When Emma had brought Lucinda up to the present, the counselor said she’d like to go back in time a bit, to before Emma met her husband.
“How far back?” Emma asked.
“I’m flexible,” Lucinda said. “Take me back to a time that seemed pivotal in your life. A time of change, maybe? A time that required a great deal of you? A period of adjustment and a shift in your priorities. Does anything stand out?”
She thought for a moment. Then she said, “The year after high school. When I went away to college. A year after my father died.”
“Good. Try, if you can, to tell me not just the events that you think caused a major change in your life, but how those significant events made you feel then and how remembering them makes you feel now.”
“We may run out of time,” Emma said.
“And try, if you can, not to worry about the time. We don’t have to do it all today. In fact, a great deal is achieved in counseling when you leave me with things you’d like to think about. Because, Emma, I’m not going to solve your problems. You are. I’m just here to direct the traffic.”
When Emma left, she hugged Lucinda. “Do you think I’m completely crazy?” she asked.
“I think you’re remarkable. I’m so glad we met. Be sure to thank Adam for me.”
* * *
Emma called several hotel chains to ask about job availability and each one invited her to fill out an application and possibly be called back for an interview. No one she talked to seemed interested in hiring. She looked in all the newspaper ads and online for employment opportunities, as she had been doing since the day she returned, and nothing promising turned up there, either.
She tried to bolster herself to call Riley and ask for help.
Sometimes words fade over time, sometimes they fester, blister, even swell. Burned into Emma’s mind was when she screamed at Riley, “I don’t ever want to speak to you or see you again in my life!”
“We can find a way to get beyond this! We said we’d never let a guy get between us!”
“Yeah, until he was my guy! Well, he’s all yours now! I wouldn’t take him back if he begged me. Not with your stink on him!”
“You’ll be sorry you let this ruin us! You know you’ll never have a friend like me again in your life!”
“I hope to God not!” Emma had hurled.
And now she was going to ask Riley for a job.
“I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said. “We don’t have any openings right now. But if you’d like to leave a name and number, I can call you as soon as something opens up.”
“Sure,” she said. “I’m Emma Shay and...”
“Oh, Ms. Shay, I reserved an appointment for you. Can you come into the office to meet with Ms. Kerrigan Thursday afternoon at two?”
“Um. Sure,” she said. Was that a good sign? Adam had said Riley would help her, but what if he was wrong about that?
Sixteen years ago, right after screaming she hoped she’d never have a friend like Riley again, Riley had screamed at her, “Emmie, please! Please try to understand! I didn’t mean for this to happen and I’m sorry. I can’t lose your friendship!”
With a sneer, Emma shot back, “So get Jock to be your friend. Slut!”
Of course, Emma hadn’t known Riley was pregnant but would knowing that have softened her words? Nah. It probably would have made her even more hateful. Emma didn’t think she’d ever forgive Riley for what she’d done. But if she were Riley, she would never be able to forget those cruel words.
Why would Riley help her now?
She wore the same conservative but stylish skirt and sweater she’d been wearing to every interview. They were Chanel, brown wool with a little pleat in the front of the skirt right on her knee and a soft mauve sweater set. She wore hose and pumps, carried a matching Dooney & Bourke bag. Would she think Emma had obviously survived quite well, dressed so? The Riley she had known had never had such nice clothes.
Walking into Riley’s office was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She reminded herself that she’d walked down the steps of the Federal Court Building to the flashing of cameras; she’d walked from a grave site to her car through a clot of photographers. She opened the outer office door and the secretary looked up. She smiled at the young woman. “Hello. I’m Emma Shay and I have an appointment with Ms. Kerrigan.”
“You can go on in,” Jeanette said. “She’s expecting you.”
Emma gave a couple of courtesy taps and opened the door. Riley was concentrating on her computer screen. Without looking up she said, “Come in. Sit down. Give me a second.”
Emma sat in one of the chairs facing the desk. She held her purse on her lap and crossed her legs at the ankle, her legs angled to her right. When Riley did look at her, her eyes rested for a long time on the purse.
Riley turned the screen away, folded her hands on the desk and focused on Emma. “Hello, Emma. How are you?” Riley asked.
“I’m all right, thanks. You?”
“Very well, thanks. Am I to understand you’re looking for a job?”
“Yes.”
“You do understand this is a cleaning company? Housekeeping?”
“Yes. I can provide a letter of recommendation. My last supervisor offered. She’s the head of housekeeping at the hospital in Petaluma—Mrs. Carlson.”
Riley’s eyes grew round. “That carries some weight around here. I’ve known Glynnis for years. Why are you leaving the hospital?”
Emma was surprised then realized she shouldn’t have been. Adam was very tight-lipped. “I had a fall. Actually, an angry person who claimed to be a victim of Richard’s fraud threw something at me and I fell. I’m not hurt. I was checked in the emergency room. But Mrs. Carlson took me off the schedule, put me on workers’ comp and suggested I get another job.”
Riley was frowning.
“If you don’t want to take a chance on that happening while I work for you—”
“That won’t happen in my company. I know which of my customers know each other, so I know where gossip travels. We have a policy that our crews, while polite and helpful, do not become enmeshed with the client—that’s how they get taken advantage of. Our crews take only first names into the jobs, and the majority of the time the client isn’t home and if they are, they stay out of the way. There should be no reason for much conversation that isn’t germane to the work. We have a pretty strict contract so that additional work is arranged with the company in advance and an hourly charge is made. But what’s easy about this system is—everything goes through me or my director of operations, Nick. That way you’re never put upon to argue with the homeowner or business owner. You’re going to have to be trained. Can you make it till the Monday after Thanksgiving? Because I don’t have training on my schedule until then.”
“I can start anytime. I went through a rigorous training at the hospital.”
“You’ll be trained again,” she said firmly. “The last time I skipped training because the housekeeper was qualified I ended up buying a new microwave because she took steel wool to it. Besides, the culture of the company is as important as the policies and I want you to understand.”
“Maybe I should clean offices...” Emma suggested.
“I don’t have any openings in offices. Those are night jobs and they’re pretty precious—a lot of my staff prefer them. They pay a little more and many of them have two jobs and children to take care of. All I have is residential. It’s very hard work.”
“I know how to work hard,” Emma said.
“I’m going to put you with Makenna Rice for training. She’s young, tough, not particularly personable, has impeccable standards, can handle anything that comes along and will work you hard. But at the end of the day you will be proud of the job you did.”
“Thank you.”
/> “Fourteen dollars an hour to start. If you’re still around after ninety days, you’ll get a two-dollar raise. I provide training, uniforms, sometimes transportation—I have a few company cars and vans—and health insurance. Not the greatest health insurance, but competitive with most corporate plans. You won’t need it but I have a deal for a discount with a day care provider—a lot of my workers have small children not yet in school. Any chance you speak Spanish?”
Emma shook her head. “Some very rusty French.”
“A shame. A lot of my workers are Mexican, here with work visas. But don’t worry—I have plenty of bilingual workers and my director of operations speaks Spanish.” She looked at her squarely. “You won’t get any special treatment. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m very grateful.”
“I’ll give you a job,” Riley said. “But that’s all.”
“I don’t expect anything,” Emma said. “I didn’t even expect this much. Really.”
“Jeanette will get you started on the paperwork. It should only take twenty minutes. Then I’ll next see you the Monday after Thanksgiving, this office, seven a.m. Bring a tote or backpack that holds your lunch, water or energy drink, snacks. Jeanette will tell you where to go to get your uniform. I’ll pay for one per year.”
“Thank you,” Emma said again.
Riley stood. “Come into the conference room to fill out your application and accompanying paperwork.”
“Riley, I didn’t do it,” she suddenly said. She shook her head. “I had nothing to do with Richard’s fraud. I was too stupid to know what he was up to, but I wasn’t involved.”
“Of course you weren’t. Anyone with a brain knows he started building his Ponzi empire ten years before he met you. Come with me.” She opened the door on the right wall of her office, exposing a shiny table and eight chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll get Jeanette.”
Emma sat down and waited. The interview wasn’t exactly comfortable but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. It must have given Riley great pleasure to have Emma crawling back, begging for work. A lot of people who didn’t even know her would feel the same way—the uppity young trophy wife, paying the piper every day. Every hour. Every minute.
Riley’s clothes weren’t baggy and worn anymore, she thought. In fact, she looked wonderful. She was obviously buying her clothes in San Francisco. That was a Marco de Vincenzo suit, a little young and short for Riley, but she wore it well. If Emma was a betting woman she’d think Riley pulled that one out of the plastic just for her.
She finished filling out her forms and went back into Riley’s office, knocking before opening the door. Riley was on the phone but gestured her in, pointing to the chair. While she waited, Jeanette peeked in. She was wearing her coat and had her purse strap over her shoulder, obviously leaving. She gave Riley a wave and Riley waved back.
Now it was just the two of them.
Riley finished her phone call and focused on Emma. “Any questions?”
“Not that I can think of. Thank you again.”
“Not at all,” Riley said in a businesslike manner. “See you on your start date. On time.”
“Absolutely.” She rose to go.
Emma was almost out the door.
“Emma?”
She turned back.
“Now we’re even,” Riley said without looking at her. “I have no more debt to pay to you.”
Emma was stunned and frozen, speechless for a moment. She finally found her voice. “Do you think I’m keeping score? You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to hire me just because of something... We were children!”
“We’re not anymore,” Riley said. “We’re not going to be friends but this thing between us... I’m done with it. But stay away from my brother.”
And she was completely refocused on her computer screen.
Emma slowly closed the door behind her. But then she opened it again. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Are you angry with me? Because I said some awful things to you and I regret it, but I think you have to bear responsibility for what you did.”
“It’s over,” Riley said.
“Obviously not!” Emma shot back, rather more hotly than she intended.
“It was all regrettable,” Riley said. “And I’m sure there’s plenty of blame to go around.”
“It might be helpful if I knew exactly what blame I’m expected to carry,” Emma said.
“I’d rather it be over,” Riley said, standing to face Emma. “Let’s call it done.”
“Oh, no, you don’t—you started this up again. Riley, I didn’t sleep with your boyfriend behind your back! What is your grudge? Because of those terrible things I said to you out of anger? If that’s it—”
“That’s not it,” she insisted loudly. “I guess you were entitled. I understood why you’d be furious.”
“Then what?”
“You wouldn’t forgive me!” she said. Riley’s eyes glistened and she held her lips in a tight line.
Emma was struck silent. She said the only thing that came to mind. “I was too hurt. Too angry.”
“Over Jock?” Riley demanded. She gave a short laugh. “You hadn’t even returned our calls in weeks! It’s so hard to believe your broken heart was serious enough to sustain such a grudge. We were best friends for ten years!”
She shook her head. “I got over Jock in a few months. I let it go so long ago,” Emma said.
“And it never once occurred to you to send a note or even a text saying let bygones be bygones?”
“Riley, I... No, it never did. I figured we were best parting ways. That was one helluva fight.”
“Yes,” Riley said softly. “And I begged. I groveled. I sent a dozen notes, left messages. You wouldn’t respond. You wouldn’t even hear my side of the story. And you lifted your nose in the air and walked away to a better life, better friends.”
Emma shook her head. “Not for long,” she said. “Is that really what’s up your butt? That I didn’t say you’re forgiven? Didn’t listen to your story? Want to tell me now?”
“Hah! Now I don’t even want to think about it, but it sure as hell had staying power!”
Emma laughed hollowly. “We should’ve both been furious with Jock, not each other!”
“I was. I still am some days, but he’s Maddie’s father and I’m stuck with him. You, I’m not stuck with.”
“No, you’re not. I don’t need your charity. Well, I do, but I wouldn’t take it if I were starving. But are you still giving me a job?” Emma asked.
“Yes, and by God you better not fuck up. I built this company and it means a lot to me. You mess up and I’ll fire you in a New York minute.”
“I’ll do my job,” she said, turning to go. She turned back. “Really, I might not have said anything, I was a little busy, but I forgave you a long time ago.”
“And until I saw you, I didn’t think it still mattered. I thought I’d learned never to let down my guard.”
“What’s this about your brother? What did you mean by that?”
Riley took a breath. “I’m happy to give you a job as long as you pull your weight and earn your paycheck. But I don’t think it makes any sense for us to try friendship again. Obviously irreparable damage was done. That being said, I don’t need to run into you at family gatherings.”
“I see. I guess it could be problematic.”
“Just don’t put me in an awkward position with my family.”
“Of course,” Emma said. “We didn’t exactly kiss and make up, but can we lay this to rest now? Start over as employee and employer?”
“Absolutely. Starting a week from Monday. Seven a.m.”
Emma exited, softly closing the door behind her. But glutton for punishment that she was, she opened
the door again. “You should probably thank me,” she said. “If you hadn’t been so pissed off at me and scared to death, you probably never would have built such a successful company.”
“Don’t hang your hat on that idea,” Riley said. “I had a good start on it before Jock messed up my plans.”
And that actually made Emma smile at her. “You were so much better off without me. Who knows? If we’d remained friends, I might’ve convinced you to let Richard help you invest your money.”
Then she closed the door and left.
* * *
Riley sat at her desk for a long time, just still and quiet. The phone rang twice, she glanced at the caller ID that appeared on her computer monitor and let it go to voice mail.
Well, that was dirty, she thought to herself. It took them about ten minutes to be thrown back in time and fight like a couple of junkyard dogs, just like they had when they were thirteen. Only when they were teenagers their fights would be high and hot and over in ten minutes. That wasn’t going to happen this time.
Well, that had only been about ten minutes. And it felt remarkably over. In fact, she felt a little tired, like coming down off a good run. She folded her arms on her desk and put her head down. That was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and she’d done some hard things. It wasn’t fighting with Emma or giving her a job that was so difficult. It was seeing her, talking to her, taking her in, reconnecting with her, all the while knowing it could end up hurting her again.
Their history was so convoluted, so complex. From treasured childhood friends to bitter enemies, through a maze of anger, guilt, envy, pity. For the longest time Riley only wanted Emma to forgive her or at least join her in blaming Jock. She went through periods of terrible emotional pain and sadness. Then periods of such anger—if Emma loved Jock so much, why hadn’t she even returned his calls in weeks? And when she saw a picture of Emma in her designer wedding gown in a carriage in Central Park, as beautiful and regal as any duchess while Riley was getting by scrubbing floors and balancing the books late at night, she wondered how Emma could still be mad that things didn’t work out with Jock. Emma seemed to always land on her feet.