard’s death.”
Riley made a face. “With any luck,” Riley muttered under her breath. She led Emma to the conference room. “Makenna is ready for you. Makenna, this is Emma Shay.”
Emma put out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. And thank you. I’ll try to be your star pupil.”
“They all say that. Get yourself a cup of coffee if you like. We’re going through the handbook first. Coffee’s in the kitchen.”
Emma reached into her bag. “I brought my coffee,” she said, pulling out a large thermal cup.
“Save it for later. Get office coffee while you can. Meet me in here.”
“Thanks,” Emma said, heading for the kitchen.
Riley went to her desk. No, surely not, Riley thought. Surely Adam wasn’t spending more than a little time with Emma. He wouldn’t get romantically involved with her, would he? Weren’t they all conflicted enough without that?
I will fire her, Riley thought.
* * *
Emma eyed the handbook—a large spiral notebook two and a half inches thick.
“We’re going to start with some important company rules and guidelines. I have a notebook like this for you to borrow. You can make copies, take notes, memorize, whatever works best for you, and you can have it for two weeks. There is always a book in the office. Nick Cabrini, director of operations, has this book on his computer and phone. I have one at all times and you can stop by here or call any of us with questions. Let me put that more clearly—if you have a question, please check the book to make sure you’re acting within company policy before doing anything.”
Emma frowned. “Like?”
“I’m going to tell you.” Makenna flipped open the book. “Nick or Riley give the estimates and unless there are special conditions, the client contracts for our basic house or office cleaning services, which are very thorough. We’ll go over the basic in a few minutes. Extra duties must be approved by Nick and he will make a charge, so please don’t quote prices to the client. Extras include things like windows, refrigerator/freezer cleaning, garage cleaning, patio and outdoor furniture cleaning, cupboard clearing, laundry, special-event cleanup—like receptions, holiday entertaining, et cetera. We don’t provide child care or care of the elderly or infirm. We’re not plumbers—we don’t unplug toilets. If they can’t figure it out, we have subcontractors—plumbers, electricians, pool service, chimney sweeps, landscapers and gardeners and so on. There’s a very long list, right here.” She tapped a page in the book. “It’s routine for our clients to ask for more without considering the time and expense, so we have a standard. We never use the client’s cleaning supplies—only ours are approved. They’ve been known to come up with weird concoctions that stain, damage or create noxious fumes. They can damage their own possessions. Likewise, you will learn about materials and cleaning agents and will not take the homeowner’s cleaning advice—for your own protection. When the lady of the house says, ‘Just use a little bleach on this Oriental rug,’ you will explain that doesn’t match your instructions and offer the services of our in-house expert, Nick, who will be happy to consult before we have to buy her a new rug. And if you think clients haven’t tried to dupe the poor, stupid cleaning lady into ruining something so it can be replaced for free, you’re unbearably naive. For breakage, which is going to happen, we have insurance with a high deductible. The company will cover each team member for the first fifty dollars—that’s the odd wineglass, ashtray, soap dish or plate.
“We use only the front powder room if the need for a bathroom arises and if there is no powder room, we’ll designate an appropriate restroom in the home. We don’t eat in the client’s house but a drink of bottled water—our own—is appropriate. We don’t accept new or used gifts or clothing. Under any circumstances. If they want to tip you in cash, it’s acceptable. Individual cleaning teams cannot offer discounts or additional work without being approved. We don’t develop personal relationships with our clients—be cheerful, helpful and courteous. If someone wants to discuss problems, if they’re not cleaning problems, explain that you’re not at liberty to offer advice or act as a confidante. We have a policy that individual employees not make arrangements with clients to work on the side. And there is a non-compete agreement that you will be asked to sign that states you will not work as an independent house cleaner or maid until you have been separated from Kerrigan’s Services for six months.
“Our clients have an expectation of privacy and confidentiality. We understand that it is unrealistic to suggest cleaners never chat among themselves, but we do have an ironclad rule that no employee of this company discuss clients’ personal matters outside of the company. It goes without saying—if you’re accused of stealing, you will be investigated by the police. It has happened and I am proud to report, it has rarely been true. So if you have any legal issues, wants or warrants that will be complicated by a law enforcement intervention, best to say so now.” She gave Emma a chance to say so. After a moment’s silence Makenna cleared her throat and went on. “And if you run into burdensome issues you can’t quite manage, please bring them to me, Nick or Riley. Believe me, we’ve seen it all.”
Emma frowned. What kind of confidential things might she witness? “I’m almost afraid to ask...”
“Inside of two months, you won’t have to ask, but I’ll save you some time. Obviously, you’re not going to be picking through drawers or closets, reading correspondence, diaries, or studying papers on desks. We don’t look at personal papers or property, we dust it.
“But you’re going to see things. Mrs. X, the cheapest client we have, one who has never tipped or given a holiday bonus, has a checkbo
ok balance of one-point-five-million and a monthly credit card bill over twenty-five thousand dollars. She leaves these papers in plain sight, very hard to miss. Mr. and Mrs. Y carelessly leave out objects of intimate pleasure.” To Emma’s expression of consternation, Makenna said, “Sex toys, Emma.”
“Ew,” Emma said.
“Gloves,” Makenna said. “And Mr. Z is knocking the shit out of Mrs. Z. She thinks no one knows.”
“Oh, my God! And you don’t do anything?”
Makenna glanced down at the pages of the employee manual. “Mrs. Z said someone made an anonymous call to the police department and they were visited by someone from the domestic violence unit, but I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“So—we don’t get involved, even if someone’s health and safety is at risk?”
“That would be one of those issues you’re going to want to take to Nick and Riley. Very important that you do so, Emma. If a member of the household we service is at risk, we’re at risk. If you have reason to believe someone is breaking the law, it’s important you tell your supervisor. There are examples of difficult situations in this manual. The book was compiled by Riley over years. When a new situation arises it is not only added to the handbook, a confidential memo is also sent to team leaders so they can advise their crews.” Makenna peered at Emma. “Are you going to be able to ignore the obvious? Look the other way?”
Emma almost laughed. “Oh, you have no idea,” she said. “It’s a skill of mine.”
Makenna cleared her throat. “Now, let’s go over some important issues—cleaning supplies, techniques, basic chemistry so you don’t mix bleach and toilet bowl cleaner and end up a 911 call...”
The lecture was intense and fast-paced. Makenna put all of her supplies out on the table with corresponding color photos and explained how each cleaning implement was to be used and which cleaning chemicals were provided.
“I don’t expect you to remember all of this, Emma. You’re going to be trained on the job this week—I’ll be watching you and helping you. To that end, I’m taking you to some of our more challenging homes. You’ll have to learn to do it well, fast, not be distracted by your chatty home owner, cooperate with your team and employ all the smart moves—safety first. Don’t lift anything over forty pounds, use your legs, not your back. We have knee pads in the van if you want them, as well as smocks and aprons, and do protect your uniform as much as possible. You’re bound to get dirty, but avoid bleach marks or grease stains if you can.” Then the little pixie smiled and said, “Ready?”