The Life She Wants Part 24

"No. Not anything useful."

"Why don't you go ahead and tell me, huh? I'm much more objective than you are."

He took a breath. She was right. "There's some significant history between the girls but it's obviously complicated. When I started to ask about their history, using all of my brilliant detective skills, she mentally moved away from me. That's when I lost her. She was fine talking about Emma coming back here, needing a job, getting over a bad marriage-generic on the bad, no details-but when I asked what their relations.h.i.+p was like when they were young, she shut down. Oh-and she thinks Emma might be seeing her brother."

"She doesn't know?" George asked.

"Not for sure, I guess. How firm is that?"

"Every night."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"The only conversations they have are about what's for dinner and when will you be here."

Logan thought Adam Kerrigan was getting a lot luckier than he was. "I don't get it," he said. "They're one nice big happy family. I saw Riley and Emma today, working through a tense situation, supportive of each other, friendly. The brother and the mother obviously like her. But Riley's smart. She's scary smart. You think she knows something and doesn't want her family mixed up in it?"

"Possible," George said. "If you don't have anything interesting to tell me, I'm going to kiss the kids and hit the sack. Bruno's on s.h.i.+ft."

Bruno was not his real name. Mr. Universe's real name was John.

"Good. Don't call me anymore."

"You know it's probably a good thing you didn't get laid..."

"Shows what you know. That's almost never a good thing."

"Oh, I can think of a ton of circ.u.mstances when getting laid would be a really bad-"

He hung up on her.

Chapter Sixteen.

Emma received her second phone call from Bethany two days after the first, again while she was driving home from work. She learned that Bethany's mother had died from a freakishly terrible case of the flu almost two years ago. She got sick, then got sicker, was admitted to the hospital then to the ICU. It was the kind of thing that usually happened to the extremely frail, chronically ill or elderly, but it got Danielle Christensen, taking her life in a week. The family was, understandably, wrecked by it.

Then Olaf Christensen brought home a woman he had worked with for a long time, a CPA in his import-export company. There were many such businesses in the port city, the Bay Area, and the Christensens' was successful. Danielle had only been gone a couple of months, but it seemed to help him a great deal to be seeing this woman. Liz was forty and had never married, had no children and before six months had pa.s.sed, they were married. Everyone loved her-she was good at her job, active in her church, popular at work, laughed a lot and showered attention on Bethany's father. But she never laughed with Bethany, only with Bethany's father and other adults.

Before they even married, Bethany's stepmother was taking over the house. She fired the cleaning lady who'd been with them for years and hired Riley's company. She made every meal or ordered something she could pick up on the way home or booked reservations. The once comfortably lived-in house became spotless and sterile. Danielle's clothes were moved to a guest room closet and chest of drawers, then little by little they moved back to the master bedroom. The family pictures were removed. Liz said, "They're certainly not helping our situation, these constant reminders." Bethany was told to clean her room to Liz's specifications and if she didn't, Liz went in her room, put things away and tidied up. In order to keep Liz out of her room, Bethany followed the instructions. When Bethany just wouldn't stop acting depressed, Liz found her a therapist.

"I heard her saying I should be put in a hospital or boarding school but my dad didn't agree. Maybe I should. I would be away from them."

Bethany told Emma she took a bunch of drugs from Liz's medicine chest and had to have her stomach pumped last Christmas.

Emma gasped. "Oh, sweetheart, how terrifying! Please tell me you'll never do that again!"

"No, I won't. It was horrid. It turns out Liz doesn't have any good drugs," Bethany said.

"Well, I guess that's a point in her favor," Emma said. "I know Christmas is hard, Bethany, but if you start to feel terrible will you please tell a school counselor? Or teacher? Or someone?"

"I could try, but I think I'm just going to ask my dad and Liz if I can be a foreign exchange student. My dad wants everything to be all right. But I think Liz would be happy to see me go."

"Do you have pictures of your mother?" Emma asked. "Pictures you can look at to give you comfort?"

"I have some in my drawer."

"Bethany, what about your grandparents?"

"My grandma is in a.s.sisted living. She was so good but when my mom died... She just got so old, so fast."

"And what about your friends from school?"

"I have friends at school, but they don't want to hang out anymore. I think I make them sad or something. And Liz makes them nervous. She's too much."

Emma was almost surprised to hear the sound of her own laughter. "Okay, I wasn't going to tell you this but I have a stepmother. And she's too much, too."

"No way," Bethany said.

"Rosemary. I remember when my adviser in high school told me I was so lucky to have a mother like Rosemary who was strict and made sure my homework was done and had a strong set of values. She said I'd appreciate it someday. Rosemary was kind of scary. Her smile was fake, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Bethany said. "My stepmother doesn't like me. She pretends in front of my dad, but it's not real. Sometimes I can hear her complaining and crying to him, saying I don't appreciate her. Maybe it's just because she's not anything like my mother, I don't know. It's like we don't live in the same house anymore."

"Tell me about your mother," Emma said.

"She was so sweet. Not that she couldn't get mad-she chased me with a mop once, yelling her head off. But she couldn't catch me and then she laughed her head off. She was kind of messy. She left her clothes on the closet floor all the time and our cleaning lady, Mary, she used to grumble and mutter and complain and my mother would laugh and say, "Come on, Mary! I'm such great job security!" But my mother could cook and bake! The house always smelled great. And she loved to go to my school things. She worked at my dad's company, too, but she'd take off to help at school, to go on field trips, to watch my concerts and programs and stuff. And she used to..." Bethany's voice slowed and stopped. Emma could tell she was crying. "We used to get in bed together and talk and rub each other's backs and heads and laugh and fall asleep in a pile."

Emma struggled to find her own voice. "I love your mother," she finally said.

"Thank you for saying that because I believe you, and you don't even know her. I wish I could be with her."

"She's with you in your heart and I believe she's watching over you. You're going to be like her, you know. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but you're going to have a great life and make your house smell like great things are baking and laugh with your children and fall asleep in a pile. You will, Bethany. I grew up and moved away from my stepmother and you'll move away from yours."

"Did you move away and have a great life?"

Emma bit her lip. It wasn't really a lie if she thought about where she was now. "Yes, I have a lovely life. A happy life."

"Cleaning houses?"

"Yes. And meeting wonderful people."

When they hung up, Emma drove the rest of the way home, crying all the way. Was she helping by taking these calls from this poor, grief-stricken, lonely girl?

She remembered when her life was at a point like that, when she'd lost her father, when she was just sixteen. But she had Riley. And Riley hadn't been afraid to hang out.

The twenty-third of December fell on Friday and that was the day Penny and her girlfriends chose for their little Christmas party. The girls had decided that everyone would bring substantial hors d'oeuvres and Marilyn agreed to make two desserts. They were going to have a c.o.c.ktail party and ornament exchange.

Earlier in the week Emma had helped Penny bring in her tree and put her decorations up. She brought another centerpiece and wine; her wrapped presents were under Penny's tree. She'd been looking forward to this holiday for weeks, her first Christmas as a free woman. And especially her evening with the girls, Penny, Susan, Dorothy and Marilyn. But all the while, it was hard for her to shake off Bethany's call.

Their wine was poured, their c.o.c.ktail plates were loaded, they were comfy in Penny's little living room and someone toasted, "Another year gone to h.e.l.l." They all said Here! Here! with laughter.

"You're not quite as perky as usual, Emma," Marilyn pointed out. "You haven't had another pan of pee tossed at your head, have you?"

Emma shot wide eyes to Penny. "You told?"

"Way to keep it to yourself, Marilyn," Penny scolded.

"Well, I don't have to keep it from Emma, do I? You haven't had a falling out with that lovely Adam, have you?"

"No, he remains lovely. Really, Penelope, I can't believe you told about that! I'll see Adam late tomorrow night after he has his dinner and celebration with his family. I have the littlest work problem, that's all."

"Do tell!" three of them said at once.

"I shouldn't. I don't believe you're entirely trustworthy," Emma said.

Dorothy laughed. "Don't worry about that, angel. No one listens to us anyway. What happened at work?"

She sighed. Truthfully, she was dying to talk to someone and these old biddies were good listeners. As long as she didn't name names. "I've gone and done the dumbest thing."

"What? Tell us at once!"

"But it's not a happy story," she apologized. "I don't want to cast a pall on our party-I've been looking forward to it."

"Pah, we love trouble and misery. We can take it!"

"Indeed," Emma said with a frown. "It's quite sad, really."

They had no trouble talking her into it; she was more than ready to unload. She started with the new clothes in the trash, the scarred desktop, then the diary and her bold move in leaving her number.

"Oh, bless you, little darling!" Susan said. "You're all mush, aren't you?"

Then Emma explained Riley's rules and Bethany's two calls.

"Oh, my dear, you did absolutely the right thing!" Penny said. "Someone has to talk to that child!"

"But what can I do to help?"

"I'm sure listening helps, love," Dorothy said. "Where is that girl's grandmother?"

"I asked, as a matter of fact-apparently she went downhill fast after her daughter died and is now in a.s.sisted living. I don't know the details, but I gather she can't be of much help in her condition."

"Some of us are frail," Marilyn said. "Not us, mind you. We turned into leather. Tough old broads who have outlasted way too many friends. You can give her our numbers, Emma. There's no group of grannies who know more about the pain of loss and the way to move on than we do."

"I bet you would be good for her," Emma said.

"What about that woman, the new wife. Wearing the dead woman's clothes! That should be against the law. I'm calling my lawyer after Christmas. I'm going to give him a list of names of those approved to be seen in my clothing after I'm gone," Marilyn said.

"Save your dime," Penny said. "No one wants your old-lady clothes."

"It is awful, though, isn't it?" Emma asked. "She made a point of saying she asked them, but what's a young, grief-stricken girl going to say?"

"Sounds like she can't help herself," Susan said. "She's probably a well-meaning idiot. Trying to make her new husband happy, keeping the house immaculate to impress anyone who's watching that she's a caring mother, getting expensive clothes for the girl, rather than giving time and understanding..."

"They put her in counseling," Emma said.

"So what? I have an ex-sister-in-law who was a counselor!" Susan exclaimed. "Worst f.u.c.ked-up piece of work I've ever seen."

"Nice language," Dorothy said. "You know what you should do, Emma? You should talk to that nice Adam about this. You said he's lovely with teenagers."

"With his niece, I've seen a little of that. But I'm working for his sister. I broke the rules. I wonder if he'd feel obligated to tell her. Because it wouldn't be the first time I've broken the rules. Not long ago I called the police on one of our clients..."

They all leaned toward her as one. Their eyes were wide and hungry. "I don't believe you mentioned that, darling," Penny said.

"I'm going to need another gla.s.s of wine," Marilyn said. "Don't tell about it until I've gotten reloaded here."

"A man was a.s.saulting his wife. Beating her," Emma said, going through the story, explaining she was supposed to call her directors or Riley but she just called the police.

"Good for you!" everyone said.

"I thought strong women had died off, but look at you go!" Dorothy added.

"I might've chased him with a tire iron, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Penny said.

"Exactly why I carry," Susan finally said.

"I just wish I could've seen them arrest him," Emma said. "Say..." She looked around the room. "Penny, just how much have you told them about me?"

"Well, there was that story about the bedpan. Slowed down the bridge table a bit, that one. And of course that little bit about the Ponzi..."

"You told them all that, did you?" Emma asked.

"You wouldn't want them to be caught off guard," Penny said.

"I say good riddance," Marilyn said. "Thank goodness he had that Sat.u.r.day night special in his office!"

"It was a Glock, you dolt," Susan said. "At least keep your weapons straight."

Emma was shaking her head.

"What's the matter, darling?" Penny asked.

"You're incorrigible," she said. "There is no logical reason why I should want to be exactly like you. Yet..."