So he sipped slowly, dreading what had to be done.
What a complicated mess. There was a lot of rage between Grace and Winnie, and now they were going to throw heartbreak into the mix. Heartbreak and impending death. And an inheritance? This was quickly getting bigger than he was. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t made that drive up to the resort to confront Winnie. It might be easier not knowing. But he had thought he could help; he had thought he could be the voice of reason. The way he saw it, Grace shouldn’t have such a hot button at the mere suggestion she think about a career in the figure skating industry. And Winnie should drop the subject after being told about fifty times it was out of the question.
Here were two stubborn, pigheaded women.
It was nine-thirty when Troy called her. Grace answered sleepily.
“I miss you. Are you calmer now?” he asked.
“I am. I stomped around and cried for a while, then I think I nodded off. I’m exhausted.”
“Let me come over and hold you. I don’t know how to sleep alone anymore,” he said.
“Okay, but you have to be quiet and sleepy. I don’t want to talk,” she said.
“I don’t blame you.”
He drove around to the alley access and parked behind the Pretty Petals van. He used his own key to get in and found the loft was dark. There was an empty wineglass on the coffee table. He took the envelope from his jacket pocket and left it on the small table in her galley kitchen, left his jacket over a chair and went to the bedroom. She stirred and sat up.
“Hi,” she said. “Can’t stay away from me, can you?”
“I sure can’t,” he said, taking off his shoes. His pants and shirt quickly followed and he slid into bed. She rolled right into his arms and kissed him.
“Wow. Whatever that is on your breath, it’s powerful.”
“I needed a stiff drink,” he admitted.
“Winnie can have that effect on people. Tell me the truth. Did she make you want to run for your life?”
“No.” He pulled her into his arms. “I can see the challenge, however. Close your eyes. You don’t want to talk, remember?”
“I’m wiped out,” she said with a yawn, snuggling against him. “You are such a good pillow. I don’t think I know how to sleep alone anymore, either.”
“Just rest, baby. I’m right here.”
Troy didn’t sleep all that well, but it felt good to know that Grace did. She snored, a sure sign she was deep into sleep. He woke at five-thirty, just like most mornings, and after lying quietly for a while, he got up. He brewed coffee and waited for her to wake up. It was almost an hour.
“Why are you up?” she asked, stretching. “You don’t have work today!”
“Grace, I have something to tell you,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I went back to the resort after I dropped you off yesterday. To see your mother.”
“You what? Why would you do that?”
“Get a cup of coffee, honey, and let me tell you.” She was back in just seconds, sitting beside him. “I went because I was really disturbed by the way you two went after each other. Not that it was unique—my mom and sister have had a couple of good rows. But they always patched things up, even if it took a few days or even a couple of weeks. It looked like this conflict with your mom has been going on for years.”
“True,” she said.
“I went back to see her, to ask her what it would take to have a civilized relationship with you. You don’t have to like each other, but you’re mother and daughter. But that conversation didn’t really happen. She knows she’s made mistakes, Gracie. Big ones. And she has issues.” He tapped the letter. “She wrote you a letter. She was going to have it delivered to you if that flower delivery she trumped up didn’t result in a conversation. She asked me to give it to you.”
She put down her coffee and snatched it. “Do you really think that was your place? Going to see my mother?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It looked like you were both in pain. And it also looked perfectly ridiculous. I couldn’t imagine why on earth you two had to have such a blowup over your future in the skating industry. It made no sense to me.” He watched her rip open the envelope. “I get it now.”
She started reading. She frowned angrily and made a grunt of disapproval. But then she read to the bottom of the page and looked at him with a shocked expression. She put down that page and read further. Her eyes glistened and her lips moved as she read. She lifted her gaze from the page to look at Troy. “Is this true?”
“Does she lie? Because she was taken from the restaurant where I found her back to her cottage in a wheelchair.”
Grace shook her head. “She’s bossy and controlling and uppity. She doesn’t lie. That I know of. Well, except for that note, but when confronted, she admitted it.”
“Read it,” he said, nodding to the pages.
She read on, getting to the third page. She gave a huff of laughter but had to wipe her eyes at the same time. “This is so Winnie. She thinks I’m completely incompetent. If I don’t go to San Francisco and live with her for at least six months and learn everything there is to know about her finances I will bungle it and be completely wiped out in six months after she’s gone.” She looked at Troy. A couple of tears ran down her cheeks. She gave her head a little forlorn shake. “She really cares about me. In a completely insulting way. If she’s so worried, why doesn’t she just leave it all to a cat or something?”
“She loves you. She’s just used to telling people what to do. It would get on my nerves, too.”
“She’s a pain in the ass,” Grace said with a hiccup of emotion.
“But she wants to make it right with you. Before...you know.”
Grace put down the letter. Without explaining what she was doing, she grabbed her personal cell and dialed a number. As he watched, she was pursing her lips. They’d become red around the edges and her nose grew pink and wet. She wiped at her face. Then she spoke into the phone. “Mikhail. Winnie finally found a way to break me. She’s dying.”
* * *
Ray Anne had given it a lot of thought. She couldn’t make Ginger less sad; she couldn’t help her get beyond her grief and there was no way to replace the life that had been taken from her. But it had been nine months since the baby died and she could get her moving.
What a complicated mess. There was a lot of rage between Grace and Winnie, and now they were going to throw heartbreak into the mix. Heartbreak and impending death. And an inheritance? This was quickly getting bigger than he was. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t made that drive up to the resort to confront Winnie. It might be easier not knowing. But he had thought he could help; he had thought he could be the voice of reason. The way he saw it, Grace shouldn’t have such a hot button at the mere suggestion she think about a career in the figure skating industry. And Winnie should drop the subject after being told about fifty times it was out of the question.
Here were two stubborn, pigheaded women.
It was nine-thirty when Troy called her. Grace answered sleepily.
“I miss you. Are you calmer now?” he asked.
“I am. I stomped around and cried for a while, then I think I nodded off. I’m exhausted.”
“Let me come over and hold you. I don’t know how to sleep alone anymore,” he said.
“Okay, but you have to be quiet and sleepy. I don’t want to talk,” she said.
“I don’t blame you.”
He drove around to the alley access and parked behind the Pretty Petals van. He used his own key to get in and found the loft was dark. There was an empty wineglass on the coffee table. He took the envelope from his jacket pocket and left it on the small table in her galley kitchen, left his jacket over a chair and went to the bedroom. She stirred and sat up.
“Hi,” she said. “Can’t stay away from me, can you?”
“I sure can’t,” he said, taking off his shoes. His pants and shirt quickly followed and he slid into bed. She rolled right into his arms and kissed him.
“Wow. Whatever that is on your breath, it’s powerful.”
“I needed a stiff drink,” he admitted.
“Winnie can have that effect on people. Tell me the truth. Did she make you want to run for your life?”
“No.” He pulled her into his arms. “I can see the challenge, however. Close your eyes. You don’t want to talk, remember?”
“I’m wiped out,” she said with a yawn, snuggling against him. “You are such a good pillow. I don’t think I know how to sleep alone anymore, either.”
“Just rest, baby. I’m right here.”
Troy didn’t sleep all that well, but it felt good to know that Grace did. She snored, a sure sign she was deep into sleep. He woke at five-thirty, just like most mornings, and after lying quietly for a while, he got up. He brewed coffee and waited for her to wake up. It was almost an hour.
“Why are you up?” she asked, stretching. “You don’t have work today!”
“Grace, I have something to tell you,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I went back to the resort after I dropped you off yesterday. To see your mother.”
“You what? Why would you do that?”
“Get a cup of coffee, honey, and let me tell you.” She was back in just seconds, sitting beside him. “I went because I was really disturbed by the way you two went after each other. Not that it was unique—my mom and sister have had a couple of good rows. But they always patched things up, even if it took a few days or even a couple of weeks. It looked like this conflict with your mom has been going on for years.”
“True,” she said.
“I went back to see her, to ask her what it would take to have a civilized relationship with you. You don’t have to like each other, but you’re mother and daughter. But that conversation didn’t really happen. She knows she’s made mistakes, Gracie. Big ones. And she has issues.” He tapped the letter. “She wrote you a letter. She was going to have it delivered to you if that flower delivery she trumped up didn’t result in a conversation. She asked me to give it to you.”
She put down her coffee and snatched it. “Do you really think that was your place? Going to see my mother?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It looked like you were both in pain. And it also looked perfectly ridiculous. I couldn’t imagine why on earth you two had to have such a blowup over your future in the skating industry. It made no sense to me.” He watched her rip open the envelope. “I get it now.”
She started reading. She frowned angrily and made a grunt of disapproval. But then she read to the bottom of the page and looked at him with a shocked expression. She put down that page and read further. Her eyes glistened and her lips moved as she read. She lifted her gaze from the page to look at Troy. “Is this true?”
“Does she lie? Because she was taken from the restaurant where I found her back to her cottage in a wheelchair.”
Grace shook her head. “She’s bossy and controlling and uppity. She doesn’t lie. That I know of. Well, except for that note, but when confronted, she admitted it.”
“Read it,” he said, nodding to the pages.
She read on, getting to the third page. She gave a huff of laughter but had to wipe her eyes at the same time. “This is so Winnie. She thinks I’m completely incompetent. If I don’t go to San Francisco and live with her for at least six months and learn everything there is to know about her finances I will bungle it and be completely wiped out in six months after she’s gone.” She looked at Troy. A couple of tears ran down her cheeks. She gave her head a little forlorn shake. “She really cares about me. In a completely insulting way. If she’s so worried, why doesn’t she just leave it all to a cat or something?”
“She loves you. She’s just used to telling people what to do. It would get on my nerves, too.”
“She’s a pain in the ass,” Grace said with a hiccup of emotion.
“But she wants to make it right with you. Before...you know.”
Grace put down the letter. Without explaining what she was doing, she grabbed her personal cell and dialed a number. As he watched, she was pursing her lips. They’d become red around the edges and her nose grew pink and wet. She wiped at her face. Then she spoke into the phone. “Mikhail. Winnie finally found a way to break me. She’s dying.”
* * *
Ray Anne had given it a lot of thought. She couldn’t make Ginger less sad; she couldn’t help her get beyond her grief and there was no way to replace the life that had been taken from her. But it had been nine months since the baby died and she could get her moving.
