by Unknown
Fuck. Tears welled and Torrie had to swallow them back.
Crying over spilled milk was what her aunt always scolded her about as a kid. Well, tough. She was going to damn well cry over that spilled milk now and everyone else be damned.
The championship dinner had long ago been consumed and most of the night’s participants had drifted off to their hotel rooms or to the airport. Torrie and Diana sat together at a corner table over glasses of wine, Torrie needing Diana’s company tonight. Her partner, Becky, had left for their room moments ago.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Diana asked in that way she had—curious without being judgmental.
Torrie didn’t try to deny her need to talk. Months ago, she might have, but she was different now. She was beginning to see, or at least feel, the collateral damage of keeping things bottled up. When her emotions welled, as they did now, they would spill eventually, and it was better if she directed where they went. She was no expert, but she was at least beginning to learn that her feelings were real and they ran deep and they were a part of her.
She told Diana all about Grace and all that had happened between them. Diana let Torrie talk. She nodded in reply and sipped her wine, her eyes riveted on Torrie.
“So what are you going to do about it, Torrie?” It was just like Diana to zero in on the one question that needed asking. She was good at distilling an issue, no matter how complicated it was.
Torrie had to do something, because she could not get Grace out of her heart. Getting back on the Tour hadn’t put any distance between them. In fact, it only made missing Grace worse. Her need for Grace was like a gaping hole in her soul. She took a sip of wine, no closer to an answer after stalling for a few minutes. “I’m not sure, Diana.”
“You know, my grandma always told me that it’s often the simplest answer that’s the right one.”
“And the simple answer would be to go after her,” Torrie said without hesitation.
“So why haven’t you?”
Yes. Why hadn’t she? At first she was angry, disappointed, wanting to stew in her own self-pity and pessimism. She’d thought of all the reasons why she and Grace couldn’t be together. Thought of all her shortcomings, and Grace’s too, and realized they didn’t add up to a workable relationship. But with time, the obstacles and arguments in her mind dulled a little, the way any pain did after awhile. Now there was just an emptiness and a regret for what might have been.
“Well?” Diana gently prodded.
Whatever she said would sound lame, even to her own ears. “I don’t know the first clue about how to make a real relationship work, Diana.”
“Well, here’s a secret, my friend. Most of us don’t. Once we’re in it, we just hang on for the ride and hope that love and respect and hard work are enough.”
Torrie shook her head. “I don’t like jumping into something without being prepared. Without being ready to do my very best.”
“Oh, Torrie. She’ll forgive you for not being an expert at it, you know. Love forgives a lot of things.”
Torrie supposed that was so, or at least she hoped it was. But would she be able to forgive herself too, for not scoring an ace every day in a life with Grace? What if she disappointed Grace? Made a mistake? What if she wasn’t a good partner?
“You won’t have the answers to your doubts unless you try, Torrie.”
“I know that, Diana.” The question remained. Did she even have a chance with Grace anymore? Had Grace found someone else by now? Had she written Torrie off completely? More to the point, could Torrie swallow her pride and her insecurities and just go for it?
Torrie finished the last of her wine and reached for her wallet.
“I got it, Torrie.”
“Hey,” Torrie said breezily. “You won today. I wanted drinks to be on me.”
Diana rewarded her with a conspiratorial smile. “I have a feeling you’re about to win something much bigger, my friend.”
After a heartfelt hug, Torrie retrieved her cell phone from her room and dialed Catie’s number. She would need her and Trish’s help.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Well, that was fun. Not!” Trish exclaimed as the waitress took away the remnants of their lunch. She looked exhausted and relieved and a touch nervous.
They’d spent the morning with their business manager, James, trying to iron out plans to scale back their work. He’d been shocked and incredulous and more than a little perturbed when they first announced their wishes. He was their friend and pledged to do everything he could to get them out of their long-term contracts, but he didn’t pretend to understand. Trish joked that he’d obviously never been in love, and James reluctantly admitted as much, saying the only thing he was in love with was money.
“He’ll get over it,” Grace said, not entirely sure he would.
“You’d think it was a major catastrophe, the way he went on about how much money it’s going to cost us to get out of the new restaurant.”
It was true. The penalties of reneging on their contracts in Manhattan were going to cost them a bundle, but Trish and Grace both agreed it was still worth it.
“James will just have to find someone else to hitch his wagon to, that’s all. He’ll still love us, though.”
“You’re right. He will. Who else would put up with him?” Trish’s expression grew pained. “It’s going to be really busy for us the next few months before things slow down. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Grace smiled, wanting to reassure her. They would tape all twenty-six of their television show episodes in October and November and do a small book signing tour before that. By December, she hoped to be able to breathe again. “I’ll be fine. I’m not as fragile as you think.”
“I know you’re not, Grace. You’re the strongest woman I know. I just worry about you, that’s all.”
“Why? Because I don’t have anyone to go home to at the end of the day?”
Trish averted her eyes. “I guess I worry about you being alone.”
“Oh, hell, Trish. I’ve been alone for years.”
“All right. I meant happy.”
Happy was something Grace couldn’t casually guarantee, and Trish knew it. Grace still replayed in her mind her last moments with Torrie, still questioned whether she’d done the right thing in not going after her. In letting her get away so easily. She’d had her doubts, and Trish was certainly keen to remind her that she’d made a catastrophic mistake in not going after Torrie. In fact, Grace had heard nothing but that the last few weeks.
“Trish, I’m fine. Really,” she muttered, trying to turn up the bullshit factor. She wasn’t fine because she missed Torrie. But she would be fine again one day.
Trish looked doubtful but stood to go, signaling her desire to let the topic drop. Grace knew from years of experience that Trish never truly let anything drop. The other shoe was still to fall, she was sure.
“So I’ll meet you at the concert tonight?” Grace asked.
“I might be a bit late, so don’t wait out front for me, okay? I’ve got my ticket, so I’ll see you inside.”
“Don’t be too late. We might never see Herbie Hancock and Diana Krall together again.”
Trish grinned. “You just want to watch Diana Krall all night and get all hot for her. Are you even going to be listening to the music?”
Grace swatted Trish. “Don’t try to push your little fantasies onto me.”
Trish laughed before hugging Grace good-bye.
The concert started off vigorously, with Herbie Hancock playing a couple of raucous tunes on the ivories, his fingers moving with grace and astonishing adeptness. Diana Krall joined him on stage, and they performed a couple of swing songs, then settled into “East of the Sun” and “Let’s Fall In Love.” The crowd was loving it, and Grace tried to let Diana’s deep, sultry voice send her into a mellow, dreamy state, as it usually did when she listened to her music. But Trish still hadn’t shown up, and Grace was worried.
At interm
ission, Grace bolted for the lobby and dialed Trish’s cell phone number. It went immediately into voice mail. There was no answer at her house either. Her mind thought of a hundred excuses that might be keeping the usually punctual Trish from the concert. After she raced through all the morbid reasons, she decided to stay positive, thinking Catie had perhaps arrived in town unexpectedly.
Grace slipped back into her seat and vowed that if Trish didn’t show or leave her a phone message by the third song of the second set, she would leave and try to track her down. She settled back as the lights dimmed, feeling uneasy.
Torrie cursed the traffic for the hundredth time, then cursed herself for cutting the timing so close. She practically leaped from the taxi before it even halted in front of the concert hall. She rushed in and flashed her ticket to an usher. The auditorium was dim, all the lighting focused brightly on the stage and on the blond singer holding the microphone like a torch. Ungracefully, Torrie made her way down the aisle, trying not to draw attention to herself, but she felt like a blind person, going by feel.
Finally, in the shadows, she saw Grace, or someone she thought was Grace. The profile looked the same, with the strong nose and cheekbones, but her hair was short. Softly, Torrie sat down. She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed that Grace didn’t notice her right away.
Trying to take up as little space as she could, she watched the concert and tried to concentrate on the duet “Dream a Little Dream of Me.” Her palms were sweating, and when she felt Grace’s eyes burning into her and heard the sharp intake of breath, she froze. Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Torrie briefly considered fleeing. She thought she was prepared to see Grace again, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Torrie?” came a strangled whisper. “What are you doing here?”
Torrie forced a smile that felt like torture and turned to Grace. She wanted to touch her but didn’t dare, and instead tried to find a way past her sudden lack of coherent thought. She’d rehearsed what she would say, how she would act. Now all she had was a blank slate. “Can we talk?”
Grace stared at her for a long moment, her face unreadable in the dim light. Hastily, she stood and, clutching her small purse to her hip, made her way through the narrow aisle crowded with knees and feet. Torrie followed, and several muttered apologies later, they were in the bright lobby, the sounds of the concert faint like a whisper.
“Where’s Trish?” Grace sounded worried.
“She’s fine.” Torrie was relieved to find her voice again. “She and I arranged this a while back. I have her ticket.” She pulled the crumpled stub from her pocket like it was a winning lottery ticket. “I wanted to surprise you, but the traffic from Logan to here was crazy.”
Tiny frown lines had formed around Grace’s mouth and between her eyes. Torrie wanted nothing more than to kiss them away, and then they suddenly smoothed out, like the stilling of water. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Grace’s tone was neutral, and Torrie still couldn’t tell whether Grace was happy to see her or not. She braced herself for disappointment. “Can we go somewhere? To talk?”
Grace’s eyes flicked to the door and back. “The hotel across the street has a nice bar.”
“No.” Torrie shook her head. She was adamant about wanting to be alone with Grace. She’d waited this long to see her, and she didn’t want a hasty, public meeting. She was too afraid it would make it easy for Grace to dismiss her. “I want us to talk. In private.”
Grace considered for a long moment. “My place is only a few blocks away. Near Bunker Hill. Would you like to walk?”
Torrie happily agreed and was even happier when Grace automatically took her arm. It was a warm, humid night, a slight haze covering the stars, like gauze. “I’m sorry about missing the rest of the concert. We could have stayed, you know.”
Grace gave her a sideways glance. “I don’t think that would have been a good idea.”
Was this a good idea, going to Grace’s? Torrie couldn’t be sure. She felt as though a big, yawning crevasse was opening in front of her, about to swallow her up. Yet she was compelled to keep moving forward, to keep plunging on, to go one more round with Grace in the hopes of winning her back. It was like starting out a golf tournament with a bogey or two and battling back, and she wanted this battle. She was more sure than ever how she felt about Grace. She knew in her depths that this woman was most definitely worth the fight.
“I like your haircut, by the way.” Actually, Torrie loved it. It made Grace look youthful and fun, and best of all, it showcased her beautiful face.
“Thanks. How’s your shoulder?”
They rounded the corner of one hilly, narrow street to another, and Grace pointed to a five-story white, stonewashed building just ahead. It was majestic and looked a century old, with wide marble steps leading up to it.
“Hurt like a bugger in last week’s tournament, but I managed.”
Grace slid a card into a security scanner to unlock the front door. “I heard you did really well, Torrie. Congratulations.”
“I didn’t win.”
“I know.”
Grace was playing it so cool. Did she even care that Torrie had gone back to the Tour? Did she care that she had just fallen short of a win? Did she care that she was here now?
In the elevator, Grace punched a special code into the keypad. “I have the fifth floor to myself.”
“Nice.” Torrie was looking forward to seeing Grace’s private sanctuary. She had a feeling it would be both tasteful and cozy.
When the elevator door opened onto the top floor, Grace used a key to unlock a fancy iron gate before they could exit. Then they were suddenly standing in her foyer, with its fourteen-foot vaulted ceiling, crystal chandelier and marble floor.
“Wow, Grace! This is spectacular.”
Remy came barreling into the foyer at the sound of their voices, his tail a wagging blur.
“Hey, buddy,” Torrie said, dropping to the floor to let him give her sloppy kisses.
“He missed you.”
“I missed you too, Remy. Have you been a good boy?”
She hugged him one last time and jumped to her feet. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m happy you two like each other.”
“You are?”
Grace smiled. The ice was definitely melting. “Anyway, the rest of the place is not as formal as this. Come on. I’ll take you on a tour.”
She led Torrie into the living room first, where the high ceilings continued. The floors were oak, the fireplace marble, and the windows were at least twelve feet high and spanned an entire wall. A thick, rich area rug of red and gold made the room instantly cozy, and the chocolate brown furniture was inviting. The kitchen was just as impressive, with its white oak cupboards, black granite counters and ceramic tiled floor.
Grace pointed out the six-burner, stainless steel gas range. “That little baby is my pride and joy.”
“Do you do a lot of cooking at home?”
“I usually try out new recipes here. Especially when we’re researching for a cookbook or our TV show.” She pulled open the large, double-door stainless steel fridge and retrieved a bottle of white wine. “Would you like a glass? I know I could sure use one.”
“Sure,” Torrie said, not quite knowing how to take Grace’s comment about needing a drink. It occurred to her that Grace was as nervous as she was. They were being civil, friendly even, and that, at least, was encouraging.
Glasses in hand, Grace led Torrie to the master bedroom. Torrie couldn’t take her eyes off the king-sized bed with its sage green duvet and oversized pillows. She wondered what it would be like to wake up with Grace in this room every morning, to start their day together right here with a soft kiss and a final snuggle before the day’s demands began to crowd in on them. The light caught a framed photo on the nightstand beside the bed, and Torrie stepped closer to look at it. She felt a flutter of excitement when she realized it was the picture of her a
nd Grace with Catie and Trish posing beside the cake at the golf tournament in Hartford.
Grace must have caught her grinning and staring at the photo because she shifted uncomfortably and began chattering nervously. Torrie resisted the invitation to see the guest bedroom and the third bedroom, which, Grace explained, was her office.
Torrie put her hand softly on Grace’s arm. “Why don’t we go to the living room and talk?”
She noticed immediately the nervous catch in her voice when Grace replied, “Okay.”
Torrie bravely chose the couch—a subtle challenge to see whether Grace would sit beside her. Grace didn’t, instead choosing an adjacent matching chair. She looked lovely—the wine infusing a hint of rosiness in her cheeks, her nervous energy giving her a bit of an edge.
“Are you happy to see me, Grace?”
Assorted emotions flickered instantly across Grace’s face— anguish, fear, excitement. “I don’t quite know what to think, Torrie. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”
“It’s my fault.” Torrie unexpectedly felt her eyes moisten. “I should have believed you. I should have trusted you and given us more time. I wanted to. I guess I was afraid. I thought I would lose you, that you might pick her over me.” Torrie was rambling, but she had to get it all out. “I was afraid I wasn’t deserving of you. I didn’t believe in myself enough. I didn’t believe in us enough.”
Grace only nodded, slow and deliberate, like a professor grading an oral presentation from her student. “And now you do?”
Torrie moved to the edge of the seat cushion. “Yes. Yes, Grace. I do.”
“I haven’t heard from you in months. I thought you were okay with how we left things. That you didn’t want to see me again. Why did you wait all this time?”
Torrie was relieved at the slight tremor in Grace’s voice. It meant she was every bit as scared and nervous as Torrie. “I always wanted to see you again, baby. Every day.” She had to take a sip of wine to quench the desert her mouth had become.
“Then why didn’t you…” Grace’s voice dropped off. She looked hurt and confused.
