“You agreed to do … what?” Samantha’s mouth hung open, staring at Grace as if she’d sprouted pointy ears and announced she’d just arrived from the planet Vulcan. “Dinner with Roger?!”
Grace’s assistant had shown up at nine o’clock the next day, looking rejuvenated after her day off—wearing a tunic in a black, red, and tan African print over tan slacks, her perky twists redone, sporting a fresh manicure of deep red polish with white feathery designs on her middle fingernails—but “ready to work,” she’d said. Pouring a cup of coffee, Sam said she was waiting for a callback confirming the tour bus from Seattle to LA she’d lined up months ago, and she’d asked Bongo Booking to e-mail her any updated info for the ten-day tour schedule.
“So, do you want me to answer fan mail first, or do you want help putting together a song list for the upcoming tour? Using ‘Grace Meredith in Concert’ as your promo title leaves you lots of room—you could even have several different sets with a different focus. Whatever we do, just keep in mind the band needs—”
“Stop.”
Sam had blinked in surprise. “Okay. Sorry. I was just wanting to know—”
“Just stop a minute. I need to tell you something. But you should probably sit down.” Sam sat. Taking a deep breath, Grace told her about Roger’s call last night, and that she’d agreed to go out to dinner with him Wednesday night.
“Dinner. With Roger,” Sam said again, plopping back against the couch cushions bowled over. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Okaaay, not kidding.” Sam sat forward again, elbows on the knees of her slacks. “Grace, I know it isn’t any of my business, but … do you know what you’re doing? I don’t want you to get hurt again. Why is he doing this? Did he give you a reason?”
Grace, sitting in the opposite chair, nodded. “He said he wanted to apologize for how he ended the engagement, without even giving us a chance to work on the problems in the relationship.”
“But—”
“I know. I told him that was all very nice—well, I didn’t say it like that—but what’s done is done, it’s over, we both needed to move on.”
“Exactly. Good for you.”
“But he said he wanted to back up and do things right. Said he wanted to make amends, apologize for how he’d handled things, and be able to talk about what went wrong in the relationship—”
Sam snorted. “He probably had his eye on somebody else while you were gone, but it didn’t work out, so now he’s crawling back to you.”
“Sam! You don’t know that!” Though the thought had flitted through Grace’s mind a time or two.
Sam put up her hands, palms out. “Sorry. I’m just sayin’.”
“Well, don’t say. Unless you know. I don’t think he’d do that.” Grace took a deep breath. “Anyway, he said at the very least he wants us to be able to be friends. And to be honest, Sam, I’ve wished that too. At least wished I didn’t still feel so mad at him for how it happened. Maybe if he apologizes—he did seem very sincere, contrite even—I could forgive him and move on. That’d be better than just stuffing it down, like I’ve been doing. Right?”
Sam looked at her for a long moment. “Does he want you to give him another chance?”
“I—” Grace hesitated. Roger had said maybe things didn’t have to end up this way. She licked her dry lips. “I’m not sure.”
“Ohhh, Grace.” Sam’s response sounded almost like a groan.
Grace felt a little miffed. “What would be so wrong with that? I mean, I don’t have any expectations, don’t know if I’d even be able to take him back—but would that be so horrible? Good grief, we were in love, you know. Engaged for almost a year. Planning to get married. You don’t throw all that away without some serious thought.”
“He did.” Sam’s hands went up again. “Okay, okay, I need to shut up. Maybe you’re right. Go to dinner, see what happens. Give the man a chance to apologize. Just … be wise, Grace. Don’t rush back into anything. Pray about it—a lot, okay?”
Pray about it …
She would ask Estelle Bentley to pray about it with her when she came over Wednesday afternoon. She wouldn’t have to share all the details. The woman did seem to have a special connection with God.
After spending Tuesday coming up with a solid song list for the tour and e-mailing it to Barry, Grace had told Sam she could work from home on Wednesday and Thursday, since “work” for the next few days mostly involved e-mails and phone calls double-checking arrangements at each of the ten venues along the Pacific coast.
“I’ll schedule practices with you and the band for next week,” Sam promised when she left on Tuesday. “Meantime, be good. Don’t do anything tomorrow night I wouldn’t do.”
Grace snickered. “Ha. In that case I should probably clock him one. If I do, I’ll tell Roger it’s from you.” She shut the door behind Sam with a sigh of relief. She didn’t really want her assistant hovering over her all day tomorrow, making her more nervous than she already was about her date with Roger.
But where the time went on Wednesday, she had no idea. The temperature had dropped again and the day turned to drizzle. She’d planned to spend most of the day doing voice exercises and practicing the songs she and Sam had chosen for the tour, with an appointment at the beauty salon to get a manicure and pedicure before her dinner with Roger.
But she no sooner got home from Curves than Jeff called. He’d gotten a call from Samantha about sticking with Grace Meredith in Concert for the tour title, and wanted to double-check with her. “It’s fine, really. Your name alone will draw plenty of your fans. And I know you’ll do a great job with the concerts. But I just wanted to hear from you, you know, to see if you had any more thoughts about what we talked about in St. Louis.”
Grace flushed, remembering the touch of his hand over hers in the coffee shop. She quickly shook off the memory. What was she doing? Here she was, going out to dinner that evening with her fiancé—okay, ex-fiancé—and having fleeting fantasies about her agent.
“I …” she stumbled, realizing she hadn’t responded to his question. “I haven’t forgotten. But I don’t know …”
“It’s okay. And I mean that.” Jeff’s voice was kind, reassuring. “We’re praying for you and the tour here at Bongo, and if God has a new focus for you, he’s going to show you. So don’t stress about it. I mean that too. In fact, one of the other Bongo agents read a couple verses in Proverbs this morning during our staff time, which made me think about you. Look ’em up—chapter three, verses five and six. Hold on to that last phrase … Hey, gotta go. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”
Grace knew those verses. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.” They were some of the scriptures she often shared with her fans during her concerts. Hold on to the last phrase, Jeff had said: “Seek his will … and he will show you …” The words were comforting.
But it felt kind of strange, getting spiritual advice from her agent. Not what one normally expected from an agent—but then, her relationship with Jeff Newman hadn’t been “normal” from the beginning. She had to snicker remembering the snowstorm when they’d met …
She mentioned Jeff’s call and the verses from Proverbs when Estelle came over at four, after telling her about the surprise invitation from her ex. Her neighbor nodded. “That’s right, honey. You don’t have to stress. In fact, I think those verses would be a very good prayer to pray about this dinner you’re having tonight with your fiancé—”
“Ex-fiancé,” Grace corrected. But Estelle went right on.
“—as well as for your upcoming concert tour. Now, Jesus, hallelujah, we praise your name …” Holding one of Grace’s hands, the older woman moved right into a prayer, asking God that Grace would trust him with all her heart, even if she didn’t understand what he was doing, and have the confidence that God would indeed show her the path to take. “And for this, we thank you, for all you’ve done and for all you’re gonna do! In your precious name … Amen.”
Estelle rose from the couch. “All right now, gonna get myself on home, since I know you got that date tonight. My men are gonna be hungry too.” She gave Grace a warm hug. “But, there’s somethin’ I been meanin’ to ask you and don’t want to take your time now. An’ I should go see Mother Bentley at the hospital after work tomorrow afternoon, but … any chance we could get together in the mornin’? Besides …” She winked. “I’ll be curious how your dinner date goes tonight. I’ll be prayin’!”
The doorbell rang at five minutes to seven that evening. Grace shut Oreo in the basement so the cat wouldn’t try to escape like he had the last time Roger showed up, let the doorbell ring a second time, and then opened the door. She smiled pleasantly. “Hi.” She held the door open so he could come in.
“Hi, yourself.” Roger smiled back, blue-gray eyes taking her in. “You look great.”
She knew she did. She’d added a wash, trim, and blow-dry at the beauty salon when she got her nails done, and her hair hung casually below her shoulders in a fresh, layered fall. She’d taken extra care with her makeup, highlighting her amber eyes with a soft brown eyeliner and eye shadow, picking up the warmth of her berry blush and lipstick. Her dress—a three-quarter-sleeved wrap style in the same berry tones with a tie belt that hung softly to just above her knees—was one she was sure he hadn’t seen before.
“I’ll get my coat.” The drizzle had stopped, but she still opted for her dark-gray London Fog and a small umbrella in her bag. He ushered her out to his car, a sporty, silver, two-door Acura. She wondered if Estelle Bentley was peeking out her front window, but didn’t see anyone. Beecham Street was empty.
Roger glanced at her as he pulled away from the curb and turned around in the cul-de-sac at the end. “Is Thai food okay? There’s a nice restaurant in the River North area, not too far.”
“Mm-hm.” At least he remembered what she liked.
The ride to the restaurant felt awkward, but somehow they managed with short chats about the weather, the Cubs, a movie he’d seen. But the Star of Siam took her by surprise—a converted warehouse with exposed pipes, done in deep shades of red and burgundy. Guests could either sit at small tables with a padded bench along one side up against a curved brick wall, or at low tables on a raised platform, sitting on cushions with one’s legs in a well beneath a low table. They chose a low table.
Grace ordered chicken satay and pad thai, Roger ordered the crab rangoon and cashew chicken. As he ordered their food, she had a chance to look him over. The familiar dark-blond hair brushed slightly to the side, blue-gray eyes, the always clean-shaven, strong jaw. He was dressed impeccably in an open-necked light-gray silk shirt with almost imperceptible stripes, and a dark, charcoal-gray suit. The good looks that used to set her heart tripping. Not that her heart wasn’t tripping a little even now.
The waiter brought hot green tea and poured, and finally they were alone. Grace drew in a breath and looked him in the eyes. “Well, here we are. You wanted to talk?”
He seemed to study her for a moment, but she determined not to look away. Then he nodded, toying with his red napkin. “Yes. I’ve been thinking a lot about us in the past few weeks. I made a mistake, ending our engagement so abruptly. It wasn’t fair to do that, least of all on the phone, without even giving us a chance to talk about the problems in our relationship. You were right, I should have given us a chance to work on the issues that troubled me. That wasn’t right, and I … I want to apologize.”
A hundred nasty retorts sprang to her tongue. She felt like yelling at him, releasing all the pent-up hurt and anger she’d buried deep down in her gut. In spite of the other diners chatting at the tables around them, the clink of dishes, the smell of spicy food wafting from the kitchen. She didn’t care—it’d be soul cleansing.
Except … she wasn’t brave enough to make a scene. And, oddly, she didn’t want to embarrass Roger. He sounded contrite, sincere, just like he had on the phone. At the moment, all she could do was not be too quick to let him off the hook. Picking up her teacup in both hands, she sipped the hot green tea, trying to keep her fingers from shaking.
The appetizers came. Roger said a brief prayer of thanks for the food, and they ate in silence for several minutes, broken only by small comments of appreciation for the tasty food. Finally he wiped his mouth, took a sip of water, and cleared his throat.
“I know I don’t have any right to ask this after the way I handled things, but … would you be willing to give our relationship another chance? I do care about you, Grace—I care a lot.”
“Was there someone else?”
Roger looked startled.
He shook his head. “No … not someone in particular. I did date a couple women in the past few months—not while we were engaged, though, I promise you that. But frankly, it made me realize how much I still cared about you.”
Grace pursed her lips and thought about that. Gratefully, the waiter brought their entrees and she didn’t have to answer immediately. So. Taking her to dinner wasn’t just about apologizing for the way he’d handled ending their engagement. But what did he mean? Start over? Pick up where they left off? Was it even possible?
Swallowing a bite of pad thai, she laid down her fork. “You said, give us a chance to work on the problems in our relationship. What issues, exactly?”
“Well, as I told you, the amount of travel involved in your concert tours has been a problem for me—we would definitely need to face the impact of our careers on a marriage. My mistake was not even talking about it, seeing what we could work out.”
“Our careers.”
“Well, yes. Obviously, getting married changes things. We … well, I confess, we didn’t talk very much about a lot of important things. I take responsibility for that.”
They finished their entrees, let the waiter take their dishes away, and ordered another pot of tea. Roger was saying things she never thought she’d hear him say. “I made a mistake … You were right … I apologize … I care about you, Grace, I care a lot …”
Part of her wanted to just say, “Yes, I forgive you! Of course I’m willing to give us another chance!” She’d be crazy not to, wouldn’t she? After all, every marriage—and engagement—had rocky places to navigate. That was a reality too. She wouldn’t have to tell her fans that the engagement had been called off. Roger would be back in her life, maybe she could rediscover that passion in her message Jeff had talked about.
Jeff …
She could also hear Sam’s voice in her head. “Don’t rush back into anything.” And she was pretty sure her new friend Estelle would say, “Take time to pray about it, young lady.”
She finally sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Roger,” she said, “I appreciate your apology. That means a lot to me. But, to be honest, I’ve spent a lot of emotional energy getting over you the past couple of months. It’s not as easy as just saying, okay, I forgive you, let’s give our relationship another chance. Frankly, I’m a little numb. I … I need time to even know what I feel. Give me some time to think and pray about it, and then we can talk some more.”
“Of course. I understand. Do you want to, uh, get together again this weekend? Or next week some time?”
Grace shook her head. “No. I’m heading to the West Coast pretty soon for a ten-day concert tour. Taking the train, so it’ll be a little more than two weeks when I add travel on either end.” She saw his jaw muscles tighten. Disappointment? Frustration?
Reaching out her hand, she touched his and smiled ruefully. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, Roger, but I promise you this—I promise to use the time I’m away to seriously consider what you’ve said.”