agencyâand ultimately youâwill have to repay the advance
with
a penalty. And, I hate to say it, itâs not so good for your rep.â
Graceâs shoulders sagged. She hadnât thought about the cost of canceling. Hadnât really had time to think it throughâhadnât thought through much of anything the past few days, for that matter. Or prayed. Or asked God what to do. All she knew was that she couldnât do that sweetheart banquet, even if her voice did recover. âIâm ⦠Iâll be seeing a doctor. Iâll send you certification.â
She ended the callâand then felt bad that she hadnât even said good-bye or thanked him for his concern. But she was so close to tears again, she was afraid sheâd end up blubbering if she didnât get off the phone.
Picking up her plate from the floor, Grace dumped the dishes in the sink and checked the thermostat. Sixty-four degrees and climbing. At least the furnace was working. She should call Mark back, let him know everything was okay ⦠then she should call Samantha ⦠no, first she better make that call to her doctor and get an appointment.
She left a message with the doctorâs receptionist for a callback and had just stepped into the shower when she heard âAll Hail the Power of Jesusâ Nameâ from the bedroom. Wrapping a towelaround her wet body, she hurried into the bedroom and snatched up the phone. âHello? This is Grace Meredith.â
âGrace? Good grief, you sound awful.â
Roger
.
Chapter 7
Grace stood in the middle of her bedroom clutching the cell phone in one hand and the towel in the other. She didnât want to talk to Roger.
But what if he was sorry? Didnât mean what heâd said. Wanted to make up.
âIâve got laryngitis.â It was the only thing she could think of to say in the moment.
âI can hear that. I ⦠was just calling to see if you made it home all right from Memphis. And, well, itâs been a few days. I thought we should talk some more about, you know, ending the engagement. But if your voice isnâtââ
âNo, I didnât.â
A silent blip hung between them. She could just see the sudden frown on his handsome faceâsquare jaw, strong chin, gray-blue eyes, dark-blond hair he wore in an Ivy League style, short on the sides, a bit longer and slightly spiked on top. Probably dressed in gray slacks, white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up, a silk necktie loosened at the collarâproper, conservative, just a tad casual. No doubt calling between meetings at the financial consulting firm in downtown Chicago where he was climbing the corporate ladder. The firm didnât take coffee breaks.
Roger finally spoke. âUh, you didnât ⦠what?â
âDidnât make it home all right.â Her voice was barely above a whisper. âYou asked if I made it home all right from Memphis.â
âOh.â Another silent blip. âWhat happened? Are you okay?â
âI canât ⦠canât t-talk about it right now.â She was shivering now, still wet from the shower and only partially covered by the wrappedtowel. âMy furnace went out. House is c-c-cold. I was in the shower. This isnât a g-g-good time.â
âOkay. Sure. Maybe weââ
She clicked Off and threw the phone on the bed. Why did she do that? Sheâd whined like a four-year-old. But it made her mad that he assumed everything was hunky-dory just because sheâd answered the phone. And then heâd gone straight to wanting to talk more about ending the engagement.
Probably wanted his ring back.
Sheâd make him beg first.
Grace got back in the hot shower until her teeth stopped chattering, finally dried off, blow-dried her long hair, dressed in a pair of slim jeans and a clean turtleneckâand on impulse dug out the old flannel shirt she used to wear horseback riding