Page 110 of Calling the Shots

“We’re closed,” I call down the hall, waiting for the door to slam shut or someone to acknowledge my words.

Instead, there’s the soft fall of footsteps and in walks Mrs. McIntire in all her posh, old-money glory. Hair upswept in a chic chignon, she’s quite fashionable in wide-leg trousers, an off-white blouse, and tweed flats. She’s totally out of place in my hometown.

Heart racing, I grip the broom so tight my knuckles turn white.

“Like I said, we’re closed.” I have no idea why she’s here and absolutely nothing to say to her.

“I’m not here for a haircut, Gracelyn.”

I figured as much.

“Mack’s not here.”

“I’m not looking for him.”

“Oh.” I swallow down my nerves, my throat tight, fervently wishing I’d taken up Mahjong when my mother offered.

Too late now.

Instead, I’m stuck in a staring contest with Mack’s mother.

“I’m here to see you, Grace. To apologize.”

For the second time, Mack’s mom sucker punches me in the gut. But this time, it’s at least good.

“I shouldn’t have insinuated you were dating Ulysses for his money. That was wrong of me. I could go through a long litany of excuses for my behavior, but the truth is I’ve always worried about him getting caught up with the wrong types of people. I never gave you a chance and for that I’m truly sorry.”

“Thanks.” I run my hand up and down the broom handle, my bracelets tinkling softly in the silent salon. “And I’d love to say it’s fine, but honestly, you really hurt my feelings.” I gnaw my lower lip, feeling extremely vulnerable.

“I may not have a lot to offer financially, but I do love your son. With my whole heart. And he loves me. We want to be together and would very much like your blessing. It would make Mack happy, I’m sure. But I won’t put up with that kind of treatment ever again.” I stand taller and straighter, my posture perfect. Mrs. Johnson, my ballet teacher from grade school, would be proud.

“I understand. I’m sorry for how everything transpired and that you were hurt.” She tucks an invisible strand of hair behind her ear and shifts from foot to foot. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look anything but poised and at ease.

“I’ve brought you a small gift as a token of my regret. Please accept this with my apology.” She steps forward, pressing a black velvet jewelry box into my hand.

I immediately shove the square box back at her. “I couldn’t.”

“Just open it. Please.” Hands clasped, she all but begs me to open the gift.

With shaky hands, I pry the box open. A pair of huge sparkly diamond studs wink up at me, glistening beneath the salon light.

“Oh. Wow.” My mouth forms a perfect ‘O,’ heart racing. “They’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you. The earrings are a family heirloom. They belonged to Ulysses’ grandmother.”

I snap the box shut. “I can’t possibly accept these.”

I try to give the jewelry back, but she holds up her palms. “Please. She’d want you to have them.Iwant you to have them. Nana asked me to give them to Ulysses’ bride. I don’t think I’m being rash giving them to you now.”

My heart hammers, blood roaring in my ears.

Bride.

His mother believes Mack’s going to propose.

To me.

Gracelyn Ann Reynolds, without an ‘e.’

---