But he’d lost his temper with Jock. He’d hated Jock. He didn’t hate him anymore but he wasn’t crazy about him.

 Emma went home to help Penny rake up some dead leaves in her garden, to shop for her lunch supplies for the week, to launder her uniform. But she did invite him to share a pizza and a movie later. He knew that meant he’d somehow manage to spend the night. So he planned to spend some of his Saturday checking on his mother and buying another big box of condoms.

 He’d had plenty of sex in his adult life. Great sex, as a matter of fact. But he’d never had a woman who wanted him like Emma wanted him. She unfolded like a rose in full bloom when he touched her. She said his name with a kind of breathy awareness that turned him on so much, he was completely helpless. He’d always thought of himself as a man with great control, but he lost that with her. He teased her until she became a little wild and then he was done for—he went crazy with her and they blew up together. He thought he knew why it was that way with them. He was in love with her.

 * * *

 After the weekend, Emma found herself actually looking forward to work on Monday morning, even though it was getting particularly difficult cleaning with Christmas approaching and all the decorations littering the houses. She’d never seen her own Christmas decorations looking shabby or dusty! She now realized she must have had an excellent cleaning crew.

 Makenna had no trainees this week so in addition to working with Emma, Dellie and Shawna, she was visiting other teams at either Riley or Nick’s request. Makenna was part of quality control. “The fabulous four rides on,” Shawna said of their team. “I’m glad they haven’t moved you to another team, Emma. I like working with you.”

 “Why?” she asked before she could think.

 “You’re a hard worker and stay in a good mood,” Shawna said.

 “She’s still happy she got work,” Dellie said. “She’ll turn into one of us before you know it.”

 “If I have to push someone along all day...” Shawna made a face. “It just puts me in a temper.” Then she launched into a litany of shortcomings about team members who didn’t meet her expectations, everything from laziness to lying.

 In ten minutes they pulled up to their first house, the Christensens’. They cleaned here twice a week but it hardly needed once. Mrs. Christensen, Makenna had informed them, knew if they missed a piece of lint or a hair on the bathroom countertop. They were here every Monday and Thursday. Emma hoped she wouldn’t get the vacuum cleaner—those tracks had to be perfect. The house was huge.

 This was where Bethany, the fifteen-year-old with the carved-up desk lived.

 “How long have you been cleaning the Christensens’ house?” Emma asked.

 “I don’t know,” Shawna said. “I’ve been on it a year, I think. Dellie, how long?”

 Before Dellie could answer, Makenna jumped in. “The company’s been in that house four years now, but we’ve changed teams a few times. A couple of times Mrs. Christensen found the cleaning unsatisfactory and the other times it was just time for a schedule change. New people on the job usually freshens things up.”

 As luck would have it, Emma was assigned the dusting, vacuuming and linens upstairs. This time she meant to take a closer look in the bedrooms. Maybe there was a mystery to unravel. Maybe she’d spy some evidence of a visiting grandmother or another child. She’d like to at least see a picture of Bethany, the girl who threw away the expensive new clothes.

 The bathrooms and kitchen in this five thousand square foot custom home were usually fast work—Mr. and Mrs. Christensen had very demanding jobs and long hours. They didn’t seem to do much cooking, and the only even slightly challenging bathroom was the master bath. There wasn’t even much kitchen trash. Since they weren’t contracted to clean the refrigerator, it was against the rules to look in it but Emma had an aching desire to know what kind of food was there.

 She went to vacuum and dust Bethany’s room first, fiercely curious. As she started ripping off the linens she found that the lump in the bed was Bethany. The girl shrieked and Emma jumped back, crying out.

 “Oh, my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in bed!”

 Bethany grabbed for her covers. “I stayed home today.”

 “Oh, honey, are you sick?”

 “Sort of,” she said, burrowing back into her bed. “Sick of school.”

 “Oh. Can I get you anything? Call someone to look after you?”

 “I’m fifteen! I look after myself!”

 “Right,” Emma said. “Would you like me to skip your room?”

 “Yes. Just go. And look...” She talked from under the covers. “Just...don’t say anything.”

 She’s frail, Emma thought. Thin and pale and completely miserable. Who does she miss every day?

 She moved on to the parents’ room. Why did they have a cleaning service at all? They were immaculate. She stripped the bed, applied new linens, began dusting the furniture and heard Dellie in the bathroom, cleaning. She leaned against the door frame. “Skip the girl’s bathroom,” Emma said softly. “She’s home, sick in bed, asked me to leave her room.”

 “All rightie,” Dellie said. “I bet she’s cutting school.”

 “No, she’s sick,” Emma said. Then she wondered why she was protecting the girl. She went back to dusting the bureau. A drawer was ajar an inch and impulsively, irrationally, she pulled it open a bit. Then a bit more. And there it was—the thing that was the root of all the pain and forced order in this house—a family portrait in a frame, hidden from sight, lying atop folded clothes. Mom, Dad and Bethany. A plumper, slightly younger Bethany who smiled as if the very sun was inside her. They were a beautiful, happy family a few years ago. Bethany was robust, rosy, healthy. That Bethany was gone now and in her wake, terrible pain.