My God, she thought, he even does it at home. That synthetic bravado was left over from his trader days: _You're the luckiest person alive, just to have reached me. How can I further make your day?_ his tone implied. "Grant, it's me. I think it's time for that vital chat." It took him a split second to recover, and then, "Hey, I was beginning to wonder what happened to you. If you were going to stand me up or what. Not call, like you said you would." "Long day. I was up at Mom's this morning. You knew she was going to tell me, right? About your little surprise visit and proposal?" "I had a hunch the topic might arise." His voice seemed to shrug nonchalantly. "I thought you should hear it from her instead of from me. So what do you think?" "What do I think? I think I'm wondering what you're up to." "I'm not 'up to' anything, Ally, except exactly what I told her. Trouble is, I don't know whether she got it. I wanted to see how she was doing. You know, I'm thinking maybe Dr. Vee can do something for her. But I had to see her first. She seemed pretty distant, but that woman there--what was her name? Marie, Maria, whatever?--said she has lucid moments. So who knows? He might possibly help her. I think I can arrange to get her into his clinic. Bartlett gives me a few perks. It's the least I can do for her, so..." His voice trailed off expectantly. "Grant, I need to talk to you about this man. I read the stuff you gave me and I still don't know the first thing about him." She paused, about to speak words she never thought she would. "If you want to come over, I'll stand you a drink." "You serious?" "For my sins." "I'll grab a cab. See you in fifteen." It's begun, she thought. I'm about to let Grant screw up my life one more time. No. This round, don't give him the chance. Stay ahead of him. _Sunday, April 5 10:39 P.M. _ "I didn't know if I should have brought a bodyguard" he was saying as he strode in the door, a Master of the Universe with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He looked stylish, but then he always did. He casually tossed the jacket onto the gray couch, then gazed around. Thankfully, he didn't try the New York cheek kiss. "I guess this is not supposed to seem like old times, but somehow it does. Seeing you again. Hey, we're still blood kin, right?" "Don't push it, Grant." She'd killed the Chopin and put on a Bach sonata. Clear, precise thinking was required not sentimentality. Knickers had rushed to give Grant a hello nuzzle, happier to see him than Ally was. "Whatever this is, it is definitely not old times." He sauntered into her kitchen, looking around--trying to act cool, but clearly ill at ease. "You've done a nice job on this place, sis." He was looking over the rustic counter she'd installed. "You get a deal on the space? A bank repo or something?"