"Grace," Lily shouted, jumping to her feet and rushing around the desk. "Are you all right? Grace?"
Grace was already straightening back up, color returning to her face.
"I'm fine," she grumbled, "I just stood up too quickly." She reached out to a water bottle on her desk, and took a long swallow. Replacing it carefully on the desk, she looked at her hand, which was still trembling slightly. Covering it quickly with her other hand, she placed both in her lap, hoping not to have embarrassed herself too much.
"Cassie," she started with a deliberate tone, "did you say you saw Carter on Saturday?"
"Yes, Grace," Cassie replied. She was perched on the edge of her seat, unsure how to read what was happening. "He was part of a panel on the syndicate work in the 1960s. They ran a film, and asked the panel questions."
"I see," Grace said in a very clipped way, looking down at her hands cradled in her lap, then up to a point on the wall in the far corner of the room away from where Cassie and Lily sat. "It seems I was mistaken, Lily. I apologize. I hope you didn't..."
She stopped talking in mid-sentence, and leaned forward, one hand whipping the glasses off her face as she buried it in her other hand. She sat there holding back her emotions, trying to squeeze that hurt that was overwhelming her back inside out of view. The minutes ticked by until she felt the gentle touch of Lily's hand on her shoulder. It wasn't pushing her in any way, not intruding on her moment, just there, supporting her. She took another moment, struggling to control her breathing, willing herself to regain command.
"My apologies to you both," she started again, taking a tissue to dab her eyes and blow her nose. "I didn't expect such an overt reaction."
"We understand, Grace," Lily spoke, trying to remain calm and reassuring. "We can give you more time if you need it..."
"Or come back another time, if that is better..." Cassie added.
Grace sat back and smiled. "No, no, I'll be fine. I just needed a minute. I wonder why he lied..."
Lily cocked her head. Why hadn't Denning shown up on Friday after telling Grace to meet him.
"How did he reach out to you, Grace?" She asked carefully. "It must have been a long time since you had heard from him previously?"
"Yes," Grace replied. "I don't remember speaking with him since some time in the late 1980s. I think it was a memorial service for Arnie McIntyre, the head of McSyndicate. He had founded the company in the mid-1930s and run it until 1982, I believe. His health was failing, so he sold it off to some faceless entity for a song and he retired. It was probably '87 or '88 when I met Denning at the memorial."
Cassie chimed in "You must have been really surprised to hear from him after such a long time."
"Did that strike you as unusual?" Lily asked. "That he'd reach out to you now after 34 years?"
Grace looked between them before answering. "Honestly, it did surprise me. I imagined that he was dead. He must be over 80 by now. Unusual? A little, but Carter was always reclusive. J.D. Salinger type. When he, not retired, I guess... let's say dialed back production... in the 80s, he moved away from the city. I didn't hear much from him after that. We saw each other at the memorial, then wrote a few times, but even that faded over time, as these things do."
Lily felt a pang of guilt at the distance that had grown into her personal relationships. She and Grace hadn't talked in months until now, none of her old friends from Boston kept in touch. Her closest friends other than Cassie were distant and virtual.
"How did he reach out to you now?" She asked, curious about how a recluse would choose to interact with anyone.
"He sent me a letter," Grace said, pulling out a drawer on her desk and taking out a letter. She set it on the desk.
