Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (22 page)

Muffled music from the rehearsal next door seeped into her stand. She gritted her teeth. The enthusiasm of the performers hadn’t boosted them much above high school level, and the sound of their efforts only reminded her that Devon was in the next room. He hadn’t even stopped in to see her. She imagined him flirting with Sophia as they rehearsed, while Grace sweated it out in her tiny stand. There was no justice.

She opened the half-door, raised the unwieldy tub and carried it out into the lobby. It slipped between her damp fingers, and she imagined a cavalcade of clanging pitchers and filter baskets dropping to the floor. Wanting to avoid that added step to her clean-up process, she quickly set her load down on a table next to the front window.

Pausing, her eyes lifted to the scene outside. She loved this time of the evening when the sun had set and the sky turned to a deep purple. Casually, she craned her neck to glance up the street. The lights were on in the hardware store. Frowning, she checked her watch. Sam must be working late. What was with that guy, anyway? He had so many problems, but sometimes he just seemed so…different. He worked hard for his dad, and he’d done so much to help her.

His story about his mom had weighed on Grace’s mind all day, especially after Glo had helped her put that final piece into the puzzle. She wanted to believe in something, and what they said just made sense.

Another nagging thought had taken up residence in her mind.
The painting.
How could she sell it without admitting to Sam what she’d done? His dad needed money. Maybe if she offered him a portion of the proceeds he’d reconsider selling the theatre. It was worth a try.

She checked her watch again. There was still a little while before the show ended. This would be a good time to catch him. Cleaning up could wait.

As she readjusted her grip on the tub, something across the street caught her eye.

The light had flicked off in the windows of the hardware store. The door opened, and Sam stepped out into the shadows. Her heart quickened. If she wanted to talk to him, she’d have to move fast.

Leaving the tub on the table, she moved quickly for the front door and bounded out to the porch. From the top step, she looked up again, expecting to see him walking toward his truck, which was parked up the street as always. Instead, he was walking briskly in the other direction—toward the theatre. She smiled. Maybe he was on his way to see her.

She took a step down and a light popped on in a lace-curtained window above the hardware store. She stopped as Sam looked up, then stepped into the shadowed entryway of the second floor apartment. He reached out to press the doorbell, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Grace’s stomach jumped as she moved back into the shadows of the porch.

A moment later, the corner door swung open, unveiling a bathrobed woman silhouetted by a dim light. Grace peered around the porch railing as the woman flung her arms, speaking animatedly. Both she and Sam cast watchful glances up and down the street, before she grabbed his arm, pulled him inside and shut the door.

Grace’s breath vacated her lungs. Even in that dim light she could see what was going on. Back to pick up his tools, perhaps? She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was definitely not
his
woman.

Another woman. An
other
woman.
The worm.

Feeling a little numb, she withdrew to the lobby. Just when she’d been ready to give the guy a second chance, his true character came shining through again. She retrieved the tub and slammed it down on the counter. Boy, if that didn’t just prove that you could never trust what a person appeared to be on the outside. Everybody had secrets.

Music echoed from the rehearsal next door, jarring Grace into action. At least now she could shake her conscience free of her guilt about the painting. Sam had said it was his dad who needed the money, but had he just said that to mask his own greed? She sneered at the thought, pushing a stray hair from her face as she resumed cleaning. He’d probably go ahead and sell to Langley even if she did offer him half her money. What would be the point?

She closed the lower section of the door and turned to tidy a stack of cups. This building was old anyway—a firetrap, Nancy had said. Maybe it would do the town good to get a makeover. The casino wouldn’t be so bad. It would provide jobs and lots of tourist trade. Besides, it wasn’t her problem.

A noise from behind escorted her out of her thoughts. She turned to see a masculine figure appear at her counter.

“I wanted to beat the crowd.” Devon gave her a warm smile, as if he expected warmth in return.

Grace firmed her mouth as tension rose from her like mist on the moors. She wanted to have it out over his deception, but this wasn’t the place. The audience would be pouring out soon and she expected some business from the rehearsal crowd as well. She tightened her lips. “Hello Devon. What can I do for you?”

His eyebrow tweaked slightly. “Decaf Americano with a warning.”

Grace’s cheeks caught fire. A warning? Had Ruby said something to him? Adrenaline surged through her like electricity.

“What kind of warning?” She lowered her voice to conceal its nervous vibrato.

He leaned in, his face scant inches from hers. “The cast and crew from next door are going to bombard you with coffee orders the second they get out of rehearsal. I thought you should know.”

Grace closed her eyes and gulped in air, then forced a weak smile. “Thanks.” She turned and started to scoop coffee grounds into a filter basket.

“Tip jar’s paying off.” Though his words were casual, his tone sounded tense.

She cocked her mouth to one side, intentionally avoiding his gaze. “Seems to be.” She poured his drink just as the theatre doors swung open, spewing out the happy post-show crowd.

Devon took the cup she offered, brushing his hand against hers. He set down the cup and pulled out his wallet, handing her a five. “Allow me to add my own show of appreciation.” He dropped something into the jar, and stepped back just as Lucy and Bob reached the counter.

In spite of the flash of harshness as she eyed Devon, Lucy was aglow with theatrical delight. “Grace! The show was so well-done. I was on the edge of my seat. That poor girl.” She shook her head at the plight of the main character. “We can’t wait to see how they do with
Pirates
. And you’re not going to believe this, but Bob wants another latte.”

Grace raised her eyebrows at Bob. “Oh, a convert.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Devon lingering by the window. Was he waiting for her? Nerves pinged through her like a pinball. She hated confrontation, but it had to be done. She would not be two-timed, and if he really wanted to cast her as Carmen, she’d have to make it clear now that their relationship was strictly professional.

The lobby was soon packed with patrons and pirates. Grace’s fingers flew as she tried to satisfy their beverage needs. A flutter of anxiety twitched in her chest. This was the biggest crowd she’d had so far, and Salvatore was getting feisty.

A moment later, she whirled around with a double mint mocha in her hand and nearly smacked into Lucy, who had edged her way into the booth with a pen and a pad of post-its.

“Lucy, you don’t have to—”

“I’m here to serve. Besides, we’re walking you home, and we’d be here all night at the rate you were going.” She grinned and stuck a pink paper square to Grace’s forehead.

Grace chuckled. Who was she to argue?

A whir of brewing and steaming followed. Lucy’s line of post-it orders on the countertop soon dwindled, and Grace scrambled to pour the final drink.

“Double tall non-fat decaf latte,” she announced. “The espresso stand I used to go to calls this a Double Tall Nothing.” She turned to hand the hot cup to the one remaining patron, but stopped mid-spin.

On the other side of the counter stood Sophia, her lips pinched in a wicked glower and her eyes bright with ire. She reached out her claw-sharpened hand. A self-satisfied look spread across her harsh face like butter on a hot grill.

“Thanks for the coffee, dear.” Her voice sounded pinched. “Next time be a little quicker.” A condescending perusal of Grace was her parting shot before she turned and walked toward the window.

The lobby was so packed, it would have resembled a gallery opening had there been any artwork left on the walls. Grace struggled to see through the mingling crowd. Devon still hovered by the window, but when Sophia approached, he stood at attention. Sophia said something to him and kept walking but his eyes fixed on Grace.

She weakened at the sight of his pleading gaze. Her heart told her to go to him, but her feet remained planted in place. In her moment of indecision, he turned and followed Sophia out the front door.

“Well,” Lucy sounded uncharacteristically snide. “She always has been the jealous type.”

Grace’s eyes snapped toward Lucy. “Yes, I guess so.”

Lucy gave Grace a wide smile. “Nice to see you giving her something to be jealous
of
.”

Surprised at Lucy’s apparent turn-around in her opinion of Devon, Grace regretted not going to him. Her heart ached. She and Devon seemed so perfectly suited for each other, and he was worth fighting for.

Lucy picked up a towel and started to wipe the counter. “By the way, I’ve considered your offer. I’ll play under one condition. That Myra gets to stay. We have two keyboards. It’ll be fine.

Grace tilted a smile. She had so much else on her mind, she’d nearly forgotten her concern for the show.

“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?”