The Life She Wants Part 9

He didn't hesitate. "I'm a good listener, if you feel like talking."

"No, thanks. Let's stick to the price of melons."

"I'm also a good talker, if you'd rather not. Or we can pa.s.s the time as if we're alone." He reached down and pulled a small laptop out of a canvas shoulder bag. He put it on the table and opened it up. He turned it on. He sipped his coffee. He peeked at her around the screen.

She laughed lightly. "You're being very obvious."

He gazed over the screen. "In what way?"

"Are you trying to get my attention? Interest me?"

"I am," he said. "How'm I doing?"

"You're actually terrible at it," she said, laughter in her voice. "You verge on annoying. More to the point, we keep running into each other. Are you stalking me?"

"That would be rude," he said. "Not to mention a felony. Well, it becomes a felony if it's threatening, but it's a misdemeanor when it's just rude."

"And you know these things how?"

"I'm a police detective."

She started to laugh. "Oh, man, the only pickup line that works better than that is being a Navy SEAL."

He s.h.i.+fted his weight around and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open. Sure enough, badge and ID. "Hold on, there," she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, poising over the open wallet to snap a picture.

He put his hand over hers, redirecting the phone lens. "Does this mean you're going to find out if I'm real before you go out with me?"

She shrugged. "I might find out if you're real before I give you advice on melons again or warn you off the macaroni salad in the deli. A date has never occurred to me. Or interested me."

He let go of the phone, allowing her to take the picture. "You're brutal. Knock yourself out."

She snapped the picture. "What kind of detective are you?" she asked.

"Property crimes."

"And that is?"

"Be careful about making friendly conversation, Riley. You might be acting less like a meanie and more like a girl. Property crimes, burglary. Someone stole your computer and your diamond ring and I'm going to get them back for you. They did not rob you-robbery is when there's a weapon involved."

"A deadly weapon?" she asked, intrigued.

He raised one brow. "Any weapon could be deadly. A spoon could be deadly if you know how to use it. Property crimes is property stolen from private property-your house, your business, your car, your person, without the spoon, of course." He grinned stupidly.

"And why do I keep running into you?"

"This little shopping center is between work and my house. And I'm in the field a lot. But running into you all the time is one of the perks. So-what do you think? Dinner? Hike? Bike ride? Conventional date?"

"Coffee," she said. "We're having coffee. I don't date."

"I didn't see a ring..."

She shook her head. "Not married, just not dating."

"You have to have a reason," he informed her.

"No," she said. "I don't."

"Do you mind if I ask-what do you do?"

"I do mind, but I'll tell you, but only because I think you really are a policeman. I own a small business. Plus, I'm a single mother and have an elderly mother. So you see, very busy."

He closed the computer and leaned an elbow on it. "Look, I admit I've been hanging out at the grocery store a lot since you advised me on produce. Can't this be any easier? I'm overstocked in melons. What do you like to do besides work? Maybe we could go for a run? Play catch in the park? Meet for coffee a lot?"

"Why?" she asked.

He tilted his head. "I'm attracted to you?"

"Was that a question?" she asked.

"I haven't been out with a woman in a while. Well, haven't had a date with a woman. My partner is a woman, married to a great big firefighter, three little kids. My sister and ex-wife are best friends and believe me, their attempts at fixing me up are miserable..."

"Oh, G.o.d, that must be interesting! Your sister and your ex-wife?"

"It's awful. But see, I'm interesting," he said, triumphant. He looked around. "Would you like something to eat? Doughnut?"

She laughed at him because he was so ridiculous. Also, undeniably cute. "So it's true-cops and doughnuts."

"I was thinking of you. I've had my quota today. Come on, Riley. Let's just plan something. It can be public, daylight, completely safe and platonic. I'll show you my gun," he said, lifting his eyebrows, Groucho Marx style.

She laughed again. "No," she said. She stood up. "See you in produce," she said, walking out.

It took him a moment to get his computer put away in his canvas bag and grab his coffee, following her. "Hang on," he yelled. He caught up with her and handed her a business card. "This will make your mission easier."

She looked at it. Sgt. Logan Danner, Santa Rosa Police, Property Crimes. Along with a phone number and extension.

"Would you like my cell number?" he asked.

"No."

"It's on the card anyway. Come on, Riley. I bet we'd have fun."

She turned before getting in her car. "No. And if you follow me, I'll call your boss. I'll tell on you."

"Hey, no worries. My boss likes me," he said.

Riley headed for home. But she smiled the whole way. He was handsome in a very hot way and adorably funny. He was tempting.

Whoa, Riley, she thought. Really? Tempting? Now that's a first. It wasn't as if she hadn't been flirted with or asked out on a date before. She'd actually been out a few times-nothing to write home about. Definitely no relations.h.i.+p stuff. It wasn't frequent since she hung out at work, at home, with Maddie and her mom, shopping for food and clothes, taking the occasional run...

Did he know about the running? Oh, if he'd been watching her, she was going to turn him in to his boss and tell Adam. Adam was very protective.

But for the first time in many, many years, she was feeling like maybe a casual friends.h.i.+p with a man might interest her. She wondered if seeing Emma and having that first confrontation behind her had anything to do with her change of mood.

But really, did he know about her running? Because if he did, she was going to deal harshly with him.

Still, she chuckled to herself. And I have his badge number.

She'd done the right thing with Emma. She'd had it out with her and given her a job. From now on she'd be nice; she'd be professional; she'd keep a safe s.p.a.ce between them.

And maybe really get on with her life.

At last.

So Riley had drawn her line in the sand, Emma thought. It was clear-there were still some hard feelings, some resentment. Emma sulked for a minute, fighting melancholy. There was something about women and friends.h.i.+p that could run so deep, so personal, it was almost harder to say goodbye to a relations.h.i.+p like that than it was to break up with a man. She missed that friends.h.i.+p with Riley, so intimate and trusted. She grieved that it was forever gone.

But then she began to lighten up. She'd been beaned with a bedpan, for G.o.d's sake. Let Riley be a little superior-she'd survived better than Emma had. They weren't going to be friends. But Emma had a job. A decent job. And she had no doubt that tough little Riley wouldn't let anything happen to her. That won't happen in my company!

Once she settled that in her mind, she found herself almost breathless with excitement about her new job. There was no question in her mind, it would be physically demanding and dirty and she was ecstatic. She was sure it wouldn't be long-only days, perhaps-before this pink cloud would burst and the reality would settle in-she had signed on for hard work. But in the moment, it felt good on so many levels. She wanted hard work; it would help her scour from her past the stain of all that excess she had indulged in but never deserved. It would prove she could take on tough work and survive. In a way it felt like the hard labor she had earned. Her penance, though she was innocent. She was not innocent of loving wealth, however. And she had made trade-offs along the way. Not amoral or unethical trade-offs, but she had accepted her busy, sometimes indifferent husband, accepted loneliness, made excuses, ignored red flags, and all along she'd wondered, secretly and silently, what was wrong. And wondered, if he'd been penniless, would she have reconsidered? For that alone she should atone.

It would be dirty work for a clean paycheck, beholden only to her effort. And it would be safe.

To her astonishment, Riley made her feel safe. Riley's self-righteous stubbornness alone smoothly and effortlessly guaranteed a secure and protected work environment and... Dear G.o.d. And...Emma trusted her. After sixteen years of lamenting she could never really trust again, who did she put her faith in but the very person she feared could betray her. The very person who didn't want her for a friend.

"She gave me a job," she said into the phone to Adam. Her voice was quiet and breathy, astonished and secretive.

"Of course she did," he said.

"You didn't even tell her how often we'd been in touch," she said.

"I told you-I'm not interested in trying to reunite the two of you. How about a gla.s.s of wine to celebrate?"

"Can we meet at that wine bar?" she asked.

He chuckled. "I think instead I'll bring a bottle and some fruit and cheese over to your place, if you'll let me. I have to work in the morning. It can't be a late night."

"I should get the wine and cheese," she said. "After all you've done to help me..."

"You can do it next time. I'll stop on the way over. You'll have to tell me where you are."

Emma had had many boyfriends and one husband, but she'd never had a man she could talk to like she could Adam. He had evolved in exactly the way she would have expected him to. Looks aside, though his hard good looks must melt female bones all over Sonoma County, he was also smart, mature and engaging. So well-spoken, as one would expect a teacher to be; when he began to talk, he had her complete attention. He was also funny, making her laugh. And earnest-that was paramount. If he talked about his family, about Maddie, Riley or his mother, both the seriousness and sincerity of what he was saying rang through. Mom hasn't changed since you knew her. Family is still everything to her and it's obvious she's nervous about idleness, having always worked hard. Now that she's finally been convinced not to work all the time, she volunteers. She does meals-on-wheels almost every day and sometimes she fosters rescue animals until they find a permanent home. And, Riley takes her achievements in stride but she takes her failures, however small, way too seriously. She's the overachiever in the family. And, If there's anyone in our family who understands pure joy, it's Maddie. She loves everyone, all of us, including Jock, and without any effort, with such simple authenticity, makes sure each one of us knows it.

I live in a family of women, which can take its toll but keeps me sharp. I can't get away with anything. They lean on me, crowd me, are overprotective of me and demanding of me. They're in my business all the time. And I find I like it that way.

Emma wondered what it must be like to live with a man as strong and sensitive as Adam. She couldn't stop looking at his hands, scarred with hard work, so beautiful and strong. She learned he had worked in the vineyards, scarring his knuckles on the rough, hard vines. Also construction, where he learned enough building and carpentry to do all the fixing up and renovation to both his own house and his mother's-that work had also taken its toll on his hands. Those hands represented to Emma that he hadn't ever taken the easy way, but only traveled the path that demanded stamina and hard work. Honest work, something that had come to mean everything to her.

She was so grateful for him. Just knowing he was her friend, that he was in her camp, gave her a feeling of peace and comfort she hadn't felt in so long. She adored him. But at the end of the evening, when he was leaving, when he leaned toward her, she jumped away from him. She just couldn't let him muddy his relations.h.i.+ps and his st.u.r.diness by getting too close to someone like her. "No, no..." she said in a whisper.

"Sorry, Emmie. That was insensitive of me," he said. "You're recently widowed..."

"No, it's not that, it's..."

"Shhh," he said, putting a finger to her lips. "I'm with you. We don't want to complicate our friends.h.i.+p."

"Right," she said, because she was at a loss as to how to explain herself. If she'd ever wanted to be kissed, it was now. And if she ever wanted a certain person to kiss her, it was him. But it wasn't friends.h.i.+p with him she feared complicating. It was hurting him just by being in his life. She couldn't bear the thought of being Adam's problem.

That's when he smiled, looked at his watch and said, "I've stayed way too late."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not at all. I hope we'll do this again very soon. Very soon."

"We will."

Then he was gone.

After having a conversation with Penny, Emma made some plans for her little bungalow. She was on a mission. She had very little time before starting her new job and she put it to good use. First of all, she bought a couple of cans of paint-a pale yellow, a pale blue and a nice supply of extra-light tan, a kind of heavy cream color. She wasn't exactly overconfident but she did feel she could spend a little on renewing her digs since she was absolutely determined she'd be able to keep her job indefinitely. As long as she stayed out of Riley's way.

She painted her bathroom to match the towels she'd brought with her. One wall in her tiny living room became yellow and the alternating walls the tan so light it was off-white. She was all over the small towns in Sonoma County on Sat.u.r.day, haunting the garage sales, and found colorful throw pillows, a decorative blanket to cover the sofa back, small wicker shelves she could stack her bathroom towels on, a beautiful basket she could fill with fruit or gourds for the small table, a couple of bronze picture frames and a framed print for the bedroom wall. It was a Matisse and the frame was excellent. She found wood trays she loved and could use to serve wine and cheese because now she knew she'd have guests sometimes. She also found some beautiful winegla.s.ses and dessert plates she didn't need but couldn't resist. And a distressed white denim jacket called out to her. "I gained weight," the lady who was selling it told her. "It's hardly been worn."

"Well, you look amazing and I lucked into a great jacket," Emma told her. So the woman threw in a navy blue scarf, a thin, soft knit that was almost pashmina quality.

The weather was perfect for walking the old-fas.h.i.+oned, tree-lined neighborhoods. Children still played in the street around here; there were a lot of front porches on old brick two-stories and people were out raking leaves, watching kids, chatting over fences. It was sunny, low sixties, and grocers put their late fruits and vegetables outside in large racks. She couldn't resist apples, zucchini, tomatoes, a couple of peppers, a fistful of green beans and a few onions. One of the things she had missed most in New York were the vegetable stands along the roads, owned and operated by the farmers who grew the stuff-it was as if you could taste the suns.h.i.+ne and hard work.

When she went home, she was pleased to see her little bungalow already had a newer, more cheerful look, more like the old Emma. She went back to the hardware store. She painted her little table bright yellow, one of the chairs bright blue and one Irish green.

It looked a bit like a summer house, she thought.

She invited Lyle to an antipasto and wine dinner so she could show off her new-old house, including the framed picture of Emma, Lyle and Riley, cutting up at a pep rally in high school.

"This is interesting," he said, picking it up. "Does this bode well?"

"I was saving this for our toast, but I can tell you now. Riley gave me a job in her company."

"Ah," Lyle said. "So at least one of you is open to reconciliation."

"Oh, don't get too excited. She was very cool, very professional and made it clear I wouldn't be getting any special treatment. We're not going to be friends. It's a job, that's all. But I'm very grateful. She'll be paying me almost twice per hour what I've earned since I've been back. Plus benefits."

Thanksgiving, possibly the last holiday she'd have off for a long time, was such a pleasure, such a breath of fresh air after the holidays she'd had the past several years, she wished it would never end. She not only bought wine for the meal at Penny's and had Lyle create a lovely centerpiece, she also spent the entire morning helping Penny clean the house, prepare the turkey and other food and appoint the table. It was so companionable, so stress-free.

"I wish I'd had a daughter," Penny said as they worked in the kitchen together.

"Do you have any children?" Emma asked.

"No," she said. "Bruce and I had a happy marriage, but we weren't blessed."

"When did he pa.s.s away?"