“We can find a way to get beyond this! We said we’d never let a guy get between us!”

 “Yeah, until he was my guy! Well, he’s all yours now! I wouldn’t take him back if he begged me. Not with your stink on him!”

 “You’ll be sorry you let this ruin us! You know you’ll never have a friend like me again in your life!”

 “I hope to God not!” Emma had hurled.

 And now she was going to ask Riley for a job.

 “I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said. “We don’t have any openings right now. But if you’d like to leave a name and number, I can call you as soon as something opens up.”

 “Sure,” she said. “I’m Emma Shay and...”

 “Oh, Ms. Shay, I reserved an appointment for you. Can you come into the office to meet with Ms. Kerrigan Thursday afternoon at two?”

 “Um. Sure,” she said. Was that a good sign? Adam had said Riley would help her, but what if he was wrong about that?

 Sixteen years ago, right after screaming she hoped she’d never have a friend like Riley again, Riley had screamed at her, “Emmie, please! Please try to understand! I didn’t mean for this to happen and I’m sorry. I can’t lose your friendship!”

 With a sneer, Emma shot back, “So get Jock to be your friend. Slut!”

 Of course, Emma hadn’t known Riley was pregnant but would knowing that have softened her words? Nah. It probably would have made her even more hateful. Emma didn’t think she’d ever forgive Riley for what she’d done. But if she were Riley, she would never be able to forget those cruel words.

 Why would Riley help her now?

 She wore the same conservative but stylish skirt and sweater she’d been wearing to every interview. They were Chanel, brown wool with a little pleat in the front of the skirt right on her knee and a soft mauve sweater set. She wore hose and pumps, carried a matching Dooney & Bourke bag. Would she think Emma had obviously survived quite well, dressed so? The Riley she had known had never had such nice clothes.

 Walking into Riley’s office was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She reminded herself that she’d walked down the steps of the Federal Court Building to the flashing of cameras; she’d walked from a grave site to her car through a clot of photographers. She opened the outer office door and the secretary looked up. She smiled at the young woman. “Hello. I’m Emma Shay and I have an appointment with Ms. Kerrigan.”

 “You can go on in,” Jeanette said. “She’s expecting you.”

 Emma gave a couple of courtesy taps and opened the door. Riley was concentrating on her computer screen. Without looking up she said, “Come in. Sit down. Give me a second.”

 Emma sat in one of the chairs facing the desk. She held her purse on her lap and crossed her legs at the ankle, her legs angled to her right. When Riley did look at her, her eyes rested for a long time on the purse.

 Riley turned the screen away, folded her hands on the desk and focused on Emma. “Hello, Emma. How are you?” Riley asked.

 “I’m all right, thanks. You?”

 “Very well, thanks. Am I to understand you’re looking for a job?”

 “Yes.”

 “You do understand this is a cleaning company? Housekeeping?”

 “Yes. I can provide a letter of recommendation. My last supervisor offered. She’s the head of housekeeping at the hospital in Petaluma—Mrs. Carlson.”

 Riley’s eyes grew round. “That carries some weight around here. I’ve known Glynnis for years. Why are you leaving the hospital?”

 Emma was surprised then realized she shouldn’t have been. Adam was very tight-lipped. “I had a fall. Actually, an angry person who claimed to be a victim of Richard’s fraud threw something at me and I fell. I’m not hurt. I was checked in the emergency room. But Mrs. Carlson took me off the schedule, put me on workers’ comp and suggested I get another job.”

 Riley was frowning.

 “If you don’t want to take a chance on that happening while I work for you—”

 “That won’t happen in my company. I know which of my customers know each other, so I know where gossip travels. We have a policy that our crews, while polite and helpful, do not become enmeshed with the client—that’s how they get taken advantage of. Our crews take only first names into the jobs, and the majority of the time the client isn’t home and if they are, they stay out of the way. There should be no reason for much conversation that isn’t germane to the work. We have a pretty strict contract so that additional work is arranged with the company in advance and an hourly charge is made. But what’s easy about this system is—everything goes through me or my director of operations, Nick. That way you’re never put upon to argue with the homeowner or business owner. You’re going to have to be trained. Can you make it till the Monday after Thanksgiving? Because I don’t have training on my schedule until then.”

 “I can start anytime. I went through a rigorous training at the hospital.”

 “You’ll be trained again,” she said firmly. “The last time I skipped training because the housekeeper was qualified I ended up buying a new microwave because she took steel wool to it. Besides, the culture of the company is as important as the policies and I want you to understand.”

 “Maybe I should clean offices...” Emma suggested.

 “I don’t have any openings in offices. Those are night jobs and they’re pretty precious—a lot of my staff prefer them. They pay a little more and many of them have two jobs and children to take care of. All I have is residential. It’s very hard work.”