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Authors: Julie Hyzy

BOOK: Grace Interrupted
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Bennett must have read my mind because he cleared his throat and said, “About you moving into Abe’s cottage . . .”
I took a deep breath, but he continued before I could say anything.
“I was thinking about rescinding my offer. Temporarily, that is.”
I looked at him. The wind lifted his white hair as he stared out, straight ahead.
“Rescind?” I repeated.
“Only temporarily.” He turned to face me. “I can’t advocate what that Embers boy did protecting his father all these years, but I do understand it. What a burden that boy placed on himself. No wonder he’s been in trouble for so long.”
“He needs a fresh start.”
“Exactly my thought. Seems to me that living with Jack hasn’t been the right answer. And I can’t see how going back to the family home—full of all those memories—is going to do him much good, but the boy needs a place to live if he’s going to make anything of himself.”
“And you want to offer him Abe’s cottage?”
Bennett nodded. “If that’s all right with you.”
Not for the first time did it occur to me that Bennett was one of the most thoughtful, generous people I’d ever met.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
He nodded. “One more thing,” he said. “I still want to help you with your repairs. Your house needs work, Gracie. And you haven’t been able to keep up.”
“That wouldn’t be fair,” I said. “You were only going to do that if I took the cottage.”
“This is a condition of our agreement—our new agreement. Davey comes to live at the cottage, and you allow me to help out from time to time. Beyond that, no strings attached.”
I tucked my right hand in the crook of Bennett’s elbow again. “You’re a good man,” I said. “Thank you.”
Chapter 26
SUNDAY MORNING WAS SO RAINY AND OVERCAST that I barely knew that it had dawned. I was up early having coffee in the kitchen, sneezing from having had Bootsie sleep with me all night when Bruce bounded downstairs. “Did you see the weather? Good thing your re-enactors finished up last night.” He stopped and stared. “What happened?”
I glanced around, then realized he was talking about my arm. “Oh, this,” I said. “Long story.”
“That’s a pretty professional bandage job,” he said, taking a closer look at my arm. “Who did it?”
“Emergency room.”
“What?” Bruce said. “Talk to me.” He turned to Scott who had just ambled in. “Did you hear that? Our Grace was in the emergency room last night.” To me, “Why didn’t you call us?”
“I got a ride home. It was no big deal.”
Bruce looked unconvinced. “Spill it. Or no more chocolate-covered strawberries for you.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay . . .”
When I was done, the two had their mouths open. They’d peppered me with questions throughout my recitation, but now they hit me with the big one. “Why didn’t you tell us that Bennett offered you a home on his property?”
“Because I didn’t plan to ever take him up on it.”
The two exchanged a look. Bruce asked, “Because you felt responsible for us?”
“No,” I said, “because I didn’t want to leave you two.”
Scott reached for my right hand and squeezed. Bruce knew better than to grab my left, but he laid his hand across the top of my fingers. “I’m glad,” he said.
Bootsie jumped into my lap and gave a tiny yowl.
“I think she’s glad, too,” Scott said.
 
 
FOUR HOURS LATER, THE DOORBELL RANG and Bootsie scurried out of the room. We both knew who it was before I looked. My heart sank as I plodded to the front door and opened it.
“Tooney,” I said.
He stood there hat in hand. A cat carrier sat on the stoop next to him.
“Hi there, Grace. It’s okay if I call you Grace, right?”
I sighed and stepped aside to let him in. “After all we’ve been through lately, yeah. Sure.” Right now I didn’t care. He was here to claim Bootsie and that was all I could think about. We went into the parlor, where I offered him a seat and looked for her. She usually came to see what the humans were doing. But she was not in the room.
“I screwed up,” he said as he sat, placing the cat carrier on the floor next to his chair. “On that Florian-Pierpont thing.”
“Yeah.”
“You mad?”
“How can I be? Turned out we should have been investigating Pierpont all along. I told the police what you found out and they’re launching an investigation into that Sutherland’s death now, too. So the guy’s family should be happy about that, at least.”
“Grace,” he said, leaning forward, “I know I’m not exactly your favorite person, but I have to say I’m a little concerned.”
I’d been staring at the cat carrier. Thinking about Bootsie’s future life in Westville with those cute kids. I should be happy for her. But I was too sad for me.
“What about?”
“You just solved a thirteen-year-old murder as well as the one that happened last week. You took down the bad guys and came out smelling like a rose.”
“Your point?”
“Shouldn’t you be a little happier today? Feeling you did some good in this world?”
Tooney giving me life advice? “Maybe,” I said, “but not today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He stood, and picked up the cat carrier. “Because I have more bad news for you.”
I remained seated. If he was such an amazing PI, let him figure out where Bootsie was. I didn’t want to be Dorothy handing Toto over to Miss Gulch. “Yeah?” I asked not even looking at him. “What’s that?”
“I screwed up again.”
“How so, Tooney?”
“That cat, Mittens? The one with the reward?”
“Yeah?”
“She found her way home while I was checking out Pierpont.”
Now I glanced up. Tooney was grinning, looking particularly proud of himself. “Yep. The real Mittens is back safe home with her family.” He pointed under my seat. “Looks like that one—Bootsie, is it?—is all yours.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you, Tooney?”
He shook his head. “Turns out there were a couple of extra markings not visible in the photos. When they got their cat back they noticed. They
thought
Bootsie was theirs. But she isn’t.”
I was confused. I pointed at the cat carrier. “But . . . but . . . you brought that.”
He handed it to me. “A gift,” he said, “for having faith in me.”
Bootsie poked her nose out from under my chair, as though she’d understood exactly what was going on. She stood next to my leg and cried up at me.
I felt my throat grow warm as I bent down to pick her up. “Thanks, Tooney,” I whispered. “You’re okay.”
“I’ll see myself out.” He placed his hat on his head and winked. “You take care.”
“You, too,” I said. And sneezed.
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Julie Hyzy
White House Chef Mysteries
STATE OF THE ONION
HAIL TO THE CHEF
EGGSECUTIVE ORDERS
BUFFALO WEST WING
 
Manor House Mysteries
GRACE UNDER PRESSURE
GRACE INTERRUPTED

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