Chapter 5: Thursday at Harborview
Grace arrived at Harborview Grille at twelve forty-five.
She wore a charcoal blazer over a cream blouse, her dark auburn hair pulled back.
She had driven herself.
She had not told Dominic exactly when she planned to arrive, only that she would call him after.
He had not liked that.
But he had not stopped her.
The hostess led her to a table near the window overlooking the water.
Grace ordered sparkling water and waited.
Renata Voss arrived at one o'clock precisely.
She was tall, sharp-featured, and dressed in a way that communicated she had thought carefully about how she wanted to appear.
Dark blazer, silk blouse, hair cut close.
She scanned the room as she entered — a habit Grace recognized from people who always wanted to know the exits.
Renata saw her.
She stopped for exactly one second.
Then she continued walking, handed her coat to the hostess, and sat down across from Grace as though the meeting had been her idea.
"Grace Bennett," she said.
"Rainer," Grace said.
"But you know that."
Renata picked up the menu.
"I heard congratulations were in order.
Eventually." She set the menu down without reading it.
"Four years ago, apparently."
"Three and a half."
"He never mentioned it to me."
"He mentioned it to the people he wanted to tell."
Renata's expression didn't shift.
She had a lawyer's face — composed, watchful, giving away nothing that wasn't calculated.
"I assume this isn't a social call."
"I think you know why I'm here."
"I know why you think you're here." Renata folded her hands on the table.
"You're here because someone pointed a spoiled girl at you and she made a scene.
And because Dominic traced a comment account to a building where I happen to lease office space."
"Happen to."
"It's a large building."
"It is," Grace agreed.
"Garrett counted eleven other tenants.
He ran them all." She picked up her water glass.
"The account was created from the fourth floor.
Your floor.
On a Tuesday evening between seven and nine.
You were the only tenant with keycard activity during that window."
Renata was still for a moment.
Then she smiled — a small, controlled thing.
"Dominic taught you well."
"Dominic didn't teach me anything.
I asked Garrett a direct question and he gave me a direct answer." Grace set the glass down.
"I'm not here because Dominic sent me.
I'm here because I want to understand something."
"What's that?"
"Why me specifically.
You want to damage his business — there are cleaner ways to do that.
Why go through me?"
Renata looked out at the harbor.
A cargo ship moved slowly across the far edge of the water.
"You really don't know?"
"Tell me."
"Because you're the only thing he's ever protected without being asked to." Renata turned back.
Her voice stayed level, but something underneath it had changed.
"Every business relationship Dominic has ever had, he manages.
He calculates.
He decides what it's worth and what it costs." She paused.
"You're the one thing he didn't calculate.
You're the one thing he just — chose."
Grace said nothing.
"That makes you the one pressure point that isn't defended by lawyers or contracts or freight terminals." Renata's eyes were steady.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you, Grace.
I was trying to make him react.
An emotional reaction from Dominic Rainer is worth more to my clients than three cancelled contracts."
"And did you get one?"
Renata looked at her carefully.
"You're here.
He let you come alone."
"He didn't let me do anything.
I chose to come."
"Yes." Renata tilted her head slightly.
"That's what I mean."
A waiter appeared.
Neither of them ordered.
He withdrew.
"Your clients," Grace said.
"Harmon Freight.
And Delco Terminal Partners."
Renata's composure held, but her right hand moved slightly on the table.
"You've been thorough."
"I had time this week."
"Those are legitimate competing businesses.
There's nothing illegal about representing them."
"No," Grace said.
"There isn't.
But there's something illegal about coordinating a targeted harassment campaign against a private individual to manufacture a reputational crisis for her husband." She reached into her blazer pocket and placed a folded document on the table.
"That's a summary of the comment account activity, the keycard records, and three weeks of communication between your office IP address and Sloane Mercer's management contact." She smoothed it flat.
"Garrett is very thorough."
Renata looked at the document.
She didn't touch it.
"That's not enough for a civil case," she said.
"It's enough for a conversation with the Maryland Bar." Grace kept her voice even.
"And it's enough for Dominic to share with Harmon Freight's board, who I understand are currently deciding whether to renew your retainer."
The harbor light shifted.
A cloud moved across the sun and the room went briefly gray.
Renata picked up the document.
She read the first page.
Her jaw tightened once, then released.
"What do you want?" she said.
"The archive comes down.
You contact Sloane's management today and make that happen — I don't care how.
The comment is deleted.
And you end the arrangement with whoever pointed her at me."
"And if I do that?"
"Then this document stays in my possession and not in anyone else's."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Renata set the document on the table.
She looked at Grace for a long moment — not with hostility, but with something closer to assessment.
The way a person looks at something they underestimated.
"He really doesn't know you're doing this, does he," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"He knows I'm here."
"But not the document."
Grace said nothing.
Renata almost smiled.
"You prepared this yourself."
"I had help."
"From Garrett."
"From myself," Grace said.
"Garrett provided the records.
I read them."
Another silence.
Outside, the cargo ship had disappeared around the bend of the harbor.
Renata folded the document and slid it back across the table.
"I'll make the call this afternoon."
"Today," Grace said.
"Before five."
"Before five." Renata stood, straightened her blazer.
She looked down at Grace with an expression that had lost its earlier edge.
"For what it's worth — I didn't think you'd come yourself."
"Most people don't," Grace said.
Renata left without looking back.
Grace sat alone at the table for a moment.
She picked up her water glass, finished it, and set it down carefully.
Then she took out her phone and called Dominic.
He picked up on the first ring.
"It's done," she said.
A pause.
"The archive?"
"She'll have it pulled before five.
The comment too."
Silence.
Then: "Grace.
The document —"
"I'll explain when I get home."
"Grace."
"Dominic." She looked out at the water.
"I told you I didn't want people respecting me because they feared my husband." She paused.
"Today they respected me because they feared me."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"Come home," he said finally.
"I'm on my way."
She left the restaurant.
The afternoon sun had come back out.
She walked to her old blue SUV, unlocked it, and sat for a moment before starting the engine.
Her hands were completely steady.
But the drive home would take twenty minutes, and she needed every one of them.
May you like
Because Renata had agreed too quickly.
And Grace had been paying attention long enough to know that when someone like Renata agreed too quickly, it meant the thing you'd asked for wasn't the thing they were protecting.
