Bobby had only been to the hospital once before the old man died. That was typical, though he had loved their father as much as she. He was just unavailable. She was sure he was out about town at this very moment, dealing with things in his own way. With his friends, drinking, probably face down in his favorite Chinatown whorehouse. She wondered if she just didn't understand men.
Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. She thought about ignoring it, but she couldn't hide forever.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Katelyn. Can you talk?”
Out of all the people in the world, her godfather was the only person to call her by her full name. She hated it. “What's up, Godfried?”
“Listen, I just got back into town. There's something we need to talk about. Can you come by?”
She sighed. “Can I ask what it's about?”
“I'd rather not say.”
“You'd rather not say, and I'd rather not listen.”
He paused on the other end, and she could imagine his brow furrowing. “All right, it's about your… let's call it your inheritance. I know this is doesn't seem like the time, but trust me, we should speak today.”
“The reading was two days ago, Godfried. If you forgot something—”
“This is important,” he said, cutting her off. “It wasn't something we could talk about before. This is an addendum for your eyes only.”
“An addendum?”
“Your father added it only a week ago. His instructions were very clear. He said it was only to be shown to you, and only after his burial was complete. Since that was this morning, I figured now would be the best time.” Another pause. “He was very clear.”
She adjusted the left strap on her dress and shivered. Too skimpy for the weather, it was the only black dress she owned. “Only me?”
“It's not for Robert, not for former staff, hell not even for me. But it's important. Can you come?”
“Look, Godfried.” What kind of excuse could she give? She was all out. “Now's not the best time. Can we—”
“I've already sent Lance out with the chopper. He should be at your apartment in a few minutes.”
That was typical. That was, in fact, exactly why he and her dad had gotten along so welclass="underline" no goddamned patience. “I'm not at the apartment. I'm still at the cemetery.”
“The cemetery? What are you doing there?”
“I don't know, do I have to come now?”
“I'll let Lance know. See you in twenty.”
He hung up.
She thought about skipping town and taking a cab back to the city, but if Lance showed up and she wasn't there, Godfried would have the National Guard in play by nightfall. If she humored him one last time, she might actually get home before dark, and that was a nice thought. The cemetery here was amazingly green, the well-kept lawn broken every twenty feet or so by trees and flowers. The church, an old brick Protestant job on the eastern end, fit perfectly into the rural landscape. You couldn't even hear the highway from the center of the place. Kate missed this kind of scenery; she hadn't lived in Virginia since she was a little girl, not since her mother had been alive.
Five minutes later, the image broke as a helicopter appeared overhead, buzzing and whirring its way onto the field. She walked towards it, pushing into the wind as the rounded metal monstrosity dipped into view. This would mark the eleventh time she'd flown in one. Two of the previous eleven times, she'd thrown up, and she prayed this wouldn't be the third. On a day like today, she just couldn't take any more.
2
When they touched down on the helipad in Alexandria a few minutes later, she couldn't wait to get out. Lance the pilot was one of Godfried's old Naval Academy crewman, aged enough to be her grandfather, but he still kept stealing glances at her legs every chance he got. Most days, Kate didn't know if she was good looking any more, but she thought she kept herself up all right. “You look good enough to eat, honey,” her friend Miranda liked to tell her. “Fuck thirty-seven. You look twenty-seven, and you know it.” Most days, that was well and good, but when you were trapped a thousand feet in the air with an old goat like Lance, that attitude was a curse. At times like those, she'd be perfectly happy being a cow.
As she stepped out onto the lawn, she found herself wishing for the hundredth time that she was in jeans. When she was a kid, the only time she wore anything different was on the grass in a field hockey game. Girls who played hockey were not the pink dress wearing sort. Only the black dress wearing sort, she thought grimly.
The estate — her godfather's place could never be called anything so plebeian as a mansion — had its own helipad, as well as its own Olympic swimming pool, garden, and statuary. It was within walking distance of Belle Haven Country Club, “One of the finest health spas south of D.C., my dear,” if you were impressed by that sort of thing. The house itself was a squat, two-story 19th Century Georgian style manor, but not without charm. She'd spent enough time running around the grounds as a child to know that.
Collin MacNab, the estate's head of security, appeared at the end of the green and waved. He was an old man himself now, but unlike her grody pilot, Collin was charming and, as far as Kate was concerned, harmless. As always, he tried to look the stern security guard, and as always, he couldn't help but slip into a smile.
He nodded. “I thought you might not come.”
“I didn't think I had a choice. You know Godfried when he wants something.”
“There's always a choice, girly,” MacNab said, walking her up the back steps. “There aren't many places to hide when the man comes looking though. I got called back from vacation enough times to know that.”
“I didn't think security guys were allowed vacation, Nabby.”
He reddened a little at the nickname. Always did, even after twenty-five years. “Sometimes Mister Grace felt that way, I think.”
“I could always hide in the hedges.”
“If you're referring to the incident—”
“Where I disappeared?”
“Where we had to send the state police to find you,” he finished, reaching the top and opening the French doors, “I wouldn't recommend it.”
She shrugged. “It worked when I was eleven!”
“And what happened when they found you?”
“Dad grounded me,” she said. “And I got a whipping,” she added miserably.
“Don't think the man is above that now just because your daddy's gone.”
He put a hand on her back and walked her inside. The view from the back door always made her feel like she was entering a library. Not the pleasant kind from your local middle school, but a vast, towering maze from the imagination of Umberto Eco. The lower level glowed with the pulse of an orange fire set back in the den. Spiral stairs with carved handrails led up to the second floor mezzanine on either end of the room. And on all sides, top floor and bottom, were shelves and shelves of books. Most were of the dusty and parched variety only a lawyer could find interesting, and Godfried Grace was a lawyer's lawyer, but there were shelves full of classics too. A fine collector, the good man of the house.
“He's waiting for you in his study,” Collin said.
Kate left him at the foot of the stairs and ascended to the second floor. She was greeted by Chester, her godfather's big golden lab. She gave him a quick pat on the head, and he drooled appreciatively. Chester was twelve now, nearly thirteen, and it showed. He was a little better off than George the dalmatian, however, who was laying grumpily in the corner. When she waved at him, he raised his head and then promptly went back to sleep.