The Life She Wants Part 8

"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 compet.i.tive 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 ent.i.tled. 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 h.e.l.luva 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 b.u.t.t? 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 h.e.l.l 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 G.o.d you better not f.u.c.k 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 p.i.s.sed 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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.

Then she witnessed, from afar, Emma's monumental fall. And it ripped her to shreds. But she didn't reach out. No, she had too much pride for that. Emma hadn't reached out when Riley was struggling and feeling so alone.

I was hurt at least as much! Can't she see that? That it was all so hard?

They had always been there for each other, until that first semester of college. You didn't have to be so mean, she said to herself. But Riley wanted to be clear-this was her company, her business; it was a job, not an invitation to reconcile or renew the friendship. She would never beg again.

But at long last, she'd gotten it out. She said her piece. She saw Emma's surprise and remorse painted on her face. Emma said she was sorry and that she'd forgiven Riley long ago-it was done. It was really done. Neither of them would go back but maybe now they could really move forward.

Riley shut everything down, switched the phones to forward to her cell, grabbed her purse and headed for the parking lot.

Chapter Seven.

Riley went to Starbucks, a place that saw her at least once a day.

She rarely sat around inside. She was usually in and out and on her way-always so much to do. There were those who camped in Starbucks for hours, doing their emails or writing something or studying. People who didn't have to be somewhere every minute. Not Riley. She never relaxed.

She bought a newspaper on her way inside. She had a lot to process, something she could do while hiding behind a newspaper, the great barrier.

It was such a cold November day-a hot coffee with heavy cream sounded good. And there was a nice little table by the window that looked out on the patio that Starbucks shared with the deli. She smiled at a couple of people she didn't know but saw in there a lot. Then she settled behind the paper.

Women, she thought. Difficult, complex, emotional creatures. She should know. Not only was she difficult and complex, she also had far more women employees than men. She had those teams of three or four females who found issues they couldn't get beyond just because of something that was said or a look they didn't like or maybe a little power struggle. She had to mediate all the time. Or Nick did. Nick was only good at getting results because he didn't get what was going on with the women so he just scared them. "Can you work this out? Or do I separate the whole unit and scatter you around on different crews? Because you might not like your new crewmates any better. If you can't get along, then do your job and don't talk to each other, but you'd d.a.m.n well better communicate on job issues. Are we all clear?"

She smiled thinking about that. A typical father-to-little-girls approach. He might as well say, "Since I can't understand what you're all upset about, just stop it."

Nick took problems getting the job done properly a lot more seriously than he regarded bickering. But women, ah, they could dig in. Grudges between women could last centuries. And they were very personal-a woman who wasn't usually annoyed could be deeply offended by an offhand remark about the choices of her teenager. "If you'd tell that lazy kid of yours he's not getting free rent anymore, I bet he'd get off his a.s.s and get a job or go to school." Pow. Instant feud.

s.e.xist as it was, this sort of thing happened less often with men. Oh, they had their fights and their feuds, no question about it, and were even less likely to have dialogue that worked it out. They might blow up but they were less p.r.i.c.kly and it was rare for them to obsess.

Riley, tough and smart and successful, had obsessed about Emma for years. She felt wedged between two extremes-being furious with Emma and feeling guilty over what she'd done. She'd tried so hard to make up with Emma, to beg her forgiveness! And Emma turned her back. Now, when Emma was down and out, Riley was supposed to be the benevolent one? Looking at both of their lives, from that point till now, things had just been...awry. Off. Emma had hooked up with a bad man and Riley? No man. At. All.

"Excuse me," a male voice said. "Is this chair taken?"

What perfect timing, she thought. A man. She lowered her newspaper, trying to think how she would politely say she didn't want to share the table or have a conversation.

"Hey," he said, smiling handsomely. "It's you."

"I...ah..."

He put out a hand and didn't let her finish. "Logan. Logan Danner. We've never officially met, but we've run into each other at the grocery store at least five times, which means you either live or work around here."

Don't do it, she told herself. She took his hand. "Riley. I, ah...I work not too far from here and am addicted to coffee that costs seven dollars a cup. Bad habit."

He laughed and sat down. "I guess it could be worse. We could run into each other at a crack house... Now, that would be bad."

"Look..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "You weren't looking for company, my mistake. I'll just make this a to-go cup and catch you someday at the deli counter..."

"No, I'm sorry," she said with a heavy sigh. "I was just trying to shake off a problem I had at work. Go ahead. Take the chair. But I might not be very conversational."