I tell her about the campaign the agency is working on. “She took advantage of the situation, and I cannot forgive that.”
“You aren’t going to sue her or anything, are you?” Grace looks slightly anxious. “I just don’t want her around us, not punished excessively.”
“If she leaves quietly, I won’t do anything.” I almost wish Madisonwouldmake a fuss, but she knows me well enoughto realize my next step wouldn’t just leave her jobless, but professionally ruined. I hold Grace, smell the chocolate on her breath. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Any doubts? No matter how small, I’d like to know.”
“Well.” She clears her throat, resting her head on my shoulder. “The prenup said the baby belongs to you and you only.” Her hand drops to her slightly rounded belly.
“It’s the custody arrangement in case we get divorced,” I explain, wincing inwardly and wishing I hadn’t been such a dick back then. “When I had Bryce draft it, I was so angry, I put that in there to hurt you. But now…it’s a moot point.”
She smiles. “So we’re on the same page about staying together?”
“We are. But when your mother wakes up…” I pause and try to think of an elegant way to word it, so I don’t come across as though I’m urging her to abandon her mother or withhold what her mother deserves. “Am I still part of your future?”
Grace shifts, turning around to look at me. “Of course.”
“But Montana—”
She stops me with a quick kiss. “Okay, let me tell you about Montana. I’ve held on to that same vision for forever, even before Mom became sick. She loves nature, and I always felt like she might be happier away from here. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t included in my future. I never really considered revising my idea for my life because it just felt so…automatic, almost out of reflex. I want to—”
I put a finger over her mouth, not wanting her to say anything in the moment that she’ll regret later. “You shouldn’t come up with something on the spot just to soothe my anxiety without giving it the consideration and time you need. I can’t be happy without you, but I also can’t be happy if you aren’t happy. So you take your time. I can wait.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Huxley
What I hate most in life is doing the right thing, only to have it kick me in the teeth. I almost wish I hadn’t stopped Grace when she opened her mouth to speak last weekend. Then I’d at least know what her first, unfiltered impulse might’ve been.
Now she’s thinking. She hasn’t given me a single hint as to where her thoughts are headed, and I can’t ask because I told her I’d wait. Who would’ve thought my patience was so limited?
But I don’t dare rush her. Our future is a serious matter, and requires serious consideration.
“Your coffee, and the documents you asked for.” Claude, my new assistant, places a cup of fresh java and the old posters and spreads from The Origin campaigns spanning two decades. The new client apparently doesn’t believe in digital copies, only paper.
“Thanks.”
He smiles and returns to the desk that used to be occupied by Madison. Claude is young and without a lot of experience, but that works to his advantage, since he doesn’t have any bad habits from previous employment. I can train and mold him into the perfect assistant. The kid works hard and he’s smart. If he shows creative talent, I might later move him to another division. Madison would’ve had the same opportunity to advance if she hadn’t said she didn’t have a single creative bone in her body.
My phone rings with a call from my accountant.What’s this about?He never calls unless it’s important.
“Hello, Earl,” I say.
“Good afternoon, Huxley.” His mild voice is almost a cliché for a proper professor or accountant. He always greets me with good morning or good afternoon, even though whatever he’s about to say is going to turn the day into a shit-fest. “I’m calling because I’ve observed some, ah, irregularities with the trust you set up for your mother-in-law’s care at Johns Hopkins.”
I sit up straight, a tight knot in my gut. The care Grace’s mother’s getting at Johns Hopkins is too important. “What irregularities?”
“The invoices are suspect. The address and the invoice numbers seem off. I noticed because my own mother-in-law was also at Johns Hopkins for a stroke.”
“So? Call and fix them,” I say, irritated that he spiked my anxiety for nothing.
“That’s the thing. Every time I call the number on the invoice, it sends me to voicemail, saying everyone’s busy. And nobody ever gets back to me, even though I’ve left detailed messages each time. So I finally called the main number I got off their website. Guess what? There’s no patient under the name of Winona Lain.”
“What?” The moment stretches as my heartbeat accelerates.What the hell…Did Nelson take Winona out of the hospital and install her elsewhere? No, that doesn’t make sense. Grace would’ve known. “Are they sure?”
“That’s what I asked. I told the young lady on the phone she must be mistaken, because I have outstanding invoices for a patient named Winona Lain.” He lets out a long, slow breath. “But she said as far as their computer records show, the last time Dr. Blum saw Winona was a year ago.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Grace
