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“She wanted to infiltrate.”
Emersyn’s lips turned to thin lines. “I was hoping you’d see the reason. I guess you’re not there yet. But you’d better get there. Rowan McCarthy is good people. And you two, umm, work well together.”
Did Emersyn know he’d slept with Rowan? How could she? Gerard chose to deflect instead of answer. “Rowan Murdoch, you mean.”
The white lines were back. Emersyn stood. “I can see there’s no reasoning with you right now. I hope, in time, you’ll figure out how to get your head out of your ass.” With a flick of her hair, she turned and left his office. He watched as she went into her own office, frowned at him, and then clouded her walls.
His sister was angry at him? She should be taking that ire out on Rowan. If that thought seemed flawed, he buried it deep as he reached for his phone. Time to get the authorities involved.
Chapter Seventeen
Three weeks later.
Rowan stopped outside her condo building, leaned over and huffed to catch her breath. Jogging in The Haight meant hills. Lots of them, which kept her in great shape but also wore her out. Right now, exhaustion was the only thing that felt good. To stop thinking. Stop her heart from breaking, as it did all over again each morning when she woke up after only a few short hours of sleep. Knowing she’d lost the bid of her life. A bid for love.
She’d quit her job before her boss could fire her. Emersyn had tried hard to talk her into staying, but she couldn’t. To see him every day and know he was untouchable, that he thought her a traitor? She couldn’t see that day in and day out. It was hard enough knowing in her heart that he didn’t trust her. She would never get over him, and she needed to. There was more to life than Gerard Barrett. Now why couldn’t she convince her heart of that?
Three long weeks had passed since Rowan turned over all her research to Emersyn. Thank God, Emersyn believed her and took it all directly to Gerard. That very night, Emersyn begged Rowan to let her tell her brother who found Wentworth and the proof.
Rowan refused. If he couldn’t figure out on his own what kind of person she was, she had no intention of helping him. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that any shot at a relationship with him had been and remained nothing but a pipe dream. By now, he had to realize his assumption about her was wrong, yet he hadn’t come to see her, called, or done anything in the way of an apology. Was that stubborn pride, or did he really not have feelings for her? Either way, she needed to let this go and move on with her life.
She’d read in the paper that Silverman and Wentworth had both been arrested. Silverman had posted bail, of course. Michael was still in jail. She’d been dumbstruck when she figured out he’d been the one manipulating the funds. Rowan had counted him as a friend, had trusted him.
Sinking onto the porch steps, she stretched her legs out. Michael had wormed his way into her good graces to continue his sabotage. He’d even used Linda’s computer to take suspicion off him. How had she not seen through his ruse?
“Still haven’t come to terms with it all, have you?”
Rowan glanced up at the voice, then stood. “Mom, this is a nice surprise.”
“Yes. I suspected you were wallowing in depressing thoughts, so I came to cook you dinner. I’m glad to see you’ve been jogging.” Her mother leaned in for a moment. “Though I think you might want to shower while I start dinner.”
“All right,” she said with a small chuckle. “I won’t hug you until I’m clean. Come on up.” She grabbed the bag in her mother’s hand and opened the front door.
Halfway up the stairs to her third floor condo, her mother stopped. “When are they going to put an elevator in here?”
“I hope never. And you’re in better shape than I am. At least, that’s my impression.”
They started to climb again. “I take good care of myself, but that doesn’t mean three floors of stairs is something a fifty-nine year old woman loves to do.”
Rowan stopped and stared at her mother. “You never say your age out loud.”
“Well, maybe it’s time. I’m getting tired more. Maybe I need to act my age.”
In spite of her mother’s earlier suggestion, she hugged her. “If you do, I’m going to start looking for old folk homes for you. You keep me young with all you do. I am in awe.”
Her mother hugged her back. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m nowhere near ready to start designing my gravestone. I’ve a few good years left in me.”
They trudged up the final flight. At the door to her condo, Rowan turned to her mother. “You’re okay, right? Nothing going on healthwise?”
“Nothing at all.” Her mother patted her cheek. “Just got my annual clean bill of health.”
Relief filled her. “Good, because you’re my rock.” She opened the door, and they went inside.
“I kind of hoped you’d found a second rock, a new foundation to build on.”
“Nope. He wasn’t the one,” she answered with clipped words, hoping her mother would let that subject go.
Rose touched Rowan’s cheek gently, as if wiping long-dried tears away. “He’s the only one you’ve lost sleep over. And the only one you’ve ever cried over.”
