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Just Like Em
Marion Ekholm


She’s not the kid she used to be… not by a long shot!She had a crush on him when she was a teen and Roger was in college…and made his life miserable as only the friend of a guy’s little sister can. Years later, Emmy Lou returns to Phoenix, divorced, with an asthmatic little boy at the centre of her world.Grieving the death of his wife, Roger reluctantly asks her for help with his young twins and teen daughter who’s proving as difficult to handle as Em used to be. Just as they finally begin to find happiness together, a career move comes between them. Because it affects Em’s child, whose welfare means more to her than…anything.







“I’m goin’ to be just like him. Right, Dad?”

Em’s spine went rigid. One day away from her and her son had fixated on this man. Or had Roger … “Did you tell him to call you that?”

Roger shrugged. “It’s something I thought—”

“We’ve got to talk.” She moved back to Sammy and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be here all night, and I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“Can’t I go home with Dad and my brothers?”

Em seethed, but she kept her features calm. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

She grabbed hold of Roger’s elbow and spun him around. The moment they were safely past the nurses’ station she lit into him. “How could you? He called you Dad, and you didn’t blink an eye.”

Roger placed a finger over his lips as he glanced around. “I told him to.”

Appalled, Em stood motionless. “You told him? How can you play with my child’s emotions that way?”

“Em, listen,” Roger said as he grasped her arms above her elbows. “He knows it’s just for today.”

“You have no idea what you’ve started.”


Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing Just Like Em. Do you remember having a crush on a boy much older than you? Em cringes with that memory when she again meets Roger. Fifteen years ago, back when she was fourteen and he was a senior in college, she tried every means she could think of to make him notice her. And he did—with total loathing. When he meets this attractive woman at Metro, he can’t believe she’s the same woman who tried to destroy his love life. If he’d managed to get his hands on her during their last encounter, he’d still be serving a jail sentence.

Em and Roger have a second chance. She’s divorced, having left a man who didn’t love her and used her for a free ride. Roger lost the love of his life two years before. Now, if he could just put the memory of his dead wife behind him, he might see what a wonderful life he could have with Em. I tried my best to make them see how perfect they were for each other. Hope I succeeded.

I was displaced, and many of my experiences are detailed through Em and the help she provides Roger. Also, I have asthma, an affliction not as severe as Em’s son, but something that keeps me on top of the subject. Although I’ve never been a smoker, I’ve witnessed how difficult it is to give up the addiction in my friends and family, and I admire how Em eventually gives it up.

And oh, yes, the heat in Phoenix can be a challenge, something we adjust to eventually. We enjoy our 300 plus days of sun, and appreciate not having to shovel any snow.

I hope you’ve had a few laughs as well as poignant moments and maybe shared some similar experiences. Reach me through www.heartwarmingauthors.blogspot.com. I’d love to hear from you.

Marion Eckholm


Just Like Em

Marion Ekholm




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


MARION EKHOLM Back in my fifth year in Plainville, Connecticut, I was writing stories and reading them to my friends. I always wanted to be either a writer or an artist. Neither one seemed like a possibility in my day, when most women became either teachers or secretaries. But I had determination on my side and a mother willing to help me with my dreams. I earned my BFA at Rhode Island School of Design and became a lace designer in New York City, met my husband and moved to New Jersey. Years later, I took stock of my life. I had a career, two children, a beautiful home and opportunities to travel extensively—but I’d never written anything other than letters. I began writing for real and eventually became an editor of a newspaper and sold numerous short stories and magazine articles. Thanks to Heartwarming, I’m now a novelist. The horizon is endless.


This book is dedicated to my mother, Pearl Suess, who I’ve missed nearly every day since her death in 1970. She totally encouraged me, trusted me and backed me in everything I did—except my decision to go to college. Our one argument—even now I choke up thinking of it—was about the lack of money. The argument lasted a week of crying and door slamming on both sides. And then she held me in her arms and said, “You’re going to college.” She worked cleaning houses and eventually a cafeteria position that she kept until all my college loans were paid off. Thank you, Mom. You’re responsible for all the good things in my life.

Acknowledgments

I’ve been so fortunate over the years to have my critique partners. Not only do they help me with the written word, but also with my life. Special thanks to Shelley Mosley and Sandra Lagesse. I love you guys. Also, Carol Webb, Kim Watters and Deborah Mazoyer.

Laurie Schnebly Cambell, who volunteered her time as mentor at Desert Rose RWA in Phoenix, read my book and provided positive feedback. You’re an angel.

More thanks to the wonderful people I’ve met through Romance Writers of America, including Jane Toombs, Mildred Lubke, Vicki Lewis Thompson and Roz Denny Fox, who helped me on my journey.

And kudos to Gail Centola, aka Angela Adams, who I met at a conference so many years ago. Thanks to her constant prodding and encouragement during some low points in my life, I’ve kept on writing.

Additional thanks to my editors, who I’ve been fortunate to meet at so many conferences, especially Paula Eykelhof and Victoria Curran. I really appreciate all your help and encouragement.

And special thanks to my son, David, my daughter, Sandy, and my granddaughters, Rebecca and Michelle. You’ve been a wonderful blessing.


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#u98895121-6bd4-5425-8f5d-77b0d9716fbc)

CHAPTER TWO (#u3f41ad77-a5d3-5c84-97c2-4bb926fe0f5c)

CHAPTER THREE (#ub3fb79a9-1144-5360-9072-0ae81464f713)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ufe3c8470-5ac9-58cc-a824-359619847ea7)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

IF THIS WASN’T the worst day of his life, it sure came close. Roger Holden adjusted his sunglasses against the brilliant summer Arizona sun and dashed across the parking lot to his air-conditioned office building. Already, waves of heat radiated from the blacktop, enveloping him.

Just before reaching the entrance to Metro Industries, he stopped. His gut twisted when he recognized a longtime friend dabbing her eyes. He offered the gray-haired woman his handkerchief and placed an arm around her shoulders.

“Come on, Hilda. Let’s get out of this heat.” She let him guide her inside.

“I know you’re not to blame for all the problems,” she said as they entered the cool foyer.

Roger gave her arm a gentle squeeze. At least one person out there knew the layoffs weren’t his fault.

“Just the same, the situation is frustrating.” She sighed and folded his handkerchief before returning it to him. “Fifteen years. Who would have guessed?” A sob caught in her throat. “I decided to take the company’s offer and retire.” She sighed again and looked away. “It won’t be so bad. I’ll be able to spend more time with my grandchildren.”

“Would you like me to come with you? Help you pack your desk?”

She patted his arm. “Thanks, but you have work to do, and I need to say goodbye to my friends. I’ll get one of the guards to help.” Hilda started toward the security gate, stopped and turned to offer a weak smile. “You take care, now, and let me know where you end up.”

Roger stayed in the foyer while Hilda waited at the bank of elevators with one of the uniformed guards. She needed some private time to compose herself. So did he, for that matter.

Although he wasn’t to blame for people losing their jobs, every problem relating to them had become his responsibility. Hilda, like so many of the older employees, had agreed to early retirement. At least her future was determined. Most of the other people in the customer-relation department of the Metro-Mintro credit card company, including Roger, had no idea what they’d be doing six months from now. He hoped most of the employees affected by the department being transferred to Seattle would stay to the end. He really needed people who knew their jobs, not temporary help who would have to be trained.

Movement by the exit caught his attention. During these hard times, when so many people felt alienated, he made it a point to acknowledge everyone. Although the woman looked familiar, his brain refused to identify her. He searched for the required official badge with the employee’s photo and name.

“Hi,” he said, when his search proved fruitless.

“Hello, Roger.”

He might have dropped the conversation there except for the familiarity. She’d called him by his first name, not the usual “Mr. Holden” he got from people he didn’t know well. Why couldn’t he place her?

He removed his sunglasses and approached her, aware almost immediately of the defiance in her eyes. Or was it fear? He saw those emotions often lately, and he couldn’t leave her without offering some encouragement.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Fine, and you?”

Up close and personal, she didn’t look fine. In fact, she appeared totally rattled. He had avoided discussing the dreadful reorganizations with employees, but if it would help her to talk...

“Did the downsizing affect you?”

Her eyebrow raised. “No. I was...” She gestured toward the door then dropped her hand. “What about you?”

“Once I get my department transferred I’m...” He jerked his thumb at the door to show how swiftly he’d be out of Metro.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She placed a hand on his forearm. Her touch felt like a cool balm against his sun-warmed skin and refreshed him. Too soon, she pulled away, flipped her wrist and glanced at a gold watch.

“I’ve got to rush. Sorry about your job.” Just before reaching the door, she added, “Say hello to Jodie for me.”

Jodie? Roger nodded to acknowledge his sister’s name, but the fact that this woman knew his sister offered no further information. Who is she? he wondered all the way up to his office.

* * *

EMMY LOU TURNER tried concentrating on the traffic, but the memory of seeing Roger still filled her mind. More than half her lifetime had passed since she’d had that childish crush on him, but he still tantalized. Dark hair falling over his forehead. Shoulders straining the seams of his dress shirt. Why hadn’t he lost his hair and grown a potbelly like most men his age?

When she’d seen him approach the building, her knees had succumbed to some long-forgotten signal and turned to mush. Then, her last encounter with Roger flashed through her mind, and she cringed. For one moment she’d actually considered jumping the turnstile in an attempt to hide, but the guard would have prevented her. She’d prayed Roger would miss her completely. And he would have, too, if he had continued with that older woman to the elevators.

But Em’s fears about Roger remembering proved groundless. He no longer looked at her with the same murderous contempt. Thank heavens. If he had...

No, she wasn’t going to think about the past. They’d acted like adults this time around, although she doubted he had the slightest idea who she was. But she’d definitely appealed to him. She saw it in his eyes, in his effort to hold her attention.

Em laughed outright as she recalled his expression when she mentioned his sister. The man didn’t have a clue. With a glance at herself in the rearview mirror, she continued to chuckle. “If I had stayed there a minute longer, he’d have asked who I was. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot?”

Immediately, she sobered. “Right. And once he knew...” Shuddering, Em banished the memory of their last encounter from her mind.

She really needed to call Jodie. They’d lost touch over the years, but now that Em had returned to Phoenix, she hoped to reestablish their friendship.

Em pulled into a chain store’s parking lot and stopped in the area reserved for employees. After checking herself in the mirror and repositioning a few hairs in her French twist, she stepped out of the air-conditioned car.

“Oh, this heat,” she mumbled. She slipped out of her pink silk jacket and wished she could remove the rest of her clothing. Would she ever readjust to these high temperatures? She had to for Sammy’s sake. Her son suffered from asthma, and his doctor said the dry air in Phoenix would improve his condition.

Unfortunately, the temporary jobs she’d taken since arriving in Arizona didn’t have medical benefits. A job at Metro would have provided excellent medical coverage for her and her son, so she wouldn’t have to hound her ex-husband for help every time Sammy had an asthma attack.

Just stay healthy, Sammy, she thought, as she headed for her office. Unlike Roger, at least she had a job.

* * *

ALL THE WAY up to his office, Roger focused on the woman in the lobby. She knew Jodie. Maybe if he called his sister, she could enlighten him.

He plopped down in his desk chair and reached for the phone. Probably met her at one of those parties. Jodie and Harve had get-togethers all the time, but Roger had stopped socializing when his wife had become sick. He started to pick up the phone then paused, concentrating on the couples he’d met.

Maybe, though, the woman wasn’t part of a couple. Jodie had been trying to fix him up with dozens of her friends over the past two years since Karen’s death. No matter how much he insisted no one could replace Karen, it didn’t keep his sister from interfering in his life. Until he knew exactly who the mystery lady was, he had no intention of fueling Jodie’s matchmaking.

Spinning his chair away from his desk, he focused on the downsizing. The buzz had been ongoing for months. Five days ago the rumors became official. Metro Industries planned to move an entire division from Phoenix to Seattle over the next six months. At least the jobs had stayed in the United States and hadn’t been outsourced to another country.

Roger had an enormous task ahead of him, organizing the transfer and placating the workers so that most of them stayed until the work was completed. He tried to focus on the steps required to make the transition smooth, but his effort was wasted.

Had the woman worn a ring? Except for a watch and earrings, he didn’t recall any other jewelry.

“You idiot,” he said under his breath. He glanced at the picture of Karen and their children on his desk. “I know, I know. I’ve got more important things to do than wonder about a strange woman.” He was probably obsessing over her just to avoid his present problems.

But maybe he could settle this once and for all. He decided to check with Human Resources. Anyone coming off the streets looking for employment would have to enter HR and fill out paperwork. “Hi, Linda. Roger Holden here.” He tapped a pencil on a note pad and tried to sound casual. “Do you still get people off the street looking for jobs?”

“Sure.”

“Did someone come in today?” Roger asked. “Pink suit. Tall. Blonde. Hair pulled back in one of those severe—you know—things?” He flipped his finger around the back of his head in an attempt to find the word.

“Yes. But the newest company policy states we can’t have any new hires. You’ll have to pick an administrative assistant from the displaced group or settle for a temp.”

“I don’t want to hire her. I just want to know her name.” He held the pencil poised. The pause that followed was long enough that he realized he should have prefaced his request with further explanations.

“Even a VP has to follow policy, Roger.”

He chuckled as he pictured Linda in full HR regalia. “The woman knew my name,” he said, “and I can’t place her. I thought you could help me out.”

Another pause. “I know who you mean. She comes once a week to see if anything’s available. Wasn’t too happy to hear about the downsizing.”

“Who is?” Roger muttered.

“Here it is. Emmy Lou Turner. Ring any bells?”

Emmy Lou Turner. Roger scribbled the name across the pad and repeated it under his breath. “Turner, Turner.” He didn’t know anyone with that name. “Nope. Nothing.”

“Her maiden name was Masters.”

Masters, he wrote and drew several lines under it. That sounded more familiar, but he still couldn’t place the name.

“No.” He sighed with genuine disappointment. “I haven’t the slightest idea who she is, but I appreciate your help. Thanks, Linda.”

Roger hung up, annoyed with himself for letting such a nonsensical issue take up so much of his time. Who was Emmy Lou Masters Turner, and why couldn’t he place her? In a fit of exasperation, he tossed the pencil across his desk. It came to a halt in front of Karen’s picture.

“Do you remember an Emmy Lou Turner?” He sat up in his chair. “Right. Forget her and get back to work.”

* * *

LATER, AFTER A HEARTY supper of enchiladas, courtesy of Sophia Sanchez, their housekeeper and nanny, the Holden family relaxed in the pool to cool off. An enthusiastic game of catch followed between Roger and his six-year-old twin sons. His daughter preferred to continue doing laps in the pool.

Roger unobtrusively watched Samantha. At thirteen, she no longer cared to be part of the family group. Come August she’d start her freshman year in high school. Already he saw physical changes that she attempted to hide under baggy shirts, not to mention all her mood swings. One minute she was giggling like his little girl, the next she was wearing makeup and behaving like a young woman he hardly recognized.

He had tried broaching the subjects a mother would normally handle. Boys, dating, bras, menstrual periods—subjects he himself hardly understood. At least she had Sophia and Jodie to help her in those areas. He could deal with the physical changes. After all, they were to be expected at her age. But the mood swings and flippant attitude had him climbing the wall. Now that Samantha refused to involve him in her personal life, he couldn’t even talk to her anymore.

The ball whizzed by his ear and Roger made a hasty catch before flinging it to one of the twins.

“Hey, Dad. We gonna have to move?” Chip asked as he caught the ball. Both boys had most of their dark hair cut off for the summer. Another toss in Roger’s general direction sent him dashing for the softball so it wouldn’t land in the pool.

“No, sport.” He threw it to Chaz, the other twin. “Why do you ask?”

“My friend Tommy’s dad lost his job. He had to move.”

“Yeah, Dad,” both boys chorused. “We don’t wanna move.”

“Hey, didn’t I tell you there was nothing to worry about?” He tried to sound upbeat, as though losing a job held no consequences. Yet the distress he faced daily was becoming more difficult to disguise in lighthearted chatter.

* * *

LATER, WHEN HIS children were in bed, Roger continued to brood over the downsizing. He had begun to second-guess every decision he made, and his heart ached as he searched for answers. Would he be able to find another position in Phoenix? Assuming he did, would it pay enough to keep their home and present lifestyle? If only he had someone to talk to, confide in. At times like these, the need for his wife became unbearable.

Roger entered the living room, with its white walls and turquoise rug, and settled on the dark turquoise recliner that faced the painted portrait of his wife. “What am I going to do, sweetheart?” he whispered. “What on earth am I going to do?”

The portrait had been a gift from his in-laws to celebrate Karen’s thirtieth birthday. It had been painted only months before she discovered the lump in her breast. The artist had captured the softness in her dark brown curls. And that dress...

In the painting she looked so vibrant and full of life, as though at any moment she could join him on the chair and encircle him with her warmth. Why did she have to leave them when everyone needed her so?

Roger looked away from the painting as his thoughts returned to the present. Downsizing, damn! He’d been at Metro since college graduation, and had climbed steadily in a company that had provided his family with security. Or so he’d thought. Now he was going to be tossed out with several hundred other employees.

Movement caught his eye. When he glanced over, he saw Sophia in the doorway, wringing her hands.

Her usually neat coif looked mussed. She had been with him since the twins were born, had nursed Karen through her cancer. He wouldn’t know what to do without Sophia. Would he be able to afford her once his job disappeared? He had to.

“I hope you’re not worried about this downsizing business. Your job is always secure here.”

Pushing several strands of her white-streaked black hair back, Sophia eased onto the white leather couch. “It’s not that,” she said in a thick Spanish accent, wrapping her arms around one of the pink-and-turquoise pillows. “I have my own bad news. I’m getting married in a month.”

Roger moved to the edge of his chair. “That’s wonderful news. You and José finally set the date?” José was their weekly gardener, and he and Sophia planned to move into Sophia’s small suite once they finally wed.

“Labor Day weekend.”

With a quick slap to his knee, Roger stood. “Well, that’s not much time, but we still can have the reception in the backyard....”

Sophia shook her head. “We’re getting married in Tucson. José wants to move back there and take care of his mother. She’s very sick.”

Roger fell back into his chair and grasped the arms for support. “You’re leaving us?”

Sophia wiped away a tear. “I don’t want to, but my José...”

Although his insides had twisted into knots, Roger controlled his emotions so he wouldn’t upset her even more. He waved his hand and said, “No, no, Sophia. We wish you the best. We’ll manage. A month, you say?”

Sophia nodded.

After she left for her suite, Roger sat numbly, staring at Karen’s picture. “You hear that? Life can’t get worse. How can I ever replace Sophia?”

The telephone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Samantha shouted from her upstairs bedroom. She pounded down the steps with enough noise to wake the whole house. Why wasn’t she asleep? But then, she considered herself above her brothers and usually read until her eyes drooped shut.

“No, I’ll get it. It’s probably for me anyway,” he said, rising from the chair. Maybe it was Hilda needing another chance to vent or a manager wanting to consult with him before Monday’s major meeting.

He arrived at the staircase in time to hear Samantha say, “Yeah, he’s here. What’cha want?”

When he reached for the receiver, she maneuvered away from him and held it close to her ear. Soft brown curls, still damp from her swim, complemented a delicate long neck. She looked more and more like Karen every day.

Roger put his hands on his hips and waited, not too patiently, for his call. How come he could handle a whole boardroom of people and never feel out of control? His boys didn’t give him trouble, either. Yet in his own household he felt powerless, his authority usurped by this teenager who flaunted hers.

“Who is it?” He tapped a bare foot on the cool tile that ran through the hall.

“Aunt Jodie.” Several high-pitched giggles followed.

“What’d she say?”

Instead of answering him, his daughter turned her back and stuck a finger in her ear. Another giggle.

Roger started to walk away, then Samantha said, “It’s for you.” She held the phone out to him, then dropped it onto the straight-backed chair in the hallway. He grabbed it just before it skittered to the floor.

“Get to bed,” he said, his hand covering the mouthpiece. She turned and looked down her nose in haughty annoyance, a quality inherited from her mother’s side of the family.

“What’s Sam doing up at this hour?” Jodie asked, after Roger greeted her.

“She was in bed when you phoned. And don’t call her Sam. She hates that name.”

“Just a minute.” A long pause followed while Jodie talked in muffled tones to her husband. Roger yawned. He’d keep the conversation short and try to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

With the phone against his ear, he walked into the kitchen. The aroma of enchiladas hung in the air, making his mouth water. He’d miss Sophia’s cooking. He clutched the door handle of the refrigerator and momentarily closed his eyes. He’d miss more than the food. Opening the door, he searched the cool interior for a snack.

“Remember Emmy Lou Masters?” Jodie asked when she came back on the line.

Roger jolted and smacked his forehead against the refrigerator light switch, causing it to flicker. He moved away from the fridge, massaging his sore forehead. Was his sister psychic? How could she know who had shown up at his work? “Why?”

“The operative word is either a yes or a no.”

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, I recognize the name. No, I don’t remember her. Why are you asking?” Roger ran his free hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. After circling the barstools by the sink, he settled on a padded kitchen chair.

“She called today. Said she bumped into you at Metro.”

“Not literally. Kind of embarrassing, actually. I couldn’t place her. Did I meet her at one of your parties?”

Jodie chuckled. “Not recently.”

What did that mean? “Is she a friend of yours or not?”

“Of course she is.”

He heard the taunt in her voice, the same one she used to use on him when they were young. The same one Samantha used on her brothers. Roger closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead again. It still hurt. “It’s late, Jodie, and I’m not up to playing twenty questions. Tell me who she is.”

“Remember when you were in college? She stayed with us one summer while her parents were divorcing. You couldn’t stand each other.”

Roger focused on college and the girls he knew then. Several close friends came to mind. One of them had been Karen, his eventual wife.

“She soaped your car,” Jodie continued, “and you called her Auntie Em.”

“Em!” Roger shouted and jumped to his feet. The whole summer returned in all its nightmarish details. A young girl, not much older than Samantha was now, had come to stay during his summer vacation from college between junior and senior year. He remembered short spiky hair, long legs, braces and a mouth that spewed more profanity than he’d heard in his frat house. His mother claimed it was Em’s way of dealing with the disorientation brought on by her parents’ divorce.

Nice girls didn’t talk like that. Certainly not the ones hanging out with his sister. He’d attempted to remedy the situation by washing Em’s mouth out with soap. From that day on, she managed to soap his car several times a week no matter where he parked it, usually just before he needed it for an important occasion. Her pranks cost him several dates and nearly destroyed his relationship with Karen.

With a lilt in her voice, Jodie asked, “Remember now?”

“Yes.” He uttered the word slowly, with a hiss. Try as he might, Roger couldn’t reconcile the woman he’d met today with the teenager he remembered.

“She was my very best friend, and you know what? Sam reminds me of her.”

For a millisecond, Roger’s entire body trembled. Losing his job and Sophia were nothing compared with the nightmare that suddenly loomed in his mind—a teenage daughter like Auntie Em! He wouldn’t last the year.

“Want me to set up something? The four of us going out to dinner?”

“Not interested,” he said as the room started to come back into focus.

“Not interested or afraid you might be?”

Roger took in a deep breath before saying, “Since when are you trying to fix me up with married women?”

“Oh, she’s not married. Not anymore, anyway. She was only married a few years or so, then it broke up.”

No wonder. With her personality she’s lucky it lasted that long. “I’m still not interested.”

“So, you’re not coming to your nephew’s birthday party?”

“It’s tomorrow?” He smacked his forehead with his palm and winced.

“Yes. It begins at eleven. Don’t be late. Timothy’s really looking forward to seeing the twins.” Jodie hung up.

“Damn!” Roger walked back into the hallway and slammed the receiver into its cradle. Of course he’d have to take his kids to their cousin’s birthday party. Jodie knew that and planned to trap him in her matchmaking scheme. Well, no way.

After a formal introduction to Emmy Lou Masters Turner, he’d leave—preferably after soaping her car.


CHAPTER TWO

“YOU’RE NOT GOING like that,” Roger said when his daughter walked into the kitchen. He looked away, afraid his surprise might be obvious on his features. The makeup, meticulously applied, made her look years older than thirteen. He placed his coffee cup in the dishwasher before turning back to face her. “Wash that gunk off your face. It makes you look...”

“Sophisticated?” Samantha offered.

“You’re too young for that.”

“You’re the one who has to grow up.” Her ruby-red lips curled, and she placed her hands on her hips. “This is what everyone looks like in high school.”

“You’re not in high school yet. And until you are...” And until I have a chance to check out what goes on in high school...

“You’d prefer hand-drawn daisies on my cheeks. Something childish. Well, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Then stop acting like one. Get cleaned up so we can leave.”

“I’m not going.” She stood her ground, her head tilted to one side, the exact stance Karen had taken whenever she disagreed with him. Except for the slight wobble in her chin, Samantha remained defiant.

How did these discussions escalate into full-fledged wars? Roger took a deep breath and tried changing tactics. “Everyone will miss you, and you’ll miss out on all the fun.”

“Yeah, right. Like I really care about kids under ten and adults over thirty. No one my age will be there. I hate these get-togethers.” With that she turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

“Samantha,” Roger shouted, but she didn’t respond. Well, he couldn’t wait around. He turned to Sophia as she came through the patio door with the twins, who carried snorkels and swim fins.

The boys wore swimming trunks and T-shirts with Diamondback logos, which meant he’d be spending a good deal of the time playing lifeguard at the pool. Roger had on a shirt that matched the boys’ and khaki shorts.

“Can you see that Samantha gets to the party? I’ve got to drive the boys over now, and she isn’t ready.” His jaw tightened. “And see if you can make her presentable.”

Sophia nodded. “Sure. When I take the birthday cake. Don’t you worry.”

The phone began ringing as the twins ran for the front door. “Don’t answer it, Dad,” Chip shouted over his shoulder. “We’ll be late.”

It could be important. Roger hesitated by the hall phone, picked it up and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Hello, Millie,” he said, trying to put a smile in his voice. He hadn’t told his mother-in-law about the downsizing at work and had no desire to go into any details now.

“You know what day Monday is?” Before he could answer, she added, “Karen’s birthday. Are you coming up?”

No way. He had taken the kids to visit their grandmother in May, on the anniversary of Karen’s death. Black drapes had been hung around the living room, and the flames of dozens of scented candles had consumed all the oxygen. But the séance, with a spiritualist trying to communicate with Karen, had really caught him unawares.

Even though he’d removed the children as quickly as possible, the twins had had nightmares for the rest of the week. Samantha had been reluctant to leave.

Losing a daughter and husband in the same year had affected Millie’s ability to cope. Although he sympathized, Roger wasn’t about to subject his children to another harrowing experience.

“I’m sorry, that’s out of the question, Millie. Too busy this weekend. We’ll celebrate Karen’s memory on Sunday.” He might mention it, but had no other plans. “Maybe you could come down here?”

“And have my blood boil away? You know I can’t tolerate a Phoenix summer.”

That he did. Fortunately, he could count on her staying away for a good portion of the year. “Sorry to run, but the kids are waiting for me in the car. I’ll talk to you soon.” He shook away the disturbing feelings, something her conversations always created, and put down the phone.

“Grandma Millie?” Sophia asked from the kitchen doorway.

Roger nodded. “If she calls again, give her some excuse.”

“No need. She won’t talk to me. Can’t understand my accent.” Sophia sniffed and turned back to the kitchen.

* * *

IT WAS A brilliant, blue-sky Saturday morning when Em and her son drove toward Jodie’s house. “What do I have to go for?” Sammy asked. “I don’t know anybody.”

Em smiled. “It’s a party. You’ll make lots of new friends.” Sammy gave her an “I don’t believe you” look in the rearview mirror and placed his chin on his fist. He stared at her through the baby-fine blond hair that fell over his forehead and eyes.

If only she could reach him, she’d finger his hair back. “Don’t be such a Gloomy Gus.”

Em pushed her left spaghetti strap into place. It had a tendency to flop off her shoulder, and she kept forgetting to shorten it. But she was wearing the only cool sundress she owned, and she had no intention of roasting today. “You’ll have a great time, and if you’re not—well, we’ll leave.”

“You always say that. But you start talkin’ and we never go.” He made his mouth droop as he glanced at her. So small and precious. Em wanted to pull over to the side of the road and give him a hug.

“I promise. You say the word and we’re out.”

The party invitation had come as a delightful surprise when she’d called Jodie the previous day. A bunch of seven-year-olds at play would help Sammy meet kids his own age. He hadn’t made any friends since they moved from California, and he still had a month to go before school started.

Jodie had told her that Karen had died, and Em empathized with the children’s loss and with Roger. She knew from her own experience how difficult it was to be a single parent.

When they reached Jodie’s house, Em pulled her car past the row of vehicles parked in front of the balloon-bedecked mailbox. Another white van, a duplicate of hers, pulled past her and parked. Before it came to a full stop, children poured out and ran down the sidewalk.

“C’mon, Ma.” Sammy pushed open the door and joined the group, stabbing at the balloons on the way.

Em chuckled. Kids, how quickly they adjusted. She reached for her bag and the gift and stepped out into the heat, just as Roger walked toward her. He nodded at her, a curt acknowledgment of her presence, before passing with his arms loaded with gifts.

For several moments she stood there, her hand braced against the door, expecting a smile similar to the one he’d given her the previous day. He walked past her without a backward glance. Didn’t he remember her from yesterday? She jerked her hand from the car’s scorching surface.

“Idiot!” she scolded herself under her breath. “He’s probably figured out who I am and doesn’t want a thing to do with me.” She shook her hand in an attempt to ease the burn, took a deep breath, flipped her sundress strap back into place and headed for the party.

The moment she reached the backyard, Sammy said, “Ma, can I go in the pool? Ya brought my suit, right? Chip and Chaz need me to help drown girls.”

“Chip and Chaz? Oh—so you made some friends.” Em searched through her bag and handed him his suit. Without answering, he turned and headed for the pool, waving it over his head. A moment later he disappeared into the house with several young boys.

Someone screamed. “Emmy Lou!” Em turned as Jodie, with outstretched arms, raced toward her. Her short dark hair was held back in several tiny butterfly snaps.

After a quick hug that nearly crushed the birthday present, Jodie hooked her arm in Em’s and directed her toward the gift table. She waved and shouted at another group of people standing under a tent. “Harve, look here. I want you to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

In an aside to Em, Jodie added, “And if you ever need to get divorced again, call Harve. He’s the best lawyer in the state.”

The remark startled Em. She had no intention of marrying a second time. Once more Jodie grabbed her arm, and they headed for the tent.

Introductions went on for several minutes as all the parents welcomed her to Phoenix. Jodie zeroed in on a few single parents, men and women, clustered around a tent pole, and pushed Em into the group. Most of their children would be attending the same school as Sammy, so Em asked questions about what she could expect.

After some pleasant conversation, Em began to relax with the help of a cool glass of lemonade. She hugged one corner of the tent’s shade and watched Sammy frolicking in the pool with several children his age. She had slathered him with sunscreen before coming. Too much sun with his light skin...

She was about to venture over to the pool to check on him, when she saw Roger. He circled the pool, shouting warnings and avoiding the splashes aimed at him.

No man had a right to look that good. He hadn’t changed much in the past fifteen years at all. His hair was shorter but still fell over his forehead in that delightful wave that made her fingers itch. How many times had she dreamed of pushing it aside and raining kisses...?

Stop it, Em. You’ve grown up. Get a life!

She returned her attention to Sammy. She had a life. She had her son, her mother, a job and divorce papers that said she’d never have to pay another dime of her ex-husband’s bills. Life was pretty darn close to perfect.

Sammy disappeared under the water, and for a moment she couldn’t see him. One hand gripping her large bag, the other clutching her throat, Em started for the pool. A second later he came up—choking.

Instantly her heart started to race. Not another asthma attack. Before she could reach his side, Roger pulled him out of the water and began pounding his back.

“Stop that!” Em shouted. Her boy needed assistance in breathing, not bruises. She kneeled by Sammy’s side and handed him his inhaler. But instead of taking it the way he usually did, the boy pushed her hand away.

“I’m okay,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He looked up at her with pleading eyes that tore at her heart. He wanted so much to be like all the other kids, with no weaknesses that might make him different. But she’d seen minor incidents like these escalate without proper care. She wasn’t about to risk another trip to the hospital.

She pushed the inhaler toward him again. He turned away. Frustrated by Sammy’s reluctance, Em sat back on her heels, her full skirt billowing around her ankles.

“I think he just swallowed a little water,” Roger said, in a low voice.

His calmness helped quiet her nerves. Maybe she had overreacted. Her son’s coughing had stopped, and his new friends waited for him in the water. She dropped the inhaler back in her bag and sprang to her feet.

“Be careful. I’ll be near the tent if you need me.” Without another look in Roger’s direction, she headed for the cool shade.

“You okay?” Jodie asked when she reached the group of adults. “You look all flushed.”

“It’s this Arizona sun. I haven’t adjusted yet.”

“I’ll get the kids out of the water. It’s time they downed some hot dogs and hamburgers.”

Once Sammy was on dry ground, Em felt she could find a restroom and compose herself. But on her way to the house, one of the single parents, a divorced man she had recently met, intercepted her.

“You embarrassed the boy,” the man said.

Momentarily stunned, Em stuttered a reply. “He...he has asthma.”

“Come on. I saw what happened. He swallows a little water, and you come on like the Red Cross in an earthquake emergency.” He chuckled. When she still remained silent, the man continued. “Boys don’t like to be babied in front of their friends by their mothers.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” Em took in a deep, calming breath and forced a smile despite the pain it caused in her cheeks and jaw. “Ben, isn’t it?”

“Right. There’s my son Carlie.” He grinned, pointing to one of the boys in the pool. Em could pick him out by the fiery red hair and zinc ointment on his nose that duplicated his father’s. “Jodie thought maybe we could, you know, have dinner or something.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Holding herself erect, she pushed past him and went into the house.

Roger watched her walk away after overhearing the conversation. Ben didn’t have a clue. The look she’d given him was enough to turn this heat into a frost, but Ben followed her movement, entranced, as though he still had a chance.

She certainly wasn’t the Em Roger remembered. If he’d roused her ire fifteen years ago she’d have thrown him in the pool. Ben went unscathed, although his callous remark about her son deserved a good punch.

Roger watched the swish of her skirt, an intriguing bounce of colorful flowers over legs that went on forever. She had changed and all for the better. Who would have guessed it? Maybe there was hope for Samantha, after all.

* * *

“OH, I SURE could use a cigarette.” Em pushed back a few strands of hair that had pulled loose from her ponytail and glared at herself in the bathroom mirror. That darn strap was down again. She shoved it into place.

“Men! What makes that jerk think I’d ever go out with him?” She planned to grab Jodie first chance she got and tell her not to provide any dates. She wasn’t looking, and she certainly could do better than Ben!

“What does he know about my son and his problems? Nothing! Has he seen him in a seizure so bad he can’t breathe? Has he had to rush him to a hospital?”

Em emptied her purse onto the sink vanity. She’d given cigarettes up years ago because they created problems for Sammy, but she carried gum or mints for the occasion when the craving became all consuming. This was definitely one of those occasions. No luck. She tossed the contents back into her purse and went outside.

The pool was empty. Everyone had assembled under the tent and strains of “Happy Birthday” floated toward her. The tent looked crowded, with Ben motioning her to join them. The glaring sun made the rest of the yard totally uninviting.

She wanted more time to herself to regain her composure. If not, she might say something she’d later regret. Sammy sat with his friends at the picnic table, so she could afford to take a few more moments for herself.

The whiff of smoke had her spinning in several directions before she honed in on its source. A path led around the house. Em followed her nose to a small patio surrounded by walls of white stucco. Arms of leafy bougainvillea with magenta blossoms clung to the wall.

A young woman Em’s height with a bob of brown curls smoked a cigarette. She wore a baggy man’s white dress shirt that practically hid her shorts. These were former jeans, ragged out to create a fringe. It barely covered a rose tattoo on her thigh.

“Ahem,” Em said, hoping not to startle her. The woman turned around and immediately stubbed out the cigarette against the wall. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that. I came here specifically to enjoy the smoke.”

“It’s not good for you, you know.”

Em had to chuckle. She was aware of all the dangers, but she never expected a lecture from another smoker. Especially not one sporting a tattoo.

“I know, and I’ve quit. It’s just every now and then I get this agonizing urge.”

“It’s the nicotine.” The woman flipped the pack and a cigarette came halfway out. “Want one?”

“Thanks.” Em took it and bent over to accept a light. After a swift inhale she straightened, released the smoke and sighed. Magic. Already she could feel the tension drain away. But it wasn’t worth the guilt she’d feel if Sammy found out. He had a sense of smell like a bloodhound and would surely notice the scent of smoke on her clothes and hair. One more puff and then she’d put the cigarette out.

About to toss it, Em paused when a door opened behind them. As Roger stepped onto the brick patio the woman next to her casually dropped the pack of cigarettes to the ground. The moment she saw him, Em’s tension increased, and she took another long drag.

* * *

“HERE YOU ARE, Samantha,” Roger said. He couldn’t tolerate the makeup that made her look so old, but Sophia had said it was the only way she could get the girl to come with her. Why was it getting harder and harder to tow Samantha to family gatherings? “Don’t you want to join the party?”

He noticed Em then, puffing on a cigarette like a coal-burning locomotive. God, she had the worst habits. You’d think she’d be aware of all the health hazards. He bent down, picked up the discarded pack and handed it to her. “You dropped these.” He used all his control not to crush the pack in his fist.

While taking the pack from him, Em glanced at Samantha, and he followed her gaze. The girl shook her head ever so slightly. Had he interrupted something? “Thanks,” Em said, then slipped the pack into her skirt pocket.

She’s probably up to two packs a day by now, he thought, recalling the summer when Em had turned Jodie onto the addiction. Suddenly, a frightening thought struck him, and he turned to his daughter. “She didn’t offer you one, did she?”

“No, Dad. I offered them to her.”

Sarcasm. That’s all he got lately. Before making any remark, he paused. It was sarcasm, wasn’t it? His attention turned to Em, who had started a choking fit.

“You okay?” he asked. He felt as though he should do something, swat her back, as she continued to choke. She moved away, possibly anticipating that he’d do just that.

She nodded and dropped the butt, crushing it beneath a dainty sandal. Everything about her was delicate. One of her straps had slipped down her arm, and he drew his hands into fists to avoid readjusting it for her.

“Smoking’s a hard habit to break,” Samantha said.

Em quickly nodded again. “Yes. I’ve been working at it.” Her voice was hoarse, as though she could barely get enough air to speak. Smoking could do that to a person.

Vivid recollections of the lectures he’d given Samantha about cancer came to mind. He thought of repeating them to Em, but he had no right to lecture her. Besides, he doubted if she’d listen.

“So, this is your daughter?” Before he could introduce them, Em offered her hand. “I’m Emmy Lou Turner, but everyone calls me Em.” Except her ex-husband, who never gave in to her preference. All the years they were married, he continued to call her Emmy Lou.

“Like the alphabet?” Samantha beamed, showing off a set of braces. “Samantha Holden, but you can call me S.”

“Anything except Sam. She hates that name,” Roger offered.

“Oh, really? My son’s named Sammy.”

“How old is he?” Samantha asked.

“Seven.”

“Another little kid.” Samantha’s smile immediately disappeared. “Why can’t we have anyone here my age?”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Roger didn’t bother to correct her since she’d have a birthday in a few months.

“I was about your age when I met your father.”

“Em was a handful,” Roger said, recalling the many times they had fought.

“Maybe,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But I never got a tattoo.”

Samantha covered her mouth and giggled, suddenly acting her age. Once again he wondered how she could do that, one minute the twenty-year-old femme fatale, the next his thirteen-year-old little girl? She licked her thumb and ran it over the pattern, smearing it across her leg. “Daddy won’t let me get the real thing—yet.”

“Ever,” he said, emphasizing the point. So far she hadn’t defied him on that, but she still threatened to pierce something—a nose, an eyebrow, her navel. Roger shuddered. What got into kids these days? How could he survive the next few years without a clue?

“You coming Samantha? You, too, Em. They’re about to open presents.”

“You go along, Dad. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Roger hesitated. He wasn’t too sure he should leave Samantha alone with Em. She had been everything he didn’t want his daughter to become. Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m losing it. What possible damage can she do in a few short minutes?

“Okay. But don’t wait too long. You won’t want to miss all the fun.”

Em breathed a sigh of relief when he left, although she wasn’t too pleased to be stranded with his daughter. His daughter! Samantha couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen if Em’s math was correct. And here Em thought she was bumming cigarettes from someone who could legally smoke them.

“Fun.” The word came out like a curse. “As if a bunch of little boys tearing wrapping paper is a treat.”

“I suppose you want your pack back, but frankly, I wouldn’t feel right returning it to you,” Em said as she pushed her strap back over her shoulder. A refreshing breeze began to stir the bougainvillea, and Em moved out of reach of the thorny branches. “You’re not legally allowed to smoke.”

“That’s okay. You keep it. You need it more than me.”

“I’ve quit, remember?”

“Yeah. Right.” Samantha looked down at her feet and whispered, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

She looked up and Em noticed the prettiest brown eyes—Roger’s eyes. “For not telling my dad the cigarettes were mine. He’s got this big thing about smoking because my mom died of cancer.”

“As I recall, you told him they were yours.”

“Like he listens. He only hears what he wants to hear, even if nobody says it. As if my mother’s cancer had anything to do with smoking. She had breast cancer, not lung cancer or anything like that.”

“Still, it’s not good for us. He’s right about that.”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not smoking anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to get so hooked I can’t stop when I’m old.” Samantha paused and a stricken look crossed her face. “Not that you’re that old.”

She might not rival Methuselah, but Em suddenly felt very old, very old indeed.


CHAPTER THREE

“DON’T CALL ME Sammy. It’s a girl’s name.”

Em didn’t give in to the urge to laugh, because her son looked so serious as they rode home from the party. “Why do you say that?”

“Chaz says it’s his sister’s name.” He had talked nonstop about the twins he’d met. They would be attending the same school as her son, even though they were first graders, a grade behind Sammy.

“Oh, his sister must be Samantha. I met her today.”

That meeting came back in all its clarity. Her embarrassment at learning the girl was Roger’s daughter had sent her into a choking fit similar to her son’s asthma attacks. She’d actually felt sorry for Roger. He showed such love and concern for his children, and hadn’t had the slightest clue what that little vixen had been up to. Nonetheless, Em admired her spunk, even if it did mean Roger had a rough ride ahead of him.

“Well, I got other names.”

That he did: Bradley Samuel Turner, Jr. Her husband, Bradley, had chosen to use the baby’s middle name because he never knew if she was talking to him or the baby when she said Brad. She had grown to like the name Sammy. It provided less of a reminder of her husband after he left.

“What do you want to be called? Brad or Bradley?”

“I want a nickname like Chaz or Chip. That’s neat.”

Remembering her alphabet discussion with Samantha, she tried another approach. “How do you spell junior?”

Sammy thought for a moment. “J.R.”

“How’s that for a nickname?”

He concentrated, chin on fist, then turned to her with a beaming smile. “I’m J.R. Wait till I tell Chaz.”

Which would be sometime tomorrow. Sammy had pleaded to have them come over to the pool at their apartment on Sunday. She had agreed. Since Roger planned to drop the boys off, she wouldn’t have to deal with him for any length of time. Now that she had seen him in the present, long-ago images of him had begun to dim, replaced by intriguing new ones. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

* * *

“’LO, GRANDMA,” SAMMY said as he dashed into his grandmother’s apartment. Doris Masters moved out of his way and extended a cordless phone toward Em.

“Who’s calling?”

Doris glanced at Sammy’s retreating back before saying, “Bradley.” As Em grasped the phone, her mother added, “Collect.” Doris turned on her heel and followed her grandson.

Bradley? She had sent him her new address when she arrived in Phoenix so he’d have no excuse. His child support checks were already two months behind, and she could really use that money.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Em began, “Hi, Bradley. Would you like to speak to Sammy?”

She started to go after their son and stopped when Bradley said, “No. I need to speak to you. What’s with all these stamped, self-addressed envelopes?”

My way of making it easy for you, she thought, but controlled the urge to say the words. Hadn’t she always made it easy for him? Just like smoking, it was a hard habit to break.

“If it’s for child support, you can forget it.”

Em held on to the spaghetti strap of her dress, ready to flip it back onto her shoulder. “What are you talking about? You agreed....”

“I agreed to a lot of things, including you getting total custody and taking the kid to Arizona. You want to get into that can of worms?”

Em tensed. The strap broke loose at one end, and now lay like a limp string in her hand.

“Bradley, things here are tight. Jobs in Arizona don’t pay what they do in California. I’ve had to take temporary work....”

“You chose to leave the land of opportunity. Don’t try pushing that one on me.”

With a snap, Em freed the strap completely from the dress.

“Besides,” Bradley continued, “at least you have a job.”

“What are you talking about?” Em braced herself against the wall.

“I’ve been laid off, Emmy Lou. No job, no money, no medical insurance. You know what that’s like, right?”

Slowly, Em slipped to the floor, her skirt making a swirl of flowers around her on the worn rug. She almost mentioned COBRA, the program that allowed people who lost their jobs to continue on their employer’s health insurance. Instead, she bit her lip, hard. If he had no money, he might suggest she contribute to the payments, and she wasn’t about to volunteer spending another dime on this lowlife. Saving him stopped once she got the divorce.

“Well, get another job, Bradley,” Em said, trying to restrain the frustration in her voice. How come every time she had to deal with her ex-husband, she felt as though she were free-falling through space? “With all that education...” She paused as a new thought struck home. “Unemployment insurance. You can send me money from that.”

“Missed it by two weeks.” Why wasn’t there some worry in his voice? Concern for himself, if not for their son? “So, what kind of work did you find? With all your computer skills, it should be a breeze....”

With a flick of her thumb, Em disconnected the phone.

“You okay?”

Em looked up. Her mother stood above her, leaning against the green-striped wallpaper, arms crossed over her chest.

“I take it from that scowl, and your ruined dress, the conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

Before pushing herself off the floor, Em glanced down at the ripped bodice, destroyed when she’d pulled out the strap. “When is it ever?”

“Care for some fresh lemonade? One of my friends has a lemon tree, and she gave me enough lemons to last the rest of the summer.” A look of worry passed over Doris’s face as she reached to touch Em’s lip. “Is that blood?”

Em passed the back of her hand over her mouth. “Yeah. I bit myself.”

Doris turned and headed for the kitchen. “Take a seat at the table. I’ll make us iced tea without the lemon. I don’t think you’d like citrus juice on that wound right now.”

Maybe she would. Intense pain might block out the conversation she just had with her ex. Em clenched her hands and struck them on the small dining room table as she took a seat by the window. For the first time, she noticed the strap was still wrapped around her fingers. Slowly, she unwound the delicate fabric.

“I really liked this dress,” she said when her mother returned with the tea.

Doris placed two coasters on the wooden table before setting the tall glasses on top. “Take it off and put it in my room. I think I can fix it.”

“Did I ever tell you what a wonder you are?” Em lifted her glass in a silent toast before touching the rim to her lips. The moisture stung momentarily but not enough to keep her from taking a long swallow.

Em and her mother had always remained close, talking on the phone and visiting whenever possible. When Em lost her job this past spring, her mother had asked her and Sammy to live with her in Phoenix. With Doris retiring in June after thirty-five years of teaching second grade, it meant Em wouldn’t have to put out extra money for daycare.

Deciding to accept the offer had been easy. Nothing had gone too well for them in California. But they waited until Sammy finished first grade, even though it put a strain on their limited budget. Having come from an unstable family herself, Em tried to ensure her son’s life was secure wherever possible.

“He’s not sending any money,” Em said without preamble. “Lost his job and health insurance.” She chuckled, recalling her thoughts. “I almost volunteered to pay for COBRA insurance. Can you believe it? I can’t even afford it for myself, and here I’m about to volunteer to pay his.”

“You’ve always been too generous.”

“No more. I may end up biting my lip to shreds,” she said, pounding a fist on the table again, “but he’s never going to see another red cent from me.”

Doris pushed some strands of gray-blond hair back over her ear. “So, did he mention what college he’s going to?”

“College? What college?”

“Before you showed up, he said he was back in college, working toward some degree.”

“How can he pay for tuition, books...?”

“How did he pay for them before? He never held down a job, did he, before he walked out on you?”

Em sat back and stared at the ceiling. Some loose paint looked as if it might fall, but their landlord wasn’t due to paint the place for several more months. “No, Ma, he didn’t. Not while we were married, anyway. He always planned to once he finished college.” Em thought a minute. “You don’t suppose there’s someone out there....”

“As much in love with him as you were?”

Em sucked on her lip a moment, wondering if it might be swelling. “No, I was going to say as gullible as me.” Her lip must be swelling. The word barely made it out of her mouth. Or maybe she found it way too painful to admit that anyone could be conned into supporting a man while he attended one college after another and offered nothing in return.

“Why don’t you contact your lawyer? Maybe he can do something.”

“He’s already bled me dry, and Bradley only has the assets I paid for.” The car, stereo set and all the other items he’d charged to her credit cards. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled out the fancy elastic holding her ponytail.

For a fleeting second, Em recalled what Jodie had said about her husband. But Em couldn’t afford to pay Harve, and she didn’t want to accept his charity. Besides, Bradley could still threaten her with repealing the custody agreement. She didn’t want to give him any reason to come after the one thing he knew she treasured.

“I’m accepting that job.”

“Where you’re a temp? I thought you said they didn’t pay enough.”

“The pay is doable. I’ll get benefits immediately, and Sammy’s start in six months. I haven’t found anything better, and Metro stopped hiring.”

For several moments they sipped their tea in quiet companionship. Em played with the torn strap on the table, making a coil first one way and then the other.

Finally, Doris said, “How was the party?” She placed the glass in front of her face, but it didn’t hide the grin. “Was Roger there?”

Em nodded and pushed the fabric to the side.

“Did he finally wake up and realize how the two of you were meant for each other?”

Em tossed the cork coaster at her mother. “That was a long time ago.”

“So, your fatal attraction has worn off?”

“He’s still very attractive, but...I don’t know. It’s different.” Em sighed and checked out the peeling paint on the ceiling again. “A lot of things have happened in my life since I had a childish crush on him.”

“Anything new with Jodie?”

“She’s the same old Jodie. I think she tried to set me up by introducing me to some single parents. One guy actually asked me for a date.”

“And you said...?”

Em scrunched her nose and shook her head. “A real jerk.”

“I think you just have a total dislike for men right now. That, too, will fade with time.”

Not possible, Em thought as she continued, “Sammy made good friends with Roger’s twin boys. They’re coming over tomorrow for a swimming party.”

“Sounds like fun. It should go a long way in helping Sammy adjust to life here.”

* * *

“I’M TAKING THE boys over to Em’s apartment to see her little boy,” Roger told Samantha as he sent his sons off to the car. “You’ll be all right till I get back?”

Sophia had the day off, and it meant Samantha would be all alone. Mentally, he ticked off the damage she could do in that time. Long distance calls to her cousin in England. At least she couldn’t get on the internet and buy out China without his password.

“Can’t I come, too?”

Roger’s jaw dropped. Samantha had always avoided her brothers every chance she got. Now she asked to be included in something that couldn’t interest her at all. It had to be Em. What spell had she cast over his daughter?

“Sure,” he said, “but I wasn’t planning to stay. The boys are going to swim and then watch a video.” Something that would probably make your skin crawl, he almost added.

“That’s okay. I’ll help. Watching three boys is a handful. I’ll get my suit.”

Still agape, Roger watched her rush up the stairs. What had happened to her? This daughter, who put up a stink if he asked her to watch her brothers while he showered, was volunteering to babysit? No way. Whatever she had going with Em was going to stop right now. Even if he had to stay around and supervise.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said as he followed Samantha up the stairs and passed her in the hall. “I think I’ll take my suit along, too.”

Samantha paused by her door and regarded him. “Dad, I thought you wanted the time alone to get some paperwork done.”

“All work and no play makes fathers very dull. Besides, I can bring the work with me.” She shot him a look of disbelief before disappearing into her room.

What had he gotten himself into? He had yet to make all the schedules for the transfer to Seattle. A half dozen people had posted for other jobs; now, who would do their work? He had to review the remaining personnel and determine what jobs required immediate attention. And here he was blowing a chance at a peaceful day alone. Crazy. How could he accomplish these tasks at a noisy apartment complex while he baked in the hot sun?

But he had to go. He’d never be able to concentrate on his work knowing what he did about Em. He reminded himself again that in one summer she’d annihilated his sister’s good family upbringing. Who knew what she was capable of doing now?

While he changed in his room, Roger talked to the picture of his wife, which held a prominent place on the white-washed oak dresser. “You wouldn’t recognize Em,” he said as he pulled on his gray plaid swim trunks. “She’s grown up into quite a woman. Not that I’m interested, mind you. It’s just that Samantha seems to like her.

“Remember what a pill Em was? Well, your daughter’s another Em.” Roger slipped on his loafers and a shirt, and walked over to the picture. Picking up the gold frame, he said, “I sure could use your help raising Samantha.” He kissed the glass surface and whispered, “I miss you so much.” With a heavy heart he returned the picture to the dresser and headed out the door.

Roger met Samantha in the front hall. “Dad, you’re not wearing that!” When did she start talking like her mother?

He glanced in the hall mirror at his gray-plaid trunks. His white ones probably would look better, but he’d tossed them in the laundry last night. The colorful Hawaiian shirt had faded a little since Karen bought it for him on their delayed honeymoon to Oahu. Okay, so it looked a little weird, especially with the briefcase, but he was going for comfort, not to make a fashion statement.

“What will Em think? That I’m related to some geek?”

Roger dismissed the remark and opened the door. “This is me. You coming or not?” He had no intention of dressing to impress Em. This shirt reminded him of happy times with Karen. Furthermore, if Samantha found his clothes so despicable, she might decide to stay home and eliminate his need to stay at Em’s. After yesterday’s encounter with the cigarettes, he planned to keep his family’s exposure to Em at a minimum.

* * *

THE BOYS FOUND Sammy and hit the pool the moment they arrived at the apartment complex. Samantha took off for Em, who was sitting under a ramada, a wooden roof that shaded a picnic table within easy access of the pool. She got up and headed toward him as he secured the safety gate. He stopped short and stared along with every other male in the area.

Her white suit was conservative, covered by a sheer, colorful blouse in blues that hugged her every time a breeze passed by. “Hello, Roger. Samantha says you’re planning to work here.” Her puzzled expression showed a concern he hadn’t expected. “Maybe you’d prefer the apartment, where it’s quieter.”

“No, this will do fine.” He placed his briefcase on the table. “I just have a few things to catch up on for the office.” Not that he’d get anything done with so much distraction, but he didn’t want to leave his children alone with her. Her attention was already back on the boys horsing around in the pool. It gave him a chance to observe her.

Several strands of blond hair had come loose from her ponytail. When had she decided to grow her hair long? It certainly was an improvement over the short spikes he remembered. He looked back at his sons, intending to keep an eye on them. They had a tendency to get rowdy if they thought they could get away with it.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Samantha. She was sloshing in the pool with some kids her own age. Four years in high school followed by four more in college. How was he going to pay for that without a job?

Suddenly, the task before him took on enormous proportions. He had a presentation to make the next day. Roger sat down and began making a list of what he had to accomplish over the next six months.

* * *

“WOULD YOU CARE for some iced tea?” Em stood before him holding two glasses.

Roger accepted the offered glass. He hadn’t even realized he was thirsty. After a long swallow, he forced himself to look away. The boys had disappeared. He half stood, searching the pool for any sign of them.

“They’re taking a break, playing in the sandbox with some trucks and action figures. Mind if I sit here? It’s the only shade left in the area.”

“Go ahead,” he said as he pushed papers to one side.

“I’ll try not to disturb you.”

“That’s okay. It’s time for me to take a break.” Usually, when his children were around, one part of him was always tuned in to them. For some reason he had lost himself in his work, and left the supervision to Em. Was it instinct or something else that had trusted Em to watch out for them? The realization struck him as odd, considering how he felt about her potential influence. He looked around for his daughter.

“Samantha’s playing cards with her friends in the other ramada.” Em nodded to the other side of the pool.

“How did you know...?”

“It’s the look you get. Sort of a fatherly, worried expression. I noticed it yesterday when you thought I was enticing her to smoke.”

“Déjà vu. I remembered how you turned my sister into a smoker.”

“I did what?” Her strident tone morphed into a long sigh. “Jodie Holden introduced me to every vice I ever had, including smoking.”

“My sister?” Roger started to laugh at the absurdity. “She was a milquetoast until you came along and ruined her.”

“You haven’t a clue what she was really into.” Em started to tap her fingers on the table. He glanced down to the movement and noticed that her nails, although polished in light pink, were short and practical, not the fake extensions in vivid colors Samantha often tried.

“Oh, no? When you showed up that summer, she started to drink, swear, smoke and carry on with the opposite sex.”

Em pierced him with her blue eyes. “Just like you were doing?”

Roger paused. Just like him? “That’s different,” he said. “I was attending college at the time.”

“No. What’s different is you’re male and we’re female.” Em sat straighter. Roger gave her his complete attention and doubted if anything other than a comet’s entry into the atmosphere could distract him. “And according to you, we’re supposed to abide by a stricter standard. Jodie chose not to, and I went along for the ride.”

Roger placed his elbow on the table and braced his chin in his hand. Maybe Em was right. He’d never paid much attention to his sister until Em arrived on the scene. “Well, she never soaped my car.”

A smile turned up the corners of Em’s mouth. Her cheek threatened to dimple. “You deserved that.”

He leaned across the table. “Thanks to you and those little stunts, Karen nearly broke up with me. She had a driving test on one of the days you soaped the windows, and we couldn’t get it all off in time. She missed her appointment.” He leaned back. “And I don’t appreciate that self-satisfied smirk. You really created havoc with my love life.”

“I was fourteen at the time. How old is Samantha?” Roger squinted at the ramada across the sun-drenched pool.

“She’ll be fourteen in October, but she’s been acting like someone in her twenties for the past year.”

“And she could easily pass for eighteen.” Em rose and took their empty glasses. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” She beamed a smile on him warmer than the Arizona sun. “Want some more tea?”

He watched her walk away—the swing of her hips, the swish of that golden hair. Em had grown up into a very interesting woman. A very interesting woman, indeed.


CHAPTER FOUR

“THANKS FOR HELPING, Mom,” Em said as Doris finished washing the dishes. Roger and the twins had stayed for lunch, a macaroni-and-cheese creation of her mother’s that Sammy couldn’t get enough of. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it, as well. The kitchen was small, with dark cabinets and barely enough room for the two to work. Em wiped the last plate and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek, a small thanks for all that she had done.

“Once I finish up here, I’ll go back to my room and read,” Doris said. “You go entertain Roger.”

“I don’t know.” Em glanced through the kitchen doorway. “He’s engrossed in some business he has to complete for tomorrow.”

Doris placed a wet hand on her shoulder and pushed. “Go on. I remember when nothing could keep you from bugging him.”

Em stayed put. “Was I that bad?” All those juvenile high jinks she had performed in an attempt to gain his attention. A tremble shook her head and shoulders. If only she could wash away her misguided antics.

Doris flipped back a strand of hair and sighed. “As I recall, you thought he walked on water.”

“Well, I know better now.” Another push from her mother sent her into the dining room. She had no desire to join the boys in the living room and watch another rerun of Star Wars, the video they had chosen. Samantha hadn’t returned from having lunch with a girlfriend, so Em couldn’t talk with her.

Despite the relatively pleasant time she and Roger had shared today, Em felt ill at ease. Maybe it was that ridiculous shirt he was wearing. It belonged on a bonfire. She had changed into white shorts and a red T-shirt, but obviously Roger hadn’t bothered to bring anything extra.

“Can I get you something? More iced tea? A beer?”

Roger looked up from where he sat at the dining-room table and smiled. Except for one slightly protruding eyetooth, he had a perfect smile, one that made her feel all warm and cozy inside. “No thanks. Pull up a chair, unless you’d rather join the kids.”

“I’d prefer adult company, if I’m not disturbing you.”

Roger tilted his chair back and stretched his arms over his head. His Hawaiian shirt momentarily pulled tight across his chest before he dropped his hands back to the table. “Actually you might be able to give me some insight. I’m working on transfering work from my department at Metro to another office in Seattle. It means several people will be losing their jobs unless they can move to Seattle. I’d like some input from someone who’s been there. Your mother mentioned you’ve been laid off before.”

“Twice.”

“Two times? That’s got to be hell!”

“More like an endless roller-coaster ride.” Em pulled out the wooden chair and sat next to him so she wouldn’t be forced to look at that shirt.

“Tell me about it. The company’s providing us with an agency that deals with outplacements, but I’m interested in hearing firsthand what actually helped to get you back to full employment.”

He moved his arm, so that the short hairs tickled hers, and Em shifted slightly to avoid the contact. It was too disconcerting and she was trying to keep her mind focused on their discussion.

“The first time was the worst. About twenty of us were walked out of the building like criminals the day we received our notice. They gave us one month’s severance and a printed list of possible employers we could find on the internet.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her.

“And the second time?”

“Not so bad. I had learned there’s no such thing as job security. Besides, this company made the transition bearable.” She needed to do something with her hands. Em reached for a pen and inadvertently touched Roger’s arm again. She pulled her hands into her lap.

“They expected everything to take two years to transfer,” she continued, “and they did what they could to keep our morale up so we’d stick around. Anyone who stayed through the entire process would receive a large bonus package.”

The space between Roger and her was decreasing, because Roger kept leaning toward her as though he wanted to catch everything she had to say. Em considered moving her chair a little farther away, but decided she liked the idea that he found her interesting.

“How did they keep you there?” Roger picked up a yellow legal pad and began making hen scratches.

“They offered training we’d need to make ourselves more saleable in the work world and gave us counseling as well as help in writing résumés and... Am I going too fast for you?” Roger stopped writing and looked up.

“No. This is great information. Go on.”

“How are you going to read that?”

Roger dropped his pencil and propped his head on his hand again. “It takes a while, but I manage.”

“Wait a minute.” Em got up and returned after a moment with a laptop computer. At least this would keep her hands occupied. “I’ll put it all down in a readable form. What else do you want to know?”

“What they did to make life bearable. Stuff like that.”

Em typed as she talked. “They gave us unexpected breaks that cost them very little....”

“That’s good,” Roger said, straightening and pointing to the computer. “Put that down.”

“Like one day they gave us the afternoon off to watch a video, a comedy, and they provided popcorn and pop.”

“Didn’t that cut down on production?”

Em typed in his question then added her answer. “No. Production improved. Most of us were glad to have some relief from the pressure that was always present.” She was really getting into this, enjoying their exchange.

“What else?”

“Well...” She closed her eyes a moment to picture the scene. “They used incentives.”

“To keep production at its peak?”

Em chuckled as she typed. “No, to keep us coming in every day. People who had collected sick time began to get ill Wednesday and recover by the next Tuesday. The company needed reliable workers, so everyone who didn’t miss a day during the week got a little prize.”

Roger placed his hands over his face and mumbled, “Oh, boy. Here it comes.” He brushed his hands through his hair before sitting back. “What’s it going to cost?”

“What’s the cost of four or five days of pay for just one person out sick, not even counting the production cost or the strain on the other employees who have to fill in?”

Roger whistled softly before Em added, “We received prizes of tickets for movies or lunch passes. In a month of perfect attendance, we might get items equal to an hour and a half of our pay. No big deal for them, but a fun thing for us.”

“Who decided these things?”

“Well, we had an agency working with HR and our supervisors worked closely with them. They constantly solicited our opinions. Also, those who’d made a month of perfect attendance had their names placed in a special drawing. Once it was a hundred-dollar gift certificate and another time a weekend at a dude ranch—big prizes that made us strive to stay.”

“You ever win one?

“No, I never had perfect attendance.” She’d often had to take time off to care for some emergency with Sammy.

Roger leaned over and looked at her screen. “You getting all that?” Once again, she found it disconcerting to have him so close. She misspelled a word and hastily corrected it. When he gazed at her with a look of total admiration, she loused up a whole sentence and quickly erased it.

“You know, I could use someone with your skills, but I can’t add any more people except temps. Your mother mentioned you’re a temp at your present job. Would you consider switching? I’d hire you on the spot.”

Work for Roger? Today had been so enjoyable. Wouldn’t more time with him be even better? Em ran her tongue over her bottom lip and felt the area still raw from yesterday’s bite. Men. They could certainly louse up your life. Not likely anything would be different working with Roger.

She rushed to say, “But my job—”

“Weren’t you over at Metro looking for work?” he interrupted.

“Yes, but when I heard about the layoffs at Metro, I accepted a permanent job for an excellent salary.” The lie came so easily. She hoped it would become truth tomorrow once she applied for the job. “Unfortunately, the medical plan isn’t the best.”

He moved away but continued to stare at her. “You look healthy enough.” She warmed under his scrutiny.

“I am, but Sammy suffers from asthma.” She returned her attention to the computer and saved the file. “Their policy doesn’t cover preexisting conditions for the first six months.”

“Too bad. Isn’t he covered under your ex’s plan?”

Without pausing to consider her words, Em rose and said, “Bradley doesn’t work. I’ll go attach this to my printer and get you a hard copy.”

“Thanks.” Noise from the other room increased. “It sounds like the galaxy has been saved. I’ll round up the boys and get Samantha. I still have to type up my presentation before tomorrow’s meeting.” He punched the air with his index fingers, simulating his hunt-and-peck typing style.

“I could type it for you. If it’s not sensitive or confidential.”

“No, you’ve done enough already.” He backed away toward the living room. “Thanks for a very nice day.”

The moment had turned awkward, but Em couldn’t figure out why. All she had done was volunteer to help, and Roger obviously needed all the help he could get.

* * *

ALONE AT HIS computer, Roger stared at his incomplete notes. It was after midnight, and he still couldn’t get his mind to focus on the job at hand. It was too busy rehashing and remembering each exchange with Em.

The day had been perfect, much like the times he’d shared with his wife. More important than her typing skills, Em offered humor, something missing in his life. For a short time the pressure of his job and the needs of his children had been shared.

Oh, she would make a wonderful assistant. He leaned back and grasped his hands behind his head, remembering her reaction when he offered the temporary position. Was it the hesitation or the awkward movements that seemed out of character? But then, what did he know?

Roger picked up his notes and glanced at the picture of Karen’s smiling face on his desk. It had been taken several years before her death. In this photo, too, she looked so lovely. So full of life. Who knew that in just a short while....

He’d enjoyed Em’s friendly companionship. That’s why he wouldn’t pursue it. He didn’t want to take advantage of her giving nature when he had nothing to give in return. Karen still remained the love of his life. He had nothing to offer anyone.

* * *

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, Dad.” Samantha stood by his desk, hands on hips. “I need clothes. I start high school in less than two weeks, and I don’t have a thing to wear.”

Frustrated by the interruption, Roger turned from his computer. Only two weeks? Where had the summer gone? The schedules he needed by the next day still weren’t finished. After discussing Em’s suggestions with the group hired to handle the outplacements, Roger had implemented several of them. They’d go a long way toward helping the transition run smoothly. If everything could be completed, he’d have his weekend free to take the boys camping, a chance to relax for a change. Shopping certainly wouldn’t fill that bill.

Maybe she did need clothes. Lately, she wore only his discarded dress shirts and shorts made from torn jeans. “I do understand, Samantha. It’s just that I can’t take you shopping until next weekend.”

“By then there won’t be a decent thing left in the stores.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He looked back at his computer in despair. He’d lost the file he’d worked on all evening and had spent the past hour trying to regain the information. Nothing had gone right today.

“Why can’t you take me this weekend?” Samantha droned on in a voice that rubbed his nerves raw. “Arizona Mills is having special sales and...”

He swiveled to face her and slammed his elbow against the computer in the process. He bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. “You know why, Samantha. I’m taking the boys camping this...”

“The boys. The boys. That’s all that matters to you. You don’t care what happens to me. No one does.”

He turned back to his computer. “Speak to Sophia.”

“She’s wrapped up in her wedding and her move to Tucson. She doesn’t have any time for me.”

Sophia planned to leave in two weeks, and he still had no idea how to replace her. Roger made a mental note to call an employment agency the next day. “How about Aunt Jodie?”

“She has other plans.”

Roger closed his eyes and rubbed the lids in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building behind them. Today, three more people left for different jobs, two transferred within the company and another just quit, accepting the offered severance. If only he could do that, leave right now and walk away with a severance based on all the years he’d spent at Metro. With a sigh, he knew he’d never do that. Completing this task at work had become a moral obligation.

“I’ll spend the whole weekend with nothing to do,” Samantha continued.

“Would you rather come with us to Prescott?”

“No. I’d rather go shopping!” she shouted as she stomped into the family room. A moment later he heard her heavy steps on the stairs. A door slammed. Damn. Roger leaned back in his seat and stared at his monitor.

Oh, if he could only ditch this whole mess. His mind was pulled in too many directions. One problem got solved and two jumped in to take its place. He still hadn’t found someone to help ease the load. If only he could hire Em. He was certain she’d never lose a whole file, or if she did, she’d know how to recover it.

Every time he found a chore he’d normally put in an administrative assistant’s competent hands, he thought of how well Em would handle it. No one in the group of displaced employees had demonstrated any of the skills he needed. Continuing to muse, he visualized Em recovering the file and giving him a chance for a full night’s sleep instead of one with recurring nightmares.

He glanced across the desk and saw Karen staring at him. Would she think he was obsessing? Probably. She’d always managed to help him cope. Help him relax. Oh, he could really use one of her backrubs. Every nerve in his body longed for attention. Except for his morning swim, he hadn’t even had a chance to exercise.

What would Karen’s reaction be if he told her how his opinion of Em had changed? Instead of that teenaged brat, he saw an attractive woman with a delightful sense of humor. He mused a moment longer, remembering the pleasant afternoon they’d spent. He returned his attention to Karen’s picture, and a sensation of guilt hit him unexpectedly. Ever since he’d met his wife, no other woman had captured his interest.

He and Karen had talked about how his life had to go on after her death. She had insisted he find someone to take her place and give their children the mothering they needed. Roger focused on Karen’s smiling face. But no other woman could fill my life the way you did. A man couldn’t expect to experience heaven more than once in a lifetime.

Roger chewed over his predicament. Okay, so Em was the first woman he’d even noticed since...since he’d met Karen. But he doubted Em could ever have any interest in him. For that matter, she acted nervous and preoccupied around him. Why? And he couldn’t forget how much she’d hated him during that summer spent with his family. What had he done to create such animosity? One prank after another. If he had acted on his feelings at that time and strangled her, he’d probably still be in jail.

Roger stood and stretched. He had to find a way to retrieve that file so he could present it the next day. From the way Em handled her computer, he felt sure she would know what to do. She had offered to help. He scratched his head and tried to think how he could broach the subject. If she was willing to come here, he’d treat the whole thing as a business deal. Before he could change his mind, Roger reached for the yellow pad where he had scratched Em’s number and dialed.

“You know anything about retrieving lost data on a computer?” he asked the moment she answered. “I had about four hours of work go into never-never land, and I’m having an impossible time trying to find it.”

“Is this Roger?” a hesitant voice asked.

He grabbed a hank of hair and pulled. “Yeah. Sorry, Em, I...”

“This is Doris. I’ll see if she’s still up.”

Roger glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock! Why hadn’t he checked the time before calling? He was about to hang up, when Em said, “Hi, Roger. Mom said your computer crashed.”

“No. It’s just a lost file. Listen, I’m sorry I called. It’s late and you have to go to work tomorrow.”

“We both do. I may be able to help. What’s your address?”

* * *

EM BUSIED HERSELF in front of the bathroom mirror, removing the night cream she’d applied. She stifled a yawn. If it was nothing more than a lost file, she’d be back and in bed in no time. She fiddled with removing several curlers she’d put in before going to bed. The curls she’d planned for the next day would have to wait.

“Aren’t you primping a lot just to fix a computer?”

Em took a quick look at her mother leaning against the bathroom doorjamb. “I don’t want to look as though I just got out of bed, Mom. Give me a break.”

“You planning to go au natural?”

Em glanced down at the sleeveless T-shirt she used for sleeping. “I plan to change.” Her mother hadn’t shown this much interest in her attire since she was a teenager. Em glanced back at her mother, an edge to her reply. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Doris chuckled as she turned away. “He still walks on water.”

Em stopped and stared at her image. Was she giving Roger’s sudden need for her help too much importance? After all, more than ten days had gone by without a call. He had sent a card: a short, formal thank-you to tell her how much the boys had appreciated the swim party, the meal, and how much he’d appreciated her help. But nothing personal such as “I’d like to see more of you.”

Something unknown, maybe common sense or karma, had kept her from taking that job with Roger. Close contact with him might have ended with her making a fool of herself. Too many of her friends had become involved in office romances and lived to regret it. Before she could reconsider and take the job Roger offered, she approached her boss and told him she’d like to accept the full-time position the company offered her. It was a done deal before the end of the week, with increased pay and eventual medical benefits for Sammy.

Right now, thanks to their sons, she had a fragile friendship with Roger. She wasn’t about to ruin it and make a fool of herself. She’d provide the help he needed and get home as quickly as possible.

Em brushed her hair roughly, enough to make it sting with static electricity. She found the sports bra she had discarded earlier, pulled on a clean T-shirt and slipped into shorts. With a quick look in the mirror, she decided even her mother would approve.

* * *

THE WHITE STUCCO walls glared under the porch light as Roger paced outside his front door. Nervousness churned in his stomach. What if she couldn’t recover his file? He told himself all this anxiety had to do with that possibility. He’d offer to pay her and usher her out.

How much should he offer? Immaterial. Whatever she charged would be worth it. He’d pay for it himself if he couldn’t get reimbursed from petty cash. She was here to help him out of a jam. He hesitated. What if she felt offering her money was insulting?

Karen, Karen, what should I do? His silent query went unanswered.

The moment Em’s car pulled into the driveway, Roger ran off the porch and opened her door. “I want to get this clear from the start, Em. I’m hiring you in a consultant capacity. Name your price.”

“Fine,” she said, stepping from the car.

Fine? No argument, no negotiations? Roger closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“Headache?”

He opened his eyes. Em stood inches away. He took a deep breath and drew in her scent. Wrong move. “No,” he said, barely able to get the word out. “Can I take that for you?” As he reached for her bag, he brushed her hand and nearly dropped the computer.

“Whoa, let me take that.” Em pulled it away from him. About to put his hand on Em’s back to direct her, he turned toward his house. The moment he saw Samantha standing at the door, looking every bit like her mother, he dropped his hand to his side.

“Oh, I need your help desperately, Em,” Samantha said. She clasped her hands prayer fashion under her chin. “Dad won’t take me shopping, and I don’t have anything but rags to wear to school.”

“Samantha, stop being so dramatic and get to bed.” Why was she still up? He pushed past her into the house. “I told you I’ll take you next weekend.”

The girl uttered a strangled cry, shook her hands in the air and looked heavenward for help. How was he to deal with such antics? Couldn’t she cut him some slack? He faced a few more important crises than her lack of wardrobe.

Em turned to him and said, “Why don’t I go upstairs with Samantha while you get me a drink? Iced tea if you have any.” She followed his daughter before he could offer a protest.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Em asked when they reached the bedroom on the second floor. The room, decorated in frills and lace, seemed too immature for someone who had given up smoking at thirteen.

“Look at these.” Samantha picked up an armload of clothes that had been strewn across her bed and tossed them in the air. “They’re all out of style. I’ve grown two inches in the last year, and Dad hasn’t even noticed.”

Samantha lowered her voice and glanced toward the open door. “Besides,” she said, pulling the bulky men’s shirt out at the bust line, “My boobs are getting bigger and nothing looks right.”

“Um, well...” Em cleared her throat, and glanced around the room in an attempt to gather her thoughts. This was way beyond what she’d expected. This weekend. What plans had she made this weekend? She turned back to the girl. “I can take you shopping Saturday, but you have to clear it with your father, first.”

Samantha threw her arms around Em and nearly strangled her. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll see if I can get Daddy’s credit cards.”

“My what?” Roger asked from the doorway. He held out a tall glass of iced tea to Em.

While sipping the drink, she watched the adult and child move into their separate camps. She had no business interfering. Why hadn’t she gone straight to the computer and avoided this scene?

“I told you I’d take you next week. You are not dragging Em away from her busy life.”

The past few weeks of strain showed clearly on his face. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he spoke in hushed tones to his daughter. The whites of his eyes were no longer white but sunset pink. From Em’s perspective, he looked overworked, overtired and emotionally overextended.

“Oh, but you can?” Samantha scowled at him, hands on her hips. “It’s eleven, Daddy. Why did you drag her over?”

Em tried not to react to the innuendo. After all, Samantha was using every means possible to get her way. But Roger turned red as fury washed over his face. His jaw tightened. Had Samantha hit a nerve?




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