* * *
Later in the morning, when she walked up to Kat's desk, Grace flashed a steady smile that the girl apparently didn't fall for.
"Are you okay?" Kat asked.
"Fine, just fine."
"How was Connecticut?"
"I had to reschedule." Before Kat could ask any more questions, she said, "Will you do me a favor and cancel my regular meetings today? I have to work on the Gala preparations and I need some uninterrupted time."
"No problem."
With her schedule cleared, Grace spent the rest of the morning in a daze. She tried to do some work, but nothing she read sank in and nothing she wrote made any sense. In a last-ditch effort to accomplish something, she tried to finish the seating chart for the Gala.
After she'd been staring at it for twenty minutes, she pushed it away and looked up at the bust of her father. She hit the intercom.
"Kat? Will you please call maintenance? I'd like to move something down to the museum. Oh, and tell them I want to change some of the paintings in here. The ones on these walls have been here too long."
She released the button and looked at John, who was talking on his phone. He'd been doing that all morning, gathering information, she imagined, on what had happened to Isadora. She wanted to ask him for details, but wasn't sure whether that would make her feel any better. Bad news coming from him seemed liked a double hit.
Grace looked back at the bust and then at the candy dish and the pipe rack. She was thinking that she would get rid of them, too, when Callie's image came to mind.
When John put the phone down, she asked, "What do you know about Callie ?"
He finished writing some kind of note and then looked up.
"She lives in the building we dropped her in front of. She's twenty-seven, never been married, lives alone, nothing in the bank. Works at a gallery, did very well in school. Graduated summa cum laude from NYU as an undergrad and then excelled in her master's program in art conservation. Her mother's dead."
Grace lifted her brows. "When?"
"Two years ago. Of MS."
She was about to ask if Callie had any siblings when Kat buzzed in. "Mr. Lamont is here to see you."
Grace pursed her lips in annoyance, tempted to send him away. With the Gala only a day away, however, she didn't think she should chance it. He might actually have something constructive to say. "He can come in, but it's not going to be for long—"
Lamont threw open the double doors.
"Why hello, Lou," she said dryly.
As he marched up to the desk, she looked over his sharp suit and perky tie. She noticed dimly that the folded handkerchief in his jacket pocket was the same kind her father had worn.
"Your auction piece has arrived," he said with a humorless smile. "They just unpacked it. That thing is so dark, God only knows what it really is."
She fought against responding to the cutting tone in his voice. "I believe that painting's documentation speaks for itself, Lou. Or perhaps you'd like to argue with the Copley scholars who've authenticated it?"
He let out a disparaging noise.
"You better be prepared to duck and cover tomorrow night because you're going to look like a fool. This whole thing has been a mess from start to finish. The invitations were wrong, it took you weeks to set the menu, and I haven't even seen that retrospective on your father yet. The portrait is a nightmare and God only knows how you're going to stage the party in the atrium downstairs. I tell you, Bainbridge is very uncomfortable."
"Stay away from my board," she said sharply.
"I'm just trying to save you from yourself."
Grace bit her lip to keep from snapping back. She was sick and tired of him stirring up trouble, of meeting his censure with nothing other than calm detachment. Frustration hardened her voice.
"Thanks, but I don't need to be rescued by you."
An angry flush deepened the color in his face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. You've got an amazing sense of balance in this tightrope town. I'll have to remember that when our donors want to know why the single most important event of the year turned out to be nothing more than a bad dinner and an embarrassing exhibition of a painting no one wanted to buy."
She massaged a knot of tension at the base of her skull. " Lou, I can't keep fighting like this."
"We wouldn't have to if you'd just do what I say. But no." He threw his hands up theatrically. "You're still so jealous of my relationship with your father that you can't show me respect."
"I beg your pardon?" Grace was honestly surprised. She didn't like Lou as a person, but it had nothing to do with how close he'd been to her father.
"You always hated the way he appreciated me, mentored me."
She shook her head. "My father did enjoy grooming you, but I wasn't threatened by that. You were a hobby of his, Lou, never his surrogate son. Don't let your ego rewrite reality."
Lamont planted his arms on her father's desk and leaned toward her, full of anger. "You little—"
A hand clamped on his shoulder.
"You want to relax, big guy?" Smith was smiling grimly as he loomed over the other man.
"Get your hands off me!"
"As soon as you calm down."
Lamont glared at Smith and then pulled away roughly.
"You're a really great OD consultant, you know that? I come in to give her a heads up that her board is dissatisfied with her performance and you crawl all over me." Lamont snapped his suit back in place and smoothed his tie. "Don't tell me you went to school for this?"
Grace started shaking her head. "Lou, maybe you should leave."
"You're right about that. I've got a meeting with my staff in ten minutes to tell them they all need to come to the Gala this year, even the damn secretaries. Just so you know, it's to fill empty seats at the tables."
"No, I mean, really leave. The Foundation."
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Are you firing me?"
Grace rose from the heavy chair. She'd been afraid to let Lamont go, even though he was trouble, because she was concerned that he might be right. There was a part of her that questioned whether she knew what she was doing and she'd hoped that Lou would eventually come around and be a help.
Looking into his face, she knew it was time to give up.
"Yes, Lou, I am firing you. I don't want to, but it's obvious that we can't work together."
"You're going to be sorry if you let me go," he said with soft menace. "I've been nothing but loyal to this place and your father."
"I know you've approached several people for jobs."
"I have not."
"Yes, you have. Because Suzanna van der Lyden and Mimi Lauer told me so after they turned you down."
Lamont's mouth tightened as he twisted in his own lie.
"Lou, we're at an impasse. You're not happy working under me and I will not step down. I suggest that you let us buy out your contract. As long as you leave civilly, we'll make sure you get to review the press release and I'll give you a satisfactory reference."
His eyes narrowed, but she couldn't tell whether he was adding up the zeros in his separation package or measuring the distance across the desk so he could hit her.
He jabbed a finger through the air. "I promise this will come back to haunt you."
As soon as he left, she buzzed Kat. "Get security to escort Lou out of the building. Make sure they get his badge and his keys, okay?"
The last thing she needed was to have Lamont stealing the donor lists, assuming he hadn't already.