“And,” Lucy continued, “I’ve talked to the band members, and they’re all excited to do it too.”
A wave of renewed hope rolled through Grace. “Lucy, that’s wonderful. That’ll make all the difference.”
“You about ready, ladies?” Bob tipped his cup back to liberate the final drops of his latte.
“I still have some cleaning up to do.” Grace wiped her hands on a white towel. “Do you want to wait?”
“Only if you let us count your tips.” Lucy’s eyes were like saucers as she picked up the full jar and shook it.
“Be my guest.” Grace tossed some long twist spoons into her overflowing bus tub.
“Oh, look.” Lucy removed a small envelope from the jar. “Someone left you a love note.”
Grace’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. Great. Most likely one of the stagehands had a crush on her and was too timid to admit it.
“Let me see.” She took the unadorned envelope from Lucy’s hand and pulled open the sticky flap. She slipped out a piece of unlined white paper that had been folded to fit into its undersized packet. On it was printed not a declaration of love, but a simple sentence that sent the room into a nauseating spin.
“Grace…are you alright?” Lucy’s voice filtered in from another dimension.
Grace’s knees buckled, and the walls closed in. Someone grabbed her arm and a jolt of panic surged through her. She stepped toward the exit, pushing whoever had a hold on her into the counter.
“Ow! Grace…”
She wrenched her head around and saw Lucy frowning and rubbing her arm.
“I’m so sorry.” Grace reached out to steady herself, horrified at her momentary loss of control. “I guess I just got lost in my thoughts.”
“You looked like you were about to pass out. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, fine.” Grace refolded the note and stuffed it into her back pocket. She picked up her bussing tub and opened the lower door. “I’ve got to wash these. I’ll be right back.”
“But…” Lucy’s concerned voice trailed off as Grace hurried through the lobby and down the hall, slipping through the door marked ‘Backstage.’ Immediately, she set down the tub and pulled out the note.
There was no writing on the envelope—no clue as to whom it was from. She spread out the paper and looked at it, terror gnawing at her heart. One thing was certain. She wasn’t safe. She read the note again, this time mouthing the words.
I’m onto you.
Chapter 30
Red ink.
He’d written the note in red. Like blood. Like last time.
Grace drummed her gnawed nails on the bare mantel and tried to map out a plan. She needed to pack whatever she could fit into her car and just go. Go somewhere safe.
Safe? Panic threatened to choke her. No place was safe.
She brushed her hair from her eyes with shaky fingers. This was such a familiar pattern with Kirk. He’d toss out some small threat with no immediate follow-through. Then just as she’d let her guard down he’d materialize in a manner as unpleasant as it was unexpected.
Trouble brushed past Grace’s ankle. She knelt down and gave the kitten an absentminded pat. How could Kirk have found her? He couldn’t have followed her, she’d been too careful. The new name. The new hair color.
She had to face facts. He had found her anyway.
Fear churned in her belly. How could she have been naive enough to believe she could outsmart him, after everything he’d done? He was clever and cruel, and that was a lethal combination.
Her hand visibly quivered as she stroked Trouble’s plush fur. If Kirk hadn’t cooled off after she’d disappeared, that meant he’d gotten angrier. She’d taken that chance, and now she was paying the price. She knew what he was capable of—
An abrupt knock at the door nearly catapulted her to the ceiling. Scooping up the kitten, she stood, wavering in indecision.
Another knock sounded, more insistent than the first. She padded to the front window, uncertain of her next move. It seemed unlikely that Kirk would just show up at her door. That would be too easy. She grabbed her phone out of her purse, preparing to call for help.
Peeking between the slats of the blinds, she let out a long trembling breath.
It was Devon, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Her heart lifted. Her anger over Sophia hadn’t cooled, but at least she wouldn’t have to go through this alone. She put her phone away and took her time opening the door.
“Grace,” he exhaled her name. “I was worried about you.”
His words pinched her nerves as she scanned the dark street behind him. “Worried? Why?”
He nodded toward the living room. “Can we talk?”
She stepped aside, allowing him entrance, then quickly bolted the door.
He crossed to the sofa. “I could tell you were upset.” There was an agitation in his mannerisms that she hadn’t seen before. “Then Sophia said something about you that made me think I needed to see you.”
She sat on the edge of the cushion, not wanting to let down her guard. Trouble pulled away from her grasp and darted off to live up to her name. “Sophia—”
“I know.” He held up a hand. “Let me, please.”
She nodded, her nerves still raw as steak tartare.
His face grew somber. “I just want you to understand that my life is complicated.”
Grace arched an eyebrow. He thought his life was complicated?
“Please understand that whatever else happens, I feel like you and I have a special connection.” He took her hand. “There are certain things that…”
Her temper flared. She pulled her hand away. Was he about to tell her he wanted to date them both?
He rested his hands on his lap. “Things that need to be kept quiet. Whatever Sophia said…”
Grace was too overwrought for this right now. She stood, chewing her thumbnail with absentminded disregard for her most recent manicure. She crossed to the window and peeked out into the blackness. A cringe crept through her. If someone lurked in the shadows, would she be able to see them?
“Grace,” Devon was now standing a few feet behind her. “If Sophia told you something, please give me a chance to explain.”
She whirled around. “She didn’t have to tell me anything. I know.”
The lines near his eyes deepened. “You know…. Look, if Roberts said something to you, I’ll—”
“Sam? Why would he say anything? I have eyes. I saw you two together.”
He looked at her sideways. “Saw us together? Wh…when?”
She blew out a jagged breath. She hated sounding like a green-eyed female, but she had to get this out. “This afternoon.”
A look of genuine confusion swept across his face. “I don’t…”
“At the market.” She folded her arms. “You were buying what looked like a romantic lunch, complete with wine, and you were flirting like you were at a speed dating marathon.”
His face slowly lifted as his eyes softened. “You’re kidding.” His voice lilted. “That’s what upset you? You think that Sophia and I…”
Her stance eased slightly. “Well, yes.”
He laughed, taking a step closer. “Grace. Sophia is my student.”
“Your student?”
“Right. We were just working on a scene. I’m her acting coach.”
“Her acting coach?” She lowered her arms, weighing this information. “Boy, does she need one.” She tried not to get flustered. “Okay. But why the pranzo?”
He rolled his eyes. “We’re working on that scene from Picnic—do you know the play?”
Her temples throbbed with confusion. “I know the opera.”
He nodded, his whole manner lightening. “Sophia has this obsession with a Stanislavski sort of realism. She thinks that if you’re rehearsing Picnic, you have to have a picnic.”
“Oh.” Grace bit her upper lip. “Lucky you weren’t doing Murderers.”
“Yes.” He chuckled l
ightly. “I thought you believed me when I told you earlier that Sophia and I weren’t involved.”
“I did. It’s just that when I saw you like that…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to recall all her reasons for reaching that conclusion. “Wait a minute. If Sophia isn’t jealous of me because of you, then why—”
A flicker of some unidentifiable emotion shot from his eyes as he held up a hand. “She might have gotten the impression that I was considering her for the role of Carmen.”
“What?” Grace’s jaw dropped like a broken elevator. “How would she get that impression?”
He rolled up his eyes. “It’s just that when I first met her, I was struck by her look. The way she moves, and that beautiful hair. I was a little overzealous and I might have mentioned that she looked like the Carmen type.”
“Was that before or after you heard her sing?”
His eyes turned sheepish. “Before, I’m afraid. I offered to coach her, but I never really promised her anything. When I mentioned you were a singer too—”
“Too?” Her ego twisted in a painful knot at the inference that she and Sophia were even close to the same level.
He seemed to catch his faux pas. “Of course, the difference between you is night and day. Sophia has a long way to go before she’s ready for something that big.”
Grace folded her arms and curled her lip. This was all just too much for her.
Devon put a comforting hand on her arm. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”
She nodded slowly, looking into his eyes. She had to tell him. However their relationship evolved, he had a right to know how dangerous her life was. She braced herself. This was the moment of truth. If Devon really cared for her, he’d understand.
She cupped his hand with hers. “I have to show you something.” Pulling away, she went to the sofa and picked up the folded note from the end table. After a moment of careful contemplation, she turned and handed it to him.
Slowly, with a look of consternation, he took it.
Relief and fear intermingled in Grace as Devon’s eyes swept the page. She needed to get it all out. “There’s so much I haven’t…”
She caught herself, disbelief clouding her thoughts. Why was he smiling?
Levity trickled into his voice. “I can’t believe you took this seriously.”
“Of course I did. I—”
“Grace.” He held the note up and glinted an incredulous smile. “Do you know who wrote this?”
Her head swam. “I thought I did.”
“The paper. The stupid red pen. She leaves notes for me every day. She’s big on notes.”
“She?”
“I don’t know what you thought this was about,” Devon tossed the note onto the table. “But it was written by my housemate.”
Chapter 31
“Wish me luck, Troubs.” Grace called out to the snoozing ball of fur curled up on her living room rug as she bounded toward the front entry. Now that her fears about Kirk were temporarily sidelined, she had other business to attend to.
In one swift motion, she undid the bolt, yanked open the door, and stopped with a gasp.
Sam jarred back, apparently as startled as she was. One hand hovered near the doorbell and the other held his toolbox. “Morning. This a good time?”
She downshifted from alarm to annoyance. “Don’t people in this town ever call first?”
“Would you have said this was a good time?”
“No.”
“Good thing I didn’t call.”
She twisted her mouth, disdain prickling her skin. She couldn’t believe that just last night she’d been ready to hand over part of her wealth to him. Thank goodness she’d seen him go into that woman’s apartment before she’d acted so rashly.
He cocked his head and raised one eyebrow. “I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks, with the show and all—”
She frowned. “What show?”
“Pirates.” His brow creased. “Lucy said you asked us to play.”
She let out a sigh. “I asked her to play.” Was there no getting rid of this guy?
“Oh.” His face fell subtly. “Anyway, I’m going to be pretty tied up and I’d feel better knowing that your bathroom pipe’s not going to explode before I can get to it.”
His vivid verb choice was hard to ignore. She’d prefer to steer clear of any sort of explosion if possible.
“I was just on my way out,” she said in feeble protest.
“Then chances are I’ll be gone by the time you get home.”
She dropped her head back in surrender. “Fine. Just lock the door when you go.”
Giving her a tentative smile, he eased past her. He opened his mouth to speak then looked away, his mind clearly changed. He stepped into the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom. There was a clattering thunk of toolbox meeting tile floor.
Staring after him, Grace folded her arms and contemplated his motives. He’d been so nice to make that crate for her, not to mention all that work he’d done on the floor for half what she’d expected to pay. Now this. Why on earth would he care more about her bathroom pipes than she did?
She caught herself smiling, troubled by the compassion she felt for a man with such obvious character flaws. Expelling a sigh, she headed out the door.
Casting her customary gaze up and down the block, she descended her front steps and started down the walkway. She looked both ways before stepping off the curb, a ridiculous habit considering that traffic in her neighborhood was infrequent and snail-paced. She angled across the street, anxious to get this over with.
Consulting the slip of paper Devon had given her the night before, she set off. The walk would surely warm her up for battle.
She rolled her tense shoulders as she walked. Her anxiety from last night had waned, thanks to Devon’s timely explanation, but she’d slept fitfully nonetheless. There was nothing like fearing for your life to knock your sleep pattern askew.
She’d been so overwhelmed with a brew of confusion and relief, that she hadn’t pursued her goal of telling Devon the details of her life. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, she needed to proceed with her plan to sell the painting and go home. Her stomach tingled at the thought of what might lie ahead for her and Devon, both professionally and personally.
She crossed Main and went another couple of blocks before turning down a tree-lined street much like her own. All the houses around here were quaint and well-looked-after. Grace got the feeling that people here really cared about their town, and that comforted her. She’d miss this place when she returned to the bustle of the city, where you could go all week without running into anyone you knew by name.
She checked the slip of paper again, noting the house numbers as she walked. Her steps slowed as her gaze fixed on a little rectangle of a house that blushed a garish shade of pink. Seemingly embarrassed by its brash paint job, it attempted to duck behind black trim. Grace knew even before checking the address that this was the place. It was so like its owner—sickeningly sweet with dark around the edges.
She lifted the latch on the gate, swung it open and walked up the curved path to the front stoop. With a bold and confident knock on the door, she braced herself for Sophia’s pointed scowl.
Instead, the door opened to an unfamiliar masculine form. Grace pulled in her breath as she adjusted her gaze up a few inches. He was tall, with a football player physique and an air of cockiness that immediately set Grace’s nerves on edge.
“Oh,” she said. “Maybe I have the wrong house.” She took a step back, confirming the number.
A pleasant expression masked the subtle once-over he no doubt assumed she hadn’t noticed—or worse, had been flattered by. “You want to see Sophia or Devon?” He leaned a muscular arm against the door’s edge. “You’ve got the right place.” He moved back to allow her to enter.
“Oh…okay.” With inexplicable discomfort, she stepped into the entryw
ay. Who was this guy? “I’m here for Sophia. Devon told me he’d be at a meeting all morning.”
“Right. A meeting.” He pushed the door shut and gestured toward the next room. “Sophia’s still in the shower, I think. She should be out any minute.”
Grace nodded, taking a seat in the prim but cute living room. It was pretty much what she’d expected of Sophia.
Her makeshift host sat in a chair near the window. “I’m Ty, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Ty. I’m Grace.” She put on a polite face. “So you live here too?”
Surprised amusement flashed across his face. “Me? No. I’m actually on a road trip to Seattle. I just thought I’d swing by and see what Devon was up to. I haven’t seen him since he disappeared off the face of the earth.”
His words kicked her stomach. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled as if there was a highly entertaining story behind his comment. “That guy…. You know him very well?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Well, we’ve been seeing each other.”
His eyebrows shot up like prices on an old fashioned cash register. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “That dog.”
Her heart ka-thumped. “I’m sorry?”
He looked at her as if he hadn’t realized he’d vocalized his thought. “Forget it. I just meant I’m not surprised. You seem like his type. Some things never change.”
Blood rushed to her face with such intensity that the rest of her went slightly numb. His type? What did that mean? She firmed her mouth. This guy was probably just one of those jerks who hadn’t moved on past college days. The kind that never let his friends forget their foolish frat boy behavior. She couldn’t let it get to her.
Glancing up, she pretended to admire a painting above Ty’s chair. Where was that Sophia?
Apparently aware of her gaze, he looked at the wall behind him. “Beautiful piece.”
“Hmm? Oh. Yes, isn’t it?” Couldn’t they just sit in silence?
“Sophia says it’s by a local artist.” He faced her again. “I’m an art collector, myself.”
Grace tried to smile. “Really? How interesting.”
Saving Grace (Madison Falls) Page 18