Saving Grace (11 page)

‘My God! Is that a record?’

‘I think it might be. But there’s nothing she’s not able to do. I was nervous about giving her the bills to pay – you just never quite know and I do hate giving new people that kind of access – but I just couldn’t do it myself. She not only took the bills and paid them, she also redid the whole filing system. Now you can actually see where everything is. And it’s logical! Beautifully labelled and alphabetized! I hate to say this, but it’s much more efficient than it ever was before.’

‘She sounds unbelievable.’

‘She is! She’s unbelievably efficient and organized – the house has never looked more spotless.’

‘She cleans too?’

‘No. She doesn’t clean, but wherever she goes she organizes. I came home last week and all the chair covers were missing. She said she noticed they all looked a bit grubby, so without asking she’d just removed them all and taken them to the dry cleaner’s. And she hauled all the pool furniture out from the back barn and cleaned it with teak cleaner. It’s ridiculous. I feel like I’ve died and woken up in some version of heaven.’

Sybil fixes her gaze on Grace. ‘Is she married? How old is she? She’s not a big, busty blonde who’s going to steal your husband, is she?’

Grace shakes her head. ‘I’m reticent to ask too much, I don’t want her to think I’m prying, but she’s thirty-eight, although honestly, she looks thirty-two, and she’s newly divorced. She didn’t say much about the ex-husband, just that it didn’t work out, and I quite like that. I would have felt so uncomfortable if she’d said awful things about him. It shows discretion, which is, as you know, so important to us. And her references were amazing.’

‘Have you had her sign a non-disclosure?’

‘A what?’

‘A confidentiality agreement. You must. At this point I am going to say awful things about my ex-husband, who is, as you know, a complete arse. However, I can also say something good about him, which is that he was a damned good lawyer, and he was big on the NDAs. If you’re in the public eye, anyone coming into your home has the potential to make money selling a story about what your life is really like. You’ve been remarkably blessed with Ellen, who would rather die than talk about you, but you have to get anyone new to sign one. Get on to your lawyer and have him send one over, then get her to sign it.’

‘You’re right. You’re right. It just feels a little uncomfortable.’

‘A whole lot more comfortable than opening the
Enquirer
and discovering your husband beats the dogs every night and has sex with the chickens.’

‘Ha! We really don’t have any secrets. There’s nothing about our lives that would be interesting for anyone, let alone the
Enquirer
.’

‘That may be true, but people can and do make things up all the time. Lord, Grace. For someone who’s married to such a well-known author, you can be shockingly naïve at times.’

Grace extends a leg clad in old, worn-thin leggings, a pair of muddy Bogs on her feet. ‘Do I look like a famous writer’s wife to you?’ She grins, pushing aside the thought that she may not be a famous writer’s wife for too much longer. The fame part continuing is questionable, given Ted’s terrible recent sales, a subject she cannot discuss with anyone, preferring to keep the illusion that Ted is still one of the biggest writers in the world.

‘Compared to this?’ Sybil extends her own stubbly leg, a Birkenstock on the end. ‘Yes.’

‘I wanted to ask you something,’ Grace says, changing the subject. ‘I’ve been thinking of doing something to widen the circle at Harmont House.’

‘What do you mean, “widen the circle”? Fund-raising?’

‘Ultimately, yes, but I hate bringing new people in and instantly hitting them up for money. I thought of doing something a little different. You know they have an abandoned yard in the back? I thought perhaps we could do an event. You could give a talk on vegetable gardens, maybe create a small garden, and show them how to be self-sufficient. I can cook, and maybe even get one of the local chefs to come in to do a cooking demonstration – that always seems to be a big hit. We could sell tickets, have an auction. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?’

‘Where do the new people come from?’

‘That’s the point. Everyone I know is already involved. I was thinking if you gave a talk, perhaps your clients would come, plus people who don’t know you but would want to hear you speak.’

‘I’m not that well known!’ Sybil says.

‘Around here you are.’

‘I think it would need something else. How about we get one of the big local chefs to do a cooking demo with you? Something using ingredients pulled straight from your garden?’

‘That’s why you needed to get involved.’ Grace smiles. ‘See how clever that idea is? I would never have thought of that. Excuse me?’ She signals to the waiter, who comes straight over. ‘Is the chef in today?’ He nods. ‘Would you mind telling him Grace Chapman would love to say hello?’ He walks off to the kitchen as Grace winks at Sybil. ‘No time like the present.’ Sybil raises her glass in a toast.

‘W
hat are you doing with Beth?’ Ted comes into the kitchen just as Grace places the pitcher of iced tea on the table, straightening up the glasses.

‘She’s helping me with this meeting,’ Grace says. ‘Where are my napkins?’ She turns in a frenzy. ‘Good God. Why can’t I ever find anything?’ She pulls open drawers, whirling around the kitchen. ‘Where are the damned things?’

‘Are these what you’re looking for?’ Ted points to the kitchen counter, where the napkins are neatly folded.

Grace’s face falls. ‘Oh God. I did them earlier.’ She looks at Ted, embarrassed. This isn’t what she used to be like, she thinks, unable to believe how disorganized she has become, how much she has been forgetting.

‘It’s our age.’ Ted interrupts her thoughts, as Grace wonders whether or not to point out how very much older Ted is than Grace. ‘You remember folding the napkins?’

‘Well, yes. Now I do.’ She shakes her head. ‘You must be right. It’s age. Is it okay for me to borrow Beth? Do you need her? She’s just been so incredibly helpful with putting this Harmont House thing together, but if you need her, I understand.’

Please don’t need her, she thinks. Please be able to look after yourself just this one morning.

‘Of course you can have her!’ says Ted, reaching out for a mini carrot-cake muffin that Grace made earlier this morning, filling the inside with extra cream cheese icing and topping them with a maple glaze.

‘She is amazing,’ Grace says. ‘Honestly. I have no idea how we managed without her.’

‘Nor I,’ he says. ‘She seems to read my mind and have everything done before I’ve even had a chance to think about it.’

‘You know, she got the timber yard to donate the wood to create the raised beds for the garden at Harmont? And she got them to send two men to build it. For free! I have no idea how she’s doing it, but she seems to make friends wherever she goes, and people end up doing stuff for her.’

‘It must be those big brown eyes,’ says Ted. ‘She bats her eyelashes and men sink like stones.’

‘As long as you’re not sinking like a stone.’

‘Darling wife.’ Ted steps towards Grace, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her tight. ‘The only woman in the world who has the capacity to make me sink like a stone is you. I sink only for you, repeatedly, and pleasurably.’

Grace allows herself to rest against him for a second. If only it were like this more often. If only Ted were always this kind, this loving, this calm, how much happier everyone would be.

‘Now, get out of my hair.’ She kisses him gently on the cheek. ‘People will be arriving soon.’

S
ybil is there, Jennifer from Harmont House, Theresa – a friend of Sybil’s who begged to be involved in organizing this event, who has thus far sold more tickets than the rest of them put together – and Beth.

The garden has gone in – six raised beds, seedlings taken from Sybil’s greenhouse – and they are discussing the food. Grace is planning individual fig and camembert tarts with a hazelnut dressing to start, poached salmon with a sweet pepper compote, cucumber dill salad, and fresh new potatoes from the garden, followed by a selection of desserts.

Grace is donating not only her time, but the ingredients, the biggest expenditure going to hiring equipment – tables, chairs, tablecloths, plates, glasses, et cetera.

‘Where are we on the hire equipment?’ Sybil looks over to her.

‘All booked. I spoke to them last week and got the quote. I put the order in yesterday. Very simple, crisp white tablecloths and pretty bamboo chairs. It will look lovely, and we’re all in agreement, yes? That it’s now, a sit-down lunch?’

‘It’s a bit late now!’ laughs Sybil. ‘The event’s right around the corner, but yes, everyone’s expecting a sit-down. That’s why we were able to increase the ticket price, but you’re fine with all the cooking? Can any of us help you?’

‘The chef is going to demo the fig and camembert tart, right? You’re using his recipe?’ Jennifer asks.

Grace nods. ‘Beth’s going to help me. And the chef is going to demo the food for the audience before we sit down. It’s perfect. It’s going to be perfect.’

‘I’m just worried we’re overwhelming you, Grace. You’re doing the cooking, the hiring, and the flowers.’

‘I’m not really doing the flowers,’ says Grace. ‘You’re just clipping them from my garden. Frankly I’m delighted. The peonies will be fantastic and you’ll get them before they start drooping. It’s always such a waste when the heavy rain comes and washes off their petals. I’m having nothing to do with the floral arrangements other than giving you full access to my gardens.’ She laughs. ‘Nothing for me to do.’

‘Are you sure there’s nothing we can take off your hands? I’ve sent all the invitations and I’ve nearly filled the goodie bags with donated items. I have time.’

‘Absolutely not,’ says Grace. ‘I am fine.’

L
ater, after the meeting, Beth types up the notes and emails them to everyone, clearly defining what jobs are left and who is doing what.

‘Can I do something to help?’ she says, taking the notes in to Grace in the kitchen. ‘How can I make myself busy?’

Grace pauses. ‘You could help with the food shopping,’ she says eventually. ‘That would be wonderful. And maybe just chase the party rental place. I never received the confirmation.’

‘No problem,’ says Beth with a smile. ‘And nothing else?’

‘Can they clone you?’ Grace turns to her. ‘You are amazing. Honestly, Beth, you’ve come in and in a matter of weeks you’ve turned our lives upside down, in the very best possible way.’

‘I’m so happy,’ says Beth, her face lighting up with that disarming smile. ‘There was one other thing . . . completely changing the subject, I noticed you have a pile of clothes in the wardrobe. Is that the dry-cleaning because I’m going out now to do some errands?’

‘Thank you for the reminder! It’s actually all for charity. Clemmie will occasionally steal my clothes, but she says these are all too grownup for her. I’m having a much-needed spring clean.’

‘Oh, but those clothes are beautiful! Couldn’t you sell them instead? I’m happy to put them on eBay.’

‘Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good use of anyone’s time, and honestly, I’m not sure it’s worth it for the hassle. You know.’ She peers at Beth. ‘If there’s anything at all in there you want, please help yourself. I’d be thrilled for you to take whatever you want.’

‘Really?’ That smile again. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

‘No! As long as they go to a good home, that’s all I care about.’

Beth flings her arms around Grace and hugs her tight. When she steps back, Grace sees, much to her amazement, that there are tears in Beth’s eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, wiping them away. ‘I know this seems like a bit of an overreaction, but I’ve been desperately paying off the debt of school, and I’ve had no money to spend on myself for ages. I don’t even remember the last time I bought myself new clothes. You have no idea what an incredible gift you’re giving me.’

Grace feels her own eyes prick with tears. This poor woman. How hard she has worked, and how conscientious she is. She is swept at once with a wave of almost maternal love as she reaches for Beth’s hand and squeezes it.

‘You’re part of our family now,’ she says. ‘You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. We’ll make sure you’re looked after.’

Beth’s eyes fill with tears again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, as, this time, Grace takes her in her arms, soothes her just as she has done so many times with Clemmie. ‘I just didn’t expect you and Ted to be so wonderful. I didn’t expect to feel like I’ve come home. My childhood was just so awful, I never knew what it was like to have a proper family.’

Grace nods, but says nothing. She knows what it is like to have an awful childhood. Her entire life has been filled with shame about her mother, fear that people may find out, and guilt at never having been able to do anything to save her.