Callie put the picture back and looked down at herself. "That would be great."
A little while later, Grace sat at the edge of her bed in her bathrobe and waited for Callie to come out of the dressing room. When she did, Grace was surprised by the transformation. The woman's long red hair was drying into loose curls and, dressed in a pair of Grace's slacks and a fitted jacket, she looked sophisticated, not at all the drowned waif.
We wear the same size clothes, Grace thought.
"This is a gorgeous outfit." Callie stroked the fine cloth.
"The red is perfect for your coloring." Grace tilted her head to one side. "What do you do? "
"I'm an art conservationist, but right now I work as a receptionist at a gallery. I need to find another job, but for the past few years, things have been... difficult."
There was an awkward moment.
"How can I reach you?" Grace asked, going over to the bed stand and taking out a small pad of paper. As Callie's eyes lit up with what seemed like genuine happiness, she felt a spasm of guilt. The woman seemed to be looking for a friend, but Grace didn't think they could ever have that kind of relationship.
Callie jotted down a number and Grace was struck by the fact that she wrote with her left hand. Just like Grace did. Just as their father had.
"You know, you don't have to call," Callie said, handing the pad back. " I really only wanted to meet you. To see you up close once. To make sure you were real."
Grace looked down at the number.
"Can we give you a ride home?" she offered, wondering where the woman lived in Chelsea. "We'll be going downtown very soon."
Callie glanced out of the window at the rain, which was still coming down. "That would be great. Thanks."
As Callie went out to wait in the living room, Grace approached John's door cautiously. Knocking quietly, she opened it when she heard his curt answer.
He was doing pull-ups at, the bar he'd installed in the bathroom doorway. At a driving pace, he was pumping his body up and down, the muscles in his arms hard and heavily veined from exertion. She wondered how long he'd been at it.
"I'm really sorry I went off like that," she said tentatively as she shut the door. "I just needed to get outside for a minute. I wasn't thinking straight."
He stopped and dropped from the bar. "It was a goddamn dumb thing to do."
"I know. I won't do it again."
"You better the hell not. I'm not even going to bother telling you what could've happened." He reached for a towel and wiped the sweat off his face. "Are we going down to the Foundation?"
As he refused to look at her, she wished there was a way to take it all back, wished she could return to the moment when she'd put her running shoes on.
“I’m sorry I upset you."
“I’m not upset." He walked over to the bureau and began checking his gun. She heard the clicking sound of metal moving against metal.
"Yes, you are."
He turned to her, his eyes narrowed with anger. "Go get dressed, Grace."
Instead of cowering from him, she saw through the harsh words, to the fear she sensed was underneath them.
"I came back. I'm fine." When he didn't reply, she said, "John, I'm okay."
He put the gun back on the bureau and slipped on a black watch. "Did you think maybe the police had caught that nut job who's knocking off your friends? Because they haven't, you know. You could have damn well not come home after a stunt like that."
"But I did."
John cursed. "You should be smart enough not to believe in luck."
She tried to approach him but he stepped away. "You hired me to make sure you come out of this alive. Don't put me in the position of failing you again."
He went over to the door and threw it open.
"Countess?” he muttered, motioning with his arm.
She waited for him to look at her. He didn't.
As she brushed by him, she said softly, " Please don't use this as an excuse to push me away."
She didn't wait for his response.
* * *
As soon as Eddie pulled up behind the building, the three got into the Explorer. Callie gave out an address in Chelsea and Grace watched as the neighborhoods went from luxurious high-rises to brownstones to walk-ups. When they pulled up in front of one that was not quite as dilapidated as the others, Callie opened the door.
"Thanks for the ride," she said. "And I'll send back the suit."
"Don't worry about it," Grace replied.
The woman shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't keep it."
With a parting wave, she shut the door and disappeared into the dingy building.
Grace turned to John as the car surged forward. He was staring out the window, a brooding expression on his face.
"John?" His eyebrows rose but he didn't look across the seat. "Would you be willing to check into her background?"
"I've already started."
She stared at his profile, getting the terrible sense that something had changed between them. Perhaps irrevocably.
* * *
Ten minutes later, she and John walked into the lobby of the Hall Building. There were few employees around because of the holiday, but there were plenty of tourists visiting the museum. After stopping briefly to check in with the security guard at the front desk, they went into an elevator.
When they got upstairs, Grace was surprised to see Kat at her desk and a man standing in front of her. He had his hands on his hips and a cocky expression on his face.
"I didn't know you were coming in today," Grace said to Kat in an even voice. She gave the man a quick once-over. Slick suit, slick hair, god-awful tie.
It had to be a lawyer, she thought, wondering how he'd gotten past the security man downstairs.
Kat smiled tightly. "Mr. Lamont called and said he needed me to come in. I guess his assistant has quit again. This man—er, won't leave."
The guy flashed Grace a sparkling smile as he stuck out his hand. "I'm Fritz Canton. I believe you know who I am."
"Oh, of course, you're Ranulf's attorney. Did we have a meeting scheduled?" she asked, knowing they didn't.
"No, but I'd like to have a word with you." The man's gaze shifted over to John. "Alone, if I may. I won't take Jong."
When Smith approved as long as the door was left ajar, she said, "Very well."
Grace led him into the office and took a seat behind her father's desk.
Canton looked around and smiled. "This is some beautiful art you've got."
"Thank you." Grace leaned forward. "I don't mean to rush you, but could you tell me why you're here ?"
He sat down across from her, put his hands together in a bridge and leaned his chin on them. "My client isn't satisfied with the cash settlement you're proposing."
Grace frowned. "Considering how much of my money he's already run through, I don't think one cent is appropriate. And frankly, I resent having to pay him for the privilege of a divorce."
"He only wants what's fair."
"Then let him leave with what he came with. I'll even give him back the ring."
Canton's eyes flashed and she knew he was estimating the sapphire's value. "You and I both know it's not that simple."
"Mr. Canton, if you're here to try and negotiate, you need to call my lawyer." She got to her feet. "Now if you will excuse me."
The attorney smiled. "I think you'll want to hear me out."
"Why?"
"I understand that you were photographed yesterday evening with a man. Outside of your building. My client received a copy of that picture." Canton rose. "It would be quite damaging to you if such a thing made it to the press— and your mother didn't have a chance to get it buried again. Adultery never looks good, especially on a woman, and I can imagine how important it is for you to be perceived as an upstanding citizen right now. With your father having passed and your just taking the helm of this venerable institution, it would be bad timing if a scandal were to come out now. Very bad."