Good Gracie

by Ines Saint

  This time. She wanted him to know she had nothing to do with it this time. Not that he believed her. “Why do you need me to know?” Both the phrasing and the plea in her voice were odd for her. “We’re not friends and we’re not in each other’s lives.”

  She took a step forward and touched his arm, aggravating him. The difference between what he felt now and what he’d felt with Gracie hit him without warning, but he quickly locked last night’s feelings away. Gracie and Linda in the same thought felt like treason. “We used to be crazy good friends, though.” She looked into his eyes and gave him her self-deprecating smile. “Don’t you remember how it used to be between us? It was intense. I miss that sometimes.”

  He had to hand it to her; she was good at going after what she wanted. Here she was, pregnant with her husband’s child and talking to him about the sexual compatibility they’d once shared as if they were two old friends just shooting the breeze. It wasn’t subtle, but it wasn’t overt. She was leaving no room for doubt while making sure her ego would come out unscathed if he rejected her overtures.

  Fully awake now, he knew he had to keep a cool head on his shoulders if he wanted to find out if she had any other agendas, hidden or otherwise. Too many little things had been going on for him to consider her visit a lark. “You’re married, Linda,” he reminded her. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is your second child with William.”

  She sighed and looked away. “I know. But William and I are too alike. You have no idea. We both used to get off on it, but a lot of it has grown old. We don’t exactly inspire each other’s better angels.” She met his eyes. “We’ve both had our slipups. In a way, it helps. Forgiving each other is a virtue, I guess.”

  Josh studied her. When she’d looked away, she’d bitten the inside of her cheek, which meant something was worrying her. That much had been real. But then she’d gathered herself, looked him in the eye, and restated her purpose. In her marriage, slipups were forgiven.

  It was strange how he could still read her. They’d run around with the same crowd and teased and flirted with each other for years, though they hadn’t explored their chemistry until the summer after their third year of college at a lake house party. It had consumed them for a long time, and it had been addictive enough to make him ask her to marry him. Two spoiled, clueless kids who had no idea about what was truly important. Life was fun. That was all they knew.

  The addiction had ended, as abruptly as it had started, when he’d seen how she’d treated the vendors she’d chosen for their wedding. What a wake-up call. He’d been struggling with how to break things off without humiliating her when Gracie’s case had come along. Linda’s fury and nastiness when she’d learned he was taking Gracie’s side against the Wolf family had left them both with nothing to do but break things off. It could have ended there, but Linda had taken it one step further.

  And after all that she still had the gall to come to his apartment to tell him she had nothing to do with the current comments about him and Gracie and that she missed the chemistry that had nearly led to the biggest mistake of his life. He wanted to go inside and shut the door in her face, but . . . the comments were out there and Gracie was back in town. Who knew if his ex-fiancée would be moved to stoke the fire of the rumor she herself had started? He would never fully trust her, which meant he’d have to make sure she left with her ego intact.

  “You’re right; we were once friends. And I appreciate you wanting me to know you have nothing to do with the new comments. How about we try to start over, okay? As acquaintances who want nothing but the best for each other.” He paused. “I really do want you and William to be happy, you know.”

  Linda was quiet. After a moment she sent him an unsure smile. “I know,” she said, before turning to the elevator. She hesitated before stepping inside. “And I hope you win the race.”

  Josh stared after her a long time, going over everything she’d said and the way she’d said it. In her way, she’d tried to tell him that she didn’t harbor any ill will toward him, and that she really did miss him, even though what she’d hinted she wanted from him was impossible. But the visit was odd, and the part of him that had learned to read people felt there had been something more she’d wanted to say. He hadn’t been welcoming or understanding, though, and what was done was done.

  Eager to rid himself of tangled thoughts about motives, something he had enough of with his day job, he decided to get a workout in before his soccer game.

  Every Saturday he, Jamar, a judge, a few policemen, and a group of both refugees and immigrants played soccer in a mixed-use field behind the Unitarian Church in Downtown Dayton, where he’d be having his campaign kickoff, and they played the way the game was meant to be played: hard. The league was part of Jamar’s work for his church’s Resettlement Program. Not only was it the best soccer Josh had ever played but the people he played with had expanded his limited world. He needed that today, a reminder that there was life outside the election and all its complications.

  Right before the game, as Josh was clearing a few dead leaves off the field, a familiar voice called to him. “Josh, may I have a word with you?”

  “Of course,” Josh said, turning to see Fasika, He was the owner of a successful Ethiopian restaurant that had become a favorite hangout of the local immigrant and refugee communities. Josh led the way to the sidelines, where they could have some privacy.

  Concern lined Fasika’s face. “It is about the election for county prosecutor.”

  Josh nodded once, encouraging him to continue.

  Fasika looked him in the eye. “The local Democratic Party chairman has asked me to host a community meet and greet for your competitor, Miss Rachel Foster, two Sundays from tomorrow. Her Party has been very good to my community and because of this I have agreed, but I don’t want this to affect our friendship.” The older man studied Josh’s reaction a moment before continuing. “Please understand that it is not personal, as people say. I know you will be fair and just. It is also not business. I think only of what is best for my community.”

  Josh extended his hand. “I understand. And don’t worry—of course it will have no impact on our friendship. Just know that if you, or anyone you know, has any questions or doubts, or any feedback at all about my platform, I’d be more than happy to listen to you and to discuss ideas.” Josh walked away knowing he’d been sincere but hoping to God he hadn’t sounded like a politician.

  It was hard to get his mind into the game after that. He had been honest; he did understand Fasika’s reasoning. But for the first time he was feeling the disadvantages of running as an independent candidate, with no party backing him, and it got him thinking about what it would be like to work for either Rachel or Bosco.

  Too many doubts began rattling around in his brain, making him feel on edge and unsettled. The online comments trying to pull Gracie into the election, the uneasy feeling about Linda’s out-of-the-blue visit that morning, whatever it was that he and Gracie had shared last night, and now doubts about the future of his career . . . He played hard, but he couldn’t outrun his demons, and even though the crisp autumn air was cool, he felt hot under the collar.

  When a judge from Greene County who was playing on the opposite team kicked him in the shin just after Josh scored a goal, Josh nearly blew a gasket. It had been years since he’d gotten into someone’s face. Jamar had to come between him and the judge and hold them apart. “Dude, it was an accident,” he said, his eyes wide. “Calm down.”

  It hadn’t been an accident, but Josh looked down and took a moment to compose himself before nodding and offering the man his hand. They shook hands, played on, and steered clear of each other.

  After everyone had left, Josh remained sitting on a bench, his head back, happy to let the cold November air cool his skin and make him shiver. Eventually, Jamar came out from inside the church and sat down next to him. “You know you’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t change out of that.”

  “Yes, Mom.”


  A new kick in the shin was his reward for the quip. Josh smiled.

  “What’s with you today anyway? Does it have anything to do with what Fasika wanted to talk to you about?”

  Josh sighed. “It’s part of it. He’s hosting a meet and greet for Rachel at his restaurant and he wanted me to know it wasn’t personal.”

  “But you took it personally?”

  “No. But it got me thinking about what it would be like to work for Rachel or Bosco. Not only do I not agree with many of their policies but with everything that’s going on, I’m not even sure I trust them. I couldn’t do it. I’d quit. For some reason it hadn’t hit me until I heard Fasika say he was hosting her.”

  Jamar leaned back and was quiet for a while. “I can see how that’d drive home what we’re up against.”

  The corner of Josh’s mouth lifted. “We?”

  Jamar rolled his eyes. “Anyway, a few of us are going over to Fasika’s restaurant for a few beers and to watch the Real Madrid–Seville game. I’m guessing you’re not up for it.”

  Josh didn’t even have to consider it. He got up and both men headed to their cars. “Nope. But not because I have a grudge against Fasika.”

  What we’re up against, Jamar had said. Josh knew he meant it. He kicked at some gravel and said, “Linda was at my door this morning.”

  Jamar raised an eyebrow. “The ex,” he stated.

  “The ex,” Josh confirmed.

  “What’d she want?”

  Josh hesitated. Jamar was his friend, Linda was not, but it didn’t feel right to reveal Linda’s complaints about her marriage and her unspoken suggestion. When they reached their cars, Josh opened the door and tossed his backpack onto the backseat. “She wanted me to know she had nothing to do with the comments about Gracie.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  Josh shut the door and leaned against his car. “I did, believe it or not, but I’m not sure that was the real purpose of her visit. Something felt off.”

  “At least no more comments have popped up.”

  Josh grinned. “You’ve been monitoring?”

  “Does the lonely rich kid keep needing reassurance that he’s liked and not alone?” Jamar shot back. Only the response made Josh sober up instead of laugh. Jeez, was that what he was doing? Pathetic.

  He shook his head and brought them back to the subject at hand. “Anyway, no new comments about Gracie have come up that I know of, but you read the ones about Rachel, right?” The confused look on Jamar’s face was his answer.

  Josh proceeded to fill him in on everything that had happened the last few days: the notes to both Rachel and Gracie, Gracie’s visit to Mrs. Wolf, the new online comments about Rachel’s mom, and his offer on the judge’s house and how it had come about. When he was done, Jamar voiced Josh’s own conclusions, which didn’t amount to much. “So nothing on Bosco so far—which suggests it’s all being orchestrated by him or someone who wants him to win or someone who wants it to look that way.”

  “Exactly—it’s why I haven’t ruled out Rachel, even though she received that note. But there’s nothing we can do except wait and see what happens next.” Josh shrugged. “It’s possible nothing will happen. It’s not like anything’s really come of what’s happened so far anyway—at least not in public. People are getting hurt. Gracie, Rachel’s mom . . .”

  They were silent for a while. Finally, Jamar looked up from scuffing the pavement. “So, you’re finally buying a house. Putting down roots. Showing voters some stability.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And the house happens to be next door to where Gracie’s staying.”

  “Well, yeah. That’s how I came to see it in person. I went to see her, like you and Helen suggested, and the house I’d been looking at online happened to be right next door.”

  “Right next door. And you’ve been there every night since you made the offer.”

  “Yeah. I’m kinda hooked. By the house,” he clarified. “It was built by a local judge, he was the sole owner, and all his old files are there. I’ve been reading through them.”

  Jamar smirked good-naturedly. “Of course. Because it’s not like you have enough cases on your desk and in that online law library you’re always consulting.”

  Josh tapped his head. “Hey—every case I’ve ever read through is filed right here, and whenever I feel stuck on a case, I just sit back and let the wheels turn until I hit on what I need from the vault. Lately I’ve been reading up on Clyde Cupcake.” He filled Jamar in on what he’d learned last night, after Gracie had left. “Turns out the judge wondered if Clyde had been poisoned because he had been fighting back against the accusations that he had stolen Tilda’s recipes, and people were beginning to believe him and look into who else could’ve stolen the recipes. But after Clyde died, and people blamed Tilda, the bakery went completely under and the building was sold at auction.”

  Jamar nodded. “So you’ve been there every night, reading up on Clyde, thinking someday something about his case will help you with one of your own cases.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you happen to run into Gracie sometimes.”

  Josh grew uncomfortable. “We’re neighbors. And friends. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Nope. Nothing wrong with that.” Jamar paused, as if he were about to say something else, but he doubled over and burst out laughing instead. “But, oh man, you should see your face. Every time you mention her, you school your features, like this.” Jamar imitated him before laughing again. “You’re not on trial here, bro, but man, you’re in trouble.”

  Josh rolled his eyes because it sure felt like he was on trial, but he shut up and let Jamar have his fun, knowing that anything he said could and would be used against him. He wasn’t in trouble. Even though he was going home to take a shower before heading to Gracie’s apartment to see if he could finally give her a tour and get her ideas. Friendly flirting and exchanging ideas wasn’t trouble. Not when Gracie merely thought of him as safe practice for the real thing. And not when she’d be out of his life and on to her next project before trouble could arise.

  Jamar climbed into his car and asked, “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving? Some church folks told me to ask you, but I assumed you did. Only now that I know you’re rattling around in a run-down mansion chasing ghosts during your free time, I’m not so sure.”

  “Thanks, I guess. But I do have plans.” Josh turned toward his car before Jamar could ask what his plans were. He’d come to regret those plans, but he didn’t need any more razzing. A few months ago he’d accepted an invitation from Kim, one of his friends with benefits, who also happened to be the daughter of one his father’s oldest friends. She had many of the same issues with her parents he did, and she’d thought having him and his parents there, along with a few other mutual friends, would save her from a Thanksgiving where conversation revolved around her single status. And making it a lunch instead of a dinner would ensure they could get it over with earlier. It had seemed like a harmless plan at the time. An easier-to-digest Thanksgiving and someone to possibly spend the long, lonely weekend with afterward. Now Kim wasn’t the woman who came to mind when he thought about who he wanted to spend that weekend with.

  Maybe he was in trouble.

  * * *

  An hour later Josh was waiting in front of Gracie’s door. Her cute, blue Nissan JUKE was outside, along with Hope’s car, a VW Beetle, and a minivan. It was possible she was out with someone. Or maybe she was at her sister’s apartment. Or with Paige and her boyfriend upstairs. They hadn’t exchanged numbers, so he hadn’t been able to ask if she wanted to tour the house with him that afternoon. He glanced at his watch. The sun would set in about an hour and then it would it would be too dark. Again. So he waited. He’d knocked once. He wouldn’t knock again. It wasn’t like he was dying to see her.

  The thought made him stop. No. He wasn’t dying to see her. But he was filled with anticipation. The feeling took him back to when h
e was in grade school and his mother would drop him at his grandmother’s house on Friday afternoons, so she and his father could have a date night. The smell of cookies would waft to the door and his mouth would water in anticipation of the moment when he could bite into the soft, sweet treat and savor the flavors on his tongue until the next delicious bite. She’d make chocolate chip, oatmeal and raisin, and sugar cookies: his favorites.

  He’d had a sweet tooth most of his life. Until he’d grown up. For some reason sugar just didn’t sit well on his tongue anymore. But right then, as he waited, the memory of biting into a sugar cookie melded with the memory of Gracie’s soft lips....

  Ruby’s words—that he’d been subconsciously rejecting sweet temptations in favor of bitter experiences—had been rattling around in his brain the past few days. At first because the idea of evaluating someone’s psyche over their dessert preferences made him smile but then because the words had struck a chord. The moment he’d stepped outside his charmed existence and opened the door to real life, he’d wanted to see and experience more, to understand it. To try to walk a mile in another person’s shoes. But real life wasn’t all about hard knocks. It was also about choices. Bitter ones, yes, but sweet ones, too...

  * * *

  Gracie was stepping out of the shower when she heard the door knock. She grabbed the pair of old, ripped jeans and the faded gray sweater she’d picked out for a comfy evening of sketching and hurriedly pulled them on, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she padded to the door. A peek through the peephole had her heart racing. She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure she was looking at Josh’s dark, glossy, mussed-up hair.

  She put her hand to her heart to settle it and counted to three before opening the door. “Josh,” she said with as casual a smile as she could muster. One look and one breath told her he was freshly showered, too. Locks of spiky, still-damp hair went every which way on his head and he smelled all soapy, clean, and masculine. But he wasn’t smiling back. He was simply staring at her with a dazed expression on his face. “Josh? Are you all right?”