Saving Gracie Part 15

Albert nodded, pus.h.i.+ng back his chair.

Ruby stood and hovered over the table. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" Mary answered. George and Maggie leaned in.

"Am I in trouble? I mean...is this going on my record?"

"Is what going on your record?" Mary asked.

"You know. Showing her...." Ruby's voice drifted off into silence. Way to go, Rubes. Keep your trap shut. "Nothing. Forget it."

"Everything will work out for the best, my dear. Trust the process." Mary offered Ruby her Queen for a Day smile.

Ruby gave a slow nod and exited the white office with Albert.

Once the door closed, Mary turned to Maggie. "I feel you had more to say, my dear."

"I did." Maggie straightened herself in the chair. "I felt it unwise to discuss such matters in front of the youngsters."

"I understand," Mary stated, grateful for Maggie's discretion. "Please. Tell us what you know."

"It was the self-deception procedure," Maggie said. "She stayed in the chamber for the standard hour, but the meter box hardly moved a b.l.o.o.d.y notch." Maggie raised her hesitant eyes. "So, I set it for an additional hour."

Click, click, click...click.

"Go on." One of Mary's eyebrows inched upward. She licked her lips, an unsettling feeling moving through her.

"She only completed forty-eight percent of the process," Maggie said.

Mary's hand touched the flutter in her chest. "Two full hours and only forty-eight percent?"

"My thoughts precisely," Maggie said. "I dare not let her stay in a moment longer."

Click, click.

"I'm sure you did the right thing." Mary's fingers tapped her forehead in agitation, and then swept her hand over her perfectly smoothed hair. Forty-eight percent echoed through her being. "And the E-C chamber?"

"The bottom four energy centers cleared. The top three remained completely blocked."

"Yes, I seem to recall her telling me something along those lines." Mary fanned herself. Her heart rate elevated, an unusual occurrence.

George sat, his hand across his mouth. He had yet to utter a word.

Maggie hesitated a moment before she spoke. "I do believe she's holding on too tight."

"To what?" Mary leaned forward, continuing with the hand-fan.

"Her daughter." Maggie looked thoughtful. "She doesn't believe her daughter can survive without her."

"You've talked to her about this?"

"Not exactly," Maggie said. "I listen. She's rather chatty about the topic. Every conversation we've had centers around her daughter. Actually, that's all she talks about, now that I think of it. Quite obsessive about the girl, she is."

Click, click, click.

"Do you believe her daughter to be helpless as Quinlan portrays?" Mary forced herself to focus on Maggie. George's silence unnerved her. What was he thinking?

Maggie only smiled.

"As I thought." She valued Maggie's observation skills. And at this point, pertinent details were vital to Quinlan's a.s.sessment. Mary tried sitting back in her chair. Her spine refused to cooperate.

Click-click. Click, click...click.

"I must excuse myself," Maggie said. "That racket is unbearable."

"Thank you for your input. It's been most helpful. And I do apologize for the distraction downstairs," Mary said. "I trust you will keep us updated with any further developments?"

"Of course," Maggie offered. "Quinlan is lovely, though her need to control her daughter seems to be quite deep-seated." She walked around the table. "Too bad humans don't come with a reset b.u.t.ton; would make my job much simpler." She stooped to give Mary a quick hug, then extended her hand to George. "It's been way too long, my friend."

George took Maggie's hand and shared his crooked smile. "It has."

Maggie left the room. Mary and George sat in silence.

"I've gathered the records from the library." Mary's eyes rounded as she addressed George. "She's checked out every conceivable book on making the return trip." She tapped the screen on her notepad. "Her on-line usage is...well, it's preposterous." She couldn't stand George's silence a moment longer. Nervousness, a new sensation, had her feeling rather, oh what's the word...uncomfortable. "Tell me, what do you suggest?"

George seemed to enjoy rattling Mary's nerves. "It's only a matter of time before she asks to go back," George said. "And when she does...." George slapped the table. "We let her go."

CLICK-CLICK. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.

"I beg your pardon. Did you say we let her go?"

"Nervous?" George asked.

Mary moved her hands to her knees to stop her heels from clacking together. Busted.

"Did you say we let her go?" Mary repeated, fighting to regain her composure.

"I did." George responded.

"Are you serious?"

"I am."

"But why?" She'd never heard of anything so ludicrous.

George only smiled.

"But it's so...drastic." Mary felt at a loss for words. Her hands remained clamped to her knees. "And so soon!"

"Trust the process, Mary. Just like you instructed Ruby." George's expression never wavered.

Mary's mind raced through several dozen disastrous scenarios. "But how can-?"

"We'll monitor her." George stood and reached for his umbrella cane, plopping the Detroit cap on his head. "Go ahead and request a meeting with the Council. Let's see if we can get this thing moving."

Mary stood to stabilize her legs. "It could take weeks to get a meeting scheduled." Mary tapped the calendar on her notepad. "Can't you do it?"

"I could." He paused. "But the request needs to come from you. Tell them I've endorsed it." George hooked the walking cane over one arm and readjusted the baseball cap, pus.h.i.+ng his ears outward. "What's the sense of having clout if you can't use it once in a while?" George shot Mary his rickety smile.

"Very well." Mary closed her notepad, not at all comfortable with George's suggestion. "If you insist."

"Good day, madam." George tipped his baseball cap and headed for the door.

"George?" Mary's final attempt at rea.s.surance.

He turned. "Yes?"

"Are you sure about this?" Indecision rattled her.

"Let it be, Mary."

Mary watched George exit the room. She cleared her throat, then blew out a tiny puff of air. "Let it be," she repeated, tapping slender fingers on the conference table.

The nervous heel clicking in full swing, Mary clutched her laced handkerchief wadded in her fist. She sat in the upper gallery and chewed her lower lip. A special session of the Advisory Council progressed below on the main floor. She'd observed Council meetings before, but never under such unusual circ.u.mstances. Only two days after filing her request a special session had convened. Apparently George held more clout than she knew.

The decision had been made and read aloud. Mary sat back in her seat, hands perched over her mouth. Quinlan would be allowed to return with specific guidelines.

-Applicant must make personal request -Routine return processing procedure to be followed -Actual return procedure TBA -Applicant requires a travel escort -Ruby - weekly contact person -Angela a.s.signed ground patrol -Only those present will have knowledge of motive for return approval Mary smoothed her skirt and carefully refolded her handkerchief into a neat square before joining George on the front steps of the council building.

"Quite impressive," Mary remarked.

The wrinkled old man nodded.

"I don't believe I recall a situation handled in this manner."

George shrugged his slumpy shoulders and tossed the Detroit hat on his head. "We rarely pull this one out of the hat. However...." he paused, "if handled correctly, it can be v-e-r-y effective." He took a deep breath. "Wonderful day, isn't it?"

Mary shaded her eyes against the brilliant sun and glanced around. "What? Uh...oh yes, lovely." Mary tried to be polite. Her thoughts revolved around Quinlan, not the lovely day. "So what now?"

George circled his umbrella cane in a 360 before spearing the gra.s.s firmly in front of him. "We wait. It's bottom of the ninth. She's at bat."

Three weeks later Mary sat at her white on white desk reviewing orientation notes from a new arrival. Her phone rang. She recognized the ringtone-Department of Return a.s.signments.

"Mary? Oliver here from the DRA," the voice said.

"Yes?"

"The individual we discussed?"

"Yes?" Mary's breath caught in her throat.

"She came in today," Oliver reported, "and requested a packet."

Click, click. Click-click-click.

She sighed, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. "Thank you, Oliver." Mary placed a palm to her forehead. "I appreciate your help."

"Happy to oblige."

Mary ended the call and punched in George's three-digit code.

"She's asked for the packet!" Her voice was near shrill pitch.

Click. Click-click-click.

Hand fanning her face, Mary felt very unlike her usual calm, collected self. "Yes, very well then."

She slumped back in her chair, easing her hands to her knees to quiet the clacking. Pulling a small mirror from a nearby drawer, she reapplied lightly tinted lip-gloss, smoothed her hair and resumed her stick-straight posture.

"Okay, dear girl. Here we go."

CHAPTER 19.

GRACE AND QUINLAN.

Before leaving for Port Aransas Grace spent time at Half-Price Books trying to expand her reading repertoire to include more than just romance novels. Browsing without aim, Grace walked through the store and stopped by a display table marked "Summer Favorites." She randomly picked two books and headed to the register.

As she waited in the checkout line, her eyes kept returning to the "Summer Favorites" table.

"Next, please," the store employee said.

Grace didn't move.

"Ma'am?"

Grace snapped to attention, apologized three times for holding everything up, and slipped out of line. A strange internal tug pulled her back to the display table. She stood for several minutes trying to figure it out. Another book, maybe?