Page 143 of Passions in Death
“No. Your wife points out you did what you had to do by firing her, and what you needed to do by giving her time to pay it back. And the son?”
“I had a word with him as well. I used the threat of his mother going to prison for embezzlement as motivation for him to enter rehab for gambling addiction. Likely not the way, but—”
“It’s one way, especially if you were Scary Roarke.”
He smiled, just a little. “I suppose I was at that. I was fair pissed enough to be. Others don’t fully agree with my decision.”
“Others aren’t the boss of you. If it counts, I agree with it.”
“It counts a great deal. Bugger it. It counts a very great deal. And I’m sorry for my vicious mood and slapping at you when you offered to listen.”
“I’m not the only one whose moods are many.”
He smiled again, just a little more. “I suppose you’re not. I love you, Eve.”
“It’s a good thing I love you back. Enough that I’m going to take care of dinner, which we’re going to eat on the patio. It’s cooled off enough, and we could both use it.”
“That sounds like a very fine idea. Thanks for it.”
Chapter Twenty-one
She changed into a breezy tank and shorts, and he into a T-shirt and casual pants. The August heat lurked under a sluggish breeze, but that, Eve decided, was summer.
The patio pots and planters appeared to agree, as they stood lush with color and scent while the sky held a bold and arrogant summer blue.
She figured if the alternative had been starving to death, she could figure out the grill. But under the circumstances, she took Summerset’s advice.
She set out fish and chips, added some brown bread and butter, and switched out wine for Guinness.
Roarke took one look at the patio table and kissed her cheek. “Well now, this is perfect, isn’t it?” He sat, lifted his glass to her. “Here’s to you for knowing when and how to piss me off.”
“It’s a skill.” She took his hand, squeezed it before she lifted her own glass. “And you’re smart enough to know, when your head’s clear again, you did her and her son a favor.”
“A favor, is it?”
“You could’ve pressed charges, or you could have kept her on—made her pay the money back, but kept her on. You’d have considered both.”
“I did, yes.”
“But neither of those would’ve helped her, or her son. In her case, doing time wouldn’t have accomplished much, and keeping her on? You’d never have trusted her again, and she’d know it. So she starts over from now. She fucked up and has to deal with the fallout.”
“And that’s a favor to her?”
“If you don’t have to deal with the fallout, it’s real easy to fuck up again, and it gets easier to fuck up on purpose, because why not?”
With a shrug, she rained salt on her chips. “She worked for you for a decade, you invited her into your home, so she’s not an idiot or a career criminal. She’ll remember what she did every time she makes a payment back to you. And unless the son’s a complete dick, he’ll remember how his actions affected his mother, which may—just may—help the rehab stick.”
“She’s not an idiot, no, and hardly one to make a career out of embezzlement. And rather than a complete dick, her son’s young and foolish. Barely into his twenties, and if I’m a judge, sick at heart at what that foolishness cost his mother.”
“You’re a damn good judge.”
“She raised him on her own—the father was out of the picture when I hired her. They’re very close, so while I can’t quite see the favor in it, I think they’ll come around after a time.
“In any case, a brutal day, and I’m grateful to you for taking the edge off it.”
Steam pumped out of the fish when she forked into it, and smelled pretty damn good. “I got to needle you, so that’s a side benefit for me. Other than getting knocked on my ass by a piss-soaked junkie, it’s about the only action I saw today.”
“And how did a piss-soaked junkie knock you on your ass?”
