Best Friend's Ex Box Set

Al said he'd check in with me as soon as he'd had a chance to connect with the people who might be interested in putting turbines in their field. I shook his hand as a blue pickup pulled into the drive and honked twice.

"That's my ride," Al said tipping his baseball cap at Verity and saying, "Ma'am, good evening."

I watched him climb into the cab and ride off toward town before I turned to Verity and said, "I've got to go to Chicago to take care of something. Can you handle the plans until I get back on Sunday afternoon?"

"What about Grace?" Verity asked.

"She doesn't need to know about this; she's got enough on her plate right now," I said knowing full well that Verity knew I wasn't telling the truth. The look on her face made me feel ashamed for a moment, but then I remembered my parents and said, "Look, I wouldn't lie to Grace for the world, but this thing with my parents is messy and I don't want to drag her into it. You can understand that, right?"

"It's never a good idea to lie to someone you care about, Mr. Wallace," she said shaking her head.

"Oh stop with the Mr. Wallace stuff," I said running a hand through my hair and then giving her a beseeching look. "Verity, c'mon, I'm doing the best I can. I'll be gone for less than twenty-four hours, and then when we've put our plan into action and gotten what we need, I'll tell Grace what happened and why, okay?"

"I don't like it at all," she said shaking her head disapprovingly. "I'm not going to lie for you, Adam. I won't tell your secrets straight out, but if asked, I'm not lying. Do you understand?"

"Understood," I nodded as I crossed my fingers and hoped that everything would go as planned and no one would be asked to lie.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Grace

I'd checked with Betty, Mike's secretary, and found out that the reception Mr. Vasquez was throwing was definitely formal, and since I didn't own anything glamorous enough, I headed straight for a small boutique just south of the Loop that sold once-worn formal dresses at reasonable prices. I quickly booked a hair and makeup appointment for the next day and then caught a cab to At Last Boutique on Roosevelt.

The car had dropped me off at the office without stopping at my apartment, so when I walked through the door pulling my suitcase, the woman behind the register raised an eyebrow. The shop was an eclectic mix of tasteful vintage furniture in shades of crimson, eggplant, and gold. The place could have looked like a high-end bordello, but the way the designer had created an intimate space by placing velvet upholstered settees and chairs around the room made the racks of dresses look like icing on a very expensive cake. I felt intimidated.

"We don't buy dresses direct," the woman said. She was tall and thin with long burgundy colored hair that elegantly framed her smooth, dark face. "We only buy dresses that have been returned to retail stores and can't be resold."

"I'm...I'm not selling anything," I said as the heat rose in my cheeks. No matter how long I lived in Chicago or how financially secure I was, shopping in the city still made me feel like a small country bumpkin. I'd prepped myself a hundred times for trips like this, but it didn't take much to send the fortress walls tumbling down. I looked at the tall brown saleswoman and said, "I need a dress. A formal dress for tomorrow night. And shoes."

"Well, why didn't you

say so, hon?" the woman smiled as she extended her hand. "I'm Vivica, but everyone calls me Viv. What kind of dress do you need, hon?"

"Something pretty?" I said unsure of what she meant.

"Pretty? You need something pretty?" Viv chuckled. "Darlin', we have all kinds of pretty in this shop. You're going to have to be much more specific than that!"

"It's a formal reception at London House," I said not sure what else she wanted to know, then quickly adding, "It's for a business merger."

"Oooooh, now that's a serious kind of fancy," Viv said as she quickly crossed the small shop and began rifling through a rack of dresses that were set off to one side. She turned back and looked at me, asking, "What's your name, hon?"

"Grace," I said. "Grace Miller."

As she perused the dresses Viv said, “Well, Grace, go ahead and put your suitcase down and come tell me how you want to look tomorrow night."

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just want to look beautiful and elegant."

"See? You do know," Viv gently scolded. "Every girl knows how she wants to look for the ball."

"It's just a business function," I reminded her. "It's not like a wedding or something. I just want to look like I belong."

As soon as the words left my mouth I felt myself tearing up. Everything that had happened over the past month came tumbling into my brain all at once. Mamm and Dat were gone. Faith and Hope had shunned me along with the rest of the community who were now threatening to shun the siblings I'd left behind. The store was deeply in debt with no way of digging out of it now that Uncle Amos had made it off limits to the community and forbade them from shopping there. We had no real income to support the farm. And Adam. Then there was Adam Wallace.

"Hon, what color do you want to wear?" Viv asked as she pulled a bright green dress from the rack and then shook her head and put it back.

"Nothing flashy," I said not wanting to stand out from the crowd. "I want to look elegant. Classy."

"Ahh, how about a beautiful, black gown?" Viv suggested, holding up a lace and taffeta dress that had a plunging neckline that was way more than I was willing to risk.