Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

"They've been with our family for over three decades. They were here at Belle Foret before I was born." When she moved, Grace swayed slightly, her equilibrium momentarily unbalanced. Stress, she thought. The calm, orderly world in which she'd existed for over three years now had abruptly exploded into danger and violence.

"You look a bit unsteady on your feet. Why don't you sit down? If you'd like a drink, just point me toward the liquor cabinet."

"You've been so kind." Grace glanced out the window. Again. "But I don't think I can sit. And if Sheriff Adams is going to question me, I don't want him to smell liquor on my breath."

Kate laughed. Grace gave her an inquisitive stare.

"Sorry," Kate said. "I've lived in Atlanta for so long that I've almost forgotten what it's like to live in a small town and be concerned with what everyone thinks."

Grace smiled. "One's good reputation is priceless."

"I suspect that's a direct quote from your mother or grandmother."

"My grandmother," Grace said. "My mother's mother. I barely remember her. She died shortly after my sixth birthday, but I distinctly remember her imparting little pearls of wisdom whenever she came to visit."

"With me, it was my aunt Bernice. Pretty is as pretty does was one of her favorites."

"Where did you grow up?"

"A little town called Prospect. It's in Alabama, but it's not thirty miles from the Georgia border. A lot of the Old South remains, you know. Kind of like here in St. Camille."

"Sounds like we may have some things in common," Grace said.

"We probably do, only I've never been as rich as you are, Ms. Beaumont." Kate grinned. "My husband's family had money, but after our divorce I had to return to work to make a living."

"Do you have children?" Grace asked, then when she noted the sad expression in Kate's eyes, she regretted having asked. "I'm sorry. That was a personal question and none of my business."

"It's a perfectly normal question." Kate eyed one of the twin sofas that faced each other in front of the fireplace. "Let's sit down. Okay?"

When Kate sat, Grace joined her. But the nervous tension dancing along her nerve endings made her antsy. She felt as if a thousand tiny feet were jitterbugging inside her. It was all she could do to simply sit still.

"I don't have any children," Kate said.

"Nor do I."

Kate hesitated, as if she were uncertain she should reveal anything more personal about herself. Finally she said, "You and I do have something else in common. I lost a child, too. Years ago."

Grace studied Kate Malone and surmised that the woman was near her own age of thirty. "You must have been very young."

"I married at twenty-one, gave birth to my daughter when I was twenty-two and lost her before I turned twenty-three. That was eleven years ago. I'm thirty-four now."

"My daughter was stillborn." Grace placed her hands in her lap. The pain was still there, only dulled slightly by time and by sensing Kate's true understanding-the type that only another woman who had experienced such a loss could know.

"I guess people are always telling you that you should marry again and have another child," Kate said. "I heard that for years. I still get that type of advice every once in a while, from some well-meaning acquaintance."

Grace sighed. "Ms. Malone… Kate… I was wondering…?"

"What were you wondering?"

Kate faced Grace, who saw only compassion and caring in the other woman's honey-brown eyes. She knew why this shrewd Dundee agent had begun talking to her about personal things-it was to get her mind off the fact that a man had been murdered and deposited at her front gate. Her motives didn't really matter, although they were completely kind, because Kate had, for a few brief moments, succeeded. But she'd done more than that, she'd shared a painful part of her past, which couldn't have been easy for her.

"Is the reason you've never remarried, never had another child, because you're afraid of being deeply hurt again?" Grace watched Kate closely, hoping to see the truth in her expression. She believed that she wasn't alone in her fear; that her thought process wasn't totally irrational.

"That's one of the reasons," Kate admitted. "I'd like to think that if the right man ever came along, I'd deal with the fear. To be honest, I don't know what I'd do. I'm more afraid of having another child than I am of loving another man, but…" Kate's voice trailed off. She glanced away, then cleared her throat.

"I appreciate your sharing your feelings with me. I don't suppose you meant to get so personal when you decided to try to take my mind off what's going on down at the front gate tonight. But if it makes you feel any better, your being here and our talking has helped me a great deal."

"Service with a smile." Kate turned around and offered Grace a fragile smile.

"You know, I think I'd love a drink now. Do you like cappuccino? If you do, I'll fix us some."

"I love cappuccino. My absolute favorite is the flavored kind."

"Name your poison."

"You wouldn't happen to have raspberry flavoring, would you?"

Grace grasped Kate's hand. "Vanilla, cinnamon, caramel, cherry and… raspberry."

"Ms. Beaumont, I'm your friend for life," Kate said.

"Please, call me Grace."

Twenty minutes later when Jed and Dom walked into the kitchen, with Sheriff Adams in tow, Grace and Kate were seated at the table, just finishing off their cappuccinos.

Jed didn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been this. Grace and Kate appeared to be best buddies, acting as if they'd known each other for years. He was surprised to find Grace so calm. When he'd left her over an hour ago, she'd been a nervous wreck.

"Sorry to bother you, Ms. Beaumont." Sheriff Adams removed his baseball cap. "Sure am sorry to hear about what's being going on. Mr. Tyree here explained things and I must say I'm mighty shocked."

Grace rose to her feet and held out her hand. "Thank you, Sheriff. I suppose we should have let you and Chief Winters know what was happening, but I thought it best to try to handle things on my own until we had some sort of evidence."

He shook hands with Grace, then said, "Yes, ma'am, I understand." Adams shuffled nervously, and once again Jed was amused by the way even the law in LaDurantaye Parish kowtowed to Grace. "But now we've got ourselves a murder, and a damn brutal one at that."

Jed cleared his throat. Adams turned beet red. "Sorry, ma'am."

"That's all right. Now, may I offer you some coffee?"

Adams 's eyes rounded in surprise. "No, thank you, ma'am."

"Well, perhaps you'd like to get straight to your questions."

"Just got a couple. Mr. Tyree and Mr. Shea have filled me in on just about everything. And we already got us an ID on the dead man."

Grace paled instantly; her lips parted and her gaze flashed to Jed. "Who is… was he?"

"Booth Fortier's right-hand man," Adams replied. "Mr. Jaron Vaden himself."

"Fortier's right-hand man betrayed him?" Grace asked, a dubious tone to her voice.

"It's a nasty business." Adams scratched his head. "So, I gotta ask-did you know Mr. Vaden?"

"No," Grace replied. "I'd spoken to him… or at least I think it was him… on the phone. Twice. But I never knew his identity."

"Mmm-hmm. And you were here at your house with Mr. Tyree when somebody called to tell you there was a present waiting for you at the gate?"

"Yes."

"And you and Mr. Tyree have been in all evening?"

"Yes."

"Sorry, ma'am, but I had to ask."

"Believe me, Sheriff Adams, I wanted that man alive. Neither I nor Mr. Tyree had any reason to kill him."

"Oh, I know that, Ms. Beaumont. Like I said, I had to ask."

"Is that all, Sheriff?" Jed took a solid stand beside Grace.