Aging with Gracie

by Heather Hunt

  “Sorry,” he gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s become a habit over the past few days.”

  She took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

  “Thank you, Jack,” she told him. “I can never thank you enough for saving my life.”

  “I couldn’t lose you, Gracie.” He bent down and touched her lips with his. “I won’t lose you,” he promised as he stood up from his perch on the bed.

  “I really appreciate you being here, Jack, but I think that it would be best if you left.” Hot, salty tears rolled silently down Grace’s face as she made the request.

  “I’ll go for now, but don’t forget that I love you, Gracie,” Jack whispered. “Don’t forget that.”

  Grace was unsure how she convinced herself to send him away, but it had been necessary. She had to put her feelings for Jack on hold for now. The hurt was too real. Too new.

  There were other issues to deal with, as well. First, she had to see for herself that her Manhattanites were okay. Then, she had to check out the damage at Mansfield Park and make sure that everyone had a safe place to stay. She would just have to see how things with Jack went after that.

  Jack stood in the doorway and watched as Grace turned her head toward her window. He knew that she could feel his stare, and he willed her to turn around. To welcome him back into her arms. He stood there for the longest minute of his life waiting, hoping, that she would change her mind. She didn’t, though, and he finally walked away.

  Grace heard the door close, but she did not look back. She simply closed her eyes on the pain. The bright sunlight coming through the blinds was torture on her headache, but it was nothing compared to the pain of letting Jack go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Novel Plan

  For the next three weeks Jack moped around Mansfield Park organizing the clean-up and generally being a bear to anyone who approached him. Davey and the rest of the crew had taken to leaving him voice messages in order to steer clear of his moodiness.

  His own grandmother was still miffed at him, as well, because of the Open House debacle with Susan. She and his grandfather had moved into their new house a week ago, and she hadn’t even invited him over for a bite of her home-cooking! It wasn’t his fault that Susan had kissed him! Couldn’t anyone see that? Couldn’t Grace see that?

  The only people talking to him were his grandfather and a couple of the residents...Marianne and Elinor, in particular. Each day, they gave him updates on Grace’s condition. Of course, they usually told him nothing that he didn’t already know. He called her father twice a day to check on her himself...and to see if she would speak with him. So far, she hadn’t.

  He cringed as he smashed his thumb between the ice cream maker and the wall. He was working in that part of the building today. Marianne had taken the job of re-organizing the parlor under her wing, and the older woman had been flitting around the space all morning. She’d just ordered him to move the machine an inch to the right...hence, his throbbing thumb.

  “This was Grace’s special project,” she’d announced a week ago, “And I’ll not have her coming back to a mess.”

  Grace’s little project, Jack thought. As if the entire place hadn’t been a special project for her.

  He’d discovered that Grace was like that. She ended up taking everyone under her wing…at the cost of her own self.

  He agreed with Marianne, though. The place had to be perfect when Grace came back. He would make sure everything was back to order. It was the least he could do after all the trouble he’d inadvertently caused.

  Fortunately, the only structural damage the residence had sustained during the fire had been to a common hallway and to the Ice Cream Parlor. They’d had to replace the tile flooring and redo the walls, but overall, things were back to normal. The appliances, bistro tables, and chairs were fine, as well. It had been one of the heavy marble tables that Jack had lifted from Grace’s unmoving form the night of the fire. He’d wanted to cart them all away, but Marianne had refused to let him. She’d argued that doing so would make Grace “mad as a hornet.”

  Jack sat down in one of the tall chairs and brushed his hand across the smooth tabletop. As he stared at the muted green swirls, he tried to imagine what he would have done had he lost Grace that night. Not speaking to her was hard enough as it was, but to know that he might have never seen her face again...well, the thought of that was almost too much to bear.

  He clenched his hand into a fist and grimaced as pain shot through his thumb. He felt a pat on his shoulder and turned around to find Marianne’s eyes watching him closely.

  “She’s coming back, you know,” she told him.

  “Did she tell you that?” he asked.

  “No,” she shook her head and walked around to the other side of the table. Lithe as a ballerina, she slipped into the seat. “Grace didn’t tell me that. In fact, when I spoke to her this morning, she was still considering the move to Tuscan.”

  “There’s no way I’ll let her go.” Jack slammed his hand down onto the table.

  “And how do you plan on stopping her, Jack Ellis?” Marianne asked. “From what I hear, she won’t even speak to you.”

  “I’ve tried!” Frustrated, he dropped his head back and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I call twice a day, but she won’t take my calls. I’ve thought about just driving down there, but I didn’t want to jeopardize her recovery.”

  “Please,” Marianne muttered. “The only trouble she’s having with her recovery is trying to figure out how to cover up that bald spot on the side of her head!”

  Jack’s anxiety began to ease with Marianne’s declaration.

  “Her staples have been out for over a week now, and she isn’t even coughing anymore,” she told him. “No headaches, no pain. Nothing except for the fact that she’s nursing a broken heart. You do understand that, don’t you?” She raised her brows with the question.

  “Yes, I know.” He stood up and began to pace around the small area. “It kills me to know that I’ve hurt Grace. But, Marianne, she jumped to conclusions.”

  “I know that,” she nodded. “But how would you have reacted?”

  “I would have seriously hurt the guy,” Jack said with assurance. “The thought of Grace with anyone else...” His voice trailed off in disgust.

  “That’s what I mean, Jack,” Marianne explained. “You have to consider that you are Grace’s first true love.”

  “What?” Jack looked confused. “There’s no way. She’s beautiful. She’s probably had a ton of boyfriends.”

  “No, Jack.” Marianne shook her head and clasped her hands in front of her. “Think about it. She’s barely twenty-three years old, and she’s already been through college and graduate school. Yes, she is quite beautiful in her own way, but she’s an intellectual. She’s always been more interested in academics than relationships. Until you.”

  She remained silent for a few moments to give him time to consider what she’d said.

  “Now, imagine the hurt she must have felt when she saw you under that mistletoe,” she said in a steady voice as she met his eyes. “Goodness gracious! The rest of us were about to murder you!”

  “I could tell,” he groaned.

  “But what did Grace do?” Marianne asked. “Our Grace waltzed through the rest of the night until she could find a place to grieve alone. But then what happened? Because of the fire, she didn’t even get to do that! All that hurt’s been bottled up inside of her, Jack.”

  “I think I understand what you’re saying, Mrs. Brown.” The extent of Grace’s hurt, the intense betrayal she must have felt, was starting to dawn on him. “She’s been using this recovery time to deal with much more than her physical injuries, hasn’t she?”

  “Exactly, my boy,” she agreed as she climbed out of the chair and walked toward the cherry cabinets she had lovingly buffed to a shine just the day before. She opened a door and pulled down a pair of sundae glasses from a low shelf. “So what are you going to do a
bout it?”

  “What do you mean?” He watched as she lowered the lever on the dispenser he’d recently moved. Ropes of thick vanilla ice cream filled the glasses. She topped each with an enormous serving of chocolate sauce and a cherry.

  “Men! Must we do everything for you?” she groaned as she picked up two long spoons from a drawer. “I suppose it’s our lot. So, why don’t you take a little break while I tell you the plan that Ellie and I have concocted.”

  “Plan?”

  “You want to win back our sweet girl, don’t you?” she asked with a crafty smile.

  “Of course I do,” he agreed as he reached for the spoon. “I love her.”

  “Well, then,” she said as she took a dainty bite of her sundae. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  •∞•∞•

  Three weeks after being discharged from the hospital, Grace decided that she’d had enough of self-pity. She’d been wallowing around in it for days now, and she was sick of it. Not only was it detrimental to her waistline, but it was doing nothing for the pathetic state of her heart.

  She listened to Marianne’s voice message again:

  “Grace, dear, this is Marianne. I just wanted to let you know that you might want to take a look at things here before you go to Tuscan. Your company still owns the place, doesn’t it?”

  Grace thought she detected a bit of humor in Marianne’s statement, but she wasn’t sure. She continued to listen to the message:

  “I’m not sure if things will ever be the same after that fire. We all miss you, dear, and want to see you before you move away. Even Theo. Please make the trip if you can. We could even have you a little going-away party. This Friday evening would be perfect. Let me know if you can come. We love you, dear. Bye-bye.”

  Grace felt the prick of tears.

  I love you, too, she thought.

  Marianne was right about seeing how things were progressing at Mansfield Park. She’d been itching to get back to check things out, but the doctors had refused to let her go back to work. Her father had taken over and had explained that the damage had been confined to a couple of common areas and that none of the residents had been displaced. He had been keeping tabs on the repairs and had made sure things were in order with the Fire Marshall and the insurance agency. He’d also told her that Jack had done a great job getting things back to normal.

  Jack.

  It was time to see him, Grace supposed. Although all of her old insecurities surfaced at the thought, she couldn’t put it off forever. No matter what the outcome, she would simply be glad to see his face. Touch his hand. Kiss...

  She climbed out of bed to the crackle of an empty snack cake wrapper and headed toward the shower. She glanced at the mirror as she entered the bathroom and groaned at the sight of her hair.

  “That’s it,” her announcement echoed around the walls of the room. “It’s time to get back to the living, Grace Woodhouse.”

  Thirty minutes later, she was on her way to a salon she’d noticed one day on a trip back from one of her many doctor’s appointments. It was located on a side street near Peachtree, and there was a huge sign in the window that proclaimed: Walk-ins Welcome.

  She didn’t have a clue about the place, but as she looked into the rearview mirror, she decided that it didn’t matter. Any hairstyle would be better than the one she was currently sporting.

  Luckily, she found a parking spot not ten yards from the salon. A few minutes later, she walked inside. It was small, but decorated in such a funky, eclectic style that Grace found herself smiling. A small pixie of a woman with blonde hair streaked with pink approached her.

  “Hi, I’m Kelly,” the woman said as she held out a hand.

  “Grace,” she replied. The woman’s small hand was cool, but her blue eyes danced with fire. Grace was immediately taken with her.

  “So, how can I help you today?”

  Bless her heart, Grace thought. As if it’s not obvious that I need all the help I can get!

  “Well, as you can see...” She raised her hand to the bald spot on her head. A short crop of stubbly hairs had started to fill the space in, but the area still looked pretty bad. Grace thought that her hair was long enough to cover the spot, but she wasn’t sure which style would suit her. Her present ponytail was definitely not the answer. “I’m in need of some help.”

  The stylist looked at the area and whistled when she saw the scar.

  “That must have hurt.” She motioned Grace toward a hairwashing station and clipped a towel around her neck.

  “Initially,” Grace told her. “I was out of it for a few days, so I don’t remember much.”

  “Car wreck?” the woman asked. The question was not intrusive, just concerned.

  “No,” Grace shook her head, and the woman didn’t question her further.

  “Are you attached to the length?” She pulled off the elastic band and combed out Grace’s long hair with her fingers.

  Grace thought about Jack and how he’d frequently had his hands on her curls. He’d said that he loved them.

  “Somewhat,” Grace finally answered. “But if you have to...”

  “I think I can manage something,” the woman said as she checked the water temperature.

  After gently washing Grace’s hair, she led her to a seat, draped a polka dot cape around her shoulders, and started to work. Thirty minutes later, Grace stared into the mirror in amazement.

  While Kelly had trimmed away a good bit of her hair, it still fell below her ears in sleek waves. Grace loved it.

  “It looks great,” she told the stylist. “But how will I ever be able to get the same look?”

  “Just put on a little product and use a diffuser,” the girl told her. She picked up a card and scribbled something on the back. “Here’s my card. I’ve put the name of a good dryer and diffuser on the back.” She grabbed a bottle from a shelf. “I’ve got a special for first-time customers. The first bottle is free.”

  “But you don’t have to,” Grace began.

  “You looked like you needed it,” she smiled. “Besides, I’ll be expecting you back in here in a month or two.”

  Grace thanked the woman profusely, then added a large tip in hopes that it would cover the bottle of hair product.

  She walked back to the car with a jaunty step. A going-away party might be just the thing to give her doldrums the boot. She grabbed her phone and scrolled down to Marianne’s name. She reached her on the first ring.

  “Mari? This is Grace.” She chewed on her lower lip and she waited for a response.

  “Grace, dear, I’m glad you called. I was just thinking about you,” her friend replied.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I will be arriving in Manhattan on Friday.”

  “Our Manhattan?”

  The question caught Grace off-guard, but it was a good one. She had planned on leaving for New York on Friday before heading to Arizona, and Marianne knew that. She would just have to rearrange her plans.

  “Yes, Mari,” Grace smiled. “Our Manhattan.”

  “We’ll see you then, dear,” Marianne answered. “I’m sure it will be a party to remember.”

  •∞•∞•

  “Well, here we are Knightley,” Grace sighed and looked toward her co-pilot.

  She eased her T-bird into the reserved parking place and gazed at the sight before her. She smiled at the image. Beyond a neatly manicured lawn sat her home with its stark white columns and rows of chairs gently rocking in the cool evening breeze.

  She walked around the car and helped the dog down from the seat. Although he’d lost a few pounds under her mother’s strict surveillance, it was still a chore for him to get in and out of the vehicle. At least Grace assumed so. It could have been that Mr. Knightley was simply lazy.

  She gave him a quick look but decided that he was too sweet to be that conniving. Besides, the poor little thing was already shivering.

  It was cold today, and both she and the dog were dressed for the w
eather. For Mr. Knightley, she had chosen a black and white houndstooth doggie sweater. Bulldogs were very sensitive to harsh temperatures, and Grace wanted to ensure that he was snuggly and warm for their outing. She was glad that Jack wouldn’t be at the party, though. He’d certainly think that she was emasculating the poor dog with the outfit.

  She glanced down at her own attire. She’d topped off her standard pair of black pants with a black turtleneck sweater and a black faux fur vest. Her mother had commented that she looked as if she were going to a funeral instead of a party.

  In Grace’s opinion, that was almost correct, for by leaving Mansfield Park, she would be cutting off a part of herself. Of course she would be able to call her friends from Tuscan, but telephone calls would never replace the warm camaraderie that she had found with her Mansfield Park family.

  She walked up the steps and the door opened suddenly. Someone must have been watching for her arrival. Elinor! Of course!

  “Get yourself in here before we let out all the heat,” she scolded. “We thought you were never going to arrive!”

  Grace gave her friend a warm hug, and Mr. Knightley, happy to be in the warmth of the indoors, scrambled around Grace’s legs. She reached down and disentangled his leash.

  “You think I could stash him in my old office?” she asked.

  “Why, of course,” Elinor pronounced before crossing the foyer and opening the door to the office. “It’s still your office, Grace. And his little bed is right where you left it. You’re still the manager here as far as everyone is concerned.”

  Grace didn’t comment as she arranged the small bed for Mr. Knightley. He would be fine here as long as he didn’t escape. He would be fine then, as well. It was the others she was worried about.