Her Husband’s Partner Read online

  She’d chosen that tombstone for the simple design. Two angels poised on top, wings touching to create an arch over the marble memorial. That was the only ornamentation other than the inscription, and somehow seeing those words brought all the expectation she’d tried not to feel, all the anxiety that had been building to fruition. Riley exhaled a deep sigh.

  Mike’s place was peaceful.

  Taking a step forward, she ran her fingers along the smooth arch of an angel’s wing, felt the warm marble beneath her touch. A headstone that marked the resting place of the man she’d loved with all her heart. Then she noticed the bottle of Guinness Stout propped against the side of the headstone.

  And smiled.

  That would be a gift from Scott Emerson, Mike’s partner on the vice squad of the Poughkeepsie Police Department, a longtime friend and drinking buddy. Since the label wasn’t weathered, Riley guessed this unusual memento must be a recent addition. Leave it to Scott to continue the friendship despite death. That quiet loyalty had always been a part of her husband’s partner and friend.

  “Mommy, aren’t you going to say hi to Daddy?” Camille asked.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Riley said softly, brushing aside a cluster of tiny leaves from an angel’s wing. “We miss you.”

  “He knows that, silly.” Camille rolled her eyes. “We tell him when we say our good-night prayers.”

  “So, Camille,” Jake shot back. “He still likes to hear it.”

  “Oh, shut up, Jake.”

  “Camille,” Riley cautioned.

  “He’s grouchy.”

  No argument there. Riley shifted her gaze to her son, assessing whether or not the emotional letdown was the cause of this mood swing.

  Jake shifted from one foot to the other, clutching his picture frame against his tummy. “I’m starving, Mom. We haven’t eaten in forever.”

  Riley bit back a smile at the exaggeration. Apparently now that his apprehension about the situation had been dealt with, Jake’s mind was back on the priorities.

  Camille pivoted on her sneakers and raced back to the minivan. “I’ll get the cooler. We can have a picnic with Daddy.”

  That wasn’t exactly what Riley had had in mind while making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in their Maryland hotel room this morning, but a picnic with Daddy sounded like just the thing to kick off their return home. And with the canopy of leaves filtering the sunlight overhead, Mike’s grave was the perfect place to take a deep breath before gearing up for the next big challenge.

  Facing the house and the memories.

  Riley took that deep breath, then sidled close to Jake. He’d inherited her hair color but Mike’s cowlicks, and his thick blond hair always wanted to stand up like a rooster’s whenever it started to grow out from a cut. She ruffled her fingers through it, making it spike even more.

  “Mom,” he groused, ducking away.

  Riley smiled above his head where he couldn’t see her. “Are you going to tell Daddy about your bass? Grandpa Joel was really proud of you. He said you reeled in that big boy like a pro.”

  Jake frowned down at the headstone, at the bright bouquet there. Riley didn’t rush him, just slipped an arm around his shoulders when he glanced down at his photo.

  “I miss Grandpa Joel,” he said.

  “I know, sweet pea. Do you want to call him after we get home? He and Granny want to know that we made it safely.”

  Jake nodded, still clutched his photo.

  Riley’s father had been a career naval officer, a larger-than-life man as fast to laugh as he’d been to issue orders. He’d died during Riley’s sophomore year in high school, and her mom hadn’t remarried until Riley’s sophomore year at Vassar College, the year she’d met Mike, who’d been playing rent-a-cop at a campus concert.

  Riley’s stepfather was an Oklahoma farm boy who was as laid-back as Riley’s father had been intense. There was no question why Mom had fallen in love with him. Not only was Joel charming, but as senior VP of international relations for a Fortune 500 company, his travel schedule was more active than Riley’s dad’s had been. Mom got antsy if she stayed in one place too long.

  Riley had no doubt that her military upbringing was the very reason she was so set on rearing her kids in one place. In the States. Overseas. You name it, and if Riley hadn’t actually lived there, she’d probably visited at some time or another during her early life.

  Grandpa Joel had stepped in as the man in Jake’s life whenever he was in town, inviting her son along in the mornings and evenings to help water the yard. He’d taught Jake how to plant and tend tomatoes, how to fish and how to tell the difference between venomous and friendly snakes.

  As if any snake could be friendly.

  “Is Grandpa Joe as nice as Grandpa Joel?”

  Camille reappeared and plunked down the soft-sided cooler. “Grandpa Joe and Grandpa Joel. That sounds funny.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Riley laughed, knelt down and unzipped the cooler. “Camille, would you please grab the beach blanket. Then we can sit and have a real picnic.”

  Her daughter took off again like a bolt, granting Riley a few private moments to deal exclusively with her son—alone time was always a challenge with twins.

  “Don’t you remember how much fun we had at the Magic Kingdom when Grandpa Joe and Grandma Rosie came to visit? You liked them both then.”

  Jake nodded.

  “Grandpa Joe was a lot of fun. You told me you liked looking for shells on the beach with him. He was the only one who’d climb up those scary nets with you in the tree house at Busch Gardens.”

  That got a smile.

  “His feet kept poking through the holes.”

  Oh, Riley remembered, all right. She’d been convinced the next ride they were going to take was in an ambulance on the way to the emergency room because her father-in-law had been determined to keep up with his grandkids.

  Joe had wanted to make memories, he’d told her, inadvertently driving home the point that by leaving New York Riley had taken away the only remaining connection to his son. Until then, leaving hadn’t felt like running away, only an unavoidable necessity. But her father-in-law’s comments made her realize the time had come to decide where she wanted to raise the kids, to get them settled before school started.

  In her heart she’d known the time had come to go home. And home was the Mid-Hudson Valley, where Mike had lived his entire life, surrounded by his family and friends.

  It was all his children would ever have of him.

  Slipping an arm around Jake’s shoulders, she squeezed. “Sweet pea, Daddy will understand if you’ve changed your mind about the picture. A reminder of your big bass would be nice, but he doesn’t need it. He already knows you caught the biggest fish in the lake because he’s keeping his eyes on us from heaven. I know he’s really proud of you.”

  Jake slanted his gaze her way, indecision written all over his face. He glanced down at the photo then at the headstone. She knew the instant he’d made his decision because he squared his shoulders and set his mouth in a firm line.

  So like his daddy.

  “I want Daddy to have this,” Jake said. “Then he won’t ever forget how big my bass was.”

  Riley pressed a kiss to the top of his spiky head and said, “Go ahead, then. Give it to him.”

  She watched him cover the distance in two determined steps and position the photo frame carefully beside the tissue-flower bouquet. Add the beer bottle and Mike’s grave made a festive sight. She’d bring along some mementos of her own next visit.

  “I want the cherry juice bag,” Camille shouted on her return, the blanket a haphazard tumble in her arms, ends trailing in a threat to those little feet.

  Riley launched forward and hauled the blanket from her arms. “Thanks, little helper girl. I’ll spread this out while you get those juice bags, okay?”

  Camille obliged while Riley settled the blanket, trying to avoid picnicking on top of Mike or his neighbor. She finally managed an a
cceptable compromise, and as the kids tussled over who got the only cherry yogurt stick, Riley decided that she’d probably be too busy dealing with life as a single working parent to spend too much time obsessing about the past.

  She hoped.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SCOTT EMERSON PUSHED out from under the pickup, the wheels of the floor dolly grinding over the concrete beneath him. Setting aside the wrench, he wiped sweat from his brow and glanced through the open garage doorway where Brian had gone outside to take a phone call on his cell. Scott didn’t blame him. It was hotter than hell in this garage, despite the industrial fans whirring overhead.

  He sat up to give his back a break from spending too damn long under the antiquated truck used to transport hay for the horses. Why the kid had waited until the last minute to load the hay was beyond understanding. A few days earlier and a broken pickup wouldn’t have been a crisis situation.

  Scott squelched his annoyance by taking a cooling swig of water. Brian was a twenty-year-old kid who’d been shouldering a lot of responsibility around the farm since his uncle had died. While both Brian’s maturity and foresightedness could use some fine-tuning, he’d been remarkably reliable. And that was saying something. Four horses were a lot of work.

  After eavesdropping on half the conversation, Scott wasn’t surprised when Brian snapped shut the cell and announced, “Aunt Riley just passed Purple Parlor.”

  “About ten minutes, then.”

  Brian nodded, uncharacteristically subdued, and Scott couldn’t tell if the kid was relieved to be getting some help around here or depressed not to have the house to himself anymore. At Brian’s age it was probably a good measure of both.

  Scott motioned toward the truck. “Crank her up. Let’s see if we got it.”

  Brian circled the flatbed with a few easy strides and climbed into the cab. He’d been a kid when first offering to help out at the farm after Mike’s death. Two years of tending horses and baling hay, and Scott had to wonder if Riley would even recognize her nephew.

  The engine roared to life, growling loudly in the lazy afternoon heat.

  “All right, Scott.” Brian goosed the accelerator for good measure, sending a blast of heated exhaust from the tailpipe.

  Tossing the wrench into the toolbox, Scott got to his feet. “Don’t wait until the last minute next time.” He tapped on the hood with a palm. “Give this old girl a break. Leave yourself some time in case she’s having a bad day.”

  Brian shut off the engine and stepped out, saying, “I know. I couldn’t deal with the hay until I finished cramming for a test in Anthropology.”

  Yeah, right. Always an excuse. Brian was going to do things his own way because he was twenty and he could.

  After hanging the keys on a hook above the workbench, Brian cast a forlorn look at the steps leading to the upstairs apartment.

  His new home.

  “What do you think about moving into the apartment?” Scott asked. “Beats knocking around that big old house by yourself.”

  Brian scowled, and Scott guessed nothing could be further from the truth.

  “It’s a bachelor pad with everything a college guy needs,” Scott added. “Kitchen. Heat. Private entrance.”

  “Aunt Riley watching over me.”

  True. She could glance out any east window to see what her nephew was up to. And knowing Riley, she would. Often.

  “I think your aunt will have her hands full enough with the twins to spend too much time worrying about you.”

  “You think?”

  “The twins are starting school so, yeah, I think.”

  Brian didn’t look reassured, and Scott conceded that the garage apartment was a demotion from having a 150-year-old farmhouse to himself, but he couldn’t feel too bad. Lots of kids would think Brian had a sweet setup. College. Tending horses in exchange for room and board. Too many kids of Scott’s acquaintance would have given their left nut for a shot at college if it meant hauling ripe trash.

  Scott dropped the subject. “You going to tell me when you want the posse to work on the yard or should I ask your aunt?”

  “I’ll tell you,” Brian said quickly. “I don’t want her thinking she doesn’t need me around anymore.”

  There was the real trouble. Brian was worried about his meal ticket. Good. Worry might motivate him to get organized. Riley didn’t need to add another kid to her brood.

  “Let me grab my things and I’m out of here,” Scott said. “Just call me if the old girl acts up again.”

  “You should stay. Don’t you want to see Aunt Riley?”

  “Your grandmother told me she warned everyone not to bombard Riley until she had a chance to get settled.”

  “There are only two of us, Scott. That’s not bombarding.”

  The kid wanted backup, plain and simple. “I’ll stay long enough to say hi.”

  “Pound it.” Brian raised his fist in the air.

  Scott pounded Brian’s fist in a familiar salutation just as a white minivan slowed on the road before making the turn into the circular drive.

  The Angelica family had come home.

  Scott reached for the degreaser and a rag to clean his hands as the minivan doors burst open and kids hopped out.

  For a moment, he stared, frozen with the rag trapped between his fingers, surprised by the jolt of emotion he felt. These were not the chubby children who used to trail behind Mike while he performed chores in the barn.

  These were kids in every sense of the word, from lanky bodies that appeared to be growing with rapid-fire speed to energetic curiosity that had them taking in everything all at once. If not for the blond hair that was bleached almost white against their Florida tans, they’d be unrecognizable from the toddlers Mike had been so crazy about.

  Until Scott took a closer look.

  Mike was all over these kids. The boy—Jake—came to a screeching stop the instant he saw Brian. Folding his arms over his chest, he gazed out of Mike’s eyes with a thin-lipped expression Scott had seen too many times not to recognize. The kid took in the lay of the land with the same deliberation that had made his father such a good cop and trusted partner. Mike had never missed a beat, which was why no one but he and the shooter had died in front of the courthouse that day.

  Camille, on the other hand, clearly the more social twin, propelled herself forward on sneakers with wheeled soles, riding to a smooth stop in front of Brian. “Are you my cousin who takes care of Daddy’s horses?”

  “Yeah,” Brian said. “You remember how to ride them?”

  Camille might look more like Riley with her delicate features and light eyes, but the look she shot her cousin was pure Mike. “I don’t turn six for two months.”

  She held up two fingers to emphasize her words in case Brian was too thick to understand what she meant. Scott was definitely too thick to understand.

  Maybe she was too young to remember living here?

  “I’ll teach you.” Brian seemed to get it. “On Baby. She’s the sweetest.”

  Camille squealed excitedly, while her brother noticed Scott inside the garage. Jake narrowed his gaze and stood his ground, glancing at his sister to make sure she didn’t need help.

  Scott tossed aside the rag, about to join the party, when the driver door opened and Riley emerged from the van. Mike used to joke that the day he’d met Riley was the day he’d figured out dreams really did come true. It was one of those statements that could have sounded so corny but never did.

  Because Mike meant what he’d said.

  Scott, and anyone who’d ever been around Mike and Riley together, had understood Riley was the kind of woman to stand beside a man and help him make his dreams come true. And Mike was the kind of guy who appreciated a wife who believed in him.

  Sure, it hadn’t hurt that she was drop-dead gorgeous, too, long and lean with a head full of wild blond hair.

  “You know my wife, Riley,” Mike used to say. “The one with hair bigger than she is.”

  Iro
nically her hair did seem bigger than she did right now. Dressed casually in long shorts and a short-sleeved blouse, she didn’t appear to notice any of them while pausing with her hand on the door as if she needed to hang on for support. She stared at the house, looking lost in her memories.

  Scott could only stand there, galvanized by the sight of her. The monthly phone conversations they’d had during the past two years hadn’t prepared him for seeing her again.

  Or for feeling this forgotten but all-too-familiar awareness.

  Scott had been telling himself that Mike’s death had changed everything, helped him overcome an unwanted desire for a woman he had no business having.

  He’d been wrong.

  Riley’s voice coming at him over a bouncing satellite signal had only placed distance between them, and distance only masked the symptom. The problem was still there. He supposed that shouldn’t surprise him, given who he was.

  But he was surprised. The moment stretched forever. He practically held his breath, waiting. He had no clue for what, but he did know that the only thing he could control in life was the choices he made. A valuable and hard-won lesson. He’d already made this choice. Long ago.

  No man he’d want to know would covet a friend’s wife. Period. The words echoed from a barely remembered youth, when he’d had someone who’d cared enough to point out the differences between right and wrong.

  A young voice blessedly shattered the stillness. “Mommy, can my cousin teach me to ride Baby?”

  Riley turned to her daughter. “We’ll see, sweetie.” She moved away from the van, all smiles for her nephew. “Brian, ohmigosh, what happened? You’re all grown-up.”

  Before the kid could get away, he was wrapped in his aunt’s arms and hugged exuberantly.

  Scott found himself breathing a little easier as Brian mumbled some incoherent greeting and started to blush.

  Riley and the twins looked as if they’d been on an extended vacation with their tans and summer clothing, but Scott knew these past two years hadn’t been any kind of holiday for Riley. Their phone conversations had revealed how hard she’d been struggling after Mike’s death. He could see evidence of that struggle etched behind her smile now. She was thinner. And that tan didn’t hide the shadowed circles around her eyes.