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