Though both men had been awaiting her arrival, they didn’t hear Miss Grace Seymour come in, bringing a wave of fresh, cool air with her.
“Did you wish to speak to me?”
Like thirsty men in a desert, they turned towards the oasis of serenity she brought with her. About the same height as Luci, Grace exuded normality like a subdued perfume. Her light brown hair was pulled back from the plain lines of her face and bundled at the nape of her neck. She dressed simply, neatly, in a dress that was somewhere between blue and gray. Her eyes were calm and inquiring.
Delaney pulled out a chair for her, almost tripping over it in his hurry.
He must, Mickey realized, be more tired than he thought, because for a moment her profile wavered into near transparency before getting solid again. Or maybe it
