Just Like Em

“I’m goin’ to be just like him. Right, Dad?”

Em’s spine went rigid. One day away from her and her son had fixated on this man. Or had Roger … “Did you tell him to call you that?”

Roger shrugged. “It’s something I thought—”

“We’ve got to talk.” She moved back to Sammy and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be here all night, and I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“Can’t I go home with Dad and my brothers?”

Em seethed, but she kept her features calm. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

She grabbed hold of Roger’s elbow and spun him around. The moment they were safely past the nurses’ station she lit into him. “How could you? He called you Dad, and you didn’t blink an eye.”

Roger placed a finger over his lips as he glanced around. “I told him to.”

Appalled, Em stood motionless. “You told him? How can you play with my child’s emotions that way?”

“Em, listen,” Roger said as he grasped her arms above her elbows. “He knows it’s just for today.”

“You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing Just Like Em. Do you remember having a crush on a boy much older than you? Em cringes with that memory when she again meets Roger. Fifteen years ago, back when she was fourteen and he was a senior in college, she tried every means she could think of to make him notice her. And he did—with total loathing. When he meets this attractive woman at Metro, he can’t believe she’s the same woman who tried to destroy his love life. If he’d managed to get his hands on her during their last encounter, he’d still be serving a jail sentence.

Em and Roger have a second chance. She’s divorced, having left a man who didn’t love her and used her for a free ride. Roger lost the love of his life two years before. Now, if he could just put the memory of his dead wife behind him, he might see what a wonderful life he could have with Em. I tried my best to make them see how perfect they were for each other. Hope I succeeded.

I was displaced, and many of my experiences are detailed through Em and the help she provides Roger. Also, I have asthma, an affliction not as severe as Em’s son, but something that keeps me on top of the subject. Although I’ve never been a smoker, I’ve witnessed how difficult it is to give up the addiction in my friends and family, and I admire how Em eventually gives it up.

And oh, yes, the heat in Phoenix can be a challenge, something we adjust to eventually. We enjoy our 300 plus days of sun, and appreciate not having to shovel any snow.

I hope you’ve had a few laughs as well as poignant moments and maybe shared some similar experiences. Reach me through www.heartwarmingauthors.blogspot.com. I’d love to hear from you.

Marion Eckholm

Just Like Em

Marion Ekholm

MARION EKHOLM Back in my fifth year in Plainville, Connecticut, I was writing stories and reading them to my friends. I always wanted to be either a writer or an artist. Neither one seemed like a possibility in my day, when most women became either teachers or secretaries. But I had determination on my side and a mother willing to help me with my dreams. I earned my BFA at Rhode Island School of Design and became a lace designer in New York City, met my husband and moved to New Jersey. Years later, I took stock of my life. I had a career, two children, a beautiful home and opportunities to travel extensively—but I’d never written anything other than letters. I began writing for real and eventually became an editor of a newspaper and sold numerous short stories and magazine articles. Thanks to Heartwarming, I’m now a novelist. The horizon is endless.

This book is dedicated to my mother, Pearl Suess, who I’ve missed nearly every day since her death in 1970. She totally encouraged me, trusted me and backed me in everything I did—except my decision to go to college. Our one argument—even now I choke up thinking of it—was about the lack of money. The argument lasted a week of crying and door slamming on both sides. And then she held me in her arms and said, “You’re going to college.” She worked cleaning houses and eventually a cafeteria position that she kept until all my college loans were paid off. Thank you, Mom. You’re responsible for all the good things in my life.

Acknowledgments

I’ve been so fortunate over the years to have my critique partners. Not only do they help me with the written word, but also with my life. Special thanks to Shelley Mosley and Sandra Lagesse. I love you guys. Also, Carol Webb, Kim Watters and Deborah Mazoyer.

Laurie Schnebly Cambell, who volunteered her time as mentor at Desert Rose RWA in Phoenix, read my book and provided positive feedback. You’re an angel.

More thanks to the wonderful people I’ve met through Romance Writers of America, including Jane Toombs, Mildred Lubke, Vicki Lewis Thompson and Roz Denny Fox, who helped me on my journey.

And kudos to Gail Centola, aka Angela Adams, who I met at a conference so many years ago. Thanks to her constant prodding and encouragement during some low points in my life, I’ve kept on writing.

Additional thanks to my editors, who I’ve been fortunate to meet at so many conferences, especially Paula Eykelhof and Victoria Curran. I really appreciate all your help and encouragement.

And special thanks to my son, David, my daughter, Sandy, and my granddaughters, Rebecca and Michelle. You’ve been a wonderful blessing.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

IF THIS WASN’T the worst day of his life, it sure came close. Roger Holden adjusted his sunglasses against the brilliant summer Arizona sun and dashed across the parking lot to his air-conditioned office building. Already, waves of heat radiated from the blacktop, enveloping him.

Just before reaching the entrance to Metro Industries, he stopped. His gut twisted when he recognized a longtime friend dabbing her eyes. He offered the gray-haired woman his handkerchief and placed an arm around her shoulders.

“Come on, Hilda. Let’s get out of this heat.” She let him guide her inside.

“I know you’re not to blame for all the problems,” she said as they entered the cool foyer.

Roger gave her arm a gentle squeeze. At least one person out there knew the layoffs weren’t his fault.

“Just the same, the situation is frustrating.” She sighed and folded his handkerchief before returning it to him. “Fifteen years. Who would have guessed?” A sob caught in her throat. “I decided to take the company’s offer and retire.” She sighed again and looked away. “It won’t be so bad. I’ll be able to spend more time with my grandchildren.”

“Would you like me to come with you? Help you pack your desk?”

She patted his arm. “Thanks, but you have work to do, and I need to say goodbye to my friends. I’ll get one of the guards to help.” Hilda started toward the security gate, stopped and turned to offer a weak smile. “You take care, now, and let me know where you end up.”

Roger stayed in the foyer while Hilda waited at the bank of elevators with one of the uniformed guards. She needed some private time to compose herself. So did he, for that matter.

Although he wasn’t to blame for people losing their jobs, every problem relating to them had become his responsibility. Hilda, like so many of the older employees, had agreed to early retirement. At least her future was determined. Most of the other people in the customer-relation department of the Metro-Mintro credit card company, including Roger, had no idea what they’d be doing six months from now. He hoped most of the employees affected by the department being transferred to Seattle would stay to the end. He really needed people who knew their jobs, not temporary help who would have to be trained.

Movement by the exit caught his attention. During these hard times, when so many people felt alienated, he made it a point to acknowledge everyone. Although the woman looked familiar, his brain refused to identify her. He searched for the required official badge with the employee’s photo and name.

“Hi,” he said, when his search proved fruitless.

“Hello, Roger.”

He might have dropped the conversation there except for the familiarity. She’d called him by his first name, not the usual “Mr. Holden” he got from people he didn’t know well. Why couldn’t he place her?

He removed his sunglasses and approached her, aware almost immediately of the defiance in her eyes. Or was it fear? He saw those emotions often lately, and he couldn’t leave her without offering some encouragement.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Fine, and you?”

Up close and personal, she didn’t look fine. In fact, she appeared totally rattled. He had avoided discussing the dreadful reorganizations with employees, but if it would help her to talk...

“Did the downsizing affect you?”

Her eyebrow raised. “No. I was...” She gestured toward the door then dropped her hand. “What about you?”

“Once I get my department transferred I’m...” He jerked his thumb at the door to show how swiftly he’d be out of Metro.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She placed a hand on his forearm. Her touch felt like a cool balm against his sun-warmed skin and refreshed him. Too soon, she pulled away, flipped her wrist and glanced at a gold watch.

“I’ve got to rush. Sorry about your job.” Just before reaching the door, she added, “Say hello to Jodie for me.”

Jodie? Roger nodded to acknowledge his sister’s name, but the fact that this woman knew his sister offered no further information. Who is she? he wondered all the way up to his office.

* * *

EMMY LOU TURNER tried concentrating on the traffic, but the memory of seeing Roger still filled her mind. More than half her lifetime had passed since she’d had that childish crush on him, but he still tantalized. Dark hair falling over his forehead. Shoulders straining the seams of his dress shirt. Why hadn’t he lost his hair and grown a potbelly like most men his age?

When she’d seen him approach the building, her knees had succumbed to some long-forgotten signal and turned to mush. Then, her last encounter with Roger flashed through her mind, and she cringed. For one moment she’d actually considered jumping the turnstile in an attempt to hide, but the guard would have prevented her. She’d prayed Roger would miss her completely. And he would have, too, if he had continued with that older woman to the elevators.

But Em’s fears about Roger remembering proved groundless. He no longer looked at her with the same murderous contempt. Thank heavens. If he had...

No, she wasn’t going to think about the past. They’d acted like adults this time around, although she doubted he had the slightest idea who she was. But she’d definitely appealed to him. She saw it in his eyes, in his effort to hold her attention.

Em laughed outright as she recalled his expression when she mentioned his sister. The man didn’t have a clue. With a glance at herself in the rearview mirror, she continued to chuckle. “If I had stayed there a minute longer, he’d have asked who I was. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot?”

Immediately, she sobered. “Right. And once he knew...” Shuddering, Em banished the memory of their last encounter from her mind.

She really needed to call Jodie. They’d lost touch over the years, but now that Em had returned to Phoenix, she hoped to reestablish their friendship.

Em pulled into a chain store’s parking lot and stopped in the area reserved for employees. After checking herself in the mirror and repositioning a few hairs in her French twist, she stepped out of the air-conditioned car.

“Oh, this heat,” she mumbled. She slipped out of her pink silk jacket and wished she could remove the rest of her clothing. Would she ever readjust to these high temperatures? She had to for Sammy’s sake. Her son suffered from asthma, and his doctor said the dry air in Phoenix would improve his condition.

Unfortunately, the temporary jobs she’d taken since arriving in Arizona didn’t have medical benefits. A job at Metro would have provided excellent medical coverage for her and her son, so she wouldn’t have to hound her ex-husband for help every time Sammy had an asthma attack.

Just stay healthy, Sammy, she thought, as she headed for her office. Unlike Roger, at least she had a job.

* * *

ALL THE WAY up to his office, Roger focused on the woman in the lobby. She knew Jodie. Maybe if he called his sister, she could enlighten him.

He plopped down in his desk chair and reached for the phone. Probably met her at one of those parties. Jodie and Harve had get-togethers all the time, but Roger had stopped socializing when his wife had become sick. He started to pick up the phone then paused, concentrating on the couples he’d met.

Maybe, though, the woman wasn’t part of a couple. Jodie had been trying to fix him up with dozens of her friends over the past two years since Karen’s death. No matter how much he insisted no one could replace Karen, it didn’t keep his sister from interfering in his life. Until he knew exactly who the mystery lady was, he had no intention of fueling Jodie’s matchmaking.

Spinning his chair away from his desk, he focused on the downsizing. The buzz had been ongoing for months. Five days ago the rumors became official. Metro Industries planned to move an entire division from Phoenix to Seattle over the next six months. At least the jobs had stayed in the United States and hadn’t been outsourced to another country.

Roger had an enormous task ahead of him, organizing the transfer and placating the workers so that most of them stayed until the work was completed. He tried to focus on the steps required to make the transition smooth, but his effort was wasted.

Had the woman worn a ring? Except for a watch and earrings, he didn’t recall any other jewelry.

“You idiot,” he said under his breath. He glanced at the picture of Karen and their children on his desk. “I know, I know. I’ve got more important things to do than wonder about a strange woman.” He was probably obsessing over her just to avoid his present problems.

But maybe he could settle this once and for all. He decided to check with Human Resources. Anyone coming off the streets looking for employment would have to enter HR and fill out paperwork. “Hi, Linda. Roger Holden here.” He tapped a pencil on a note pad and tried to sound casual. “Do you still get people off the street looking for jobs?”

“Sure.”

“Did someone come in today?” Roger asked. “Pink suit. Tall. Blonde. Hair pulled back in one of those severe—you know—things?” He flipped his finger around the back of his head in an attempt to find the word.

“Yes. But the newest company policy states we can’t have any new hires. You’ll have to pick an administrative assistant from the displaced group or settle for a temp.”

“I don’t want to hire her. I just want to know her name.” He held the pencil poised. The pause that followed was long enough that he realized he should have prefaced his request with further explanations.

“Even a VP has to follow policy, Roger.”

He chuckled as he pictured Linda in full HR regalia. “The woman knew my name,” he said, “and I can’t place her. I thought you could help me out.”

Another pause. “I know who you mean. She comes once a week to see if anything’s available. Wasn’t too happy to hear about the downsizing.”

“Who is?” Roger muttered.

“Here it is. Emmy Lou Turner. Ring any bells?”

Emmy Lou Turner. Roger scribbled the name across the pad and repeated it under his breath. “Turner, Turner.” He didn’t know anyone with that name. “Nope. Nothing.”

“Her maiden name was Masters.”

Masters, he wrote and drew several lines under it. That sounded more familiar, but he still couldn’t place the name.

“No.” He sighed with genuine disappointment. “I haven’t the slightest idea who she is, but I appreciate your help. Thanks, Linda.”

Roger hung up, annoyed with himself for letting such a nonsensical issue take up so much of his time. Who was Emmy Lou Masters Turner, and why couldn’t he place her? In a fit of exasperation, he tossed the pencil across his desk. It came to a halt in front of Karen’s picture.

“Do you remember an Emmy Lou Turner?” He sat up in his chair. “Right. Forget her and get back to work.”

* * *

LATER, AFTER A HEARTY supper of enchiladas, courtesy of Sophia Sanchez, their housekeeper and nanny, the Holden family relaxed in the pool to cool off. An enthusiastic game of catch followed between Roger and his six-year-old twin sons. His daughter preferred to continue doing laps in the pool.

Roger unobtrusively watched Samantha. At thirteen, she no longer cared to be part of the family group. Come August she’d start her freshman year in high school. Already he saw physical changes that she attempted to hide under baggy shirts, not to mention all her mood swings. One minute she was giggling like his little girl, the next she was wearing makeup and behaving like a young woman he hardly recognized.

He had tried broaching the subjects a mother would normally handle. Boys, dating, bras, menstrual periods—subjects he himself hardly understood. At least she had Sophia and Jodie to help her in those areas. He could deal with the physical changes. After all, they were to be expected at her age. But the mood swings and flippant attitude had him climbing the wall. Now that Samantha refused to involve him in her personal life, he couldn’t even talk to her anymore.

The ball whizzed by his ear and Roger made a hasty catch before flinging it to one of the twins.

“Hey, Dad. We gonna have to move?” Chip asked as he caught the ball. Both boys had most of their dark hair cut off for the summer. Another toss in Roger’s general direction sent him dashing for the softball so it wouldn’t land in the pool.

“No, sport.” He threw it to Chaz, the other twin. “Why do you ask?”

“My friend Tommy’s dad lost his job. He had to move.”

“Yeah, Dad,” both boys chorused. “We don’t wanna move.”

“Hey, didn’t I tell you there was nothing to worry about?” He tried to sound upbeat, as though losing a job held no consequences. Yet the distress he faced daily was becoming more difficult to disguise in lighthearted chatter.

* * *

LATER, WHEN HIS children were in bed, Roger continued to brood over the downsizing. He had begun to second-guess every decision he made, and his heart ached as he searched for answers. Would he be able to find another position in Phoenix? Assuming he did, would it pay enough to keep their home and present lifestyle? If only he had someone to talk to, confide in. At times like these, the need for his wife became unbearable.

Roger entered the living room, with its white walls and turquoise rug, and settled on the dark turquoise recliner that faced the painted portrait of his wife. “What am I going to do, sweetheart?” he whispered. “What on earth am I going to do?”

The portrait had been a gift from his in-laws to celebrate Karen’s thirtieth birthday. It had been painted only months before she discovered the lump in her breast. The artist had captured the softness in her dark brown curls. And that dress...

In the painting she looked so vibrant and full of life, as though at any moment she could join him on the chair and encircle him with her warmth. Why did she have to leave them when everyone needed her so?

Roger looked away from the painting as his thoughts returned to the present. Downsizing, damn! He’d been at Metro since college graduation, and had climbed steadily in a company that had provided his family with security. Or so he’d thought. Now he was going to be tossed out with several hundred other employees.

Movement caught his eye. When he glanced over, he saw Sophia in the doorway, wringing her hands.

Her usually neat coif looked mussed. She had been with him since the twins were born, had nursed Karen through her cancer. He wouldn’t know what to do without Sophia. Would he be able to afford her once his job disappeared? He had to.

“I hope you’re not worried about this downsizing business. Your job is always secure here.”

Pushing several strands of her white-streaked black hair back, Sophia eased onto the white leather couch. “It’s not that,” she said in a thick Spanish accent, wrapping her arms around one of the pink-and-turquoise pillows. “I have my own bad news. I’m getting married in a month.”

Roger moved to the edge of his chair. “That’s wonderful news. You and José finally set the date?” José was their weekly gardener, and he and Sophia planned to move into Sophia’s small suite once they finally wed.

“Labor Day weekend.”

With a quick slap to his knee, Roger stood. “Well, that’s not much time, but we still can have the reception in the backyard....”

Sophia shook her head. “We’re getting married in Tucson. José wants to move back there and take care of his mother. She’s very sick.”

Roger fell back into his chair and grasped the arms for support. “You’re leaving us?”

Sophia wiped away a tear. “I don’t want to, but my José...”

Although his insides had twisted into knots, Roger controlled his emotions so he wouldn’t upset her even more. He waved his hand and said, “No, no, Sophia. We wish you the best. We’ll manage. A month, you say?”

Sophia nodded.

After she left for her suite, Roger sat numbly, staring at Karen’s picture. “You hear that? Life can’t get worse. How can I ever replace Sophia?”

The telephone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Samantha shouted from her upstairs bedroom. She pounded down the steps with enough noise to wake the whole house. Why wasn’t she asleep? But then, she considered herself above her brothers and usually read until her eyes drooped shut.

“No, I’ll get it. It’s probably for me anyway,” he said, rising from the chair. Maybe it was Hilda needing another chance to vent or a manager wanting to consult with him before Monday’s major meeting.

He arrived at the staircase in time to hear Samantha say, “Yeah, he’s here. What’cha want?”

When he reached for the receiver, she maneuvered away from him and held it close to her ear. Soft brown curls, still damp from her swim, complemented a delicate long neck. She looked more and more like Karen every day.

Roger put his hands on his hips and waited, not too patiently, for his call. How come he could handle a whole boardroom of people and never feel out of control? His boys didn’t give him trouble, either. Yet in his own household he felt powerless, his authority usurped by this teenager who flaunted hers.

“Who is it?” He tapped a bare foot on the cool tile that ran through the hall.

“Aunt Jodie.” Several high-pitched giggles followed.

“What’d she say?”

Instead of answering him, his daughter turned her back and stuck a finger in her ear. Another giggle.