“Because I didn’t want anybody to know who I am. I couldn’t take the chance that Kirk would find me here.”
“Kirk? That’s the stalker?”
She nodded. “He’s dangerous. And he has so much money he’ll stop at nothing.” Her eyes fell to the painting. “It’s funny really. I mean, if Kirk had found this painting, he would have offered a bazillion dollars without even blinking.”
A spark glinted in Devon’s eye. “So…he’s wealthy?”
Grace blew a laugh out of her nose. “He’s so rich, money has ceased to have a realistic value to him. It’s more important to him that he own the thing he wants—like a painting.” Her thoughts chilled. “It’s the same way he feels about me.”
Devon paused as if weighing his words. “That’s flattering—in an odd way.”
“In a sick, repulsive way.”
“Yes, but how many women are viewed like a work of art?”
She shuddered. “I’d really rather not be bought and sold.”
A silence fell for a moment while they both gazed awkwardly at the painting.
When he spoke again, his tone was almost businesslike. “What’s his last name?”
She raised a cautious brow. “Silverman. Why?”
“He’s wealthy art collector…a patron of the arts. I thought I might have heard of him.” The silence stretched between them for another long moment. “So, was he your boyfriend?”
The thought sent a shiver through her. “No, not at all.” The police had tried to force a confession of a personal relationship, as if they thought they could use that to justify his abuse of her. “He was just a fan. He seems to think there’s something more between us, but believe me, there’s not. There never was.”
“But the guy was obsessed with you?”
She nodded. “It went on for close to two years.” She paused, considering the importance of her next words. “He tried to kill me.”
His head snapped up, a look of alarm washing over his features. “How?”
“He pulled me into an alley and stabbed me.”
With a visible swallow, he reached for her other hand. “You survived.”
“Yes. So far.”
“And that was why you left?”
“No.” Her voice quavered. “About a month or so ago, I decided I’d had enough. I had just gotten home from doing a show in South Carolina—my first since the stabbing—and when I opened the door to my apartment…” Her voice cracked under the weight of emotion. “I live in a studio, and when you open the door, you can pretty much see the entire apartment. My table was set for two, complete with candles. The bed had been stripped back to the white sheet, which was sprinkled with something that looked like red rose petals.” She swallowed hard.
Devon gently drew his thumbs against the backs of her hands, his eyes intently focused on her.
“The pillow in its white case was propped up at the head of the bed. He’d written across it in what must have been red lipstick.”
Concern tinged his brow. “What did he write?”
She shuddered. It felt so strange to say this out loud. “He wrote ‘I never lose’.”
He let out a low whistle.
“The worst part was that he’d stuck one of my headshots to the wall over the bed using a switchblade right between my eyes.”
His hands communicated support. “What did you do?”
“I turned around and ran. All I took with me was the suitcase I still had in my hand and my computer. I don’t know if he was inside the apartment or if he just wanted me to discover it that way, but I didn’t stick around to find out. I ran to a payphone and called this police officer who had promised to help me go into hiding. That’s how I wound up here.”
He took a moment to compose his words. “This might seem like a strange thing to say, but I’m glad you ran.” His eyes danced. “If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have met.”
She smiled, consoled by his line of thinking.
“So,” he searched her face. “What are you going to do?”
She pulled her eyes from his, focusing on the painting. “My plan is to sell this and go home.”
“This is just perfect, Grace.” He stood, pulling her to join him. “I happen to have a friend who’s an art collector—”
“Ty? I know. He mentioned that.”
His eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “He has a dealer he works through. He could handle the sale for us.”
Her heart fluttered. It had sounded so natural, his use of the word ‘us’. “But, I thought you said Ty left for Seattle.”
“He did, but he’ll be back home by the time I get there. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be returning to New York to start Carmen rehearsals just as soon as Pirates opens. The timing will be perfect.”
“Well…” A creeping uncertainty nagged. “You’re sure we can trust him?”
“He’s been my buddy since college. We’ve done some business deals together. Believe me, we can trust him.” He wrapped his hands around her upper arms, instantly shifting her doubts to a lower gear.
She toyed with the front of his collar. “So, a minute ago, you said ‘us’. Does that mean you see a future for you and me?”
A smile played across his lips. “I know it’s a little soon, but who can argue with fate?”
“Good, because I’m starting to really…” She stopped herself just short of saying too much. “Care about you.”
He tilted a smile that indicated he understood her meaning. “And I care about you too.”
“I love fate.” She gazed into his hypnotic baby blues. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She snapped back to the ruthless reality of their situation, pushing away from him. “Sophia threatened me.”
He almost laughed. “She threatened you? With what?”
“She found out about Kirk. She’s threatened to tell him where I am, unless I stay away from ‘her’ man.”
A smirk skipped across his handsome face. “Her man, huh? She has a good imagination.”
“Yes, but with so much at stake, we can’t afford any risk.”
He smoothed her hair, bathing her with an admiring glance. “I agree. Fortunately, avoiding contact with her man shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Yes.” Relief washed over her. “You know, I really like the idea of the two of us playing it cool. I don’t want the whole town talking.”
“I agree.” His tone soothed her. She was so lucky. “What goes on between us is nobody else’s business. And I do mean nobody.”
“I’m so glad we see eye to eye. Besides, pretty soon we’ll both be back home and it won’t matter. We can be free.”
“Free. I can’t wait.” He smiled, then turned serious. “I should go.” He looked down at the painting. “Why don’t you let me take that and prepare it for the trip? It should be properly wrapped. I’ve helped Ty with that before. We wouldn’t want it to get damaged.”
Her stomach clenched with apprehension. Did she dare let it out of her sight?
He seemed to read her hesitation. “Of course, I understand if you don’t trust me—”
“No, it’s not that.” She touched his arm to reassure him. “Actually, I’d love to just get this thing off my hands. I really don’t know what I’m doing, and I’d be grateful for the help.”
His smile conveyed his genuineness. Kneeling down, he replaced the lid, and picked up the crate as if it were a newborn. His eyes sparkled. “Don’t worry a bit. It’s in good hands.”
She glowed as she walked him to the door. They had so much to look forward to.
Finally fate was doing her a favor.
Chapter 33
Her plan couldn’t have been working out better.
Grace had bided her time for the past several weeks, playing it cool with Devon for Sophia’s benefit. She’d honed her focus on the concession stand which, thanks to Salvatore, had collected a group of ‘regulars’—the Cheers of the Bitterroot Valley.
Today she felt breezy as she took what had bec
ome her daily afternoon stroll in to work. The July sun felt rejuvenating on her face, and she tipped her head back slightly to gain fuller exposure. She allowed a long blink, an unthought-of action when she’d been a hurried city dweller in constant fear of being followed. She must be loosening up.
Sauntering a little ways further, she caught a glimpse of herself in a shop window. Her hair had grown out a little, and looked ruffled and casual. Her make-up was minimal, much less fussy than had been her norm, and she liked it. She looked like an ordinary small town girl.
Taking a few more steps, she caught herself. She’d neglected to make her customary cross to the other side of Main at the corner of Pine View, and was now about to pass the hardware store. What should she do? She’d intentionally avoided Sam since her unpleasant and, in retrospect, rather embarrassing freak-out over the blood that had turned out to be more smatter than splatter. At first she’d expected him to mention that he’d seen the appraisal she’d so carelessly left out. Now that nearly three weeks had passed and he’d politely stayed out of her way, it felt just plain childish to continue to ignore the elephant on the coffee table. She really should apologize.
She stepped forward, allowing a casual glance into the window, as if the arrangement of garden hoses held a particular interest. She slowed up. Where was he?
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.
“Well, well.” Mr. Roberts stopped whatever he was doing at a nearby shelf and walked toward her. His deeply-creased eyes filled with tenderness. “Is there something I can help you with, or did you just stop in to brighten my day?”
“That’s sweet of you, Mr. Roberts.”
“I hear from Nancy that your snack stand has turned into the place to be seen in our little burg.”
Grace smiled. “It’s doing quite well. Word’s gotten out that I’m opening in the afternoons, and I convinced Nancy to open the box office too. We’ve been talking up Pirates.” She tipped an insinuating look. “I’m sure you’ve heard opening weekend is sold-out.”
A slow smile extended across his face. “I’ve heard, and I couldn’t be more pleased. That old theatre deserves a hit.”
Grace smiled too. She knew Mr. Roberts cared about the theatre. A successful show would surely sway his thinking, whatever Sam thought. She just couldn’t believe Mr. Roberts would be so greedy as to let the theatre be torn down when there was a chance to save it. She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand like a New York traffic cop.
“He’s in the back.”
Grace’s brow creased. “The back?”
His focus shifted to something behind her, and she turned to see Sam approaching from the rear of the store, a large box in his arms. His eyes held a tentativeness that increased her unease.
“Afternoon.” His voice quavered as he set the box down on the floor near the front display window. “Is my dad helping you?”
“I’m busy at the moment.” Mr. Roberts appeared to have assumed a sudden fascination with the Juicy Fruit display next to the cash register.
Sam tossed him a look. “I’ll watch the front now, Dad, if you want to check in that shipment.”
Mr. Roberts slanted a knowing nod. “I can take a hint.” He waved a hand in the air. “I’ll be in the back room if you need anything.”
Grace turned to Sam, shifting nervously.
Clearly feeling as awkward as she did, he began removing sprinkler heads from the box and placing them on a shelf. “Heading in to work?”
Did she want to let on she’d come in just to see him? She took a few steps, lessening the gap between them. “In a minute. I just stopped in to pick up…” Her eyes darted around. She grabbed the first item her hand touched. “One of these.”
“No kidding.” His face broke into a snide grin. “It’s a darn good thing we keep a stock of blacksmithing guillotines on hand.”
She grimaced, feeling even more juvenile than before.
His grin turned to concern as he continued to empty the box. “Are you okay?”
She twisted her mouth. “I’m fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Removing the last sprinkler from the box, he started to rearrange them on the shelf. “Because I’ve been worried.”
Taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, she stammered. “W…why would you be worried?”
He made no attempt to conceal his too-keen perception. “It’s just that the last time we talked, you threw me out of your house, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Now that he’d brought it up, it hit her that she couldn’t give him the real reason for her strong reaction. Why had she opened this can of worms? “You caught me on a bad day. I try to limit my raging outbursts to one a week.”
He leaned a hand on the shelf and looked at her. “Oh. Well, if you actually schedule them, remind me to check your appointment book.”
“No, spontaneity is so much more effective.” They shared a restrained smile. “I’m sorry Sam.”
“It’s alright. It was a weird situation, I’ll admit.” He paused, facing her. “Can I ask you another question though?”
Her stomach buckled. Was he about to ask about the appraisal? What could she possibly say? She nodded, fearful that her voice might betray her anguish.
As he opened his mouth to speak, the bell over the door jingled, and his face dropped. Grace pivoted around just as Devon entered the store. A startled look crossed his face before turning to amusement. He took a few slow steps toward them.
“Good afternoon, Grace.” He arched an eyebrow, his icy gaze shifting toward Sam. “Roberts.”
Sam’s demeanor remained unshaken. “What can I help you with?”
Devon assumed a professional air as he cast an uneasy glance at Grace. “Actually, I’m here to drop something off for your father.” He patted his briefcase. “Is he in?”
Sam’s face remained neutral while his eyes filled with disdain. “He’s in the back.” He reached out a hand. “But I can take it.”
Devon’s lips parted in protest, then he shot Grace a quick glance and appeared to reconsider. Slowly, he opened the case and stepped toward Sam, blocking her view of what he passed to him. “If he has any questions, he has my number.”
Sam moved back, roughly clutching a stack of papers. “Oh yeah,” he sneered. “We’ve got your number.”
Confusion burrowed in Grace’s temples. What business did Devon have with Mr. Roberts?
Devon watched as Sam retreated toward the back of the store. He turned to Grace. “Well. Fancy meeting you here.”
She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes scanning the street outside. What if Sophia happened to walk by and see them together? She kept her voice low, pretending to examine the tiny bins of nails in front of her. “We haven’t gotten to talk. Is the painting ready?”
Devon relaxed his stance. He pegged her with a Bob Dylan squint, the corners of his mouth lifting in mirth. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about? That would be unusual. She kept her concern concealed. “But what does that mean?”
“It means it’s all taken care of.” His nonchalance could have rivaled Gandhi. “Just relax and think about what you can do with all that money.”
Her eyebrows shrugged. It wasn’t like the money was going toward anything fun. Still, knowing it was coming was a relief, and Devon’s efficiency reassured her.
“Everything is going according to plan.” He looked around casually as he spoke. “Pirates opens tomorrow, then I’ll be free.”
“That’s great.” A nervous flutter reminded her that they really hadn’t formed a plan for her departure. “So when—”
“In the meantime, I have things to do.” He raised his voice slightly, as if to remind her that this was too public a place for them to hold this conversation.
“Yes.” She twisted her fingers. “What were those papers about? Theatre business?”
His gaze shifted away, then immediately returned to her. “Yes. Theatre business.” He fl
ashed a perfect smile. “Well. See you at rehearsal.”
A vague unease filled her as he walked out the door. She heaved a sigh. That annoying Sophia had really managed to postpone her developing relationship with Devon. Oh well. Things would be different in New York.
Alone now, she glanced at her watch. It was past time for her to start prepping for business. She’d have a line waiting for coffee if she didn’t get a move on.
She turned to go, then stopped. For some reason, she felt awkward leaving without saying something to Sam. She started toward the back of the store, secure that at least now she had an excuse not to pursue their previous conversation. She’d just let him know she was going.
Treading around a case of paint stir sticks, she approached a door, aiming a knock beneath the hand-lettered word ‘Office’. As her fist was about to make contact, a female voice stopped her cold.
“I’m sick of it, Sam!”
Grace’s breath caught in her throat. Who was in there with him?
“I’m not exactly crazy about it either.” Sam’s voice was hushed, forcing Grace to lean in. “What do you want me to do?”
The woman’s volume pitched. “You know what needs to happen. We can’t go on the way we’ve been.”
“I just don’t—”
An involuntary gasp escaped Grace’s throat. The conversation came to an abrupt halt, and Grace panicked. She whirled around, intent on diving for the front door.
The office door clicked behind her. “Grace!”
Sam’s voice stopped her. Could he tell she’d been listening? She turned slowly, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a woman standing in the office. It was the woman from upstairs.
He took a few steps toward Grace. “Is something wrong?”
“Wr…wrong?” She knew her voice concealed nothing, as she backed awkwardly up the aisle. “Not at all. I just have to get going.”
Sam seemed unconvinced. He followed as she hurried toward the door “Okay. Well, maybe sometime we could—”
“I just have so much work to do.” She looked at him as she spoke, reaching behind her for the door handle. The bell over the door jingled, and Grace flicked her head around, facing the stony gaze of Sophia. Her heart fell. Something in the woman’s accusatory stare told her she’d been right to worry about her catching her with Devon. Thank goodness she hadn’t arrived five minutes sooner.
Saving Grace (Madison Falls) Page 20