CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Grace sat down heavily on her bed. Hot tears stung her eyes, and her mind swirled with anxiety and confusion. She buried her face in her hands and took several deep breaths to try to calm herself down, closing her eyes tightly and willing the tears not to fall.
How on earth had things spiraled so terribly in the last hour?
It was late, and fortunately the halls of the mansion had been quiet when she returned from the walk with Michael. Only the night security guard at the main gate had seen her come speeding alone back into the house and, after she had hurriedly assured him everything was fine, had backed off and not asked any further questions.
But everything was not fine, and her stomach was churning with despair.
What on earth had Michael been thinking, doing what he had done that evening? She couldn't fathom it in the slightest. He was falling in love with her? Since when? How? He had certainly always been friendly toward her, but never had he given the slightest indication that his regard for her ran deeper than professional politeness. Had their evening at the theater had somehow shifted his thinking, made him see her in a new light? Was it possible that her complaints about Oliver had made him think she was actually amenable to the possibility of pursuing a relationship with someone else? That obviously had not been her intention—but in that moment it seemed the only possible explanation for his completely unexpected behavior.
Her stomach gave another uncomfortable lurch. Did she dare tell Oliver what had happened?
Michael was, she thought with a quiet groan, certainly far from the first of Oliver's business associates who had behaved inappropriately toward her over the years. There were numerous powerful men who visited the mansion frequently for board meetings and negotiations, men who she knew for certain had wives and children of their own at home, whom she steered clear of to the greatest extent possible after one too many "accidental" touches while walking by, quiet lewd comments muttered just loud enough for her to hear them, even a handful of attempted grabs when they thought no one else was looking.
It was, unfortunately, part of the life of a secretary that one had to constantly be on guard against.
And, in keeping with the unspoken code that she and all other secretaries knew they had to live by in order to avoid jeopardizing their livelihoods, never had she spoken a word about any of those other incidents to Oliver. What would have been the point? She didn't doubt that he would have been angry that anyone would behave so badly under his roof, but would he cut off an important relationship with a major New York banker because of it? Would he cancel a multiyear contract with a crucial raw materials supplier that his factories depended on to keep the assembly lines moving? She had always figured that telling him would only put him in a difficult position.
But what about now? Now she wasn't merely his secretary, she was his fiancée. And, she thought with a swell of anxiety, the man who had accosted her out on the street practically in full view of the entire city was the son of a key corporate stakeholder with whom he had just negotiated a deal worth tens of millions of dollars.
The telephone ringing on her desk very nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. It must be Oliver, she thought as she rushed to pick it up. No one else would be calling her this late.
"Oliver?"
She winced. Her voice sounded high-strung, full of barely controlled emotion. He would know immediately that something was wrong.
"How are you, Grace?"
The relief that flooded through her when she heard his voice on the other end of the line brought fresh tears to her eyes and a sharp pang of longing. Suddenly she missed him very, very much, and the distance separating them felt unbearable.
"I'm …" She was about to say "fine", but found herself unable to continue. She pressed a hand to her mouth as the tears she had been fighting finally spilled out.
"Grace?" Now he was alarmed, and she heard fear spike in his voice. "Grace, what is it? What's wrong?"
"It's-it's nothing," she stammered through her tears, pulling a handkerchief out of her desk drawer. "Oh, Oliver, I just … I miss you. I've missed you so much all day."
He gave a deep sigh. "I've missed you, as well. I've felt very badly about how we argued before I left."
"I have too," she said quietly.
"I owe you an apology, my dear."
"An apology?" she said, surprised. "No, you don't. I waited until the last minute to tell you I wasn't going to come on the trip. It was my fault."
"It wasn't," he said firmly. "Grace, I can't deny that I was in a foul mood after learning you didn't want to come. But that's no excuse. I shouldn't have said anything about asking you to hire a new secretary to replace yourself." She couldn't help the twinge of relief that she felt upon hearing those words. "I should have realized that the idea might be sensitive for you, and I certainly shouldn't have thrown it at you right when I was about to walk out the door. It is something we need to talk about eventually, but I handled it poorly, and for that I have to apologize."
"Oliver," she said softly, sinking into the seat at her desk and smiling for what felt like the first time all day. "Oh, Oliver, that means a great deal to me."
"I've thought a lot about our situation today, Grace," he went on. "And I need to make one thing absolutely clear, my dear. I love you, and I'm willing to try just about anything as long as you're happy. Whether that's seeing how we can balance your job with the children after the girls are more settled into a normal routine, or hiring another secretary on a part-time basis to step in as needed, or—what the hell, I'll even hire a male secretary if that makes you more comfortable. Andrew Carnegie had one, I don't see why I shouldn't. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."
"I've thought about it a lot today, too," she admitted. "I don't know what arrangement would make the most sense, but I do know you need a full-time secretary." She sighed. "I just don't know what to do. I do want to spend more time with the children, but I love working with you. I don't want to give that up entirely."
"Let's talk about this more when I'm home, Grace," he suggested quietly. "We don't need to make a decision now. And …" She knew the slight lilt in his voice meant a small smile was gracing his lips. "In addition, perhaps we could finally put our heads together and think up some plans for the wedding?"
"Oh, Oliver," she breathed. "That would be absolutely wonderful."
"Are you doing all right otherwise? You sounded upset when you picked up the telephone."
She bit her lip. She still felt entirely uncertain about whether she should tell him what had happened that night. She felt so relieved now, having resolved at least for the moment the argument that had soured their parting and made her feel so miserable the entire day. Did she want to blow that all up and send him into a fit of fury? Perhaps she needed to think on it a bit more.
"Yes, I'm—I'm all right. The children and I had a nice time together today. How is the trip going?"
The next three days felt to Grace like they lasted for an eternity.
On the positive side, she felt more optimistic with each passing day that the incident with Michael had been just that: a highly regrettable but temporary episode that would not recur again. After the evening walk down Fifth Avenue in which he had professed his love for her and attempted to kiss her, he had refused to meet her gaze and had stayed entirely out of her way. He spent most of his time working by himself in his suite, ordering meals up to his room and rarely venturing out into the rest of the mansion. And that suited her just fine.
However, she found herself agonizing day in and day out about when, how, and whether to tell Oliver what Michael had done. As a person who generally considered herself to be decisive and honest, her hesitation troubled her. On the one hand, the thought of keeping Michael's actions quiet and never telling Oliver what had happened made her feel deeply uncomfortable. Hiding a secret of this nature certainly wasn't how she had envisioned starting off their married life.
But on the other hand, was telling him worth the damage it would likely cause?
She prayed that her unequivocal rejection of Michael's advances had taught him a lesson and made very clear that she wasn't interested in him. With any luck, he would never speak of that evening again. In that case, was it worth jettisoning the thousands of hours of labor that had been put into making the merger a reality? Oliver would probably react to her revelation with rage. Would he, in a fit of fury, torpedo the entire thing just because Michael had suffered a temporary lapse of judgment? Was it fair that the entire Thompson family and all of Oliver's own staff who had worked so assiduously should be punished because of Michael's mistake?
By the time the long line of sleek black cars pulled into the mansion's circular driveway three days later, Grace had reluctantly decided that she had no choice but to tell Oliver the truth. It would be better for him to hear it from her, rather than risk him finding it out for himself some other way. However, she felt less than fully resolved in her decision, and she watched anxiously as the cars came to a halt in front of the main entryway. She wasn't looking forward to that conversation at all.
Annie and Molly raced ahead of her out of the front doors and hurled themselves into Oliver's arms as soon as the Asp had opened the door of the car, laughing and cheering to have their father home again.
"Did you bring the maple syrup we asked for, Daddy? Did you see any moose when you were in New England? How big is a moose anyway? Or what about a bear, didja see a bear? Jack said that bears are even taller than Punjab and even grumpier than Drake, is that true?"
Oliver laughed heartily, patting Annie's mop of curls. "No moose or bears on this trip, my dear, but you might be pleased to find a few bottles of maple syrup in the luggage."
His eyes met Grace's, and she was thrilled to see a smile on his face as he leaned in and kissed her.
"Welcome home," she said with a smile.
"It's wonderful to be back," he replied, taking her hand in his as, led by Annie and Molly, they made their way back inside the house.
And it was indeed wonderful. In spite of the tension, the stress, and the arguments they had had before he departed, having him home again felt comforting, as if nothing had changed. After a quick check-in with Grace to go over the day's correspondence and messages, he surprised all of them by announcing he didn't intend to work for the rest of the day. Annie and Molly delighted in showing their father the latest tennis moves they had learned, playing him a simple tune on the piano that Grace had taught them that morning, and hearing about the sights and sounds of New England.
Annie was just beginning to speculate out loud what Mrs. Pugh might be planning for supper that night when Oliver interrupted her.
"Well, actually," he said, "if you'd be so kind as to excuse us from supper tonight, Annie, I was hoping to take your future mother out to dinner, just the two of us." Grace, who had not been expecting this at all, felt her heart skip a beat and her face flush with pleasure. "After all, we've got to start talking about plans for the wedding."
"Finally!" Annie exploded, jumping off the piano bench. "I've been askin' about the wedding for weeks! How soon's it gonna be? Are we gonna have it here at the house? Can we go with you to buy a weddin' dress, Grace?"
"Will Annie and me get to wear pretty dresses too?" Molly piped in, her face alight with excitement. "With puff sleeves like we saw in the Pirates of Penzance?"
"What about the cake?" Annie gasped. "What kind of cake are you gonna have? I know it's not my wedding, so I guess you can have whatever kind ya like, but if you picked chocolate cake, that'd be real swell!"
"Girls, girls, my goodness!" Grace said with a hearty laugh. "We'll certainly welcome your help making those kinds of decisions." She glanced at Oliver, smiling as their eyes met and held. "But we perhaps need to talk about when, and where, and that sort of thing first."
"Indeed. We might end up with another circus if we give them too many opportunities for input," Oliver said with a grin.
Whether consciously or not, Grace found the idea of telling Oliver what had transpired with Michael slipping further and further back in her mind as the day went on. The thought of ruining this rare time they had to spend together just felt too much to bear. Spending the afternoon with the girls was a delight, and Oliver was in good spirits that evening as they climbed into the Duesenberg and headed downtown to the Waldorf Astoria Hotel and a private dining room in Peacock Alley. It was so much more enjoyable to talk about anything else over their first meal alone together in quite some time: what she and the children had gotten up to while he was away, when they wanted to have the wedding, what the right locations for the ceremony and reception might be, whom they wanted to invite.
And besides, she thought drowsily as she drifted off to sleep late that evening with his arms wrapped around her and her cheek resting on his chest, there would be time tomorrow.
