The Life She Wants. Robyn Carr

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СКАЧАТЬ Months before you have to decide how to proceed. For your peace of mind, I’d be happy to look into this for you.”

      She shrugged. “Why not? What can it hurt? I won’t get my hopes up. If Rosemary was involved, I’m sure she’s had a real party spending it. She quit working the week my dad died.”

      “Then I have something important to do and it makes me so happy to do it for you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you came home, Emma.”

      * * *

      Lyle was finishing up for the day, standing at the counter while he looked at the orders for Saturday delivery. In August sales started picking up again after summer. In summer there weren’t any floral holidays and people had their own blooms. Summer in Sonoma County was pure heaven.

      The door to the shop opened and he smiled to see Riley Kerrigan come in. Took her long enough, he thought. He hadn’t seen her in at least a couple of months. She looked fantastic, as usual. You’d never guess by looking at her that she owned a domestic and industrial cleaning service. She looked more like a bank executive or high-powered attorney. After all her years of secondhand clothes followed by scrimping to get by and build her business, Riley was making up for lost time in the wardrobe category.

      “Hi,” she said. “I thought I might catch you before you left for the day. How’s it going?”

      “It’s all good. How’s everything at Happy Housekeeping?” he asked, knowing full well that was not the name of her business.

      “Happy, happy, happy. So. Is she back?”

      He nodded. “Over a month now,” he said. “Tell me something—did it take willpower to wait this long to ask?”

      “I didn’t expect her to call, if that’s what you’re getting at. How is she?” Riley asked.

      “Doing very well, in spite of everything.”

      Riley’s smile was very small. “Emma has a way of bouncing back.”

      “If she can bounce back from this, she’s a superhero. She stayed in that apartment alone, slept on a cot, even though her husband’s blood was all over his study. Because no one offered her a guest room, not even the legal team who were so well paid. And she wasn’t safe in a hotel—too many victims of Richard’s fraud threatened her. I offered to go out there but she wouldn’t have it—she didn’t want me in jeopardy. She made the drive to California by herself—she said she needed the time alone and away. Her husband has been dead a few months. It took her a month here to find a bad job. She says she’s holding up very well. I’m amazed she’s even standing.”

      “I’m sorry she’s going through this, but she wouldn’t want my sympathy or my help. If you think of anything I can do without, you know, getting involved, let me know.”

      “Sure,” he said. “She says she’s over it, by the way. Your feud.”

      “Me, too,” Riley said. “But still...”

      “She said that, too.”

      Riley smiled at her dear friend. They’d been the three musketeers in high school—Emma, Lyle and Riley. She gave a quiet laugh and shook her head. “Can I buy the man in the middle a drink?” she asked.

      “By all means,” Lyle said. “I think she’s forgiven you by now.”

      “Good to know. I still hate her, but I’m not mad at her anymore.”

      “Oh, great.” He started turning off lights. “Let’s go drink.”

      * * *

      Riley stopped by the grocery after a glass of wine with Lyle. They’d been friends for a long time. Usually threesomes don’t work very well, but in this case, Lyle being a guy and all, there was no issue. At least not until Emma and Riley had their epic breakup. Then Lyle was stuck in the middle, trying not to take sides. He’d managed to remain loyal to both women for sixteen years.

      She was lost in thought, her hand absently palming a honeydew melon.

      “I’m not sure if you’re going to bowl with that or put it in your cart,” a male voice said.

      She looked up and smiled. She’d seen this guy before. Starbucks, maybe. “Sorry,” she said, taking the melon, though she didn’t really want it.

      “They look good today, don’t they?” he asked. “Hey, do you know where I can find roasted peppers? Fire roasted,” he said, consulting a list.

      She shook herself for a second, coming back to grocery land and leaving thoughts of poor Lyle and their triangle far behind. “Um, over there with the olives are some prepared in the jar. That’s all I know about.”

      “Artichoke hearts?”

      “Same place in the jar, or some in the frozen section.”

      “Parmesan?”

      She smiled at him. He was very good-looking. “You’re making artichoke dip, aren’t you? Let me see that,” she said. She glanced over the recipe. “There aren’t any roasted peppers in this recipe.”

      “I know—it’s for something else. I’m just picking them up for a...a neighbor.”

      “Thank goodness. Okay, be sure the artichokes are packed in water, add a half cup of mozzarella, a sprinkle of chili powder and a cup of chopped spinach and some lucky woman will propose.”

      “Dynamite. Thank you,” he said, turning to go. Then he turned back and said, “Chili powder?”

      “With the spices. Not too much, now.” She blessed him with a sweet smile. Then she resumed her vegetable shopping. Hmm, she thought. A straight guy in the grocery store. If he were gay, he’d know how to make artichoke dip.

      Her thoughts fled instantly back to Emma and Lyle. Well, they were going to have to share Lyle. He was the best friend she had.

       Chapter Three

      Emma faced an entirely new set of priorities. She was able to pick up extra hours at Burger Purgatory and in her spare time she looked for a better or second job. They kept her hours just under full-time to save costs on benefits, but she had to buy health insurance anyway—it was now the law. Terrified to touch that emergency money she had stowed away, she was stretching her money as far as it would go—rent for Penny took the top position because she was certain the elderly darling needed it. Plus, she needed a place to live while she starved to death. Utilities for her little bungalow was second and she conserved dramatically, even shortening the length of her hot showers, which was a huge sacrifice as she now smelled like French fries all the time. Car insurance and gas came next and only then did she buy food. She did manage to eat at the burger joint sometimes, though that was problematic. First of all, it wasn’t part of the deal, but she noticed that all employees partook. There seemed to be an unwritten policy—they’ll never miss a few fries, but let’s not be obvious about it. And never in front of customers. Also, it was not healthy! It was calorie intense, carb heavy and salted to the max. After a few weeks, her pants felt uncomfortably tight and her ankles seemed chronically swollen.

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