Grace to the Finish

by Julie Hyzy

  “And his blood type,” Joe said. “But type O, unfortunately, is the most common. Not much help.”

  “What about Virginia’s blood type?”

  He pointed. “B-positive.”

  “That’s the same as mine.”

  “I doubt that you had anything to do with Virginia’s death.”

  I smiled, thinking about how my blood type, my mother’s, and Bennett’s were all the same. “Your confidence is well placed. But that means, at least, that it couldn’t have been her daughter, right? Because a B-positive mother couldn’t have a type O daughter?”

  He shook his head. “It’s entirely possible that a type B individual could parent an O child. There are alleles and antigens at work behind the scenes.”

  I twisted my mouth, concentrating. “This is starting to sound like my high school biology class.”

  He laughed, then sobered. “Sorry to say that this doesn’t clear Virginia’s daughter.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I don’t really consider her a viable suspect. Not sure if Rodriguez or Flynn do, either. She had too much to gain by her mother staying alive.”

  Ethan must have taken the earlier hint because we didn’t see him again until he arrived to deliver our dinner order. Joe quickly slapped the manila folder shut.

  As the music from the main floor surrounded us, warming me with memories that stretched back to high school dances, we dug into our meals and moved away from topics of car accidents and murders. Gradually, I realized that our initial awkwardness was long gone and that conversation had became effortless.

  Joe maintained eye contact whenever I was speaking. He smiled easily and often, and if he had one noticeable habit, it was scratching his chin with the side of his hand whenever it was his turn to talk as he paused to consider his words.

  He was telling me a story about his first year in med school when my phone rang.

  I frowned at my purse.

  “Go ahead and get that if you want,” he said. “It may be Rodriguez calling you with an update on the guy who’s been following you.”

  “Thanks.” I reached for the little device and glanced at the caller ID. I frowned again. “It’s the Marshfield Inn calling, which is very unusual for them. I assume it’s work-related,” I said, but feared otherwise.

  Joe started to boost himself from his side of the table. “Do you want some privacy?”

  I waved him back down. “No, please stay. This shouldn’t take long.” I hoped it wouldn’t take long.

  I was disappointed, though not entirely surprised, to hear my Aunt Belinda’s voice on the other end. “What’s all that music in the background? Where are you, Grace?”

  “I’m out with a friend,” I said, shrugging at Joe. I didn’t like being put on the spot and feeling defensive. “Why, is something wrong?”

  “You’re darned right it is. You’re carousing out on the town when you brought me here to help your sister. I didn’t expect to handle everything by my lonesome.”

  I bit back a retort. “What’s going on? What is it you need?”

  “I need you. Here. Right now.”

  Most of the time I could easily dismiss my aunt’s flair for the dramatic, but because she was staying on Marshfield property and interacting with employees I valued, I pressed her for details.

  “What exactly do you need me to do?” I asked, slowing my words in an effort to express a measure of calm.

  “Welcome your sister back into society, for one.”

  Her words took an extra second to register. “What do you mean? Liza isn’t scheduled to get out until Tuesday.”

  “She’s here now,” Aunt Belinda said. “And she needs a place to stay. This suite of yours only has the one bed. She needs a room, too. And they won’t give her a room without charging her unless you okay it. Poor Liza doesn’t have your deep pockets. She can’t afford a room in this place.”

  Speechless from surprise, I glanced up to see Joe’s intent gaze and furrowed brow. I waved weakly, as though to diminish his concern. A hundred thoughts zipped through my brain at once, but I focused on the key issue and moved the phone away from my ear long enough to check the time. “It’s eight o’clock at night and you’re telling me that Liza was just released. I find that hard to believe.”

  “Of course, she didn’t just get released. It’s taken us this long to get back to the hotel.”

  My head spun. “From where?” Aunt Belinda didn’t drive. The plan had been for me to pick Liza up at the prison. I’d intended to use the drive back to make it clear to my sister that my assistance, as well as Bennett’s, came with strings attached. No more thievery, no more lying. Liza would have to make an effort to get a job and learn to support herself. “How did she get there?”

  “I hired a car to pick her up.”

  That must have cost a small fortune. And my aunt was not a wealthy woman. Before I could comment, she added, “Liza got in this afternoon.”

  “And you’re just letting me know now?”

  “We’ve been a little busy.” Her cagey tone infuriated me. A second later, she asked, “Do you want to talk with your sister?”

  “No.” I rubbed my forehead then glanced over at Joe. He offered a wan smile. Helpless and frustrated, I could only shrug.

  Ethan stopped by to check on our progress. I turned away, allowing Joe to handle whatever disposal of our leftovers he decided on.

  “I will talk with the team at the hotel,” I said, “to see if they have any availability. I’ll call you back shortly and let you know what we come up with.”

  “Your sister is tired. It’s been a long day. She needs a room right now, not sometime later tonight. Can’t you understand that?”

  I fought to keep my tone under control. “I hope you understand that you’ve caught me at an inopportune time with an unreasonable request.”

  She huffed. “What’s so unreasonable? Doesn’t your sister deserve something as basic as her own room? How can you be so selfish, Grace? Your mother didn’t raise you to be so cruel.”

  If I hadn’t lived with this constant one-sided perspective, I may have taken offense. But right now all I cared about was tamping out this particular fire as quickly and with as little collateral damage as I could.

  “I’ll call you back shortly,” I said again. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Where would I go?” she asked.

  I hung up.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned to Joe. “Sorry about that,” I said. Our table had been cleared.

  He wore a puzzled, wary expression. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  I almost laughed. “Don’t I wish.”

  Ethan showed up at the table again, this time bearing two take-home containers. He asked if we wanted dessert and I demurred. Joe asked for the check.

  As soon as Ethan was gone, Joe pointed to the containers. “I live on leftovers, but I didn’t know how you felt about them,” he said. “I got yours boxed up, just in case.”

  “Leftovers are great,” I said. “Dinner was delicious and I hate to waste.”

  He smiled then, as though pleased that he’d made a good choice.

  I waited a couple of beats, then said, “About the phone call . . .”

  “No pressure, remember?” he said. “I’m happy to listen to whatever you care to tell me. It sounds as though you’re dealing with a lot.”

  I nodded.

  “Believe me, I get it. It’s tough to share personal stuff.”

  Ethan returned with the check, and both Joe and I reached for it at once.

  “Please,” he said. “Let me get this.”

  Something in his eyes told me that my best decision was to remove my hand. “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate it. And I had a wonderful time. Up until, well, up until now.” I pulled my phone out again. “I do have t
o make another call. Do you mind?”

  He slid his credit card into the leather folder and pointed in the direction of the restrooms. “I’ll give you a little privacy.”

  Fortunately, the Marshfield Inn had open rooms and I was able to arrange accommodations for Liza in short order. I called my aunt back and told her that the hotel staff couldn’t relocate Liza into a new room until I arrived to authorize the move. In truth, I wanted the chance to impress upon Liza the importance of behaving herself now that she’d returned to Emberstowne.

  “Don’t be too late,” Aunt Belinda said. “We’re both exhausted from our very busy day.”

  Again the sly tone. The emphasis on “busy.”

  “I’ll be there when I can,” I said and hung up.

  Joe returned, leaned forward, and said, “I really had a nice time.”

  “So have I,” I said. “I’m only sorry to end it with aggravation.”

  I should have made a move to leave, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to rush off the moment my aunt beckoned and show up at Marshfield Inn ready to render assistance the way dependable, reliable, soft-touch Grace always had before.

  For once, they could wait.

  Ethan returned, but before he could pick up the leather folder, Joe placed his hand on top of it and shot me a look that held a silent question. I hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

  “On second thought,” he said to the waiter, “we’d like another round.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m not ready to face reality just yet.”

  “So tell me,” he said when our fresh drinks arrived, “who’s Liza?”

  Chapter 17

  I finished a second martini before we called it a night. Truth is, I’d been sorely tempted to order a third, but good sense prevailed. I still had much to do this evening.

  I thanked Joe for both the lovely dinner and for his nonjudgmental expressions of support. “Talk about dumping too much on a person all at once,” I said as we made our way out of the restaurant. “I had no intention of telling you all about my sister tonight.”

  “I’m glad you did,” he said. “It’s a good reminder that we all have stressors. Some that aren’t obvious.” He offered a shy smile. “Which makes it that much easier to share my situation with you. But not today,” he amended quickly. “You need to get your sister settled and I need to be up early tomorrow.”

  “Next time?” I asked.

  “Next time for sure,” he said. “I just hope you won’t be sorry you asked.” Brightening, he gestured toward his car. “You mentioned that you walked here. Do you need a ride?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to decline, then thought better of it. “A ride home would be great.”

  I don’t know what I expected: another mention of a future date; a peck on the cheek; a move toward something more? But when Joe dropped me off at my front door, he merely said good night, smiled, and was off again.

  I waved until he was out of sight, then let myself in.

  My little tuxedo cat Bootsie bounded over to greet me, but from the silence surrounding us, I deduced that Bruce and Scott were already upstairs and settled in for the night.

  One of the perks of being a joint owner of Marshfield Manor was having a driver on call whenever I needed. Up until now, I hadn’t availed myself of this particular benefit, but two martinis meant no time behind the wheel for me tonight.

  • • •

  “Took you long enough,” Aunt Belinda said when she opened her hotel room door. Stepping back to allow me to enter, she gestured toward my sister, who sat slumped in one of the room’s guest chairs, staring at a reality show rerun on TV.

  Liza shot me a derisive glance when I walked in. “About time.”

  I held back my reaction. Gone was Liza’s chestnut mane. Her pixie-short hair was darker than usual. Her face pale and gaunt. She wore a plaid shirt over a tank and blue jeans that looked new. Her eyes were rimmed red and her feet were bare.

  “Nice to see you, too, Liza.” I held up a cardboard packet that held keys for the new room. “And look. I was able to get you on the same floor. Right down the hall, in fact.”

  She bounded up to strip the packet from my hands. I yanked it out of reach.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked. “I’m tired and I’m cranky and all I want is to go to bed.”

  “You’re always cranky,” I said without any bitterness. It was the truth.

  Aunt Belinda picked up the remote and shut off the television. “We’re both very tired, Grace. I’m surprised at your selfishness, coming so late.”

  “I’m surprised you’re here,” I said to Liza. “What happened?”

  “What happened is you weren’t there for me like you said you would be. Again.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin toward our aunt. “If it wasn’t for Belinda, I’d probably still be there, waiting for you and your empty promises to pick me up.”

  Aunt Belinda, I silently corrected. “You weren’t supposed to get out until Tuesday,” I reminded her.

  “There was a plumbing issue at the prison,” Aunt Belinda said as she stepped between us. “They had to relocate Liza’s entire block and the other sections were already overcrowded. Anyone with a release date in the immediate future got a reprieve.”

  “Lucky you,” I said.

  Liza held out a hand. “Can I have my key now?”

  “First, a couple of things.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess: rules. That’s all you ever care about. You didn’t even ask what it was like in jail. You don’t care about me. You only care that I follow your orders.”

  I held back saying that if she’d followed my advice the last time she was here, she never would have been arrested in the first place. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But as long as I’m covering your expenses—and from the looks of it, that promises to be a long time—we need to set some guidelines.”

  Before she could interrupt with another complaint, I started in.

  “Your apartment will be ready Monday, and until then, you and Aunt Belinda are here as my guests. Don’t abuse that privilege. While the staff will do their best to keep you happy, they’re not to be mistreated. Don’t talk down to them.”

  “We’re staying here until you find me a better apartment,” Liza said. “I saw the pictures you sent Belinda. The place is a hole.”

  “It’s brand-new construction in a vibrant part of town. Hardly a hole,” I said. “Close enough to walk to work. Once you get a job, that is.”

  “Whatever.” She gave a head waggle. “But it’s so small. Did you see the size of the rooms?”

  “Stop,” I said, holding my hand up. “It’s a lovely place; it has two bedrooms and two baths. And best of all, it will be affordable once you get a job. Oh wait, did I mention getting a job?”

  Liza made a move toward me, but Aunt Belinda restrained her with a light touch on her forearm.

  “You’re sitting pretty on millions of dollars and you’re talking to me about getting a job? Where’s your loyalty?” Liza asked.

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” I said. “It’s called tough love. And really, with the apartment you’re moving into, life isn’t going to be all that tough. It’s about time you take responsibility for yourself.”

  Liza faced our aunt. “She always does this. Makes it sound like she’s the angel and I’m the devil. I do everything wrong. She does everything right, and if I don’t follow exactly what she tells me to do, she makes me pay for it later.”

  “For now, honey,” Aunt Belinda said as she gave me the side-eye. “Maybe we ought to do what Grace suggests. Just for now. Our time will come.”

  My aunt’s not-so-subtle reminder of their intent to badger Bennett into sharing his fortune with Liza did not escape my notice.

  “Bennett is a busy man,” I said. “Any and all
communication with him goes through me.” And I will head off every attempt to exploit him.

  “Of course,” Liza said. “That’s the exact same line you handed me last time I was here. You want to keep everything for yourself. What a shame. Like our aunt said, Mom and Dad didn’t raise you to be so selfish. What happened?”

  “I think we’re done here,” I said, dropping the packet of keys onto the dresser next to me. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “You were never there for me, even when we were growing up,” Liza said to my back as I navigated my way around their belongings.

  I ignored her.

  “Like that time I got suspended in fifth grade.” Her voice rose. “You didn’t stand up for me.”

  I spun. “Don’t try to rewrite history, Liza. You were a bully. Little Josefina was afraid to come to school because of you. You were horrid to her.”

  “She was prissy. She deserved to be knocked down.”

  I locked eyes with Aunt Belinda as if to ask, “You see how she is?”

  My aunt bit her bottom lip and looked away.

  “I’m leaving,” I said unnecessarily.

  “What about the time I got hit by a car?” Liza lurched across the room and grabbed my arm. “I was five years old and I wanted my big sister. You didn’t come visit me in the hospital. Not one time.”

  “I wanted to,” I said quietly. “You know I did.”

  “I remember that.” Aunt Belinda stepped closer to Liza and began petting her shoulder. “We were all so frightened because you lost so much blood. But you were strong. And now you’re even stronger.”

  “Even Aunt Belinda came to visit me,” Liza’s voice rose again. “She came all the way from Florida to Chicago. But was my sister there? No.”

  “What? You think I faked having chicken pox to avoid coming to see you?” I asked, angry to hear the strain in my own voice. “They wouldn’t even let me sit in the hospital waiting room. I had to go stay with the neighbors.” Regaining control, I blew out a breath. “Don’t change the facts to fit your version of the story. You know I wanted to come see you. I was just a kid. I had no power. I wrote you letters. I made you cards.”