Chapter Five
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WHEN CHARLIE WALKED off the elevator on the second floor Monday morning and paused outside of Grace’s new office, he was surprised to realize that he had both pep in his step and a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t pretend even to himself that they had any other cause but Grace. That could turn out to be a problem. No matter how often he told himself he ought to be looking for a way to get her out of the hotel, he couldn’t convince himself to do it. Maybe he felt this instant connection to Grace, but that didn’t make her the right kind of woman for him. She was too… bright. Unpredictable. It didn’t surprise him that his mother liked her. He’d help out, make his mother happy, and then escape to refocus his attention on his work, his plan, and the two perfectly suitable women he was having dinner with this week.
He was disappointed to find Grace’s office empty, but he didn’t give up. He followed the faint singing he could hear down the hallway. He had to smile at how happy she sounded, her voice smooth and warm, just husky enough to make him think of holding her close while she whispered in his ear. Maybe her singing wasn’t perfect, but he had a feeling he’d never get bored hearing it.
He paused in the doorway to a large, nearly empty storage room and watched Grace’s hips as she danced to what had to be an Elvis song. Her sneakers squeaked on the concrete floor as she did a more exciting version of the Twist than he’d ever seen.
Of course she was an Elvis fan. Perfect.
Finally he had to get her attention, no matter how much liked watching her shake her . . .
“‘Jailhouse Rock’?”
She spun around at his question, one hand covering her heart like he’d startled her and the other yanking out one ear bud.
He wrinkled his nose at her. “Is that what you’re singing?”
Her blush was pretty cute. “How long have you been standing there?” She smoothed her hair back. “Never mind. Long enough, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “I guess I didn’t die of embarrassment so it’s fine. Besides, it’s good music, Charlie. You can’t help but move.”
He snorted.
“Oh, you can’t dance?” She pouted and blinked. “So sad. And you had everything you needed to make it as an impersonator—mainly very good hair.”
“I can dance. I can even sing. But I’ve spent too many Halloweens dressed as the King already. I was nine before I could convince Willodean to let me skip the jumpsuit.”
Grace groaned. “Oh, man. It’s no surprise you don’t love him as much as she does.”
Charlie watched her foot tap. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”
She waved an iPod. “Willodean suggested I study the music and movies. Laura’s daughter was nice enough to loan me both.” She snapped her fingers with the song only she could hear. “I’ve enjoyed it this morning.” She sniffed. “But in light of your recent confession, I can turn it off, wait until I’m alone to dance around.”
He thought about telling her he wouldn’t mind watching her dance around as long as she wanted. She was good, especially when she thought she was alone. Fearless. Free. Happy. And so sexy.
He’d never be able to keep up. Why did he want to? This was the thinking that was going to get him in trouble so he just said, “Thanks.”
Grace had dressed for the season in a neon green sweatshirt with a red-nosed reindeer on front. “My mother would love your sweatshirt.”
Grace looked down. “Well, I got it on clearance, but it seemed fitting.” She tugged at the hem. “You don’t think Willodean would mind that I’m so casual today, do you? I thought with moving furniture and…” She looked uncertain. He realized he hadn’t ever seen her look less than sure of herself.
He shook his head. “Of course not. Besides, green is her signature color. She wears it every day. She’d be a fan.”
“Green? Every day?” Grace tilted her head like she’d never considered such a thing. He could understand that. It was one of his mother’s more eccentric choices. “And I guess yours is black?”
Charlie looked down at his black boots, black jeans, and black and grey flannel shirt and had to laugh. Maybe he made a few eccentric choices of his own. “Well, maybe. I hadn’t put much thought into it, just went for comfort and convenience.” He looked up and smiled at her. “But I’m thinking black might have become my signature color.”
Grace shook her head. “Weird. I can’t imagine giving up on all the other colors. I’d never be able to pick just one.”
With that conversational topic exhausted, the silence in the nearly empty room stretched uncomfortably tight. Finally, Grace leaned down to pick up a notebook. “I’ve started a list. Looks like it’s just basics right now—chairs, tables, linens. I’m not sure why Willodean thought I’d need your help.” She pointed at a small closet. “Maybe to go through her memorabilia here. Some of it might be valuable. Guess it needs to be accounted for. Good thing you were available this morning, huh? Who knows what might have mysteriously disappeared otherwise?” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.
She wasn’t going to let his original judgment go easily. Charlie had a pretty good idea then that no matter what face she’d put on it, she’d been mad. He didn’t really blame her either.
At her well-deserved zing, Charlie shook his head. “There’s no way my mother had anything like that in mind. She was looking for a reason to throw us together.” He walked over to open the door and flipped on the light. At one glance he could see movie posters, more album cover artwork, a few Elvis statues, gold vases, and he had the old familiar feeling. His mother’s collection was unavoidable. He should just get used to it.
When Grace didn’t answer, he looked over his shoulder to see she’d crossed her arms over her chest tightly, like she was preparing for the worst.
“Sorry. Did you not know that already? My mother is the world’s most dedicated matchmaker. She’s been telling me to find a nice girl since before I started shaving.” He took her list to read everything she’d already itemized. “To get off the hook, just tell her you’re still brokenhearted over being abandoned by… what was his name?”
“Tommy Joe Huffle, car salesman extraordinaire.” Grace shook her head. “She’ll never buy it.”
She was right. Willodean wouldn’t buy it. He didn’t buy it either. There was something strange going on. First of all, he hadn’t seen a single tear. Maybe she was tough. He was starting to think so, even if she looked like she needed a hug this morning. But heartbreak was hard to hide. He guessed. It had been so long since his heart was in any danger that he couldn’t speak from personal experience.
“She is pretty smart.” Charlie looked down her list and saw she’d started numbering everything in the closet. “What time did you start?” He took a closer look and could see one side of the closet was neatly organized. The other side, the one that was a jumble of mismatched piles, looked like his mother had been in charge.
Grace shrugged and then started putting the chairs in stacks of ten. “About six. I picked up a key last night when I dropped off her keys at the front desk. And I couldn’t sleep.”
Charlie handed her the list. “Here. Let me stack. You count.” He dragged the first stack over next to the wall. “Getting used to a new place is hard, I guess, even if you have lots of practice.”
Charlie worked quickly through the furniture, arranging in even stacks and rows to make the inventory easier. It felt good to be working instead of staring at a computer screen or ignoring Tony’s frowns.
Grace followed his progress, marking inventory on the list. “I think I was too excited to get started. I have a lot of ideas.”
Charlie picked up two chairs and added them to the last stack. “Like what?”
She tapped a box holding a small Christmas tree. “Company parties. We could get an Elvis to play music, make it as kitschy fun or as old-school classic as desired. For the month of December, we could easily host parties during the week even if we had conferences scheduled at the sam
e time.”
“Have it catered through Viva Las Vegas?” He nodded his head. “It’s not a bad idea. Just a whole lot of logistics to figure out.” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t really strike me as the logistics sort. Am I wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll see.” Grace shrugged a shoulder. “If I need help, I’m sure Tony will have ideas.”
Charlie closed his eyes and tried to will away the flash of anger that bubbled up. The idea that Tony would be her answer man, just like he was his mother’s, made him mad enough to curse out loud. He managed to say tightly, “Oh, sure. Tony.” Then he shoved another stack of chairs over.
“What is your deal with Tony? The two of you look at each other like you’d like to bare-knuckle brawl amid the palm fronds of the hotel lobby.” Grace shook her head. “And the lobby would never be the same, I’m sure of that.”
Then she leaned against the next stack of chairs and waited for his answer.
“We just… have some history, that’s all.” That wasn’t even really true. Tony had hated him on sight, and Charlie had been going through enough guilt and regret at the time that he’d done very little to address it. The bad blood between them wasn’t so much personal as tied to how they both felt about Willodean Jackson. “He thinks I should do more at the hotel, help out more.”
Grace tilted her head from side to side. “Hm, is he right?” She patted the top chair on the stack. “I mean, you’re moving furniture around. Seems like there’d be someone else on staff who could help if I needed it.”
Charlie rubbed his forehead. “He might be right. Or he might have been right in the past. But I’ve made some changes. He just… he’s good at holding grudges.” He snorted. “And so am I.”
Grace nodded. “Maybe you don’t like how Willodean leans on him. Almost like a son. It makes some sense that you’d want a little distance. Growing up around here couldn’t have been easy. When you’re a kid, all you want is to be the center of the world. Having Willodean for a mother would have made that hard and a place like this would take a lot of attention.”
She planted both sneakers on the concrete floor and did her best to shove over a stack of chairs to make room for another. He ran his hand down her back while he bumped her with his hip to get her to step aside. “Let me get that.” She glanced at him quickly before stumbling away, leaving only the hints of shampoo and warmth that lingered down his side. He shoved, and they both winced at the screech.
Brushing his hands like he’d just labored all day, Charlie tried to figure out a way to change the subject. The way that she just put her finger right on an old sore spot made him uneasy. Like it might be a reminder of the weird connection between them.
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
Grace pointed at herself. “Youngest of seven. It was hard to stand out.” When she wrinkled her nose at him, he couldn’t ignore how cute she was. Or how nice it was to just talk with her like this, like the way he felt was okay because she’d been there too. “I had a bad habit of standing in front of the television to sing or dance or tell knock-knock jokes. I took every dare my brothers ever made. And I always regretted it. My father did a lot of shouting.”
Charlie wanted to wrap his arm around her shoulder and squeeze her close. He could almost picture a little girl who needed a hug. “Even bad attention was worth it?”
“Did you try that too?”
Charlie shook his head. “Nah, I was too serious for that. My dad died when I was young and for a while, it was just the two of us. Somehow I got it in my head that I was taking care of her. Then she replaced me… I liked my stepfather a lot. He taught me enough to keep my mother in hotel funds forever, but it just wasn’t the same. And with all that money came this hotel and even just everyday life was… crazy. Still, I was a very dutiful son. Did my best not to cause trouble.” Until he’d ripped everything in two.
They finished stacking the furniture, and Charlie wrote down the quantities of chairs and tables on Grace’s inventory sheet. A deep frown wrinkled her forehead, and he could almost hear her thinking.
“She told me that her first husband gave her her son, and her last one brought him back. What happened in the middle, Charlie?” She shoved strands of her shiny dark hair behind one ear. “Never mind. Forget I asked. I may be insanely curious about you and about Willodean, but I do not need to know that.”
She moved to brush past him. And something about her honest question and her understanding made him want to tell her, but something else about her, maybe the same things, made it hard to tell the whole truth. There was no real way to admit breaking up his mother’s marriage without sounding like a villain. So he didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said, “When did you and my mother get so close?”
Grace shook her head. “It’s the weirdest thing. Minutes after meeting her, she knew more about my past than anybody but me, Charlie. And then yesterday, before she loaned me her car keys”—she paused to glance at him—“she told me all about her husbands.”
“All about them?” Charlie asked.
“Well, no, but enough. And I told her…”
Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and waited. At last they were coming down to it, whatever it was that made him suspicious. The part of Grace that made it an inconvenience to be left at the altar, not devastating.
Grace paced back and forth and shook her head. “This is a terrible idea. You didn’t even know me and thought I was going to rob your mother blind and steal her car.” She squeaked to a halt, wringing her hands in front of her. “But you need to know the truth. I don’t understand why she’s determined to push us together. No mother in her right mind would, but if I tell you everything, you will help. You’ll make it easier to spend less time together. And the way I feel… A little help would be good.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. Now he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Whatever it was would make it impossible for him to ignore his own warnings about staying away from her and that would mean the end to their connection. He didn’t understand that connection, but he didn’t really want to lose it either.
“My groom… Well, my marriage… I just wanted to marry a rich man, Charlie.” She shrugged. “I think I knew it was a horrible idea, but my mother’s warning about how time flies and how sorry I’ll be if I don’t make better choices… the kids she’s telling me I’ll never have suddenly seem like something I should at least think about, decide if that’s what I want… and then this dream I have of becoming some kind of star just isn’t working… So I gave it a shot. But Tommy Joe… well, he was happy with a pretty, quiet girl. He didn’t appreciate me standing my ground on things like separate hotel rooms or having good prenuptial agreements, and I guess he decided the price wasn’t worth it. So here I am.”
Charlie didn’t really know how to respond. Hearing his worst suspicion confirmed should have filled him with righteous indignation. The kind of person he’d been warned about and had been trying to protect his mother against all his life had just sprung up before him. A real life gold digger stood in front of him wearing a tacky sweatshirt, cheap jeans, and yellow sneakers. It was hard to see a schemer in Grace’s loose hair, flawless skin, and oversized clothes. But of course she would be beautiful. She would never be successful otherwise.
Instead of angry, he was disappointed. Normally he liked being right. This time, he wished he’d been wrong. He wanted to go back to before, to talk to the woman who seemed to understand things he’d never said aloud.
“Say something, Charlie.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. Either that’s the cleverest tactic I’ve seen, disarming a man with the truth, or you’re not very good at fortune hunting.” He snorted. “Or maybe you just aren’t interested in me, the only rich man around.” He didn’t know which to hope for.
When he heard the elevator ding, he glanced over his shoulder. His mother scrambled off, her arms filled with files, and called a cheery “
Hello, little help here?”
Before he trotted off to help, he glanced at Grace. She hadn’t moved. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but he turned. “Coming, Mom. Why didn’t you get someone to carry that for you?”
Willodean juggled the files before handing them over. “Well, I’m not infirm yet. Besides, I didn’t know how much trouble I was in until I was rounding the pool. I was committed at that point.” Once she’d handed all the files to Charlie, she smoothed her hands over her fine green cashmere sweater. “Looks like y’all have made some progress. Got a budget for me yet?”
Her twinkling smile faded a bit when Charlie just shook his head and walked away. He had no idea how to deal with either his mother and her matchmaking or Grace and her… let down. So he dropped the files on the desk. He had no answer for the question in his mother’s eyes when she followed him into Grace’s office, so he just said, “Uh, yeah, Grace has it all under control. I’m going to go… work on the budget. Good idea, Mom.” He bent and kissed her cheek and made his escape to the elevator. There was no point in staying. His mother knew everything she needed to know, and she trusted Grace anyway. If he stayed, anger and irritation would probably replace disappointment and whatever emotion it was that made him feel like he’d run a marathon. Then he’d say something they’d all regret.
As the doors slid shut, he stared hard at the carpeted floor. He didn’t want to get caught in Grace’s stare again. He didn’t want to feel the connection. He didn’t want to know that she was the kind of person who’d take advantage of someone else, someone with money. So he’d do what he said, what he always did when things got out of control: he’d work. A budget would be a fine way to get his mind back on track.
GRACE DID HER best not to stare too obviously at the closing elevator doors. Instead, she followed Willodean into her office and plopped down in her chair. And as always, she did her best to pretend that everything was just fine. She tried a happy “Good morning, Willodean,” but her bright smile wasn’t returned. “I hope you don’t mind the jeans. Since I was moving furniture, I thought—”
Santa, Bring My Baby Back Page 8
