The Life She Wants Part 6

"And I'll visit Lyle's shop and see if he'll give me a break on a centerpiece," she added.

"Try your best, darling, but be warned-he's going to gouge you! I've been looking for a discount for years. I guess I can't complain," she said with a smile. "He gave me you."

Emma was having a life. She had friendly acquaintances at work, a paycheck large enough to cover her most immediate expenses, friends apart from the hospital, two invitations for a holiday dinner, a comfortable place to live. It didn't even bother her that her own family hadn't so much as called to check on her much less ask her to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. In fact, she was relieved.

Just as she was beginning to relax, something weird happened. One of the older nurse's aides was glowering at Emma for no apparent reason. Clarice seemed angry about something. Angry or on edge. Some others seemed to be following suit. It appeared to be an unhappy day on the ward. There was a static in the air and Emma knew something was wrong. There had been a couple of emergencies; maybe that was setting everyone on edge.

The static turned to an electric crackle. Emma tried not to notice but she was beginning to feel paranoid by the behavior around her.

It didn't last long. It was two in the afternoon, about an hour until shift change. A patient had been discharged and the room was ready for a terminal cleaning. Emma got her cart, mop, linens, gloves and went to the room. Standing there beside the now empty bed in a room with no other patients was Clarice.

"How much do you have stashed away?" she asked, her voice hard.

"What?"

"You heard me. How much do you have stashed away? Enough to take care of my elderly mother? Because Hugh and I can't afford her and she has to live with us now since her entire savings was stolen."

"What are you talking about?" Emma asked, fearing she knew.

"I know who you are, Mrs. Compton. We all know who you are. My mother's name is Roberta Sinclair and you took everything she had and I think you can find a way to get it back."

Oh, no! Even though she'd been over every possible scenario, now Emma didn't know what to say. She just shook her head. "There's nothing," she said. "I have nothing."

"You have a.s.sets in your name," Clarice insisted.

Emma shook her head again. "There's nothing in my name. Everything was in Richard's name and the few things that weren't, I surrendered. All our possessions were auctioned-I surrendered those, as well. Do you honestly think I'd be scrubbing floors in a hospital if I had anything?"

"For a while, yes," she said. "You'll lie low for a while, then when the talk has died off, you'll tap into your hidden money. I read the book!"

"The books are wrong! The internet is wrong! Everything is gone-my wedding ring, my wedding gown, wedding gifts-I gave it all back. I'm not lying low-I'm using my legal name. I haven't even colored my hair! I didn't know what was going on, Clarice. I had nothing to do with Richard's business."

"What about offsh.o.r.e money? One of the books says he was about to give the SEC account numbers when-"

"Gone. He was trying to negotiate a smaller sentence, but... There's nothing that I know of, nothing left to me, I swear."

"The book says you retained 1.4 million and a lot of valuable property..."

She was getting dizzy, shaking her head. "I kept a few thousand so I could drive back here and rent a small s.p.a.ce. The US Marshals sold everything at auction. Everything. I kept some sheets and towels, a few dishes and pots. I gave most of my clothing to women's shelters. There's nothing. Do you think I want to be tied to that hideous crime? I was told that investors got roughly thirty-two cents on the dollar. I couldn't do anything more."

"You're lying," Clarice said. "You had lawyers! My mother didn't have a lawyer, she couldn't afford one! And she didn't get that much. She borrowed against her house to invest with Compton!"

That was not exactly how it worked, as Emma knew from the trial. Richard Compton worked with a number of financial managers and brokers who represented smaller investors, and it was they who invested in his company. Richard didn't talk anyone into mortgaging their house; he talked hedge fund managers into investing with him and he neither knew nor cared where they got their money. Large sums. Many collections of smaller investors. Richard was big-time. He had a minimum requirement, probably a hundred times the value of Mrs. Sinclair's mortgage.

"My lawyer was a.s.signed by the court and he wanted me to keep enough to live on since finding work would be hard, but I didn't keep anything. I'm sorry," Emma said. "I'm so sorry. I would never have let something like that happen if there was anything I could do to prevent it."

"You're lying!"

Clarice picked up a bedpan that sat on the now vacant bed and hurled it at her. Emma blocked the missile with her forearms but that did little good. The d.a.m.n thing was full. Since she knew the patient just discharged was ambulatory, Clarice must have looked high and low through the whole ward for just the right bedpan. Or more likely, she emptied catheter bags into one. The splatter threw Emma off balance. She stumbled backward, hit her tailbone on the pail on her way down and cracked her head on the metal door handle. She was covered in the filth.

When she tried to stand, the world was spinning and she ended up scooting across the floor, escaping out of the room into the hallway.

"Oh, my G.o.d," one of the other housekeepers said, running to her. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Clarice walked out of the patient room and, lifting her chin in the air, walked past Emma. She went down the hall to the nursing station.

"Can you get up?" the other housekeeper asked.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Ugh. Oh, G.o.d, this is awful."

"How did this happen?"

"She threw a bedpan at me. Apparently she was swindled by... My late husband was guilty of... But I didn't know," she said, turning imploring eyes to her friend. "I swear I didn't. I would never. And he's dead now."

Two of the RNs on staff came running down the hall. One said, "Dear G.o.d." The other one said, "Clarice has lost her mind." They tried to get Emma on her feet but when she swayed and threatened to fall again, they went for a wheelchair and took her to the ER. She tried to briefly explain the problem, but it didn't come out well. She tried to tell them she'd been married to a bad man, a thief, but she didn't know it and it seems Clarice was one of his victims but Emma didn't know...

I should have done something, she thought. I should have done something when I wondered why lawyers negotiated our prenup but Richard had hired both of them. I should have asked questions when this fabulously wealthy man wanted to marry me, but I didn't! I should have done something when the SEC started investigating him. I should have looked through his papers or found a way to hack his computer when I realized something was wrong, but I didn't know. I should have known. How could I not have known? I should have talked to the people who worked for him, the people who eventually testified against him. I should have found out how they were going to carry on-they got deals from the prosecutors. Everyone got deals-even his mistress!

When everything was so murky, so mysterious, I should have looked into it! Maybe I should have hired a detective or something. Maybe I should have run!

"Clean her up and get a head CT," the ER doctor ordered. "Listen, you might have a concussion, Emma. Can you get a ride home today and a ride back for your car tomorrow?"

"I don't know," she said, thinking I'm covered in urine! Who wants to drive me home?

"Well, you can think about that. We're going to get you some clean scrubs, stand you in the shower and wash you off-Mandy will go with you and make sure you don't faint or fall in the shower. And while you're having your CT, think about who you can call. If there's no one, someone from the hospital can either take you home or put you in a cab. You can't drive for twelve hours, at least. And Mrs. Carlson is waiting to see you, but let's get you cleaned up first."

Glynnis! Glynnis was going to fire her!

She was taken to a shower, her smelly uniform was put in a plastic bag and a set of scrubs provided. "I think your shoes are fine," Mandy said from right outside the curtain.

"My shoes are fine because it hit me in the head and got in my hair," Emma said with a hiccup of emotion.

"Just to be safe, throw the shoes in the washer when you get home. Or spray clean them with some disinfectant cleaner."

"You can wash those?"

"I do it all the time-they're just running shoes. Canvas and that little bit of leather."

If I'd been doing my own laundry and cleaning instead of hiring people to do it, I'd probably know that, she thought.

Emma was given a comb and had a little lip gloss in her purse. By the time the doctor looked at her head CT, her hair was almost dry and completely mangy-looking. Without some product, a brush and a blow dryer, she looked a wreck. It was a relief to be clean, but she wasn't feeling much better about the whole thing. They gave her a list of symptoms to watch for and she had a very large b.u.mp on the back of her head, but that didn't hurt nearly as much as her tailbone where she'd hit the metal bucket on the way down. She was given some ibuprofen.

The doctor was insistent that she not drive herself. Emma thought about just ignoring the instructions. Then her wiser self intervened and reminded her that all she needed was to pa.s.s out while driving and kill a family of four. She couldn't bear the thought of calling Lyle and having Ethan sn.i.g.g.e.r to learn that her past was kicking up trouble. She didn't want to call Penny; she didn't want her landlady having second thoughts about her decision to rent to her.

She texted Adam.

I fell and had a little accident at work and need a ride home from the hospital in Petaluma. Are you available? If not, I'll look around for someone who will give me a lift.

He responded immediately.

School's almost out so I'll come for you ASAP. It'll take about an hour to get there. Are you all right until then?

I'm okay. Text me from the parking lot and I'll come out. And thank you.

She went to Glynnis Carlson's office and sat outside her door, holding the plastic bag with her work clothes in it. It was a few minutes before the dragon lady opened her door and motioned Emma to come in. She indicated the chair in front of her desk. Then Glynnis folded her hands on top of her desk.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"I'll try," Emma said. "My husband was Richard Compton. Do you know the name?"

Glynnis nodded. She explained that Clarice claimed her mother was a victim, but Emma had only met a few of Richard's clients socially; they were typically big investors or multimillionaires. She had seen a few in court and was surprised there was anyone from California, especially surprised to learn it was Clarice's mother, but the crime was Richard's. Not hers.

"You should have told me," Glynnis said.

"You wouldn't have hired me."

"I might've hired you and put you on the night shift. Well, spilled milk. Now, you have the prerogative of calling the police and filing a.s.sault charges. The nurse's aide who attacked you will be disciplined, possibly fired, but you can still-"

Emma shook her head. "It would be a mistake to draw attention to it. Plus, I do understand her anger, I really do. Thing is, I can't help her with this. I surrendered everything. I didn't want anything Richard had gotten by swindling people. There isn't anything."

"Why does she think there is?"

"There were a couple of books written about Richard's crime, lots of articles, news stories and internet posts speculating that I had some of his money hidden away. False, of course."

"Emma, you can't work with the public even though you've been exonerated of wrongdoing. Not for a long time. Do you understand that?"

"I'm trying to keep a low profile," she said.

"I'm applying for workers' compensation for you, Emma. I've taken you off the schedule. You should take two weeks and then my recommendation is that you resign and find something else. You'd do better in hotel housekeeping-less contact with the public."

"I'm not hurt that badly," she said. "I don't need two-"

"This isn't the place for you right now, Emma. You should take the time. You're ent.i.tled to it."

"But you're not going to fire me?" she asked.

"As far as I know you haven't done anything wrong. But I want you to think about whether this is the right job for you. I can put you on a different shift from the aide who beaned you with the bedpan, but I'm sure she has friends. Word will travel. Life could be difficult."

She almost laughed. "I might not have any choice..."

"While you're recovering, check out the hotels in the area. That's an option. You'd be working alone, not with a lot of other employees. You'd rarely come into contact with guests. Or...wait a second." She reached into her drawer and began to shuffle through business cards. "This woman has an excellent service-domestic, business, et cetera. But for G.o.d's sake, tell her the truth from the start. And if you need one, I'll write you a letter of recommendation. You've done a good job here in your brief employment."

Emma looked down at the card. Riley Kerrigan. Lord, she was everywhere. "Yes, ma'am," she said. The only advantage she could see was that she wouldn't have to explain her circ.u.mstances.

"Think things over. Call me with your decision, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

Emma went from Glynnis Carlson's office to the restroom. She took several deep breaths. Glynnis had been kind. Fair and kind. But Emma had to face facts; people would blame her. If they didn't blame her as a co-conspirator, they'd blame her for not taking action or for not testifying against Richard. They'd never believe she had nothing to say, nothing to add.

Keep your head, she told herself. It's only been six months. This could go on awhile. You knew it wouldn't be easy, no matter where you went, no matter what you did.

Then she put the bag holding her soiled work clothes in the trash can. She went to the locker room in the bas.e.m.e.nt where they clocked in and grabbed her jacket. She wasn't going to wait around for Adam where other employees might pa.s.s her on their way to their cars. There was a nice little courtyard behind the emergency room. It was primarily there for those die-hard smokers left in the world, but no one was there at the moment. The sun was shining. It was a beautiful fall afternoon. She sat with her back to the door and talked to herself a little more.

It's only been six months. Some of his victims will be angry for the rest of their lives. Many will feel his death wasn't punishment enough. And there would always be those who believed she had some of that money, that she had a plan, that she was just waiting to emerge like a phoenix, rolling in dough, living the high life. It's only been six months so don't cry.

But silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

A few minutes had pa.s.sed when she heard the door behind her open. She heard a little rustling, some footsteps, then a man walked past her. He was carrying a cellophane-wrapped bouquet, hanging down at his side. That was the rustling she'd heard-the cellophane. He walked all the way to the end of the courtyard then turned back toward her. He glanced at her briefly and sat on a bench several feet away and didn't meet her eyes. He was looking at his knees.

She gave her eyes a little wipe.

He looked up. "Bad day?" he asked.

She nodded. "You?"

"A little disappointing, but it'll all work out. What happened to you? You're a doctor?"

She shook her head. It was the scrubs, she realized.

"Ah. Nurse. I guess nurses can have all kinds of bad days."

She didn't respond because it wasn't required, except that she had this real problem with deception. No one would believe that, of course. She imagined almost everyone thought she was a liar.

Her cell phone chimed in her pocket. She took it out and saw Adam's text. "I have to go, my ride is here," she said. "I hope your day gets better."

He actually stood and she realized he was very handsome. Also tall and broad-shouldered. "I hope yours does, too. Here," he said, holding out the bouquet. "Take these. They'll go in the trash otherwise."

"Can't you take them home to your wife?"

"No wife."

"Your mother? Daughter? Sister?"

He smiled, improving his looks even more. "Nah. Here. Enjoy." She just stood there. "Come on, someone just did something nice for you. Take them."

She did. She said thank you. She went to Adam's SUV in the parking lot and climbed in the pa.s.senger seat.

He eyed the flowers. "Parting gifts?" he asked. And she burst into tears.

Chapter Six.