“No, no,” June said. “He must have been that good at fooling people.”

 “But I let him fool me.”

 “What happened, Emma? What caused it to unravel?”

 “The perfect storm. A couple of big clients didn’t get good returns on their money and pulled out. There were flaws in the statements. Rich people have lots of CPAs running around, double-checking everything, and Richard made a few mistakes. Not mistakes—irregularities. There was a banking and investment corporation crisis and people were pulling their money out everywhere—no one wanted to be the last one holding the bag. Richard’s funds were not insured or guaranteed. People were losing money everywhere else but not with Richard. Investments across the board were crashing like crazy, but not Richard’s. A reporter from the Washington Post started sniffing around, angry and paranoid investors complained to the SEC, an investigation began...” She shrugged helplessly. “And I began to see a whole new Richard.”

 “Oh, Emma, was it terrible?”

 “It was terrible,” she said. “Want to know why I stayed? Why I went to court? Because it was the only way I was going to find out the truth. He wasn’t going to tell me. I was making assumptions, I was guessing, I was reading the papers, financial journals, watching the news—and they got so many facts about me wrong, I couldn’t be sure they were getting facts about him right. But at the trial there was evidence. I wanted to know who he was and what he’d done. I probably should have left. But I wanted to know.”

 June straightened. “That’s what I would have done.”

 “You would?”

 “Absolutely. Ignorance isn’t really a happy place, it just seems like it for a while. I would have wanted to know.”

 “He thought he was a god, June,” she whispered. “He thought he could do anything to anyone, that he was the most important person alive. He used people, lied to people, laughed at them.”

 “Emma, what was it like to be rich?” she asked.

 “It was isolating,” Emma said. “Most of the time I felt like I was just visiting my own life. Then I’d remember, I was hired to play a part—the part of the great Richard Compton’s wife. I’d always wonder how many others were pretending to be who they were. When you have a big pile of money, it should mean security. Safety. It didn’t. All our friends were rich and they worried about having the most, spending the most, trying to figure out how it could make them the best. They trusted no one. You know that silly saying, he who dies with the most toys wins? I think for a lot of people it’s actually true.”

 “For a little while were you happy? Did you think you’d been crowned?”

 “Looking back, not for very long. Two days into our honeymoon, Richard got a phone call that sent him hurrying off to Dubai and he couldn’t take me—it was business. He worked long days, had business dinners, business trips. I was like a happy little girl whose daddy had finally come home when he spent an evening at home. He took employees along on vacations. He never rested. June, I loved him because I didn’t know him. I didn’t know him at all. By the time he was convicted I wondered how I’d been so easily duped. How I managed to stay blind—that’s the part I don’t get. How can I ever trust myself again?”

    Chapter Thirteen

 Emma and June talked for hours, talked over dinner and then a cup of coffee. It reminded Emma of those times when she was a girl and she had issues or heartaches and she and Riley would sit on June’s bed and talk it all out. When her father died and her stepmother and sisters weren’t very comforting, June was there. Then it was worse when Rosemary remarried less than a year later, bringing home a man they didn’t even know. A creepy man who made Emma so uncomfortable just by the way he looked at her. She was always at Riley’s house and Rosemary didn’t miss her at all. And June was constant, always there for her, no matter how tired she might’ve been. Even when Emma and Riley fell out, June wrote Emma a lovely letter saying she hoped one day they could make amends, but no matter, June would always love her like a daughter. “You are the daughter of my heart, Emma, and no matter what happens, I will always embrace you. If you need me, just call me.”

 It was ten o’clock when June nearly pushed her out the door. “I’m afraid to leave,” Emma said. “I don’t know when we’ll ever have another chance to do this, to talk like this.”

 “There will be many chances, Emma. I promise. Maybe you’ll invite me to your little house.”

 The second the cold night air hit her face, Emma realized she was emotionally exhausted. Wrung out. She was glad Adam’s house wasn’t too far away; she was so happy he invited her back tonight. She hadn’t packed a bag or anything but she was going to impose on him, steal one of his T-shirts and curl up next to his big warm body and sleep forever, maybe till Sunday.

 “Emma?”

 She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a man’s voice. She shrieked and crossed her arms over her chest.

 “Oh, Jesus, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 “What are you doing here?” she asked, panting a little out of fear as who should come out of the shadows but Jock.

 “I was waiting for you. I thought maybe we could talk. Just for a few minutes?”

 “About what? And why are you waiting around here in the dark? How did you know where I’d be? Are you following me, Jock?”

 “Oh, hell no, Emma. Maddie told me you’d be visiting June tonight. In fact, I think Maddie helped plan it.”

 “Huh? What are you talking about?”

 “Maddie and her grandmother,” Jock said. “You gotta watch those two. They’re co-conspirators.” He rubbed his hands together and stomped his feet, freezing.