by Robyn Carr
Sex for girls is a defining moment; sex for guys is sex.
She shook her head as if to clear the memories. After Jock had said no, he wasn’t in love with her, after she had groveled and begged Emma to forgive her, after finding herself completely alone except for her mom, there was just no going back. She was completely damaged, felt like a fool, was not about to be hurt like that again.
No one could ever know how much it tore a woman apart, to trust your heart and be completely wrong. For Riley, nothing was quite as hard as being stupid.
The one thing she hadn’t counted on all these years of ignoring Jock, just putting up with his attempts to be a family man, was that all that time he was talking to Maddie. Apparently honestly. From the heart. Expressing his own regrets. Who knew Jock was even capable of that! Maddie seemed to think he still wanted them to be a family.
As usual, Jock’s timing couldn’t be worse. Riley had only just met someone she actually liked. A smart guy with a career.
Jeanette had left the office early to do a little last-minute Christmas shopping and Riley turned back to her computer. She’d write Jock a letter. She’d never send it, of course, but she could get her thoughts and questions all lined up in her head by writing a letter. This was something she did with regularity—she often wrote letters to demanding and obnoxious clients, then hit delete.
Dear Jock,
I’ve been talking to Maddie and it comes to me that my perception of our history is very different from yours and I need to know—did I miss something? Was I sleepwalking through that whole time, not catching the innuendo? I’m sure I was conscious when you panicked because I said I loved you. I believe I was paying attention to detail when you said, “No—wait a minute—we can’t call that love! That was consensual sex, not love.” And I was pretty pregnant when you said, All right then, let’s get married. I apologize if that didn’t sweep me off my feet, but there you have it. I wasn’t convinced it would be a marriage worth having. When you married and divorced so quickly... Ah, well, you must understand why I wasn’t convinced of your good judgment. But to tell Maddie this silly thing, that you always loved me, that you wanted to get married but I was too angry, that you probably wouldn’t be worth a damn to another woman, that you’d resigned yourself that this was all you were going to get... Now, how does all that make me look? You lamebrain, you dipshit, you mental midget, you—
That was typical of her write-but-don’t-send cathartics. She was reduced to name-calling. Sometimes that helped, too. Jock, you stupid idiot, I loved you! You cast me off. I’d betrayed my best friend for you and you left me high and dry. The next years were so unbearably hard...
“Riley?”
“Eeek,” she squeaked and jumped about a mile. She grabbed her chest. She wasn’t talking out loud, was she? “Logan! Dear God—”
He chuckled. “Whatever you’re writing, you were really in the zone there, I guess. Your door was open.”
She cleared the screen and actually blushed. “I was... I mean... A proposal... An itemized...”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“Come in, come in. What are you doing here?”
He walked into the room and sat in one of the chairs facing her desk. “I was in the area and hadn’t seen you in a few days...”
“We talked,” she said, feeling a little defensive.
“Not quite as much fun. Listen, I have a crazy week coming up and you probably do, too. Can I take you to dinner tonight? Might be the only chance we get for a while.”
“Oh, gee, that would be...” She folded her hands on top of her desk. “We didn’t really talk about this, about Christmas. I’d love to have you come over to my mom’s either Christmas Eve or Day, but I figured you have to see your family. And I don’t know if you want to meet everyone in my family for the first time on a holiday.”
He just grinned at her.
“But if you’d like to—”
“It’s okay, Riley. My debut with Maddie didn’t go all that well.”
“I’m sorry, that was so unexpected. I guess that’s what I get for never dating. But I don’t think it would be that awkward at my mom’s house.”
“I think I’ll just take care of my own family for the holidays. I can spell my partner so she can have time with her husband and kids. And God knows, I want to be available for my ex-wife—I’m sure she’ll be at least stopping by. And my father.” He rolled his eyes. “But dinner tonight would be excellent. Or tomorrow night. How about it?”
“That sounds like a great idea. Where would you like to go?”
“How about Riviera Restorante?”
“I love that place!” She glanced down at herself. She was wearing pants and a blazer today. “Am I dressed all right? So I don’t have to go home?”
“You look perfect.” He looked around. “I wondered about the office. This is really nice, Riley. Very—”
The outside office door opened and a moment later there was a light tapping on Riley’s door. Emma peeked in the door.
“Oh. Sorry. When you’re finished...” she said, beginning to pull out.
“Come in, Emma. This is a friend of mine, Logan Danner. We were just making plans for dinner. Logan, can you give me five minutes with Emma?”
“Of course,” he said, standing.
“Oh,” Emma said. “It’s you! From the hospital.”
He frowned slightly. “The hospital?”
“I was waiting for a ride. I was a little upset. You gave me your flowers,” she said.
“That was you?” he asked, peering at her. “Huh, that was you! You said you were having a bad day.”
“That was the last day I worked at that job. I was in hospital housekeeping. I came here immediately after that. That was nice of you—the flowers.”
“I was visiting a coworker who had checked out. I wasn’t going to take the flowers to her house. I saw that as problematic.” Then he grinned.
“You two know each other?” Riley asked.
“We never met, actually,” Emma said. “We both happened to be waiting outside of the ER and I looked like I felt—at the end of the line.”
“I told her to take the flowers or they were going in the trash,” Logan said. “Just a spontaneous gesture. I could have left them with the nurses but...” He shrugged.
Emma looked at Riley. “It’s all right with me if he stays. It’s going to take about one minute.” Emma took a breath. “I did something today that was against policy. In our last house, the man was beating his wife and I know I’m supposed to call you or Nick or Makenna with issues, but I called the police.”
“Oh, my Jesus,” Riley said. “Sit down, Emma.”
“I’m sorry, I know our policy is not to see the client’s personal stuff but I just couldn’t look the other way.”
“Emma, that wasn’t personal, that was assault. Against the law! That’s not the stuff you’re supposed to pretend not to see. That Reverend Douglas likes to wear his wife’s lingerie is what we don’t see, not crimes.”
“Reverend Douglas wears his wife’s lingerie?” Emma and Logan said at the same time.
“I didn’t say that,” Riley said. “I wish you had called me, but not because I’d ignore something like that. Because I’d file the complaint, drive out to the scene and wait with you for the police and hopefully Mr. and Mrs. Andrews would blame me and not you. Hopefully they’d forget you had anything to do with it.”
“That wasn’t going to happen,” Emma said. “I was listening at the door to see if I could hear her crying for help and he opened the door suddenly. I fell on him. Splat! The mean little squirt.” She huffed a little. “I wish he’d taken a hand to me!”
“Was she badly hurt?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know how badly but they took her to the hospital
in an ambulance, and that took some convincing. I have a feeling they’ve been there before. He might’ve broken her arm. And he tried to strangle her.”
“Oh, my God!” Riley said. “Okay, listen, Emma—this isn’t the first time we’ve faced an abusive situation. When we enter their homes and clean their personal space, we enter their lives in ways even they don’t comprehend. If you ever suspect abuse or unlawful behavior, please don’t hesitate to say something to me. Or if you’re not able to reach me, call Makenna or Nick. We’ve been doing this longer than you have.”
“I just couldn’t wait,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Riley said. “I would have done the same thing. You did fine. I just like to take my employees out of the equation when possible, if possible. They’ll discontinue our service, there’s no question—we saw too much. Good riddance.” Riley smiled. “And I heard about your call on the Christensen home—smart move.”
“I was afraid to breathe,” Emma said.
“I can’t wait to hear what that’s about,” Logan said.
“Go ahead. Tell him,” Riley said.
She looked confused for a moment. Tell him what? “Well, in a previous life I had some experience working with decorators and I recognized the Christmas ornaments and decorations in one of the homes were very expensive. And very fragile. Even the most careful housecleaner can upset an ornament—these were balls from Wedgwood, from jewelers, crystal from high-end stores like Tiffany’s and Waterford.”
“What’s expensive?” he asked.
“One Waterford ball—couple of hundred. A couple of Tiffany reindeer statuettes, fifteen hundred. A Swarovski wreath. Everything was high-end.”
“Wow,” he said. “You must have had a lot of experience handling that stuff.”
“A little,” she said. “I didn’t want me or my team getting stuck with a big bill just for dusting.”
“Mrs. Christensen has decided to have her decorator come in and make sure all her priceless decorations are shiny clean. We’re going to leave that stuff alone,” Riley said. “Thanks for stopping by to explain, Emma. I’ll follow through.”
“Thank you,” Emma said, noting the meeting was over. She stood. And so did Logan.
Logan reached in his pocket and fished out a card. “If you ever have a problem or need some advice on police matters, don’t hesitate. Use the cell—I’m in the field a lot. I’m only in the office a few hours a day.”
“You’re a police officer?” she asked.
“Yep. And if I don’t know the answer to your question, I can get it. I worked some battery domestic and assault as a patrol officer and I have friends in those specialized units. We’re not a huge department.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Danner...”
“Just Logan, Emma.”
“I appreciate that,” she said. She looked at Riley. “Hopefully the rest of the week is a little less exciting.”
“Things always get a little wacky during holidays. Have a good week.”
“Thanks,” Emma said.
She’s very pretty, Riley thought. Even at the end of a difficult day. Wouldn’t it be tidy if Logan took to her? He seemed to light up a little bit when he saw her.
And why would you think that? she asked herself.
* * *
Emma’s mind was really working as she drove. The domestic battery was so disturbing, so in-your-face horrid. The first thing she told herself was that her situation had never been as bad as that! She’d never been abused like that. Never.
But then how many of her New York household had noticed that her husband didn’t hold her, that the troop of worker bees who often traveled with them were not all for work, that he had such a developed sense of entitlement he had a mistress right under her nose and bilked his clients for a hundred million dollars. No, she’d never been abused, nuh-uh. Her life had been ruined by the very man who vowed to love and protect her.
Mrs. Andrews must ask herself those same questions every day. How did I marry that man? How did I trust him with my life, my future? And now she was undoubtedly asking herself how she could get away from him.
Emma didn’t have to go to Riley’s office. She could have just called Makenna and Nick and chances were one of the other girls had after it was all over. But Emma wanted to look Riley in the eye as if to say, Here’s your chance. I blew it. I didn’t follow the rules—fire me.
But Riley stood up for her. Supported her. Wanted to protect her. Emma didn’t kid herself that it was because she was Emma, it was because she was an employee. Adam had been so right about his sister—she ran a good company, provided a safe work environment, took good care of her people, was steadfast. Riley could ignore the fact that she really didn’t want to be around Emma and see the situation professionally and fairly.
She sighed. Ah, what did it matter? She didn’t want a new best friend. She just wanted to work, live, enjoy a simple peace that helped her heal. That was all.
Her cell phone rang and it picked up in her car. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello,” she yelled into the speaker.
“I know who you are,” said a very timid, female voice.
Emma was right in front of a side street and made an abrupt turn, no signal involved, earning her a blast from a car behind her. She pulled over.
“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 goo
d 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.