Picturing Gracie with a swollen belly was strangely erotic, and at the same time, brought tears to Merett’s eyes.
* * *
Merett waited outside until Frank came back to give him the news. Then he drove straight to Gracie’s house. “The variance is yours,” he said, swinging her around. “You can continue to operate Special Effects in this house.”
She gasped “How?”
He told her about Mrs. Jarvis, the sign he remembered seeing, and calling Frank.
Gracie slipped her arms around his neck, and pushed his hair back. “You’ve come to my rescue again. What would I do without you?”
“Aw, shucks,” he said, clowning. “It was nothing.”
“Tell me all about it,” she insisted, leading him to the couch in the sitting room.
“The mayor-seamstress relationship was Frank’s ace in the hole, but there were other businesses besides Lizzie’s, so he didn’t have to resort to political maneuvers.” Gracie nodded her approval, and Merett pulled out the cigar Frank gave him. “I have more good news. Your sister underestimated her husband. The guy is tickled pink and blue. He said everyone should have babies, and Dr. Hiram’s hoping you’ll be next.”
Gracie flushed, the stain moving quickly from her neck to her cheeks.
“He also said you’d make a wonderful mother.”
She sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap.
“You really don’t want children?”
“I’m not married, so it doesn’t matter.”
Touché
She jumped up to pace. “You should see the food Mrs. Jarvis brought, and the way she set the dining room table. It’s beautiful.”
Her words of praise and agitation didn’t go together. She must be overwrought from work and worry. “I know this party is important to you,” he said soothingly.
“You just don’t know how important. None of us ever had a party, and I only went to one, ever. My friend Linda’s birthday. The next year, Mom and Pop wouldn’t let me go. They said there might be kissing games. Or drinking. At thirteen? I don’t think so. Well, maybe kissing. But never drinking at Linda’s house. If Mom and Pop hadn’t been so strict, I would never have married Sonny.”
Gracie plunked down beside Merett, and he framed her face with his hands. “This isn’t like you. Your party will go fine.”
“People have been calling all day to say they weren’t coming, Merett, and I couldn’t think why. Then Mrs. Jarvis suggested I consider old enemies, and I came up with one. Beryl Marcum hates me without reason.”
Merett hadn’t mentioned the relationship between Beryl and Lizzie to Gracie because he didn’t want to scare her. If Beryl would put her aunt’s business at risk to hurt Gracie, she’d do anything. He’d meant to help when he printed her letter-to-the editor, but when the bitch saw what he’d done, she’d struck out at both of them. Praying his editorial would influence people to support Special Effects, he held Gracie closely. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ve created a good business reputation, and you have friends. People will come.” He’d make sure of it.
Chapter Twelve
Gracie’s Holiday Open House—the day she’d looked forward to and dreaded—dawned bright and cold. She took a long shower, but couldn’t scrub away her fear of failure. Would anyone show up? Would she handle things smoothly if they did? Hands shaking, she was working the snarls out of her curls with a wide-toothed comb when the telephone rang, and she panicked.
Up until Dorothy’s visit, Gracie assumed the house would fill with guests, but a stream of people had called “with regrets” since, and this call could be someone else saying they weren’t coming. After that, the phone might ring again and again.
What if no one came?
As Gracie reached the bottom of the stairs, the jangling lapsed into a series of impatient dots and dashes, and she realized it was the doorbell. Hoping it was Merett with the punch, she threw open the door.
“Geez. A girl could freeze to death out here.”
“Faithie.” Gracie felt the blood drain slowly from her body. Clutching the doorframe with one hand, she held the other over her heart.
“Are you going to ask me in?” Faith’s jeans had holes at the knees, and her denim jacket looked thin. Shifting from one badly scuffed western boot to the other, she looked like a scared, poverty-stricken waif.
“Oh, sweetie, of course.” Gracie pulled her inside and into her arms.
Faith leaned into her sister’s hug for a second. “I’m so chilled, I must be freezing you.”
The frigid air coming off her was seeping right through Gracie’s robe. Shivering, she laughed. “Take off your coat, and we’ll see if we can get you warm.”
Faith’s face was red from the cold, her hair too long and full for her tiny features, and her hands shook as she hung her jacket on the hall tree. “It’s a longer walk from the bus stop than I imagined.”
“You should have called. I would have picked you up,” Gracie said, taking her sister’s hands in hers to rub them. “You should have gloves and a hat. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“Stop fussing. I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did.” Grace was so happy, she laughed aloud. “What can I get you hot to drink?”
“Coffee. Lots of coffee. And I could use a bite of breakfast.”
Gracie led the way to the kitchen, eager to take care of her little sister again.
“Looks like you’re doing okay.” Faith peeked in each room they passed. “Whoa. What happened here?” she asked when she opened the door to the drawing room.
“The roof leaked and caved in. It’s fixed, but the floor and ceiling aren’t repaired yet. There’s a ton of responsibility connected with owning a house.”
“The R-word already.” Faith sat down at the kitchen table and wrinkled her nose. “I’ve heard responsibility from you since I was old enough to talk.”
Gracie didn’t want to get into a discussion that might turn unpleasant and spoil her little sister’s homecoming. After sitting Faith down and pouring her a mug of steaming coffee, she began breaking eggs into a hot skillet while bacon sizzled in the microwave. “How have you been, Faithie?”
“Okay, except my heart.”
Gracie dropped the egg she was breaking into the skillet, shell and all, and hot grease splattered her hand. She slid the skillet off the burner to run to the sink and turn cold water on her fingers. Shooting a look over her shoulder, she saw her sister bury her face in her hands. Faith was dying of heart disease, and she was tending to minor burns. Overwhelmed with guilt, Gracie rushed to kneel at Faith’s feet. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’re getting me wet,” Faith complained, pushing her hands away.
Gracie dried her hands on her robe, and winced. The burns stood out like angry red welts. But that didn’t matter right now. “What’s wrong with your heart?”
“Buck said he loved me, but he went back to his wife.”
“That’s it?” Grace bolted to her feet. “You have a broken heart?”
“It hurts to be dumped.” Faith’s lip trembled. A tear slid down her cheek.
“It’s no fun for a wife to be cheated on, either.” Gracie stalked back to the stove, fished the eggshell out of the pan, and turned the burner on again. The microwave buzzed, and she took the bacon out and plopped it on a plate.
“He and his wife were separated when we met. It wasn’t my fault.” Faith strode across the kitchen to slip two slices of bread in the toaster. “I thought I could count on you for consolation.”
“After the way you scared me? I thought you had heart disease.”
“Really?” Faith giggled. “I didn’t say that.”
Gracie counted to ten. Faith still acted like a child. Kirsten was more responsible. The R-word. Broken hearts did hurt, and her sister was home. “Tell me about it,” she said. Sliding Faith a full plate, Gracie sat down across from her with a cup of coffee.
“He said I was too complicated
. His wife was easy to understand. All she wanted was a place to live and their kids. That was another thing. It cost too much to keep a place for us and one for them.” Faith talked all through breakfast, but put her food away with amazing speed. “That was delicious,” she said, pushing her plate away. “Buck said I didn’t know what I wanted.”
“Do you?” Grace ran cold water over the congealing egg yolk, and refilled their coffee cups while Faith talked.
“I know I want a man to love and take care of me. Buck took good care of me. He bought me little knickknacks, and rubbed my feet when they ached from that stupid waitress job, and fixed supper when I was too bummed to cook.” Faith rapped her knuckles on the table. “Damn it, I thought he loved me.”
Gracie frowned at Faith’s cursing. And her living with Buck and lying about it on the phone. “Maybe he did. But he had a family, and I expect he loved them, too.”
“He said he loved his kids, and they needed him. But I need him, too.” Faith sniffled and Gracie handed her a tissue. “He asked if I’d raise them, if he could get them away from his wife. But I didn’t know. Mom never raised us. She and dad were so cold to one another and us. And they never had any fun. I loved Buck, and he loved me, and I thought kids might spoil it all. I tried to explain, and that’s when he said I was complicated.” Faith laid her head on her arms and cried.
“Life is complicated, sweetie. And you made some good points.”
“He didn’t understand,” Faith wailed.
What could Gracie say to mend a broken heart? Murmuring soothing noises, she stroked Faith’s hair.
After a while, she blew her nose. “How do you survive alone, Gracie?”
“I missed Sonny after I asked him to leave, but I was alone in a sense even when I was with him. He was self-centered and thoughtless, staying out all night, and then…” Gracie braced herself to confess something she’d never told anyone. “I found out Sonny had another woman. He was cheating. Even though our love had pretty much died, I was devastated. So I know how Buck’s wife felt.”
Faith looked down at her folded hands.
“I’d stuck it out because of the way we were brought up, and even then, I gave him the chance to break off his affair. But guess what?” Gracie couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “He wanted to keep us both in his life.”
“Buck would have liked that, too. Only I had to pay my rent and live by myself. So what did you do?”
“Told him to get out, and then started saving money to run a business like my employer’s. It was almost a year later when I took the bus to Ferndale, and bought this house.”
Faith looked around the big sunny kitchen wide-eyed. “It’s terrific. But you’re stronger than I am. I could never…” She shook her head.
“You could do as well if you tried,” Gracie declared fervently.
“What did you ever see in Sonny?” Faith asked.
“Freedom. Life in the big city. Excitement. Sonny, at eighteen, didn’t seem like a bad person.”
Faith leaned forward to touch Gracie’s arm. “I understood, even then, that Mom and Pop took advantage of you. And I didn’t blame you for leaving, but at the same time, I did, because I missed you.” Blushing, Faith waved a hand in the air. “It’s hard to believe you broke loose from the past to build a career and buy this place.”
“My Chicago employer was a lovely woman who was happy to teach me how to set up my own business. And I got lucky with the house, buying it for one-fourth its worth, because everyone else thought it was haunted.” Gracie recited the Mirabelle tale.
“Neat!” Faith’s eyes lit up like Kirsten’s. “Have you seen her yet?”
“Not a glimpse,” Gracie said, chuckling. Faith would love the story of Kirsten’s conversation with Mirabelle, but would want to know the Merett story as well. That was another ballgame, one Gracie didn’t have time to go into just now. “I must warn you, however—and please don’t make too much of this—my player piano plays at will.”
Faith laughed out loud. Rushing to the parlor, she ran her fingers over the keys. “I wish it would play now.”
“I hope it doesn’t play while my guests are here, and perpetuate the haunted house story.” Grace checked her watch. “I have a lot to do before they arrive. Why don’t you go unpack and shower?” Faith had brought one bag with her. One bag to hold all her belongings. You can choose something from my closet to wear, if you like. I know you didn’t count on a party.”
“Really?” Faith smiled brightly and fluffed her strawberry-blonde hair. “You’ve always been good to me, Gracie.” Her smile faded as she pushed her full lips out in a pretty pout. “That’s why I couldn’t understand it when you wouldn’t help this last time. I hung up sometimes after dialing your number, reminding myself I should have pride. But I needed to stay in that apartment where Buck loved me. I needed to feel close to him.”
“Even a mother, and I often felt like yours, has to say ‘no’ sometimes, and I really didn’t have money to spare.” Gracie slipped an arm around her sister.
“Can I wear anything I want?” Faith laid her head on Gracie’s shoulder.
“Except the poinsettia-printed skirt and red blouse, my very first party outfit.” Gracie held her hand to her chest to stop her runaway heart. “I’m nervous, Faithie.”
“Don’t worry, sis” Faith hugged her. “We’ll show the local yokels the Singleton gals can look swell and give a great bash.”
Running up the steps, Faith stopped at the landing. “Wow! Two Christmas trees! And you said you didn’t have money to send me.”
* * *
Gracie fussed nervously, tweaking ribbons on displays, checking the lighting. She was delighted to have Faith come home, but why today, of all days? When Merett delivered the cups, punch, and pitcher, she fell into his arms.
“Buck up,” he said, lifting her chin with one broad forefinger. “Everything’s going to go fine.”
“Don’t say Buck.” She laughed nervously. “Don’t ask. It’s a long story.” One she didn’t tell, but she did tell Merett about Faith coming home.
“Hey, that’s what you’ve been wanting.” He held Gracie close, and stroked her hair. “That should make you happy.”
“There are just so many things on my mind. What if—
Merett sealed her lips with a kiss. “Your business is in the clear. Your sister’s here. Life’s wonderful. The party is going to be a success.”
“I don’t see how you can be so sure.” She smiled weakly.
“Trust me.” He gave her another quick kiss. “I have to run. My friend Tom, the editor from New York, is flying into Indy this A.M., and I’m meeting him at the airport.”
Gracie’s legs threatened to fold. Her palms grew damp. Merett was leaving.
“I’ll pick you up this evening,” he said casually. “We’ll take a ride and look at the Christmas lights, then go someplace quiet for dinner, and celebrate your victory over the zoning board. How’s that sound for a small town Saturday night?”
“What about Tom?”
“He’ll only be in town a few hours.”
Just long enough to seal their deal. The deal that would send Merett winging back to New York. “I’m not sure about Faith. I hate to run off and leave her.”
“It won’t be very romantic, but you can bring her along if you want.”
Romantic. How much longer did they have for romantic evenings? Just when things seemed to be looking up all around, they’d come to the beginning of the end.
* * *
Gracie gave herself a pep talk. Her roof was fixed, the drawing room door locked, and the parlor and dining room attractively readied. She had bought candles, sugar cubes, and real cream, just as Mrs. Jarvis directed. She’d thawed the cookies and cakes, and frozen citrus slices and flowers in a ring mold to float in the punch. The ice ring, her friend Linda’s idea, was a special touch she would never have thought of on her own. If people just came…
Hope called right after the florist
delivered the rose buds Gracie ordered to give each of her guests. “Have you seen this morning’s Reporter?”
“I’ve been busy…” Gracie could hardly believe it, but she’d forgotten to bring the paper in.
“Take a minute and read Merett’s editorial first thing.”
Gracie was so excited that she hung up without telling Hope about Faith. Well, she’d find out soon enough. The carrier missed the porch, and Gracie scurried out to the front walk to get the paper. Clean! Who shoveled? Homer Riggs waved from his front walk. “Happy Open House!” he called. “I tried out your shovel for you.”
“Thank you!”
Leaning against the inside of the front door, she turned to the editorial page. “Small Business at the Heart of Ferndale.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she read Merett’s words…
Gracie Singleton Saylor believes in Ferndale so strongly that she left her managerial position in a Chicago decorating business to bring beauty to her hometown. She believes in the townspeople, and if you’ve seen the work she’s done, you’ll believe in Gracie.
He went on to mention businesses she’d decorated, including his office, and finished with a paragraph about her bravery and her incredible loyalty to her roots. On the same page, half a dozen letters agreed with her stand on small business.
Gracie’s heart soared. People cared. Merett cared. Not just about her, but about small businesses and the small town she’d come home to.
* * *
When Gracie came out of the bathroom, Faith was standing in the middle of the bedroom in a printed bra and matching bikinis, and Grace smiled fondly. Holding first one dress and then another in front of her, she looked like the nineteen-year-old she was, not the woman of the world she’d like to be. “Which one do you like, Gracie?”
“The blue sweater dress.”
“I think I like this.” She held up the long skirt that Gracie liked to wear with boots.
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