Danielle Steel - Malice

They were a good-looking couple as they strolled along. She was wearing a big cozy fox hat, and a fox jacket he had given her for Christmas. It was perfect for the frigid New York winter.

There was snow on the ground in the park, and they had left the kids at home with a sitter for a few hours because the housekeeper was away. They liked to go for long walks sometimes on Sundays, or take a cab down to SoHo and go to a coffeehouse, or have lunch and browse through galleries looking at paintings or sculpture.

But this afternoon, they were content to stroll, and eventually wound up at the Plaza Hotel. They decided to go in and have some hot chocolate in the Palm Court. And they walked into the elegant old hotel hand in hand, talking softly.

“The kids will never forgive us if they find out,” Grace said guiltily. They loved the Palm Court. But it was romantic being alone with him. She was talking about some plans she had for “Help Kids!” for the next year, to expand it further. She was always trying to broaden their outreach. And as she chatted with him, she devoured an entire plate of cookies and two hot chocolates with whipped cream. And as soon as she finished them, she felt sick, and was sorry she'd eaten.

“You're as bad as Andrew,” Charles laughed. He loved being with her, she was like a girl to him, and at the same time very much a woman.

When they left the Plaza, he hailed a hansom cab, and had it drive them home, as they snuggled in the back, kissing and whispering and giggling under heavy blankets, just like teenagers, or honeymooners. And when they got to the house, he ran in to get the kids, and let them pet the horse. And then the driver agreed to take them around the block for an additional fee, and the four of them rode around the block to the house again. And then they went inside, and the sitter left, and Grace made pasta for dinner.

She was busy for the next few weeks, with new plans, and keeping up with the children. But she was surprised to find that she was exhausted all the time, so much so that she even skipped two shifts on the hot line, which was rare for her. And when Charles noticed it, he was worried, and asked about it

“Are you all right?” He worried sometimes that her past life, and the beating outside St. Andrew's, would take a toll on her one day, and whenever she was sick, it really scared him.

“Of course I am,” she said, but the circles under her eyes, and her pallor, didn't convince him. She hardly ever suffered from asthma anymore, but she was starting to look the way she had when he first met her. A little too drawn and a little too serious, and not entirely healthy.

“I want you to go to the doctor,” he insisted.

“I'm fine,” she said stubbornly.

“I mean it,” he said sternly.

“Okay. Okay.” But she didn't do anything about it, and insisted that she was busy. Finally, he made an appointment himself and told her he'd take her there if she didn't go the following morning. It was a month after Christmas by then, and she was in the midst of a big fund drive for “Help Kids!” She had a thousand calls to make, and a million people to visit “For heaven's sake,” she said irritably when he reminded her again the next morning. “I'm just tired, that's all. It's no big deal. What are you so upset about?” she snapped at him, but he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

“Do you have any idea how important you are to me, and this family? I love you, Grace. Don't screw around with your health. I need you.’ *

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I'll go.” But she always hated going to the doctor. Doctors still reminded her of bad experiences, of being raped, and her mother dying, and the night she killed her father, and even when she'd been in Bellevue after the attack at St. Andrew's. To Grace, except for the babies she'd had, doctors never meant anything pleasant.

“Any idea what might be wrong? How do you feel?” their family doctor asked her pleasantly. He was a middle-aged man with an intelligent face and an easy disposition. He knew nothing of Grace's past, or her dislike for doctors.

“I feel fine. I'm just tired, and Charles is hysterical.” She smiled.

“He's right to be concerned. Anything else except fatigue?” She thought about it and shrugged.

“Nothing much. A little dizziness, some headaches.” She made light of it, but the truth was she had been very dizzy more than once lately, and several times she had been sick to her stomach. She thought it was nervous tension over their fund drive. “I've been pretty busy.”

“Maybe you need some time off.” He smiled. He gave her some vitamins, checked her blood count and it was fine. He didn't want to run any serious tests. She was obviously young and healthy, and her blood pressure was low, which accounted for the dizziness and headaches. “Eat lots of red meat,” he advised, “and eat your spinach.” He said to say hello to Charles, and she called from the phone outside to tell Charles she was fine. And then feeling better than she had in a while, she walked home in the brisk January air. It was cold and crisp and sunny, and she felt wonderful and strong as she walked along, feeling stupid for even having gone to see the doctor. She smiled thinking of what good care Charles took of her and how lucky she was, as she turned the corner and walked toward their town house. She felt a little light-headed as she did, but it was no worse than it had been before, until she reached their front door, and she suddenly found she was so dizzy, she could hardly stand. She reached out to steady herself, and found herself clutching an elderly man who stared at her strangely. She looked at him as though she didn't see him at all, and then she took two steps toward her house, said something unintelligible, and collapsed, unconscious, to the sidewalk.

Chapter 14

When Grace came to on the street outside their house, there were three people standing over her, and two policemen. The old man she had almost pulled down with her had gone to a phone booth and dialed 911, but she was conscious again by the time they came, and she was sitting on the sidewalk. She was embarrassed more than hurt, and still too dizzy to get up.

“What happened here?” the first policeman asked amiably. He was a big friendly man, and he had keen eyes as he took in the situation. She wasn't drunk or on drugs, from what he could see, and she was very pretty and well dressed. “Would you like us to call an ambulance for you? Or your doctor?”

“No, really, I'm fine,” she said, getting up. “I don't know what happened. I just got light-headed.” She had skipped breakfast that day, but she'd been feeling fine.

“You really should go to a doctor, ma'am. We'll be happy to take you to New York Hospital. It's straight down the street here,” he said kindly.

“Really. I'm fine. I live right here.” She pointed at the town house only a few feet away from them. She had almost made it. And she thanked the old man and apologized for almost knocking him down. He patted her hand and told her to have a nap and eat a good lunch, and then the policemen escorted her into her house, and looked around at the attractive surroundings.

“Do you want us to call anyone? Your husband? A friend? A neighbor?”

“No … I …” The phone interrupted them, and she picked it up as they stood in the hallway. It was Charles.

“What did he say?”

“I'm fine,” she said sheepishly, except for the fact that she had just keeled over on the sidewalk.

“Do you want us to stay for a few minutes?” the policeman in charge asked and she shook her head.

“Who was that? Is someone there?” She was afraid to tell him what had happened.

“It's nothing, I just … the doctor said I'm in great shape. And …”