Betting on Grace (18 page)

Nikolai gave her a get-real look, then said, “Do you mind, Kate? I need to talk to your sister.”

“Me, too, but I can see you’ve got dibs. When you’re done, come to the kitchen. There’s a cannoli with your name on it.”

Grace gave in. “Fine. We’ll talk. Kate, will you sign off on my bar tab? I just bought the house a round.”

“So I noticed. Smart way to put a positive spin on
what happened. I think I’ll go have a glass myself. It’s been one of those days, hasn’t it?” She gave Grace a wink and left.

“How ’bout you?” Grace asked, stalling. “Do you need a glass of champagne before we get into this?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ooh, nice manners. One might think you were housebroken.”

She marched up the flight of stairs, thankful that she’d dressed in a simple black pantsuit, instead of her usual skirt and heels. Once in her office, she put her desk between them and sat down.

She kicked off her shoes without thinking and dug her toes into the thick pile of the carpet.

“Nice office,” Nikolai said, looking around. “I think it’s bigger than your trailer.”

“I share it with Kate,” she said, indicating a portioned-off workspace just beyond the filing cabinets. Adjacent to that was a large, square red-blue-and-yellow alphabet rug where Maya had spent her days as a toddler.

A small bookcase and beanbag chair had replaced the toy box and safety gate.

“That’s Maya’s space,” she explained as Nikolai headed toward the play area. “It’s in transition until she’s ready to take over for me.”

He laughed softly. Grace liked his laugh. Too bad she heard it so rarely.

“So? Are we discussing what happened in my trailer or my flakiness when it comes to birth control?”

“Neither. Like I said, I came to apologize.”

“Are you serious?”

He meandered back to her desk, pausing briefly to look at the family photos on the wall.

“I acted like an ass,” he said, placing his palms flat on her desk.

She didn’t know what to say. In all the time she and Shawn had been together, he’d never apologized—sincerely.

“I have a bad temper,” he added.

“You had a right to be upset.”

“I’m as much to blame for what happened as you are.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I called my doctor. She said there’s something I can take if I’m worried about a potential pregnancy. I have seventy-two hours.”

He sat down and put his right foot on his left knee. He was still in jeans and boots, but he’d changed into a long-sleeved shirt. One she hadn’t seen before. It looked new.

“I really was a jerk,” he said softly. “I suppose partly because I know what it’s like to be an unwanted child.”

Grace’s self-pity turned to contrition. Why hadn’t she guessed that was what was bothering him? So much for her highly tuned intuition. “But, Nikolai, from what Mom told us, your parents were very much in love when you were born. What if your assumption that your father didn’t want you is wrong? He was grieving. People do crazy things when they’re in pain. I know, because Mom did something stupid, too, after Dad died.”

“Did she give away one of her kids?”

“We were too old for that,” she said, trying to smile. “But she gave nearly every dime of Dad’s life-insurance money to Kate’s husband to invest. Unfortunately, Ian’s elaborate pyramid scheme collapsed. Then, rather than
face up to what he’d done, he pocketed what was left of the money and headed for the border. Mom never would have made it so easy for him to steal the money if she’d been thinking straight.”

“Money can be replaced, but a kid…”

Grace heard his bleak tone. She sat forward and looked him in the eyes. Such beautiful eyes.
If our child…
She shook her head and ordered herself to stay focused. “Is everything so black-and-white in your world?”

“Not everything, but—”

She didn’t let him finish. “Listen, I know you’ve had a brush with the law. You’ve paid your debt to society, and you probably want to move on with your life. That’s great, but don’t you think the same should apply to your father—your birth father? Hasn’t he paid for his mistake by not watching his son grow up?”

“I remember the day when no one came to pick me up from the babysitter. She started calling around. I was a little older than Maya, but I remember hiding because I knew something bad had happened to my mommy. Strangers came for me, Grace. A man and a woman. He pulled me out from behind the couch and carried me to a car. He was chewing Juicy Fruit gum. To this day, that smell makes me nauseous.”

He took a breath and let it out. “I never saw either of my parents again. Don’t try to cloud the issue with sympathy.”

She sat back. “I’m sorry, but I’m not made that way. I can’t look at George and not feel sympathetic. It’s how I was raised.” She tried to smile. “Growing up Gypsy, you see things differently. People aren’t per
fect. They make mistakes. Stealing is still stealing and it’s wrong, but we don’t throw people in jail for slipping up, like writing a check that needs an extra day or two to clear.”

His brow knitted severely. He didn’t like what she was saying, but she went on anyway. “In the Rom world, if you didn’t have the money, someone would cover for you. If the police came knocking on your door, someone would keep them distracted until you had time to clear up the confusion. We look after each other because we know that in the gaujo world bad things happen when you don’t have family around.” She wanted to reach out and touch him but kept her hands folded on the desk. “You’re a perfect example of that. If my mother had been there when your mother died, you would have come home with us. Period.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was contemplative. “Does that mean you’d never leave the comfort and security of your family?”

“Where would I go?”

“Detroit, maybe.”

Grace sank back in shock. “You’re leaving? I thought you liked it here.”

“I’m pointing out that you have choices. Just like those two jerks tonight. They chose to try to beat you out of the price of dinner, instead of doing the right thing.”

The right thing? This from a guy who spent time in jail for getting into a bar fight?

“Nikolai, sometimes you baffle me. I don’t think I know you at all. Who are you really?”

He didn’t answer for a minute. Grace watched his eyes closely and saw the battle going on inside, but when he answered, his tone was resigned. “I’m a half-Gypsy freak with no idea where I belong. Satisfied?”

No. But she knew what would satisfy her. “I kind of like freaks. Wanna take me home? I promise to do the right thing this time and use a condom.”

“Better safe than sorry, huh?”

“Always been my motto.”

“Mine, too,” he muttered softly. “Which is why I have to go.” He started to reach out to touch her, but appeared to change his mind. A moment later, he was gone. Grace put her head on her desk and let out a long troubled sigh.
Detroit.
No way she could conceive of moving there.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
,
Grace awoke from a fitful night’s sleep. Before leaving Romantique, she’d finally confided in Kate about her interlude with Nikolai. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about Charles or his claim about their father. She could only deal with one catastrophe at a time.

Kate had lectured her about communicable diseases and advised her to see her doctor the next day.

“But what if this was supposed to happen, Kate?” Grace had asked, letting the stillness of the empty kitchen calm her. She and her sister often had their best talks at two in the morning. “You and Ian took precautions, and Maya found a way past them.”

“My daughter has defied odds all her life. According to Mom, Maya picked the time, place and parents she wanted. Why? Considering all that’s happened, I have no idea.”

Grace knew. Kate was a great mother—loving and creative. She’d learned from the best. The only other person—in Grace’s opinion—who came close to being as devoted to her children was MaryAnn. Which, Grace thought, was why—after hours of tossing and turning—she’d decided to talk to her cousin’s wife. She was ab
solutely certain MaryAnn wouldn’t want to continue working for Charles once she learned the truth about his involvement in her father’s death.

She pulled on a ball cap so the wind didn’t wreak havoc with her hair. Her Lycra Capri’s, sports bra and loose T-shirt were all black, like her mood. But her hot-pink socks matched her running shoes.

Today was going to be warm, she realized as she made a show of stretching—just in case Nikolai was next door watching. But last night, she’d seen on the Weather Channel that a big storm was headed their way, thanks to a low-pressure area in Baja.

In the desert, that usually meant flash floods, an anomaly of nature that Grace and her father had loved to experience together. She still got weepy on stormy days, missing Ernst.

After making a purposeful loop around the neighborhood, she arrived at MaryAnn and Gregor’s baby-blue ranch-style home—similar to the ones on either side of it, except their house still retained its original roofing material—coarse white rock.

The place had changed very little since MaryAnn and Gregor had taken it over from MaryAnn’s mother. Grace had never cared for MaryAnn’s mother, who now lived in Hawaii. She didn’t understand how any grandmother could stand to live so far away from her grandchildren and never make any attempt to visit.

Nor had the woman ever invited MaryAnn and her family to come see her.

Grace was positive that kind of rejection had to hurt, but MaryAnn always defended her mother by saying, “It’s her way.”

As she knocked on the door, she observed MaryAnn’s faded Toyota sedan parked beside the overflowing garbage cans. Gregor’s car was gone. That was odd. Normally, Greg didn’t go to work until much later in the day.

She looked around. Weathered boxes of junk were lined up along the concrete wall that separated the younger family’s yard from Claude’s. Broken toys. Dog-food dishes—even though their beautiful but ancient cocker spaniel had recently died, after a long, costly illness.

She’d considered organizing a communal work detail to spruce the place up, but when she mentioned the idea to her sisters, Liz had told her to mind her own business.

“MaryAnn?” she called, knocking again.
Maybe she walked Luca and Gemilla to The Dancing Hippo.

She’d just turned to leave when the lock clicked and the door opened a crack. “Grace? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to catch you before you left for work. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

The door opened all the way. MaryAnn’s rumpled nightshirt came to the middle of her shins. Her hair was matted down on one side of her head. “No. Today is Charles’s monthly breakfast meeting at the Insurance Center. I don’t go in until noon. Gregor must have taken the kids to school, then gone out for breakfast,” she said, yawning. “Want some coffee?”

MaryAnn turned and walked into the kitchen.

“No thanks, but a drink of water would be nice.” Grace had wrestled with how much to tell her cousin and his wife about her father’s involvement with Charles and had come to the conclusion that Ernst would have wanted her to warn Gregor and MaryAnn about how deceitful and cruel Charles could be.

“Actually, I’m here to talk about Charles.”

MaryAnn took a can of Folgers from the cupboard. “You mean about your plans for the new restaurant?”

“No. I mean blackmail.”

The can clattered loudly against the countertop. “What?”

“MaryAnn, Charles has threatened to expose some past indiscretion of my father’s if I don’t give him the money in my trust account. He doesn’t plan to use it to remodel the coffee shop. He says he needs it for something else. He also claims the money is rightfully his because of some agreement between him and Dad.”

After a slight hesitation, MaryAnn finished measuring the ground coffee into the filter, added a carafe of water then turned on the switch. Only then did she look at Grace and say, “Did Charles tell you what he needed the money for?”

“No. And I really don’t care. He was horrible, MaryAnn. He said he’d ruin Dad’s reputation and prove once and for all that the Romani are nothing more than liars and thieves.”

“Like he’s some kind of saint,” MaryAnn murmured. “What are you going to do?”

Grace sat down on the white vinyl stool. “I…I’m thinking about going to the police.” She held up a hand, anticipating MaryAnn’s response. “I know. I know. Dad didn’t trust them, but I’m not going to let Charles extort money from me, no matter what happened in the past. It’s just not right.”

“But Grace, Charles has a lot of connections. I…I wouldn’t cross him, if I were you.”

The slight wobble in MaryAnn’s voice caught Grace’s
attention. “You didn’t know about this, did you? Charles didn’t brag about getting gullible me to hand over my trust fund?”

“No, of course not. Charles doesn’t confide in me. I’m just his secretary. I make sure he’s at court on time and I referee his arguments with his partners. Other than that, I’m practically invisible.”

Grace heard the bitterness in MaryAnn’s tone and was confused. In the past, MaryAnn had bragged about what a great boss Charles was. “What about Gregor?”

“Do you mean is he close to Charles? Don’t be ridiculous. First off, Charles isn’t close to anybody, but if he were, he wouldn’t pick Gregor. Haven’t you noticed that Charles only hires the Romani for low-level jobs?”

Grace had never given it any thought. “What about Uncle Claude? He doesn’t sweep floors.”

“Of course not. Why work for a living when you can get paid for making up lies?” Her tone was laced with barely concealed spite.

“MaryAnn,” Grace exclaimed in shock. “What’s going on? This doesn’t sound like you.”

Her cousin-in-law’s eyes narrowed to an unfriendly squint Grace had never seen before. “How would
you
know, Grace? You’re a princess. I’m just one of the peasants, remember?”

Grace was too stunned to speak. Where was the sweet, kindhearted, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly woman she thought she knew?

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Grace?” MaryAnn asked with a laugh. The brittle sound drove a shiver up Grace’s spine. With it came an odd tingling, like déjà
vu, but she was positive nothing like this exchange had ever taken place.

Grace shook her head. “The truth? Have you looked at my life, lately, MaryAnn? My oldest sister just got out of the hospital. Liz is hanging on to her house by a thread. Kate and I are working our butts off to keep the restaurant going. Does that constitute royalty in your book?”

MaryAnn poured herself a cup of coffee. “It beats playing dumb while the man you work for exploits the poor, the lazy and the greedy to feather his own, twisted bed by making up bogus accident claims.”

Grace’s pulse jumped erratically. “What are you talking about? I thought his insurance operation was completely pro bono.”

MaryAnn made a rude sound of contempt. “Of course you did. That’s what he wants people to think. But I saw a file on his desk one day. Less than half of the claims are legit. People like Claude recruit suckers who need money. This is Vegas. They’re easy enough to find. He and Greg help them stage accidents. Charles gets a kickback from his referrals to a couple of doctors and chiropractors, including the one Liz works for.”

Liz? Oh, God, no. She can’t be involved.

“Plus,” MaryAnn went on, “if any of the claims go to court, he winds up hauling in big money.”

“If you know this, why haven’t you told anyone?”

MaryAnn shrugged. “Because Charles is too clever to get caught. If I called the police, you know who would wind up in jail—patsies like Gregor and Claude. Not Charles,” she said with conviction. “People like him never pay for their crimes.”

MaryAnn despised Charles, Grace realized. Deeply.
Passionately. But why? “There’s something else you’re not telling me. Have you been involved with him? Romantically?”

MaryAnn made a gagging sound. “Of course not. He’s a freak. I wouldn’t let him come near me.” Her look of revulsion convinced Grace she was telling the truth.

“So why do you hate him? Does it have something to do with his past? If you know something, we could go to the police—”

Coffee sloshed over the rim of MaryAnn’s cup. “No. Forget it. Charles is untouchable. Give him what he wants, Grace. Before it’s too late.”

“Cave in to his blackmail? No way. He thinks this information he has about my dad can hurt us, but he’s wrong. We’ve weathered worse as a family. We’ll survive this, too.”

“He won’t stop at ruining your dad’s reputation. He’ll find a way to ruin you, too. And your mother, your sisters, even me and my family. I knew someone who threatened to cross Charles. She didn’t live very long after that.”

Murder? Charles was capable of murder?
Grace didn’t believe it. MaryAnn was clearly overwrought.

“If that’s true, why do you still work for him?”

MaryAnn wiped up the spill, never meeting Grace’s eyes. “Better to keep a snake where you can see him than wonder where he might strike next. Your father taught us that, remember? Ernst was always spouting little bits of wisdom.”

Her sunny “MaryAnn” smile returned, but Grace didn’t buy the quick turnaround. Her intuition told her MaryAnn was keeping something from her.

Grace stood up abruptly. “I have to go. Mom needs me to drive her to Liz’s. Catch you later.”

Grace had no idea where her mother was. Nor had Yetta asked Grace to play chauffeur. But the voice in her head said Yetta was the person she needed to talk to. She had to hope her mother’s visions wouldn’t fail them this time.

“M
OM
,” G
RACE SAID
, dashing into her mother’s bedroom. “You won’t believe what just happened. I can’t make sense—” She stopped speaking to stare at her mother, who was wearing her best suit and skirt…with heels. “You’re all dressed up.”

“I have some shopping to do, then I’m meeting someone for lunch.” Yetta was seated at her vanity. The gold velvet upholstered stool had always reminded Grace of a small, regal throne. As a child, Grace had sat on it to give her royal speeches. Yetta’s cosmetic jars and perfume bottles had served as her loyal subjects.

“With Liz?”

“No, Elizabeth is going to the bank over her lunch hour to see about refinancing her house.”

Grace sat down on the bed and hunched forward, still breathing hard from her sprint. Liz was refinancing? Grace hadn’t heard that. Of course, she wasn’t terribly surprised. Liz was the secret-keeper in the family. “I hope she gets it. She’s been pinching pennies more than usual, lately.”

Yetta gave her French twist hairdo a shot of styling spray then swiveled to face Grace. “Elizabeth will be fine. But you are in trouble. I can tell.”

Grace took a deep breath. “Actually, we might all be
in trouble. As much as it pains me to say this, I think we need to call the police.”

Yetta sat back. “I beg your pardon?”

“I just left MaryAnn’s. I went there to tell her that Charles tried to extort my trust-fund money from me. She wasn’t surprised. In fact, she told me that his insurance operation is basically a scam. Some of our family members might be involved. I know this is gaujo business, but I think it could hurt us, as well. If Dad were alive…” Grace watched her mother’s facial expression change from concern to resignation.

“Grace, dear, I have something to tell you. You aren’t going to like it.”

Grace’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

“I contacted the authorities several weeks ago because of a disturbing dream I’d had. It was Jurek’s idea. He suggested I call someone he knew. Someone we could trust to uncover the truth from the inside.”

Dream? Jurek? Inside?
A sick feeling swept upward from her belly. “Mom? What are you trying to say?”

“Nikolai is a policeman in Detroit. He came here to assist the Metro police to find out why Charles was suddenly so interested in you and your inheritance. It was the only way to keep my family from being devoured by the serpent.”

The truth hit on several levels at once. She might have fallen if she hadn’t been sitting down. Nikolai wasn’t an ex-con, he was a cop. Working undercover. Using her family to get to Charles.
He was a cop.

“Oh, my God,” she said, fighting tears that closed off her windpipe. “He lied to me. You lied.”

Yetta reached out and squeezed Grace’s knee. “He
had to keep his identity a secret, Grace. And you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Even your sisters. If word gets out, his life will be in jeopardy.”

“It already is,” Grace seethed. “Because I’m going to kill him.” He’d made love to her as one man when he really was another. “Mother, how could you? Because he has a few drops of Romani blood, you welcomed a cop into our midst without talking to anyone? My God, Mom, what would Dad think?”

“Grace, I was—”

Grace was too angry to listen. “It’s bad enough that you gave all of Dad’s insurance money to Ian, but this is crazy. You’re Puri Dye. You’re supposed to
see
into the future, not to reshape it by involving gaujo police in Romani business.”