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.

      September arrived and with the start of school, the teenage employees vacated the day hours, so at least she worked that shift. She was sure there had to be a better job for her somewhere and equally sure it wouldn’t be easy to find it. Emma never thought of herself as having it easy while growing up—she held part-time jobs during high school and college, went to college on loans and scholarships, but she was given an old car to use to get to school and work. Still, she’d had it a lot easier than Riley had.

      Her first couple of years in New York had been a real eye-opener—urban living was incredibly expensive. But she was a beautiful, single young woman in a city full of them and in no time she had roommates. She took the subway, learned all the cheap haunts for entertainment and had dates—quite a few of them. The thing about New York City—she never felt alone.

      And here, in her two rooms in Sebastopol there was an interesting transformation—the girl who had wanted to design and decorate the interiors of mansions and five-star hotels found living simply to be a welcome pleasure. There was no flab in her life, no unnecessary junk to carry.

      She had one dinner with Lyle and Ethan and it had been passably friendly on Ethan’s part. She visited with Penny when Penny was enjoying the patio, but fall was approaching, the weather was getting cooler, so Penny wasn’t outside as much. Penny’s car was often gone; she was a very active senior and had many friends.

      Emma walked through Sebastopol on her days off, anonymous and reluctant to look for work there for fear she’d alert them that the notorious widow was among them. She answered every ad for work in Sonoma County that paid more than minimum wage.

      Sebastopol was lovely; old buildings and storefronts were brightly painted, many with their wares and fresh fruits and vegetables on sidewalk display. Ethan liked to put out big pots of fresh blooms, and Emma stopped there often, complimenting him lavishly, fully intending to win him over to her side. She loved buying two apples, two tomatoes and one banana at a time. She even occasionally splurged on a small bunch of flowers and when she did, she noticed Ethan gave her a discount and Lyle smiled slyly.

      And, after eight weeks, when the leaves were just beginning to turn, she went home from Burger Brain-Bleed, hungry and swollen, smelling like grease and body odor, and lay down on her bed and cried. If this was what her life was going to look like from now on, she wasn’t sure she had the stamina for it. And she was damned afraid if she started dipping into her precious nine thousand dollars, she could end up homeless.

      Spoiled, the devil on her shoulder chided her. You said walking away from the money was the least of your concerns, but did you really mean it? Because here you are, working for a living like the rest of the world and you can’t take it!

      She was immediately ashamed. So she got in the shower to cry, trying to hide from her conscience. Then she got out and dried her hair and heard that voice again. If you think it’s hard busting your ass for minimum wage, think about how you’d feel when you learn your life savings is gone. That it was spent on a second home in Aruba and a private jet.

      “I can’t do this,” she said aloud. “Please, it wasn’t my fault. Please.”

      * * *

      The next afternoon, while she was wiping down tables in the burger joint, she saw a familiar face. Actually, she saw the familiar back of a head. She knew it was him; she’d know that thick, willful brown hair anywhere. Adam Kerrigan, Riley’s brother. He was with a teenage girl who had to be Maddie, Riley’s daughter. She took a couple of steps, smile on her face, then stopped herself suddenly. What if he hated her? Adam had kept in touch for a while after Emma’s falling out with Riley, but when she married Richard she didn’t hear from him anymore.

      But why should he hate her? Because of what Richard had done? Would he, like so many others, assume she knew what was going on? Or that she had some stash just waiting for the heat to fade? Let’s just find out, she thought. Let’s find out right now.

      “Adam?” she asked.

      He looked up, his mouth full of burger. His eyes were round and surprised. He chewed and swallowed quickly and the girl covered her mouth as she laughed at him. He wiped his lips with a napkin. “Emmie Cat?” he asked in disbelief, falling back on an old pet name he’d given her when they were kids. It was short for Emma Catherine.

      The nickname reassured her and made her smile. “It’s me. How are you?” He started to get up. “No, no,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t get up.” And she slid onto the plastic bench at the table across the aisle from him, hanging on to her cleaning rag.

      “You work here?” he asked.

      “I do,” she said. “And believe me, I do work. No wonder this place runs on teenagers. They’re the only ones with the energy to keep up. How are you?”

      “I’m well, thanks. Emma, this is Maddie. Maddie, meet Emma Shay. We went to school together.”

      “Although he’s much older,” Emma teased. He was, in fact, three years older.

      “How long have you been back?” he asked. And he asked with a distinct absence of hostility.

      “A couple of months. Remember Lyle? He found me a little place I could rent and it seemed like the logical thing to do.”

      “Of course I remember Lyle. I see him all the time. How