"I want to know exactly what you are offering," Grace said when Roland answered his phone.
"Grace, I am so pleased that you decided to call me back."
"Just give me the details," she said curtly.
"I forgot how direct you can be. So, we shall get right to the point."
"That would be good." She felt bad for being so short with this man, who had done nothing to deserve her bad attitude so far.
"I am offering you the chance to have your mother back. The world will be as though the accident never took place. Any time that has passed will be filled with memories of shopping for the baby and having lunches in Olympia. No one will know the truth except for you, my dear."
"What will it cost me?" Grace could not help but be skeptical.
Kayla had taught her that nothing was ever just handed to you. In life, you had to work for what you want. Grace knew this to be true.
"Absolutely nothing, my dear! This is a gift to you. Gifts bear no price."
"Nothing comes without a price." Grace was quickly growing impatient again with the lack of details.
"I think that you will need to come back to my office, Grace. We can go over all of the details in person. I will explain everything to you. I give you my word that all will be clear to you. I am still more comfortable with speaking face to face and not over these wires and cables."
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Grace hung up the phone and grabbed her keys.
As she pulled up to the office on Desidero, the sinking feeling returned in the pit of her stomach. She ignored it and made her way past the gold pillars and into the ornate building.
Roland sat at his desk waiting patiently for Grace to arrive when she barged through the lobby and into his office.
"Thirteen minutes," he said, looking at the gold watch on his left wrist. "I am quite impressed, Grace." Roland's smile was intoxicating and immediately made her feel more at ease.
He placed his hand atop a pile of papers and turned them to Grace with a flick of his wrist.
"What is this?" she asked suspiciously.
"A standard contract. All of the details of your benefactor's offer are outlined there. Simply a formality, or rather an acknowledgment that you are receiving your greatest desire. Would you like some tea, my dear?"
"Yes, please." She began reading over the contract and realized that it might as well have been written in Aramaic for all the sense it made to her.
Roland brought a silver tray to the desk with a delicate china tea service for two. He poured the steaming tea into the floral cup and offered a smaller tray with sugar and cream.
"Two, please," she said while she continued trying to read the contract.
Roland dropped two sugar cubes into the cup and delicately stirred the hot liquid before he placed it in front of her.
"The tea is non-caffeinated, by the way," Roland said, answering the concern that had not yet made it out of her head. "That is best for your little one."
Grace lifted the cup to her lips. She was immediately comforted by the strong smell of clove and cinnamon.
"Is the tea to your liking?"
"Yes, it's actually perfect," she said, taking another sip.
Grace felt completely at ease as the hot liquid made its way to her stomach, spreading a warmth all the way to her toes.
"I still don't completely understand what this is going to cost me."
"What a suspicious thing you are." He clasped his hands together in an exaggerated gesture. "I assure you, my dear, your benefactor requires no payment from you other than your absolute promise to cherish your gift."
She continued eyeing him suspiciously, attempting to reach into his mind. She was surprised when she found nothing. Not just a clear mind, but nothing at all. It was as if she had walked into a complete whiteout, or a snowy television channel. Roland's mind was nothing but a fog.
"You'll find nothing there," he said, startling her out of her expedition into his subconscious. "It's not that I am empty-headed, mind you. I am simply immune to your powers. I am immune to almost all magic as a matter of fact."
"What are you?" she asked for the second time in as many days.
"I have told you, Grace, I am a procurer. An agent of sorts. Although, I am doing nothing more than acting as a delivery man for this transaction."
"Okay then, who is this mysterious benefactor?"
"On that fact, I am sworn to secrecy. This is a vow that I am unable and unwilling to break. Even though I am immune to most magic, there are certain rules which are beyond my control."
At that moment, Grace decided that she had grown tired of the dance and simply wanted this meeting to be over. She placed her teacup down on the desk and took the quill pen in her hand. With a deep breath, she signed her name to the last page of the contract with a flourish.
A rush of cool air wafted over her hands as she crossed the final "t". Grace looked up at Roland and instead of the alluring smile that she was expecting, she saw a look of what seemed like sadness on his face.
"What now?" Grace asked, feeling somewhat frightened.
"Our business is now concluded, Grace. Go home and all will be as it once was. You are the only one that will know anything of the events of the past month. Everyone else will be unaware that anything has changed."
The melancholy look still sat squarely on Roland's handsome face. Grace tried one more time to invade his thoughts, but it was still no use. He simply looked directly into her eyes.
"We are done here, Grace."
With that final statement, Roland Stillson disappeared in a puff of smoke. Grace looked around the room that had been filled with elegant furnishings and velvet wall coverings only moments before. It was now nothing more than an empty building filled with dust and remnants of past tenants. The desk dematerialized and the ornate chair she sat in was suddenly nothing more than a folding metal seat.
Grace unceremoniously rose from her rusting seat and walked out the door of the building, sidestepping old soda cans, empty cigarette packs and crumpled newspapers. The sign outside that read "For Lease" sat askew in the dusty front window, hanging there like a condemned criminal at the end of an executioner's rope. She hurried to her car, eager to be away from the dilapidated building and the ghosts that lay within.
Driving back to the house where her father sat alone during the day, missing his wife, she thought about the strange feeling she had encountered when trying to read Roland's mind. The expression of sorrow that overtook his face when she agreed to sign the contract weighed on her mind as well. This mystery was doing nothing but giving her a headache and a heavy heart. She continued the drive and did her best to keep her mind completely clear. She turned on the radio and listened as Aerosmith instructed her to walk this way.
The driveway of David's house appeared in front of her car as it had a million times before. She pulled in and almost forgot to put her foot on the brake as she approached the house.
There in the front garden was a woman with long blond, if slightly graying, hair. The lady was on her knees in front of the bed of pansies that had been planted in the early spring, digging in the dirt and pulling stray weeds.
Grace did manage to stop the car and stepped out, not exactly sure what to expect. She walked over to the flowerbed, and the woman turned around and flashed a bright, familiar smile.
"Hey there, Munchkin. How was your appointment?"
"Mom?" Grace stumbled over to Kayla in a daze.
Kayla quickly rose to her feet, dropping her trowel, and rushed over to where Grace stood dumbfounded.
"Honey, what is it? Are you okay?"
Grace was unable to respond. She moved her mouth as if to speak, but nothing would come out. Standing there like a zombie awaiting a head shot, she continued to work her mouth back and forth to no avail.
Kayla reached out again and put her arm around Grace's shoulder as if to steady her.
"David, Harold! Something is wrong with Grace. Come out here, quick!"
As Grace felt her mother's arm around her and smelled the familiar scent of her perfume mixed with the earthy smell of soil, she burst into tears and grabbed tightly to the recently dead woman.
"Oh Mama, is it really you?"
"Of course it's me, Munchkin. Who else would it be?"
"I just… I'm so glad to see you," Grace stammered through her sobs.
"Are you all right, sweetie?" Kayla looked her directly in the eyes and Grace could see that she was frightened and confused.
"I'm fine. Nothing is wrong, and the appointment went great. It must be hormones or something."
Grace smiled, overtaken by a feeling of pure joy. She pulled away from Kayla, reluctantly, and started toward the front door holding her mom's dirt covered hand.
David and Harold rushed out of the house and down the front steps to where the two women stood.
"Honey, are you okay? What's wrong? Is the baby okay? What's wrong?" Harold looked as though he was about to cry as well. The terror on his face mirrored the fear in David's eyes.
"She's fine. I'm so sorry I scared you; it was just hormones." Kayla smiled at the men as they both sighed in relief.
Harold still looked as if he was going to have a coronary, cry, and faint simultaneously.
"Oh, thank God," he sighed again, clutching his chest in relief.
"Let's get you into the house, Munchkin." David offered to take her other arm while Harold recovered from his near heart attack.
"Thank you, Dad. Harold, do you need some water or something?" Grace asked as her fiancé regained his composure.
Harold smiled at her and waved his hand before he bent over and placed it on his knee.
"I'm good now, thanks."
The four of them laughed, and Grace took special pleasure in hearing her mother's hearty chuckle.
"How about something to eat, Mom?" Grace said this with such pleasure that she felt as if her face might split from the smile spread across it.
"Cheeseburger?"
"Add bacon and you have got a deal."
"Coming right up!"