Hadley & Grace(14)

Finally, after a long minute with no revelation, Grace surprises herself by blurting out the truth: “I came to get what Frank owes me.”

Mrs. Torelli tilts her head.

Grace has only met Mrs. Torelli a couple of times. She’s not the kind of woman to get involved in her husband’s business. Tall, elegant, and impossibly beautiful, she’s the kind of woman who spends her days getting her nails manicured and ordering the help around, not meddling in the inner workings of parking garages and asphalt. Even now, at ten o’clock on a Friday, in the dingy hallway of an industrial building, she looks like a million bucks—her makeup freshly applied, her hair twisted in an elegant knot like a queen’s, and her outfit probably worth more than Grace earns in a month—tailored slacks, a black silk shirt, and beige stiletto heels with pointy toes.

“He owes you?” she says.

Grace explains what happened with Jerry, embarrassed to confess what a fool she was in believing Frank would actually honor his word and give her a commission.

“Sounds like Frank,” Mrs. Torelli says when she finishes. “It also explains why he was going to fire you.”

Grace flinches. Though she suspected that was the case, having it confirmed still strikes like a blow. For three months, she has worked her butt off for Frank Torelli, going above and beyond because she felt she owed it to Mary for calling in the favor to get her the job.

“So you know where the safe is?” Mrs. Torelli says.

The question catches Grace off guard, and she looks at Mrs. Torelli curiously, taking in the clothes, the makeup, and the intensity with which she is looking at Grace. “That’s why you’re here?” she says as she realizes it. “You’re here for the money?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

An icy shudder tingles Grace’s spine. She has never been a big believer in coincidence. Her grandmother used to say moments like this were straight up God messing with mortals, which is exactly how it feels.

And Grace wants nothing to do with it.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” She squats down to resume looking for the keys.

She finds them a few feet away and snatches them up as Mrs. Torelli steps in front of her, the tips of her shoes directly beneath Grace’s nose. “You know where it is?” she repeats.

Grace stands slowly as the new choices of how to answer spin: Deny it and leave with nothing, or Admit it and possibly get what Frank owes me, but end up with my fate tied to Mrs. Torelli’s. The third option is out of her mouth before she has fully considered it. “I might,” she says, her blood growing warm with the brilliance of it.

“You might?” Mrs. Torelli says.

“I might,” Grace repeats brightly. “And for a finder’s fee, I might be able to show you where it is.”

“A finder’s fee?”

“Yeah,” Grace says. “Like a commission.”

It’s a complete stroke of genius. Without breaking the law or the vow she made to the judge who showed her leniency when she was nineteen, she can walk away from this with enough money to give her and Miles a fresh start.

“How much does Frank owe you?” Mrs. Torelli says.

“That’s not really relevant,” Grace answers, her insides lit up.

“Of course it’s relevant. You said Frank owed you; that’s the reason you’re here.”

“It was the reason I’m here,” Grace says. “But now, you’re here, which means I no longer need to take what Frank owes me, and instead, you and I can work out a deal.”

Mrs. Torelli squints in distrust. “What kind of deal?”

“Like I said, a finder’s fee. I show you where the safe is, and you cut me in on a percentage.”

“A percentage? How much of a percentage?”

“Fifty,” Grace says—fifty-fifty always a good place to start.

“Fifty percent!” Mrs. Torelli says, her hands flying with her words. “That’s not a finder’s fee. That’s half. Forget it.” She waves Grace away as if shooing a fly.

Grace smiles like it’s no big deal, then lifts the keys in the thin light and flips through them. Purposely, she chooses the wrong one and inserts it in the lock. She pulls it out, squints at it, then searches through the others.

Choosing the right one, she slides it smoothly into the keyhole and is about to turn it when Mrs. Torelli blurts, “Fine. Five percent.”

Grace gives a silent cheer and turns. “Fifty,” she says.

“It’s my money.”

“Technically, it’s only half your money.”

“Ten.”

Grace turns back to the door. “Good luck finding your money.” The key turns, and she pulls down on the handle.

“Twenty, but that’s my final offer.”

Grace considers it. She has no idea how much Frank has. It could be twenty grand, or it could be a hundred. Twenty percent of twenty grand isn’t a lot, but it would be enough to get her and Miles out of Orange County and, hopefully, would be enough to hold them over until she finds a job.

“Twenty-five,” she says, “and only because I’m being nice.”

Mrs. Torelli glowers at her, clearly not agreeing. “Fine,” she says. “Twenty-five.”

Grace pulls the key from the door and walks past Mrs. Torelli to Frank’s private bathroom.