36. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 36
GRACELYN
N ow that we’re back home in Thunder Creek, everything between me and Mack’s back to normal. Better than normal, in fact.
We’re together every possible minute and haven’t spent one night apart in the last two weeks. He swears he’s fine with how everything went down and doesn’t care about the family feud, but I can’t shake the bad vibes. I’m a people pleaser down to the very last fiber of my soul and I hate being the reason Mack’s not speaking with his parents.
Which he isn’t, to my knowledge. Well, his mother at least. His dad’s definitely on our side, but he’s keeping a low profile since he has to live in the same house as her. A big house, for sure, but they still share one roof.
I’m sweeping the floor of the salon after my last client of the day when the door chimes announcing a customer. My mom’s already gone—she has Mahjong on Tuesday nights with her friends—and I’m positive I don’t have another client booked. It’s too early for Mack to come around. And Sloane’s back down in Florida with Cam.
“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. I want 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.’
And I think she may be right about that.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, dear. Those earrings belong to you now. Take good care of them. And of my son.” Her eyes glisten with tears, and I almost feel sorry for the woman. Even with all her money, her pedigree, the country club friends, the ginormous mansion and the staff, she can’t have the one thing she wants.
The true love and respect of her son.
Maybe, over time, they can find their way back to each other.
Stepping forward, I reach out and grip her forearm. “Thank you. I will.”
With a sad smile, she pats my hand, then pivots to go.
“Gracelyn—” She glances over her shoulder. “Take care. Hopefully we’ll see you and Mack again soon.”
Then she sashays out of the salon, leaving behind only the slightest hint of her expensive perfume.