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"Maybe we should just meet tomorrow for—"
Bo's voice grew gentle. "Woody, you need us right now. That's why I sent you the gift."
Grace struggled to turn her father's chair around so it faced the view, wishing she were by herself. She didn't want to cry in front of Smith arid tears were milling.
"Oh, Bo, I don't know what to say."
The gift was a relic of their girlhood together, a short length of braided hair, blond and auburn intertwined. They had woven it at the age of twelve when they'd been at summer camp and had cut each other's hair.
As soon as Grace had seen the lock in the porcelain box, she'd remembered exactly where they'd been sitting as they'd put a pair of scissors to work. It had been on a dock, on the shores of Lake Sagamore. The sun had been low in a very blue sky and the breeze mild. It had been toward the end of summer, she recalled, and the warmth in the air had been welcomed because their swimsuits had been damp. She could still hear the sound of the water clapping through the crib underneath their towels.
With great chops and slices, they had transformed themselves on the outside, eager to get closer to their grown-up selves. As locks of hair had fallen onto the bleached wood of the dock, they were convinced that with shorter hair they would look older. They would be further along on the path to their great destinies.
With shorter hair, things would somehow be easier.
When they were finished, they had taken some of the strands and made the two braids, one for each of them. They had brushed off the rest of the hair into the water where it lingered on the surface like a spider's web and then floated away. They'd laughed at how funny it felt to be free of the weight that had once lain on their shoulders.
Somewhere along the way to adulthood, Grace had misplaced her braid and the ache she felt from the loss would have astonished her younger self. Having grown up, having reached that maturity she'd yearned for, it was a surprise to find herself wanting to return to that simpler life, to that moment at the edge of the lake with her friend. To that summer day that she'd believed was going to last forever.
"Bo, how did you know how much it would mean to me?"
"Because I was with you then and I'm with you now. Someday, when I'm hurting, you can send it back to me." Grace felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as Bo laughed. "Think of it as emotional fruitcake. We'll just keep mailing it back and forth to each other."
"I don't know how to thank you."
"I do. Tell me you and Ranulf are coming tonight."
Grace hesitated, overcome with the need to see her friend. "Ranulf is... busy. I think I'll bring someone else."
"Great. Who is she?"
"He. Actually. Ah... He's a friend."
"Really? Is he single?"
"Er—yes. I guess so."
"Think he'd be interested in a thirty-four-year-old, overworked, single mother?" Bo chuckled. "Now there's a personal ad guaranteed to get results."
Grace wasn't sure how to respond to her friend's innocent suggestion. The idea of John with another woman made her sick to her stomach.
When she hung up, she looked over at him and wondered whether there was a woman in his life. She couldn't imagine him being married but that didn't mean he was alone.
Might be something to explore before she made her final decision, she thought grimly.
"So I'm putting on the tux?" he asked. His keen eyes told her he had missed none of the emotions she was feeling.
She nodded slowly. "Bo is a hard lady to turn down."
"Obviously."
* * *
It was almost six-thirty when Grace came out of her room. Smith was standing in the living room dressed in his tuxedo, the jacket hanging loosely over his arm. Grace slowed down as she approached him, thinking that the white of his shirt made his hair look darker.
Everything faded as she saw that he was looking at her lips.
"That's a beautiful dress," he said in a low, very male voice.
She glanced down at the lemon yellow chiffon. The gown was shoulder-less, long, and simple.
"Thank you."
He walked over to her. "The necklace, too."
He reached out and touched one of the canary diamonds. There were six of them, linked by clusters of white diamonds.
"It was my grandmother's." Her voice was breathless as his fingertips hovered above her skin and she gripped her wrap and purse tightly.
His hand slowly went down to his side and she watched as the simmering emotions in his face were shut off.
"Are we ready?" he asked sharply.
She nodded and thought, as they went down in the elevator, there was a very real possibility she was going to get her heart broken by him.
Eddie took them down to the Plaza. As he pulled up in front of the hotel, he said, "I hope you have a splendiferous evening."
