An Unforgettable Lady(117)

"I've booked a room nearby. You can reach me anytime and I'll be there in a heartbeat if things head south."

"Sounds good to me."

"Vic," Smith paused. He never used Tiny's given name. "Take good care of her."

Crackling came over the line and then his friend said, "Look, I've got to ask. What's this woman to you, anyway?"

Everything, Smith thought.

"Just another client." He stabbed out the cheroot.

"Yeah, sure, Boss. In five years of working with you, I've never seen you like this."

"All you have to do is make sure she stays alive, okay? Do that and I might even promote you."

"To what?"

"Maybe I'll start calling you Medium."

Tiny laughed.

As soon as the call ended, Smith dialed another number. Senator Pryne's private line was answered briskly by the man's chief of staff.

"It's Smith," he said. "When does he want to leave?"

"Will you be able to be in Washington the day after tomorrow?" The smoothness of the woman's voice, the diction, the stench of political power made Smith sick.

"Yes."

"Good. The senator will be pleased. You come highly recommended, Mr. Smith."

As he hung up the phone, his heart ached as if he'd been shot through the chest.



* * *



The next morning, Grace made a decision. She was going to call Blair and ask the woman to come take a look at her father's office. Her office. It was time to make that space her own. Lighten up the walls. Throw some drapes around the windows.

She'd already ordered a replacement desk. It was going to take two months to make but it was just what Grace wanted. Made of pale yew wood, it had clean lines and drawers on rollers so she wouldn't feel like she was going to dislocate her shoulder trying to get at her files. The chair was likewise on wheels and kitted out in cream leather.

And there were some other things she was going to do. She'd always wanted a dog.

A golden retriever, she thought. Something big and happy.

Her father had disapproved of owning a sporting dog if they weren't used to hunt. Her mother had despised anything that made noise or shed fur and, for his part, Ranulf hadn't wanted anything that competed for her attention.

That's what she wanted. A dog.

As she fantasized about floppy ears and kindly brown eyes, Grace realized she was finally taking control of her life. Courtesy of the change, she was reexamining everything she'd once simply accepted as the way things were. She'd lost her father's domineering hand when he'd died and now she was questioning everything she'd ever known about him. She was slowly learning to stand up to her mother. And thanks to-what John had dug up about Ranulf and the von Sharones, she'd gotten a divorce settlement that seemed reasonable.

The losses that came with the recent events in her life were hard to bear, but they were balanced by her sense that it had all been inevitable and overdue. And she'd definitely take the hard truth over appearances any day. Like youth, illusions faded and withered, but the trade-offs, of wisdom and independence and freedom, were well worth the degradation of a pretty exterior.

Buck up, Starfish. Let's see that smile.

"Not anymore. Not unless it's real," she said out loud.

She picked up the dress she was going to wear at the Gala and her jewelry case, and left her room. John was waiting in the foyer, and she walked by him with a stiff nod. She kept expecting his partner to arrive at any moment and felt as though the netherworld of him being on the verge of leaving would never end.

They got in the Explorer and she made an effort to chat with Eddie about his writing. He'd started a manuscript as his final project, a children's book about safety, and she told him she knew an agent who might read it when he was done.

Grace spent all morning down in the atrium, supervising the arrangements for the Gala. The audiovisual people had erected a small stage near the entrance to the museum and brought in a screen on which to show the brief homage to her father's life. The caterers were milling around, setting up tables for the food and bars, and the florist had arrived with thousands of fragrant blooms.

It was early afternoon by the time she was satisfied with how things were progressing. After a quick lunch with some members of the press, she and John went back up to her office.

The elevator doors had just opened when his cell phone rang. She didn't pay much attention to what he said until she heard, "You have him in custody?"