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back and handed it to her. “My cell number. I don’t very often find myself at the Burger Bomb in south Santa Rosa. Call anytime.”
    She turned it over and saw it was a business card. Kerrigan Cleaning Services. Industrial, business, residential. Riley Kerrigan, President and CEO.
    Emma looked up into his eyes with a question.
    â€œThe work is hard but she pays over minimum wage and promotes from within the company. She’s a good leader.” He shrugged. “If desperation for rent and food ever take precedence over bad feelings about the past.”
    â€œNever gonna happen, Adam,” she said, handing back the card.
    He closed his hand around hers, refusing to take it. “The first thing you’re going to have to learn about scrabbling to get back on your feet—never turn your nose up at an opportunity. Especially for pride’s sake.”
    â€œYou’re reading me all wrong,” she said. “I don’t have any pride left. But I do have to protect myself in the clinches.”
    â€œAs you should. And know this—my sister has done a lot for women, women like you who are trying to get on their feet, start over, build a functional life and their self-esteem, usually out of the ruins of divorce or being widowed.”
    â€œYou’re proud of her,” she said.
    â€œOh, yes. Riley amazes me. Keep the card. It has my number on the back.”
    She slid it into her purse, thinking it would be a cold day in hell before she’d ask Riley Kerrigan for help.
    The very next day the mean little tyrant at Burger Belch fired her.

Chapter Four
    Riley Kerrigan ran a tight ship and an efficient workplace. She kept her office in Santa Rosa, for easy access to Marin County, San Francisco, Davis, Napa Valley. It had been her goal from the start to service companies and individuals who could afford the best. The fact that this demographic was also the most difficult to please, the greatest challenge, was irrelevant to her. She was confident she had the best service providers.
    There were only two full-time office staff: Riley, and her secretary, Jeanette Sutton. She had had five rooms—a spacious office for herself, a front reception area for Jeanette, an office for Brazil Johnson, the CFO and numbers woman, a conference room for meetings and a small lunchroom and restroom. Brazil was rarely in the office; she worked from home whenever she could. Riley’s director of operations, Nick Cabrini, worked in the field, but there was space for him in the office if he needed it, either in Brazil’s office or the conference room. Makenna Rice was the head housekeeper and trainer; she used the conference room occasionally.
    Riley kept an office because customers responded to it, particularly business clients, although some home owners also liked to see her base of operations. It gave her credibility. Nick drove one of the company cars; he dressed sharp, carried a computer in his expensive briefcase and when he gave estimates or checked on cleaning crews he looked professional. She had two hundred employees, most of them part-time by choice. Some of her full-time employees took care of the same properties on a regular basis. She had night crews who cleaned office buildings, day crews in residences and crews on call for emergencies like fire or flood damage—regular hazmat duty. Her liability was high and well managed, her income was in the mid hundred-thousand range, her business net worth was now extremely high, her mother’s house was paid off, her retirement savings gaining strength, Maddie’s college fund nearly maxed and her state of mind—excellent.
    It had been a long time coming. Many years of eighty-hour weeks.
    When Riley was eighteen and a new high school graduate, she took a few classes at the community college that very summer and helped her mother with her housecleaning jobs. Back then they worked for cash, under the table, and too often they were