Grace covered her disappointment quickly.
Every year, the Hall Foundation Gala offered an important piece of Americana for auction. The seller agreed to take half the money and got a hefty tax write-off. In return, the Foundation got a generous donation and the evening was injected with the kind of sizzle that made people scramble to buy tickets to the event. At the auction, inevitably the bidding was fast, furious, and, in a genteel fashion, vicious. In the past, they'd sold a handwritten draft of Martin Luther King's "dream" speech, a pristine set of union battle plans for Gettysburg, and Betsy Ross's first flag.
Losing the Finn Collection of letters was a real blow.
Grace sank slowly into her father's chair. "That's a shame."
"I think they pulled it because they're waiting to see whether the Gala will still be a draw this year. This is exactly what I'd feared and another reason we need Fredrique."
Lamont's voice was unusually restrained and Grace realized he was legitimately disappointed. But she refused to broach the subject of the party planner again.
"It's not going to be a problem."
"Where are you going to find something on a par with twelve perfectly preserved letters penned by Benjamin Franklin to Thomas Jefferson? That kind of thing doesn't just land in your lap. And let me remind you, it was your father who got us the Finn Collection in the first place, not you."
She smiled around gritted teeth. "I'll find something else."
"But while you diddle around with your OD consultant," he countered doggedly, "the Gala is getting closer by the day."
"Yes, so it is."
Lamont seemed ready to argue but then abruptly marched to the door. "Have it your way."
After the man had left, Grace shuffled a few papers on her desk impatiently. Unable to sit still, she burst up from the chair and went over to the bank of windows. She put her hands on her hips and stared down at the skyscraper across the street.
She was marching over to the bathroom, when Smith spoke up. "Go on. Say it."
She cleared her throat. "Say what?”
"What you're thinking."
"I'm not thinking anything.” In fact, she was filled with riotous emotions that she didn't want to let out in front of him. It seemed somehow weak, given his self-control. She forced herself to go to her desk and sit down.
"Liar."
"What the hell do you want from me?" she demanded, glaring at him. The calm curiosity in his face really ticked her off.
"Why is it so important for you to be in control?” he asked.
"This coming from you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "A man who makes the Terminator seem loose and easygoing? "
"Now there's an original comparison," he said sarcastically. "Never heard that one before."
She looked away. "I think you're right. We don't need to get to know each other."
She felt Smith keep staring at her.
As soon as her anger dissipated, she was sorry she'd snapped at him. Under normal circumstances, she wasn't prone to losing her temper. Clearly, the stress was wearing her down.
That and being around him. Even though he was quiet, she found him agitating.
Grace took a deep breath. "I know Lamont is going to blow this problem way out of proportion. He's probably calling Bainbridge right now. It's like I can't get a break around here."
She leaned back in the chair and stared at her father's bust. Had things been this tough for him? If they had, he'd never shown it.
"And the worst of it is, Lou's right. This is really bad timing. I don't have any idea where I’m going to find something that important to auction off."
The intercom buzzed.
"Yes?"
"Your mother's calling."
Wincing, Grace felt like she'd been put back into a headlock.
"Terrific," she muttered. When she picked up the receiver, her voice was light and cheerful. "Hello, Mummy. Tonight. Of course, I'd love to. Yes. Eight? Right. Bye-bye."
She hung up the phone. When she looked up, she gave him a tired smile. "You ever feel like just screaming out loud?"
Before he could respond, Kat buzzed again with another call.
The day passed in a blur of meetings and paperwork and people who wanted things from her. There was nothing unusual about it except that everything was complicated by Smith.
Even though he was silent, his presence affected her and everyone else. The men tended to be subdued around him, as if they were intimidated by his presence. The women had the same reaction Kat had. One look at him and they became all wide-eyed and fussy. It got to the point that Grace could time when the surreptitious check of the hair would happen.
And she knew she'd better get used to the floor show when the Hall Foundation's general counsel, a woman who took the term sturdy to a whole new level, came in for a meeting. Sitting across from Smith, the dour paragon of serious behavior let out a girlish giggle like nothing anyone had heard come out of her mouth before.