"Hi, Frances," I said as I walked in.

She'd been sitting behind her desk. Wordlessly, she leapt to her feet, flung her gla.s.ses from their perch on her nose, and let them hang from her neck as she pierced me with a glare. "What now?"

"You heard?"

"Everyone heard. Why didn't you call me?"

"Last night, you mean?"

She jammed her fists into her wide waist and waggled her head. "Yes, I mean last night."

I hadn't thought to call her, but that didn't seem to be the best answer right now. "I had to give a statement. Walk the police through every step. Multiple times. It was late by the time we finished."

By the way her eyes narrowed, I knew she didn't buy it. "The Mister wants to see you."

"That's my first order of business today."

"Good. He's waiting in your office."

I pointed. "Now?"

She nodded with vigor. "And if you think I'm riled because you didn't call me last night, just wait until you deal with the Mister."

He must have heard us talking because he appeared in the doorway seconds later. "Gracie," he said, opening his arms.

I stepped into them, allowing myself to be comforted by this man who, no matter what any test might say, was family to me. "Oh, Bennett," I said into his chest as he hugged me tight. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

He grasped me by both shoulders and pushed me to arm's length, his face creased with both worry and relief. "Your fault? No, he fooled all of us. They did. There was no way to antic.i.p.ate any of this."

I closed my eyes, knowing Bennett sought to console, but knowing that it had been I who had messed up so terrifically. "I was too eager to believe him," I said. "I fell for every word."

He shook me gently, making me open my eyes again. "As did I. But you had the will to fight him and look at the result. You're stronger now, aren't you?"

That question had plagued me all through a night of restless sleep, but I'd come to believe that I would be stronger now. Although he hadn't sought to do it, Mark had given me a gift. It was one I wasn't happy to accept, but one I could never return. Not if I lived to be a hundred.

From this day forward, I knew I'd be more cynical, more jaded. I'd had blinders on, failing to catch his manipulation because he'd cloaked it in kindness and warmth. Never again. I'd believed him to be strong, compa.s.sionate, and honest. All that baloney about never lying. Yes, I was tougher now, but I was a little less optimistic, too.

"I am stronger," I said.

Bennett held me tight again. "I am so proud of you."

Frances cleared her throat. "Some of us have jobs to do around here," she said when we broke apart and looked over. Making shoo-shoo actions with her hands, she said, "You know we'll have our hands full trying to hold off the reporters. No time for this emotional stuff. Everybody back to work."

"Yes, Frances," I said, grinning at Bennett.

Frances rolled her eyes and blew raspberries as she returned to her seat. The phone rang and we waited while she answered it. I had to give Frances credit. Her one-word responses didn't let on to the caller's ident.i.ty even one little bit. "Yes, I'll tell her," she said finally and hung up.

"Good news," she said to both of us, although you couldn't read it from her expression. "They were able to recover all the items stolen from Marshfield, including the golden horn and the picture frame."

I took a step toward her desk. "Was the photo of Bennett still in it?"

She nodded. "Yes, indeedy. All items will be returned once the police are finished with them."

"That is excellent news," I said, feeling a lightness of being stir within me again. "I'm beyond happy." I turned to Bennett. "You know what's best of all? It wasn't Hillary who took anything."

"With the way she treats you, I'm surprised to hear you defending her," he said.

"I may not be particularly fond of Hillary," I said, "but I didn't want to see her falsely accused."

Frances snorted as the door to her office opened. She said, "Speak of the devil."

"Nice to see you, too," Hillary said to my a.s.sistant, belatedly noticing Bennett and me in the room. "Oh, h.e.l.lo. I was looking for you, Papa Bennett." Hillary was wearing blue jeans and a casual shirt. That in itself was unusual, but the accessory that completed her ensemble, a rolling suitcase, was what caught my attention most.

Bennett spotted it, too. I watched an expression of surprise cross his features. "Let me guess. Now that the filming is complete, you're leaving us?"

"Even better," she said with gusto. She turned to me. "I told you that the man I met with-the one with the bottle of wine-had nothing to do with the murders, didn't I?"

"You did."

"See! I wouldn't lie to you."

That was a lie right there, but I didn't call her out.

She jabbered on. "You wanted to know who he was. Well, now I can tell you."

"A new boyfriend?" Frances asked.

Hillary shot her a withering look. "No . . ." she said stringing the word out. "Frederick is my new business partner." Hillary let go of her suitcase handle long enough to hold her hands out in triumph. "I'm an interior designer," she said with a radiant smile. "Frederick is putting up the money and I'm putting up the talent." She winked at me. "The wine was one of the gifts I gave him to grease the wheels. And it worked!"

I tried to wrap my head around what she was saying, but the only question I could come up with was, "Why didn't you tell us this earlier?"

"It was no one's business but my own."

"Do you have any idea how much police manpower it took to look for this guy? You should have said something. You cost the taxpayers of Emberstowne."

She gave a "who cares?" shrug. "Well then, I guess I cost myself."

My ebullience crashed and I thought I heard Bennett growl. "What do you mean?"

"You know that house a couple of doors away from yours that just got sold?" she asked me.

My stomach turned to stone. "No . . ."

"Turns out I couldn't afford my place near the coast, after all. But I can afford to live here. Especially now that I have a real job." She tapped a happy finger on my arm. "You and I are going to be neighbors," she said. "Can you believe it?"

Bennett said nothing.

Frances said nothing.

"I can't believe it," I croaked.

"I have to run. Frederick is waiting. We're looking at locations for our offices and I'm moving into my new home. See you all later."

The door closed behind her and we three stared at one another, utterly dumbfounded.

Bennett finally broke the silence. "Gracie, do remember that acquisition trip I mentioned last week?"

I nodded.

"What do you say to taking that trip sooner, rather than later?"

Frances wagged a thick finger at us. "If you think I'm going to stay back here and face all the drama"-she pointed to the door where Hillary had exited-"that's about to erupt around here, you two are asking a lot." She looked from Bennett to me, back to him, then picked up the phone. "Fine," she said, "which travel agent do you want to use?"

"Whoever you think best, Frances." He turned to me. "What do you say, Gracie?"

I closed my eyes for a moment thinking about Mark's cruelty, Jack's abrupt resignation, and Hillary's unexpected news. Life had been crazy around here, and it wasn't going to get better anytime soon.

I opened my eyes. "How soon can we leave?"

Berkley Prime Crime t.i.tles by Julie Hyzy.

White House Chef Mysteries.

STATE OF THE ONION.

HAIL TO THE CHEF.

EGGSECUTIVE ORDERS.

BUFFALO WEST WING.

AFFAIRS OF STEAK.

Manor House Mysteries.

GRACE UNDER PRESSURE.

GRACE INTERRUPTED.

GRACE AMONG THIEVES.

end.