The Life She Wants

  She went to vacuum and dust Bethany’s room first, fiercely curious. As she started ripping off the linens she found that the lump in the bed was Bethany. The girl shrieked and Emma jumped back, crying out.

  “Oh, my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in bed!”

  Bethany grabbed for her covers. “I stayed home today.”

  “Oh, honey, are you sick?”

  “Sort of,” she said, burrowing back into her bed. “Sick of school.”

  “Oh. Can I get you anything? Call someone to look after you?”

  “I’m fifteen! I look after myself!”

  “Right,” Emma said. “Would you like me to skip your room?”

  “Yes. Just go. And look...” She talked from under the covers. “Just...don’t say anything.”

  She’s frail, Emma thought. Thin and pale and completely miserable. Who does she miss every day?

  She moved on to the parents’ room. Why did they have a cleaning service at all? They were immaculate. She stripped the bed, applied new linens, began dusting the furniture and heard Dellie in the bathroom, cleaning. She leaned against the door frame. “Skip the girl’s bathroom,” Emma said softly. “She’s home, sick in bed, asked me to leave her room.”

  “All rightie,” Dellie said. “I bet she’s cutting school.”

  “No, she’s sick,” Emma said. Then she wondered why she was protecting the girl. She went back to dusting the bureau. A drawer was ajar an inch and impulsively, irrationally, she pulled it open a bit. Then a bit more. And there it was—the thing that was the root of all the pain and forced order in this house—a family portrait in a frame, hidden from sight, lying atop folded clothes. Mom, Dad and Bethany. A plumper, slightly younger Bethany who smiled as if the very sun was inside her. They were a beautiful, happy family a few years ago. Bethany was robust, rosy, healthy. That Bethany was gone now and in her wake, terrible pain.

  She closed the drawer and felt her face catch fire. Her hands shook a little while she tried to concentrate on her dusting. If anyone knew, she would be fired. She would have to be fired.

  What had happened to this family? Why was the only picture in evidence hidden in a drawer?

  Then, later, as she pushed the vacuum around the room, she realized something significant—it was the father’s drawer. How strange that seemed. She could envision the father demanding all the pictures be removed and the mother clinging to one. But it was the father holding on...and the mother’s assistant was buying Bethany clothes.

  Emma knew without even thinking about it that the next time they cleaned, the next time she had vacuuming and dusting, she would look in the mother’s drawer. Look for a picture.

  Then she thought of her stepmother. Rosemary dispensed with Emma’s father’s personal effects quickly, and the pictures soon followed because less than a year after his death Rosemary remarried. Emma kept pictures, however. So had her little sister, Lauren.

  The next house was a filthy mess. It took too much of their time but it removed all that conjecture about Bethany and her family from Emma’s mind for a while.

  * * *

  Makenna left them for a while to go with Nick and check a few crews. The next house wasn’t bad, but messier than usual. The lady of the house was at home because her arm was in a sling. “Fell and dislocated my shoulder and might’ve injured my rotator cuff, but I had X-rays and it will be fine,” she explained. “I’m just resting it and the doctor said to keep in immobilized for a few days.” Then she laughed and said, “I could have gone to work, I just can’t fix my hair with one arm!”

  Then she stayed out of the way. When they were finished and back in the van, they took a break to eat a little lunch. “Fell my fine ass,” Shawna said. “That’s about her fifth fall this year!”

  Emma almost choked on her drink. So—that was one of the households they knew too much about.

  “It’s possible she’s clumsy,” Emma said. “Isn’t it?”

  “Humph,” was the answer. “She’s being kicked around. Know how I know? Because I see it in her eyes and I’ve seen it before. When I looked in the mirror.”

  “Oh, dear God, Shawna,” Emma said.

  “Don’t waste pity on me—I found the way out, even if you never get all the way out. If he isn’t still out there posing a threat then he’s in here,” she said, tapping her head.

  “Don’t you worry none about Shawna,” Dellie said. “Her boys are as big as he is and they take good care of their mama.”

  “They do. Now we’re gonna get over to Ms. Fletcher’s... She’s the clumsy one.”

  “I think I might know what makes her so clumsy,” Dellie said. Then the two of them cackled madly.

  “What?” Emma asked.

  “She’s a wino,” Shawna said. And they giggled some more.

  It had taken her a while, but now Emma figured it out—she was hearing all this gossip because Makenna wasn’t with them. Makenna was part of the executive trio with Riley and Nick, the holders of the holy grail, the policy manual. Violation of the policies got you fired.

  “What’s up with the Christensen house?” Emma bravely asked.

  Shawna shrugged. “Career couple.”

  “Someone’s got a little OCD going on there. I vote for her.”

  “Could be him,” Dellie said. “We wouldn’t know, they’re never home. It’s an easy house.”

  “Not a speck of dust anywhere.”

  “You gotta wonder why they hired a cleaning crew,” Shawna said.

  “For the carpet tracks,” Dellie said.

  “You gotta wonder why they had a kid,” Emma ventured.

  “Yeah, poor kid. Typical.”

  “Typical?”

  “All they think about is work and money. Everything has to be perfect,” Dellie said.

  “I like it that way better than the Brewsters—those boys have every toy and gadget ever invented, they’re sloppy, with no manners or respect and—” Shawna said.

  “And I bet they already got accepted to Harvard even though the oldest one is twelve.”

  “That is a hard house,” Emma agreed. Dirty, messy, cluttered with stuff. If she’d had a child, she would have taught him to put away his things, even if they had household help. When she dumped the trash in the master bath it was full of the lady’s outrageous price tags. She smiled to herself. Those numbers hadn’t always seemed outrageous to her.

  How many of her cleaning staff saw her price tags? Well, hardly any of her things had price tags as they were designed specifically for her. But there was the odd outrageously expensive purse purchased at Neiman’s...

  She had an urge to unburden herself to her new friends, new friends who would never understand. She’d like to tell them what she knew—that those people with all their possessions could wake up one day to discover they’d been living a lie, that the identity they thought they had was gone and they would have to figure out all over again who they were.

  Of course she couldn’t. This was why she’d come back. There were a few people here who knew her before and after, who knew who she had been growing up and who she was again.

  Only Emma was having a hard time getting a fix on her identity.

  * * *

  Emma had a message on her cell phone from Aaron Justice so she called him back before leaving the parking lot after work.

  “I just wanted to wish you a pleasant holiday,” he said. “And to tell you—we’re working on an accounting of your father’s estate according to his will. It should be ready after the holidays. I don’t want you to get your hopes up but I anticipate a late Christmas present for you.”

  “Thank you, Aaron. And don’t worry about my hopes. Just seeing you again has been an enormous treat. I wish you a lovely holiday.”

  “I’ll be with my sons and gra
ndsons. One of them is talking about making me a great-grandfather!”

  “What a fantastic Christmas present for you! Thank you, Aaron, for trying to help me. Your friendship is so valuable to me!”

  “Your father would be proud of you, Emma.”

  Proud? She wasn’t sure about that. She’d made some pretty bad choices in the last decade. But she hoped she was making better choices now.

  “I hope so,” she told Aaron.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Riley was very much out of practice with the whole dating thing, but one thing she knew she wanted to do—she wanted to introduce Logan to her daughter. Their relationship had always been honest and up-front with those few little exceptions Riley had held back, like that whole Riley/Jock/Emma thing, which was now mostly out there. So she nervously asked Maddie if she’d like to meet Logan and have dinner with him.

  “Dinner? Wow, we’re going all out, I guess. Will Gramma and Adam be coming, too?”

  “I thought we could just be the three of us. You know, we’ve got Christmas in a couple of weeks—Logan has a family, I have my family, we’ll all be busy. We might see each other but I’m not planning on merging families over an important holiday like Christmas. So I thought I’d cook something simple, invite him over, let you get to know him a little...”

  “What about Dad?” she asked.

  “No, I definitely won’t be inviting your dad,” Riley said. “Maddie, I’m dating Logan. Sort of.”

  “Sort of? You’re dating him for real, Mom. You giggle on the phone. Even I haven’t had a boyfriend like that yet!”

  “What about that Brian Breske?” she asked. “Wasn’t he a boyfriend? You invested a lot of time in him.”

  “That was seventh grade. Kid’s stuff.”

  “Oh,” Riley said. “Well, I haven’t quite elevated Logan to boyfriend status yet.”

  “So you’re not sleeping with him yet?” Maddie asked.

  “Oh, my Jesus, you did not really ask me that!”

  “Of course I did.” She grinned. “Is there anything we should talk about before you get in over your head?”

  “I thought I’d cook,” Riley said.

  “Ew, you don’t want to scare him away, do you?”

  “It’s cold. I could make chili and corn bread muffins.”

  “Are you going to actually make it?” Maddie asked.

  “Possibly.”

  Maddie laughed herself stupid.

  “Listen, I want you to be nice to Logan,” Riley said. “I’ve met men for a drink or coffee over the years but I think I’ve been out to dinner twice since you were born. Really, the men out there are dismal. Logan is kind of fun. He’s interesting—he has cop stories. His partner is a woman. He says she’s the smartest cop he’s ever known. There probably won’t be time for more than one dinner like this until after the holidays so let’s pretend we’re very excited to have him over. Very happy to meet him. Hmm?”

  “I can do that,” she said. “Will he bring his gun?”

  “Lord, I hope not!”

  “Well, what fun is that?”

  Riley was used to Maddie’s humor, her teasing. But she sincerely hoped Maddie could put a good image forth and impress Logan a little bit.

  On the day they had chosen, just over a week before Christmas, the house was decorated a little bit. No point in going crazy with decorations when they’d spend most of the holiday celebrating at June’s house where the decorations were over the top, complete with outside lighting. Riley did have a tree, however. You can’t be a single mom and ignore the tree!

  She told June what she’d be doing and June deftly pulled a big bucket of her best chili out of the freezer and handed it to Riley, telling her to just dump it in the Crock-Pot. June whipped up some corn bread muffins—it took her under thirty minutes. “Are you going to be able to throw together a green salad?” June asked Riley.

  “Of course!” she said indignantly.

  Riley stopped at the grocery store on the way home and worked her way around the salad bar in the deli section, looking over her shoulder the whole time, hoping not to get caught.

  Then she saw him. There he was, standing in the check-out line with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine. She just shook her head and chuckled to herself. She went and stood behind him.

  He jumped in surprise and attempted to hold the flowers behind his back. But when he saw her holding the salad, he relaxed and returned her smile with his own.

  “So this is how working people date,” she said.

  “Do you like these?” he asked, holding out the cellophane-wrapped bouquet. “If you want to pick something you like better...”

  “I like them very much,” she said. “Want to follow me home?”

  “I’ve wanted to for weeks now.”

  * * *

  The chili and muffins were exceptional—June liked her chili with a little kick to it, something she didn’t share with the elderly on her meal route. But Logan thoroughly enjoyed it. Since they’d run into each other at the store, Riley told him the truth, that it was her mother’s chili, and it was a good thing she did because Maddie wasted no time in selling her out.

  Riley and Logan started off with a glass of wine and she arranged the flowers. The table was set, the chili was in the Crock-Pot, she put the muffins in a basket to warm in the microwave. The house was, as usual, immaculate.

  “How was your day, dear?” Logan said.

  “Perfectly ordinary. Yours?”

  “It was a day full of reports, meetings, paperwork and no fun stuff.”

  “What’s the fun stuff, I’m afraid to ask?”

  “Chasing bad guys. Haven’t done hardly any of that lately. George and I have been on this task force with feds and we’ve been sorting through a lot of paper. Feds love their paper.”

  “What kind of task force?”

  “I’m not allowed to talk about it yet, but give it a few more weeks and when it’s behind me and closed, I’ll tell you all about it. It will help you sleep. It’s boring.”

  That’s when Maddie came into the kitchen, was introduced to Logan and poured herself a Diet Coke.

  “Wow,” she said, eyeing the table. “Fancy. Watch out, Logan—when she sets a fancy table it usually means something serious is coming down.”

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s affirmative,” she said, mocking police lingo. “My Gramma made the chili because my mother really doesn’t cook much.”

  “I’m a pretty good cook. I just don’t have a lot of time and Gramma loves to cook so we eat over there a lot,” Riley said. She put the flowers on the table and they all sat down.

  “Will Gramma be making Christmas dinner?” Logan asked.

  “Oh, most definitely,” Maddie said before Riley could open her mouth. “She’d be brokenhearted if we changed tradition. And so would my dad!”

  “Your dad?” Riley asked.

  “We always spend quality time together around the holidays and he usually comes over to my Gramma’s at least for dessert. He was there on Thanksgiving. We’re kind of a close family.”

  “We are?” Riley asked.

  “My parents might not be married but they get along very well. What do you do on holidays?” she asked Logan.

  “Go to my mother’s,” he said. “I have a sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew.”

  “And are you divorced?”

  “Maddie!”

  “What? It’s a getting-to-know-you dinner, right?”

  “That’s okay, Riley. I am divorced. Eight years and yes, we’re still friendly. No kids.”

  “Do you wish you’d had kids?”

  Logan leaned toward her. “I have an unmarked police car. Want to go outside and press the button for the
lights and siren?”

  “Gee, tempting as that is, I’ll pass. Mom, want me to help you dish up?”

  “I thought we’d visit a little first and then I’ll serve, Maddie,” she said slowly, measuring each word. What was this? Riley wondered. Asking about his divorce?

  “So tell me all about the family, Logan,” Maddie said. “Mom, Dad, sister, et cetera.” She leaned her head on her hand, waiting.

  And so it began. Maddie interviewed Logan. Logan did great at avoiding and evading and punctuating with his own questions because he was, after all, a detective. But Riley was soon horrified. Maddie managed to insert lots of information about Jock, making her dad look like he was extremely desirable and quite accomplished.

  My dad is in electronics. He has a business degree. He works for Mackie’s. It’s a national chain and he’s the manager of one of their biggest stores. Oh, my mom and dad still spend a lot of time together—they go to all my games and meets together and they chaperoned the homecoming dance together. My dad was all-conference in high school and he’s still as athletic as ever—are you interested in sports, Logan?

  “Yes,” Logan said to that last question, beginning to look annoyed. “I’m very athletic. I frequently throw very large men over the hood of my unmarked car and cuff them. And I often chase bad young men and women who have committed crimes and I always catch them.”

  “I’m going to put on the coffee,” Riley said. “And I have cheesecake. Store-bought.”

  “May I be excused?” Maddie asked.

  “Absolutely,” Riley said.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Really great to meet you, Logan.”

  “Likewise,” he said. “Please tell your gramma the chili was outstanding.”

  There was no sound in the kitchen but the dripping and bubbling of the coffeepot and then, the closing of Maddie’s door. Riley and Logan let out their collective breath.