Grace Anne

chapter 5



Matt was sitting in his office going over the monthly reports when his phone rang. He simply reached over and pushed the intercom button without taking his eyes from the sheet of figures. His secretary, who was also his wife, Stacey, was speaking to someone when he tuned into her voice.

“…for so long. You’ve no idea. And last month’s catalogue was simply a work of art. I would love to see one of those put together. You have an eye for color, Miss Waite.”

“Thanks, and it’s Grace.” There was a pause. “I think he answered you.”

“Oh my,” his wife said. “Hello, honey. I have someone here who would like to speak to you. It’s Grace Waite. She said that it’s about the Washington building.” And then she laughed. “She said to tell you if you called Michael all bets were off.”

Matt was just on the verge of telling her to call Michael when she’d said that. So, the two of them hadn’t worked out their differences, huh? Matt stood up and walked toward his door after telling his wife to send Miss Waite in. He winked at his wife when she walked in with Grace and hoped she’d get the message to call him anyway. With a small nod she told Grace again that she was happy to have met her.

“She’s going to call him, isn’t she?” Grace said as she sat in the chair at his small conference table. “I have no idea why I even bothered. He does pay your check and you have to follow his rules no matter how much I hate it.”

Matt laughed. “Yes. She’s probably telling him to come in on one pretense or another. He’ll be acting surprised, but not too over the top.”

He thought he heard her say “arrogant ass,” but wasn’t sure if it had been directed at him or Michael and decided he didn’t care. He asked her if she wanted anything and after she’d told him she was fine, he sat across from her.

“Should we wait on him or just dive right in? I’m not in any mood to have to repeat myself and, if he comes in, I’m going to be pissy with him enough as it is.” She pulled out a file from her large, brightly-colored purse and pushed it across to him. “You might as well get a head start. I want that much for the Washington building and not one cent less.”

Matt tried to hide his surprise, but he was sure she could see the shock. They’d been trying since Monday to contact the woman, but she’d been avoiding them. And now here it was Thursday and she was right here with a contract. Matt opened it and was on the second page of the impressive thing when Michael walked in.

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some—oh, I didn’t realize you had company. Hello, Grace. I’ve—”

“She knew you were coming. Figured it out before she sat down,” Matt cut his friend off. “She wants to sell. I’m just going over the contract now.”

Michael sat at the table near Grace. Matt laughed a little, distracted by the contract, but still found humor in that the girl didn’t seem to care for his buddy. Stacey walked in with a carafe of coffee, bottled water, and a tray of Danish. She was out again before he could thank her.

“Why?” Michael said as he poured coffee for them all. “After all this time you’re suddenly going to sell me what I’ve been wanting for six months? I don’t get it. You’ve gotten a better offer or you’re going to demand more money, is that it? Or does this have anything to do with the phone call?”

The girl paled and, before Matt could tell his friend to back off, Grace snapped right back. He was suddenly glad that he was going to get a front row seat to Michael getting his ass handed back to him on a platter.

“You egotistical, overbearing, pigheaded prick. You practically hound me to death over this f*cking building and, when I come here with a legitimate offer, you act all superior and as if it’s beneath you.” She stood up when he did, but she didn’t wait for him to move from the chair before she was shoving him back down into it. “I knew this was going to be a mistake trying to deal with a man whose ego is bigger than his bank account. You wanted the f*cking building so either buy it or f*cking don’t. I could care less.”

When she stepped away from the table and Michael, Matt started to rise and stand between the two of them before Michael followed through on what looked like murder gleaming in his eye. But he knew the moment that he’d touched Grace, a simple hand on her elbow to steer her away and to safer ground, that he’d made a mistake. Her fist came around so quickly that he’d had only a moment to be impressed with the fact that she’d tucked her thumb in before his face exploded.

He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up on the floor with Michael cussing under him. He wasn’t even sure what the hell Michael was doing in his office. He knew he’d hit his head; there was no way he was going to even consider that Grace had knocked him out, but things were beginning to come back to him about the time that Stacey came in the office looking decidedly unhappy with them both. That was when Matt realized that Grace was gone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael said as he helped Matt to stand up. “What the hell did you think you were doing standing between the two of us? I had it under control.”

Matt wanted to point out that he most certainly did not have anything under control, but his wife was saying he was bleeding. The shrill whistle from the doorway had them all stop everything. He groaned; the sound of Mrs. Cunningham’s two finger trill had his head feel every decibel of it.

“Would someone like to tell me why I nearly got run down by Miss Waite on her way out of this office, my attorney is bleeding to death on the nice, new carpet, and my son…well, you, I can figure out. You’ve pissed her off again, haven’t you?”

Matt felt the ice pack hit his sore head and was both grateful and relieved when it felt better.

“I most certainly did not piss her off. She was already mad when she came in here.” Michael turned to Matt. “He can tell you. She started on me the moment I walked in the door.”

Matt decided that he’d had enough for the day and stood up. “I’m not answering that on the grounds that I would have to fight you again because I won’t agree with you. You snapped, end of story. Mrs. Cunningham,” he said to her with a smile. “Perhaps you could speak with the lovely Miss Waite and see what she is willing to negotiate on the price and other things she’s listed on the contract she took with her.”

“I’ll deal with her,” Michael said, but Matt cut him off.

“If you want that building, then I suggest you stay the hell away from her. You and she seem to rub each other the wrong way, contrary to the way you two heated up the pages of those pictures.” Matt grabbed up is briefcase and his jacket as he headed to the door with the ice pack still on the back of his head. “And if you want my advice, sign the release forms and let her use the pictures. They could go a long way into making her believe you might actually have a brain in that f*cking head of yours.”

Matt was nearly to the elevator when he felt his wife next to him. She was grinning and he grinned back. She didn’t say anything until the doors shut behind them and they were moving to the floors below.

“Wow, she certainly is a match to our Michael, isn’t she?” She grinned again. “And she is going to give me a discount on some of the line she has at her building. Miss Waite is going to be my new best friend.”

“Mine, too, if she and Michael can work this out.” He winced when he moved the pack again. “She has a hell of a left, I’ll give her that. Not that she took me out, I did trip over Michael, but damn.”

Stacey’s laughter made him smile again. “Sure she didn’t. I would guess a little bitty girly girl like her wouldn’t be able to take out a big, bad man like you.”

Matt wasn’t sure, but he thought she was making fun of him. He didn’t really care. Not if she looked at him like she was. He slid into her car, closed his eyes, and thought about the woman who punched nothing at all like a little bitty girly-girl, but a longshoreman on a three-day leave looking for a brawl.

~~~

Grace hated to lose her temper. And when she did it made her cry, and that just wouldn’t do. She wiped again at the tears and looked out the window of the cab she’d flagged down outside the building. She shouldn’t have lost her temper.

The phone calls were getting worse. And the horrible part was that whoever it was had her home phone and her business line as well. She hadn’t even answered any phone for several days. Monday had been bad enough. She’d been right, someone had found her.

Long ago she’d had a phone number that she’d given everyone, including her mother. The phone calls from California had been frequent back then; her mother would call for money and Grace, stupidly, would send her some. Her father would call to tell her that she needed to be more dutiful and she would simply hang up on him. Until later, that was.

About five years ago she’d stopped giving her parents anything, including speaking to them. Guinevere had become verbally abusive. And not just that, but her father had threatened her physically as well. Grace had never let her family come to visit her and, in the beginning, had had a nice apartment, but she’d since moved into the warehouse and had a security system put in. Her father had been to see her more than once and had called her to tell her to let them come stay with her, to recoup their losses. Grace had refused.

Then he’d been killed. Not his fault, her mother had said. He’d been a victim of the whore, Alyssa. If she’d done this or that, he’d be alive. And then Ginny and Verrie had started calling her too. That was when she’d had her phone disconnected and her number made private. She’d told her sisters and brother not to give Guinevere her number and she’d been fairly happy since. Until the day of Trace’s birthday party.

Grace glanced at the phone on her way past it. She didn’t bother listening to the twenty-five messages. They were probably the same as they’d been all week. She was going to die. Her days were numbered, and the one that scared her the most was the one telling her what she’d had on that day and then the way the person was going to peel her skin off her. Grace went to the refrigerator, pulled out the pitcher of tea, and poured a glass. The buzzer at her door had her scream. Shaking, Grace went to the video-cam to see who was there.

Mrs. Cunningham stood there with a large man and Trace. Grace leaned her forehead against the wall and thought about just simply not answering, but when she heard her phone ring behind her she suddenly wanted company, even if it was the Cunninghams.

Without bothering to say anything Grace released the lock and watched as the three of them walked in. She’d met Mr. Cunningham at the party, so she knew who he was. She went to the kitchen again and looked for something to give to Trace, who she knew would be hungry. Kids that her employees had were always hungry at that age. She let them in when she’d unearthed a bag of her favorite cookies.

“I have no idea what it is you think you might want from me, but if you want to agree to the sale of the building then I’ll sign it for you and you can be on your merry way.” Grace sat on the couch and Trace gobbled up the cookies as he sat next to her.

“No, I don’t want to discuss the building. Though now that I’m here, I can see why you were reluctant to sell. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Joey sat on the other couch and looked around. “I love all the color. You must get that from what you do.”

Grace had a headache and she’d not been sleeping well or, she thought, maybe she might have been a little more polite. Instead, she simply asked what she wanted. The woman laughed and Trace grinned at her.

“Grandma wants to see where you make your stuff.” Trace winked at her from the same beautiful eyes that his father had. “So when she and Granddad picked me up from school, we came right over.”

Grace didn’t want to show them around. Not today. They’d had a terrible morning which had progressed into a worse afternoon. And her temper hadn’t helped. When she’d snapped at Becky for the fourth time about something stupid her assistant had called it a day and sent everyone home. Probably a good thing or Grace might have fired them all. She had to do that soon enough anyway, but not just yet.

“It’s a mess down there. I’ve been…I have a catalogue to finish and it’s not going well.” Grace stood when Joey did. “I guess you can look around.”

They’d been in the lower two floors for about ten minutes when she felt someone staring at her. She looked up to see Michael coming toward her with Trace. She knew that boy had let him in and couldn’t be upset with him. He was his father, after all. She started to herd her guests toward the doors and out when he came up beside her.

“May I speak to you, please, alone?”

She shook her head at his request.

“Please? I’ll be polite and I promise not to piss you off. Well, I’ll try not to piss you off.”

She turned away from his attempt at humor. “I’m having a bad day, Mr. Cunningham. And I have a headache from hell. Whatever you want is in the contract. If you have any questions I’m sure my attorney would be more than happy to listen to you.”

“Grace, please. I want to speak to you about your family.” She looked at him sharply then at the phone that started ringing. Before she could get to it he moved to the desk. The voice at the other end sent chills down her spine.

“Did you really think I’d not find you? You’re as stupid as those cunt sisters of yours if you thought that. When I find you, and never doubt that I will, I’m going to enjoy killing you. Killing you so that I can get what I want.”

Michael picked up the phone as the person continued. “Who is this?” He looked at her and paled. Then he put the phone down in the cradle and walked toward her. Stalked would have been a better term. “Come with me. Now.”

She suddenly found herself in her office. It was cramped and with him in the room, it seemed smaller. When she was sitting on her little couch with her head between her knees she saw her tears falling to her shoes. She didn’t want to cry in front of this man more than any other person she’d known.

“I get those sorts of calls all the time,” she told him from her bent position. “It’s not that big of deal. And you had no right to answer—”

“She knew my son’s name. She told me that if I was smart, I’d take Trace away from here before whoever it was came after him too.”

She brought her head up and looked at him as he continued.

“Now, we’re going to calmly talk about this and you’re going to tell me truthfully if this is the reason you’re selling this building to me.”

The knock at her office door didn’t really give her any reprieve. She’d hoped that his family wanted to go and they wanted him to come with them, but she wasn’t that lucky. Michael told them that they’d meet them in the restaurant and that she and he would be there soon. The door was closed again before she could voice that she wasn’t going anywhere.