“I know how to work hard,” Emma said.

 “I’m going to put you with Makenna Rice for training. She’s young, tough, not particularly personable, has impeccable standards, can handle anything that comes along and will work you hard. But at the end of the day you will be proud of the job you did.”

 “Thank you.”

 “Fourteen dollars an hour to start. If you’re still around after ninety days, you’ll get a two-dollar raise. I provide training, uniforms, sometimes transportation—I have a few company cars and vans—and health insurance. Not the greatest health insurance, but competitive with most corporate plans. You won’t need it but I have a deal for a discount with a day care provider—a lot of my workers have small children not yet in school. Any chance you speak Spanish?”

 Emma shook her head. “Some very rusty French.”

 “A shame. A lot of my workers are Mexican, here with work visas. But don’t worry—I have plenty of bilingual workers and my director of operations speaks Spanish.” She looked at her squarely. “You won’t get any special treatment. Are you sure you want to do this?”

 “Yes, I’m sure. I’m very grateful.”

 “I’ll give you a job,” Riley said. “But that’s all.”

 “I don’t expect anything,” Emma said. “I didn’t even expect this much. Really.”

 “Jeanette will get you started on the paperwork. It should only take twenty minutes. Then I’ll next see you the Monday after Thanksgiving, this office, seven a.m. Bring a tote or backpack that holds your lunch, water or energy drink, snacks. Jeanette will tell you where to go to get your uniform. I’ll pay for one per year.”

 “Thank you,” Emma said again.

 Riley stood. “Come into the conference room to fill out your application and accompanying paperwork.”

 “Riley, I didn’t do it,” she suddenly said. She shook her head. “I had nothing to do with Richard’s fraud. I was too stupid to know what he was up to, but I wasn’t involved.”

 “Of course you weren’t. Anyone with a brain knows he started building his Ponzi empire ten years before he met you. Come with me.” She opened the door on the right wall of her office, exposing a shiny table and eight chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll get Jeanette.”

 Emma sat down and waited. The interview wasn’t exactly comfortable but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. It must have given Riley great pleasure to have Emma crawling back, begging for work. A lot of people who didn’t even know her would feel the same way—the uppity young trophy wife, paying the piper every day. Every hour. Every minute.

 Riley’s clothes weren’t baggy and worn anymore, she thought. In fact, she looked wonderful. She was obviously buying her clothes in San Francisco. That was a Marco de Vincenzo suit, a little young and short for Riley, but she wore it well. If Emma was a betting woman she’d think Riley pulled that one out of the plastic just for her.

 She finished filling out her forms and went back into Riley’s office, knocking before opening the door. Riley was on the phone but gestured her in, pointing to the chair. While she waited, Jeanette peeked in. She was wearing her coat and had her purse strap over her shoulder, obviously leaving. She gave Riley a wave and Riley waved back.

 Now it was just the two of them.

 Riley finished her phone call and focused on Emma. “Any questions?”

 “Not that I can think of. Thank you again.”

 “Not at all,” Riley said in a businesslike manner. “See you on your start date. On time.”

 “Absolutely.” She rose to go.

 Emma was almost out the door.

 “Emma?”

 She turned back.

 “Now we’re even,” Riley said without looking at her. “I have no more debt to pay to you.”

 Emma was stunned and frozen, speechless for a moment. She finally found her voice. “Do you think I’m keeping score? You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to hire me just because of something... We were children!”

 “We’re not anymore,” Riley said. “We’re not going to be friends but this thing between us... I’m done with it. But stay away from my brother.”

 And she was completely refocused on her computer screen.

 Emma slowly closed the door behind her. But then she opened it again. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Are you angry with me? Because I said some awful things to you and I regret it, but I think you have to bear responsibility for what you did.”

 “It’s over,” Riley said.

 “Obviously not!” Emma shot back, rather more hotly than she intended.

 “It was all regrettable,” Riley said. “And I’m sure there’s plenty of blame to go around.”

 “It might be helpful if I knew exactly what blame I’m expected to carry,” Emma said.

 “I’d rather it be over,” Riley said, standing to face Emma. “Let’s call it done.”

 “Oh, no, you don’t—you started this up again. Riley, I didn’t sleep with your boyfriend behind your back! What is your grudge? Because of those terrible things I said to you out of anger? If that’s it—”

 “That’s not it,” she insisted loudly. “I guess you were entitled. I understood why you’d be furious.”

 “Then what?”

 “You wouldn’t forgive me!” she said. Riley’s eyes glistened and she held her lips in a tight line.