Falling for Gracie, page 10
She would keep detailed records of her supplies and more importantly, her time, then submit it as a charitable deduction on her taxes.
“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing. The event is Sunday, June 5th. Oh, that’s only a couple of days before the election.” Melissa laughed. “I know this was ages ago and your mom really doesn’t like anyone talking about it, but I have to tell you that I was in Riley’s grade in high school. We all got a real kick out of some of the things you did. You sure knew how to get your man.”
Gracie was grateful not to have to fake a smile. She thought about pointing out that she’d never in fact gotten her man and that she’d probably emotionally scarred him for life.
Instead she made a few polite noises and quickly got off the phone.
“I have to kill myself now,” she murmured when she’d dropped her cell into her purse.
Instead of reaching for a sharp knife, she crossed to her baking schedule and figured out how, exactly, she was going to squeeze in a cake for three hundred right in the middle of wedding season. Despite Melissa’s desire for a sheet cake, Gracie simply couldn’t do that. She would have to come up with a simple, yet elegant design that would....
Someone knocked on her front door. Gracie glanced over her shoulder and thought about not answering it, but with her luck, the person in question wouldn’t go away.
She braced herself for another attack from a family member or an adorable child asking her to bake something for the local orphanage and pulled open the door.
It was worse than she’d imagined.
Fourteen years ago Gracie’s one goal in her small, teenaged life had been to get Riley to notice her. She hadn’t liked it when he’d dated all kinds of girls, but she consoled herself with the fact that no one had ever caught his attention. Until Pam. Once he’d started going out with that beautiful, blond cheerleader, he’d stopped dating the masses. Gracie had been crushed and had launched her campaign to keep the young lovers apart.
Obviously their getting married had proved how unsuccessful that campaign had been. Their divorce a few months later had been too little, too late.
Since then she’d done all that she could to put her past behind her. So coming face-to-face with it now didn’t make her want to hula for joy.
“Wow! Gracie. Hi!” Pam Whitefield grinned like a Cheshire cat. “You look great. Welcome back to Los Lobos. How are you?”
Pam’s obvious delight and bright, cheery voice made Gracie want to turn around and see who stood behind her, because there was no way Pam could have all this enthusiasm for her.
“Uh, Pam. Hi.”
“Can I come in?” Pam asked, breezing past her and walking into the small living room. “How have you been? Oh, I saw that article in People magazine and I was just thrilled for you. You’re famous. Isn’t that fabulous?”
“I was excited.”
Gracie spent her life in the kitchen and she dressed casually—khakis, polo shirts, comfortable shoes. Pam was four years older, but didn’t look it. Her elegant tailored slacks fit her in such a way that she seemed to be about as big around as a pencil. A silk sweater clung to a narrow waist and slightly oversized breasts.
Gracie fit right in with the California cliché of a blue-eyed blonde, but compared with Pam’s gleaming hair and perfectly made-up face, she was positively dull. Pam’s short blond hair moved with the easy elegance of a movie star’s. There wasn’t a wrinkle anywhere—not on her face or her outfit—and her shoes screamed designer. If Pam was the ideal, then Gracie fell right in line to be the cautionary tale.
As Gracie had spent enough of the past two days feeling badly about herself, she decided the best way to break the mood was to get Pam the hell out of here.
“So you stopped by why?” she asked with a smile, trying not to think that there was a very small chance this woman was having an affair with her brother-in-law. Gracie still didn’t completely believe Alexis, but she couldn’t dismiss the fact that Zeke had lied about where he was and had disappeared for long periods of time with no explanation.
“I have a proposition for you. I know you probably have dozens and dozens of cakes to bake. I know you’re just back for a few weeks and I thought....” Pam squeezed her Coach bag and shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
It was the cue to invite her to sit down and serve refreshments. Gracie resisted as long as she could before motioning to the sofa and excusing herself so she could dash into the kitchen and rustle up a slice of cake and some diet soda.
“I’m going to be opening a bed-and-breakfast in a few weeks,” Pam said. “I had to do a lot of remodeling, which is nearing completion. I started with the kitchen and it’s finished now. Not that I have any use for it. So I was thinking, if you want to come out and take a look at it, that would be great.”
Gracie stared at her. “Why would I be interested in your kitchen?”
Pam, who had only moved crumbs around on her plate and had yet to take a bite, laughed. “Oh, silly me. I didn’t get to the proposition part. I want you to rent my kitchen. I have two industrial ovens and plenty of counter space. With all the cakes you have to bake, I thought you might be interested. I won’t be opening until after your sister’s wedding, so you could have the run of the place at all hours.”
Gracie’s first thought was to ask how Pam knew about Vivian’s on-again, off-again wedding. Then she remembered this was Los Lobos, where everybody knew every little thing about everyone else.
Her second thought was complete oven-envy at the thought of new large appliances that didn’t cook hot and never quite got the left side of the cake exactly right without her turning the pan every ten minutes.
“How much do you want?” she asked.
“Why don’t you come take a look and if you’re interested, we can negotiate terms.”
Pam smiled with just the right amount of casualness, as if willing Gracie to trust her. Gracie didn’t trust anyone who wouldn’t even take a bite of her cake. Okay, yes, there were calories, but a taste wouldn’t hurt. Still, new ovens and a chance to keep a close eye on Pam really tempted her.
“I’d like to take a look,” she said. “What time is good for you?”
* * *
“I’M SURE THERE’S an explanation,” Jill said as she slid into the booth at Bill’s Mexican Grill.
“For almost everything except those magic twenty numbers they’re always talking about in string theory, and why socks can escape from the dryer,” Gracie told her.
“I was actually talking about this.”
Her friend put a copy of the newspaper on the table.
“Oh, that,” Gracie said. “I wondered why I didn’t hear from you when it came out.”
“I thought you might be flooded with well-wishers.” Jill raised her eyebrows. “Please tell me you weren’t in a motel with Riley Whitefield.”
“We weren’t technically in anything except their parking lot. You can see from the photo that we’re clearly outside.”
“You know what I mean.”
“It’s complicated.” Just like her life.
“I don’t have any appointments until three,” Jill said, leaning back in the booth. “I had Tina clear my calendar.”
“Lucky me.”
Gracie quickly filled Jill in on the ill-fated attempt to follow Pam.
“So you followed Pam and the guy with the camera followed you,” Jill said after they’d placed their order. “Who sent him?”
“No idea. I want to say Pam because I never liked her, but why would she care? The mayor, of course. If he’s trying to discredit Riley in the election by stirring up the past. But how would the mayor know where we were going to be or that we’d be doing something photo-worthy? It’s so confusing. To complicate the situation, Pam came to see me.”
Jill paused in the act of picking up a chip. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. She wants to rent me her kitchen in the new bed-and-breakfast she’s building or refurbishing. I can’t remember which. I’m supposed to go see her this afternoon. She says she has professional-grade appliances and I can rent from her while I’m here.”
“Do you want to?”
“Have anything to do with her? No. Have access to her kitchen? You bet. I can barely fit my largest pan in the oven I have now. The heat isn’t even, it runs hot. Sure, I’m tempted, but this is Pam. I don’t like her and I don’t trust her. Is she setting me up? Did she set Riley up?”
“You know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Good point. I’m not sure I can work around her, though. She creeps me out.”
“You could overfeed her and make her fat. That would be fun.”
“Ha. She sat in my house with a slice of cake in front of her and didn’t take a bite. That’s just not natural.”
“Agreed. What are you going to do?”
“Look at the kitchen and see if I can be bought. I suspect I can be.”
Jill watched her. “There’s something else. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. I...” Gracie shook her head. “Except for seeing you, I’m really sorry I came back. There’s so much family stuff.”
“Like?”
“I feel weird, like I don’t fit in.” She reached for her diet soda. “Makes sense, I know. I’ve been gone forever and Vivian and Alexis grew up without me. We’ve had different life experiences, different memories. Technically, I’m still their sister, but emotionally I don’t think I’m a real member of the family.”
Jill looked distressed. “I don’t think that’s true. They care about you and you care about them.”
“True. Although I’m rapidly losing patience with both of them. Sometime while my back was turned, Alexis turned into a drama queen and Vivian seems to be following in her footsteps.”
Gracie told her about the on-again, off-again wedding. “Vivian’s fighting with Tom every fifteen seconds, apparently Alexis has been crazy, and not in a good way, about what Zeke does with his time since they got married. My mother seems borderline normal, but she came over and read me the riot act after she saw the newspaper picture.”
Gracie didn’t go into detail about what her mother had said—she was still dealing with that herself.
“My life has become complicated.”
“Sounds like.” Jill leaned forward. “What can I do to help?”
“You’re already doing it. Having you to talk to is great. And I’m now officially bored with me being the topic of conversation. What’s going on in your world?”
“Emily is counting the days until school is out. I think there are officially thirty-four, but I would have to check the calendar in the kitchen to be sure. We’re making all kinds of plans for summer, including a trip to Florida to visit my dad. He and Em get along great. I’m not sure which is more exciting to her—a visit with her favorite, and only, grandfather, or a chance to go to Disney World.”
“Ah, tough choice.”
Jill picked up her iced tea, then set it down. She traced a pattern on the brightly colored paper placemat.
“What?” Gracie asked with a smile. “You have a secret you’re dying to spill. I can tell. Come on. You can trust me.”
Jill nodded. “I know. It’s not that, it’s just...” She bit her lower lip, then blushed. “Mac and I are thinking we’ll start trying for a baby.”
Gracie laughed. “Really! That’s so cool. Is there a timetable?”
“We’re going to start this month. I’m excited, but a little nervous.”
“You’ll be a great mom. You’re terrific with Emily.”
“I adore her,” Jill admitted. “But by the time I met her, she had all the basics down. I’m not sure how I’ll handle a baby.”
“Pretty much like every other new mother. With a lot of love, patience and fear.”
“Good point. Mac’s hoping for a boy.”
“Typical.”
“I could go with either. So I’m excited and scared, which is an interesting combination.”
Gracie held up her glass. “Congratulations.”
Jill grinned. “I’m not pregnant yet.”
“I know, but you will be. Yeah. I finally get to be an aunt.”
* * *
LUNCH WITH JILL had gone a long way to brighten Gracie’s spirits. Even a visit to Pam’s bed-and-breakfast and a fast-paced negotiating session hadn’t upset her mood. She thought about driving directly back to the rental house, but she still had one thing she needed to do, even if she would rather have a root canal.
But it couldn’t be put off much longer, so she drove to the center of town and parked her car on a side street. After locking it, she walked down First Avenue, past the bank building. She eyed the well-kept building, noted the entrance and carefully ignored it.
Over the next five minutes, she paced in front of the bank three times more, trying to gather the courage to actually go inside. She’d been here once before, but this was different. Just when she’d convinced herself to deliver the information by phone, a well-dressed woman in a tweed suit walked out of the bank and directly up to her.
“Gracie Landon?”
Gracie froze in midstep. Oh, please, oh, please let it not be someone wanting to talk about her, or her past or the newspaper picture.
“I’m Mr. Whitefield’s secretary. He asked me to come out and escort you into his office.”
Gracie winced as she glanced up at the square three-story building. “Let me guess—his office faces this way and he saw me loitering.”
“Exactly.”
She sighed. Wasn’t that just her life?
She followed Riley’s secretary through the bank and up the elevator to the top floor, where she was shown into a large office dominated by a massive painting of an older gentleman in an uncomfortable-looking suit.
Gracie figured it was safer to keep her attention on the portrait, rather than the man sitting behind the desk in front of her. She pointed.
“Your uncle?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m told I’m a lot like him.”
“That can’t be good.” She gave up on her mini art-appreciation course and looked at Riley. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that.”
“I wasn’t stalking or doing anything like that. I was nervous about coming to see you so I was trying to make up my mind.”
“What did you decide?”
“That it would be better if I phoned.”
“You’re here now.”
“I know.” She sank into the leather chair in front of his desk and set her purse on her lap. She dug around inside until she found her travel bottle of antacids, then popped two in her mouth and chewed.
He looked good, she thought mournfully. She didn’t know if it was the elegant suit, the contrast between his dark hair and his white shirt, or the power tie, but he was definitely the man in charge.
“You take a lot of those,” he said, pointing at the small bottle in her hand.
“I have a sensitive stomach. It reacts to stress.”
“Have you seen a doctor about the problem?”
She dropped the bottle back into her purse. “Are you kidding? Any doctor would want to do all kinds of really gross tests. Plus, what if there’s something wrong? I don’t want to know.”
“But then you could get it fixed.”
“Or I could find out I have some horrible, disfiguring disease.”
“How could this be disfiguring?”
“Not a clue, but if it’s possible, it will happen to me.” She set her purse on the floor. “Look, this isn’t why I stopped by. Can I talk about that?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Be my guest.”
“Good.” Although now that she had his attention, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I just...” She drew in a deep breath. “I thought....”
He pushed a pad of paper in her direction. “Would it help to write it down?”
“No. Okay. I have a couple of things. First, about my sister. I found out that she tends to exaggerate things. Especially where Zeke is concerned. I’m not sure anything is going on with him.”
“Of course there is.”
She’d expected Riley to be annoyed or accuse her of making the whole thing up, not that he would disagree. “How do you figure?”
“He told me. When I confronted him about what he was doing, he admitted being up to something but swore it had nothing to do with his marriage and that it wasn’t illegal. He said there wasn’t another woman.”
“Oh. Right.” She’d forgotten that. “But the no-affair thing means we don’t have to follow him anymore, right? Or if you want to, that’s fine. I just don’t want to. I hope he’s not sleeping with Pam. That would be too... Yuck. And speaking of Pam, she came to visit me today and offered to rent me her new industrial kitchen in the bed-and-breakfast and even though I really don’t want to be involved in any of this anymore, I figured I could use the kitchen and maybe keep an eye on her. From a distance. Sort of.”
Riley stood and walked around his desk. He might not have understood half of what Gracie said, but he recognized a bruised spirit when he saw one. Someone, somewhere, had done a number on her.
He perched on the edge of the desk close to her chair. “Tell me about Pam.”
“She knows I bake cakes and she offered me her ovens. For a price. I went over and saw the layout. It’s pretty fabulous. So we agreed on rent and I’ll be baking there. I can sort of keep an eye on her.”
“Okay. Sounds like a plan. Who rained on your parade?”
She looked at him. Pain tightened the lines around her mouth and darkened her eyes.
“No one. I’m fine.”
“Gracie, don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Something happened.”
