Just Like Em. Marion Ekholm

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.

      Roger started to walk away, then Samantha said, “It’s for you.” She held the phone out to him, then dropped it onto the straight-backed chair in the hallway. He grabbed it just before it skittered to the floor.

      “Get to bed,” he said, his hand covering the mouthpiece. She turned and looked down her nose in haughty annoyance, a quality inherited from her mother’s side of the family.

      “What’s Sam doing up at this hour?” Jodie asked, after Roger greeted her.

      “She was in bed when you phoned. And don’t call her Sam. She hates that name.”

      “Just a minute.” A long pause followed while Jodie talked in muffled tones to her husband. Roger yawned. He’d keep the conversation short and try to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

      With the phone against his ear, he walked into the kitchen. The aroma of enchiladas hung in the air, making his mouth water. He’d miss Sophia’s cooking. He clutched the door handle of the refrigerator and momentarily closed his eyes. He’d miss more than the food. Opening the door, he searched the cool interior for a snack.

      “Remember Emmy Lou Masters?” Jodie asked when she came back on the line.

      Roger jolted and smacked his forehead against the refrigerator light switch, causing it to flicker. He moved away from the fridge, massaging his sore forehead. Was his sister psychic? How could she know who had shown up at his work? “Why?”

      “The operative word is either a yes or a no.”

      He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, I recognize the name. No, I don’t remember her. Why are you asking?” Roger ran his free hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. After circling the barstools by the sink, he settled on a padded kitchen chair.

      “She called today. Said she bumped into you at Metro.”

      “Not literally. Kind of embarrassing, actually. I couldn’t place her. Did I meet her at one of your parties?”

      Jodie chuckled. “Not recently.”

      What did that mean? “Is she a friend of yours or not?”

      “Of course she is.”

      He heard the taunt in her voice, the same one she used to use on him when they were young. The same one Samantha used on her brothers. Roger closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead again. It still hurt. “It’s late, Jodie, and I’m not up to playing twenty questions. Tell me who she is.”

      “Remember when you were in college? She stayed with us one summer while her parents were divorcing. You couldn’t stand each other.”

      Roger focused on college and the girls he knew then. Several close friends came to mind. One of them had been Karen, his eventual wife.

      “She soaped your car,” Jodie continued, “and you called her Auntie Em.”

      “Em!” Roger shouted and jumped to his feet. The whole summer returned in all its nightmarish details. A young girl, not much older than Samantha was now, had come to stay during his summer vacation from college between junior and senior year. He remembered short spiky hair, long legs, braces and a mouth that spewed more profanity than he’d heard in his frat house. His mother claimed it was Em’s way of dealing with the disorientation brought on by her parents’ divorce.

      Nice girls didn’t talk like that. Certainly not the ones hanging out with his sister. He’d attempted to remedy the situation by washing Em’s mouth out with soap. From that day on, she managed to soap his car several times a week no matter where he parked it, usually just before he needed it for an important occasion. Her pranks cost him several dates and nearly destroyed his relationship with Karen.

      With a lilt in her voice, Jodie asked, “Remember now?”

      “Yes.” He uttered the word slowly, with a hiss. Try as he might, Roger couldn’t reconcile the woman he’d met today with the teenager he remembered.

      “She was my very best friend, and you know what? Sam reminds me of her.”

      For a millisecond, Roger’s entire body trembled. Losing his job and Sophia were nothing compared with the nightmare that suddenly loomed in his mind—a teenage daughter like Auntie Em! He wouldn’t last the year.

      “Want me to set up something? The four of us going out to dinner?”

      “Not interested,” he said as the room started to come back into focus.

      “Not interested or afraid you might be?”

      Roger took in a deep breath before saying, “Since when are you trying to fix me up with married women?”

      “Oh, she’s not married. Not anymore, anyway. She was only married a few years or so, then it broke up.”

      No wonder. With her personality she’s lucky it lasted that long. “I’m still not interested.”

      “So, you’re not coming to your nephew’s birthday party?”

      “It’s tomorrow?” He smacked his forehead with his palm and winced.

      “Yes. It begins at eleven. Don’t be late. Timothy’s really looking forward to seeing the twins.” Jodie hung up.

      “Damn!” Roger walked back into the hallway and slammed the receiver into its cradle. Of course he’d have to take his kids to their cousin’s birthday party. Jodie knew that and planned to trap him in her matchmaking scheme. Well, no way.

      After a formal introduction to Emmy Lou Masters Turner, he’d leave—preferably after soaping her car.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “YOU’RE NOT GOING like that,” Roger said when his daughter walked into the kitchen. He looked away, afraid his surprise might be obvious on his features. The makeup, meticulously applied, made her look years older than thirteen. He placed his coffee