Grace slipped out of her dark wool jacket and hung it in the hall closet then dutifully picked up her sister's boots and placed them on the newspaper before pulling off her own practical low heeled boots and positioning them next to Pat's.

The sound of rock music mingled with the hiss of the shower as Grace crossed the room and picked up Pat's coat. She shook off some of the moisture before hanging it next to her own. Then she picked up the briefcase which she had placed on the floor upon entering and moved toward the cozy kitchen and the coffee maker.

It wasn't long before her lap top was out and papers were spread out across the kitchen table. She was so engrossed in her work that she failed to hear Pat's approach until the slender figure slid into a chair across from her.

"Another evening of stimulating mental excitement, huh, Gracie?" the girl asked, her voice laced with scorn. "I wonder if you've ever considered standing up to old man Edwards and letting him know that you're a human being, not a perpetual working machine."

Grace glanced up at the pretty, but shadowed, face long enough to realize that her sister was in one of her argumentative moods.

"Mr. Edwards pays me well for my efforts. Something you should be glad of, since it is my wages that pay the bills," Grace couldn't help but say, though she knew her remark would only add fuel to smoldering coals.

"I work too you know!" the girl announced proudly, giving her head of thick, wavy hair an angry toss.

Grace laid down her pencil and leaned back in her chair to study the stormy face of her otherwise pretty sister.

"The money you earn at your part-time job doesn't even cover the expense of your business college, let alone all the extra goodies you keep dipping into the budget for."

"Would you have me do without simply because you're no longer interested in life?" the girl pouted.

Realizing it was useless to try and discuss money matters with her carefree, rather immature, and self-centered, sister, Grace sighed and returned to studying her papers.

"It isn't as if you were old or unattractive," the girl went on, refusing to be ignored. "Why, you're not even thirty, but you've let yourself go so horribly since Johnny died that most people think you're a lot older. Do you know that some of my friends have even mistaken you for my mother? It's not funny Gracie!" she cried as her sister began to laugh. "If Johnny could see you now he sure wouldn't recognize the pretty, young wife he used to brag about."

Grace curled her hand so that she could better feel Johnny's ring. A ring now worn on the third finger of the right hand.

"Who but spinster librarians, and little old ladies would wear their hair pulled back in such a tight unflattering bun?" Pat demanded. "And those outrageous black rimmed glasses that dominate your face are just your way of trying to hide from life!"

"That's enough, Pat," Grace said quietly, her face coloring under the attack that she knew had an element of truth in it.

"It's not enough! Not until I've pounded some sense into that hard head of yours. You need to realize that you've been using work as a substitute for living! By getting up early and spending all day at the office and then bringing home buckets of extra work besides, you've left yourself precious little time to think about anything else. A person needs to take some time out for themselves now and again, Gracie! If you'd just let me, I could fix you up with some swell dates. Maybe not as exciting nor handsome as Johnny Reaves was, but they could still show you a swell time."

"I'm not interested in what you call swell times, Pat," Grace said, recalling some of the activities her sister and her friends had engaged in. "And I do take in a good movie or concert now and again. Perhaps if you'd go with me you'd find it much more fun and relaxing than running around with that group of yours."

"Don't start on one of your goodie two shoes lectures, Gracie! I declare, not only are you beginning to look like a mother, now you're starting to sound like one too! I think it's about time you started treating me like an adult. You forget that by the time you were my age you were married."

"And widowed," Grace reminded. "Too young for either."

"Poor sister. Widowed, orphaned and left in charge of a ten year old kid sister all in one fateful day." Pat sounded far from sympathetic as she rose to her feet and continued her verbal assault. "Forced to sell the old homestead and come to work in the big city at the tender age of eighteen. And what a boss you ended up with! I'll give him credit, he's really climbed the corporate ladder, but at what cost? He's more machine than human, and he's turned you into his own personal slave. It's no wonder you've given up on living."

Grace bite her bottom lip to keep back the heated words that threatened to tumble forth. There was no sense in trying to reason with Pat when she was in one of her moods. Better to just keep her thoughts to herself and let Pat have the final word.

Pat stood watching her sister as she bent over the pile of legal papers in front of her. Then, seeming to realize that Grace wasn't going to discuss things further, the girl marched angrily across the room. Turning at the door she add defiantly, "Chris is going to pick me up after school and take me to that new shopping center west of town. I'm not planning on buying anything, so you can wipe that disapproving frown from your face.

"It isn't that," Grace said, trying to ease her facial tension. "It's Chris. You know what I think of your friendship with that shallow, self-centered, bleached blond."

Pat shrugged her shoulders. "If you're so interested in who I hang around with, perhaps you can take some time out of your busy schedule to spend with your kid sister. No? I thought not. Don't wait up for me. I may be late."

The ringing of the telephone soon after Pat's stormy departure from the building interrupted Grace in her work. Thinking it was probably Mr. Edwards with some last minute changes in the paper she was working on she hastened to answer its insistent summons.

The voice on the other end, however, was not the deep, business like one of her employer, but a woman's soft, howbeit very professional, one. "Mrs. Reaves?" she questioned.

"This is Grace Reaves speaking," Grace said, for some unexplainable reason experiencing a sudden wave of apprehension.

"This is Jan Ferguson, a nurse at the Crestwell Hospital in Flint, Michigan. I'm calling at the request of your sister, Kathy Powers."

"Kathy." Grace repeated unaware that in her shock she had dropped into the rocking chair which stood next to the phone.

"That's right. I understand that it has been some years since you and she have been in touch with one another."

A vision of Kathy as she had last seen her flashed across the screen of Grace's memory. Her sister's large blue eyes had been frightened but determined as she stood before their father and informed him that she and Stan Powers were going to get married. Could anyone who witnessed it forget the scene that had followed? Forget their father's fierce anger and harsh words before he had ordered his eldest daughter out of the house?

"I haven't seen my sister since I was twelve," Grace said, remembering how bitter she had been against her eighteen year old sister for leaving her alone with their father and baby sister.

"So she has told me," the woman said. "But she's told me that you've been in her thoughts over these past years and she's managed, through old friends, to keep track of what has been happening in your life."

"If that's so, why didn't she come back when she heard of our father's accident?" Grace blurted out. "Why leave me alone when I could have used her support?"

"I can understand your feelings, Mrs. Reaves, but I think you may not be aware of what your sister has been going through. Her husband's extended illness and subsequent death have put her through some tough times and, from what I have seen of her, she posses not only courage but also pride. That might explain why she hasn't gotten in touch with you before now."

I know all about the family pride," Grace said, feeling a sudden empathy for her older sister. "And I am sorry to hear about Stan's death. Is that why you've been asked to get in touch with me, to inform me of my brother in-law's passing?"

"I wish that were all," the woman said with feeling. "But the sad fact is that your sister is now in the hospital and her chances of lasting much more than a few weeks are very slim indeed."

Grace felt her stomach tighten and her throat contract. Suddenly all the love and admiration she had felt as a child for her older sister came sweeping back.

"I'll book a seat on the first flight I can get out," she said unhesitatingly. "What's happened? Was there an accident?"

"No. She caught a bad case of the flue which went into her lungs. I'm afraid by the time she came in to see us there was little we could do for her. She's such a lovely woman. I just can't tell you how sorry I am to have to deliver such a message. I'm sure it will ease her mind to know that you're on your way. To be truthful, she has worked herself up into a bit of a state, and I don't think she'll settle down until she's talked with you."

"Thank you, nurse. I'll get there as soon as possible."

"That would be advisable, Mrs. Reaves. We'll see you later then."

Grace hung up the phone long enough to get a dial tone and then phoned the airlines. There was a flight leaving for Flint at seven the next morning they assured her. Yes, they had seating for two.

Grace glanced at the clock as she rose from her chair. It read eight. There was still a chance that Mr. Edwards would be at his office. And anyway, the office was only a few blocks away. A little air and exercise might be just the thing to help ease her tense nerves.

A few minutes later Grace looked up at the dark sky, speckled here and there by falling snowflakes and, as she had half-expected, saw that the light in their office building was still lit. She entered the nearly deserted building and took the elevator up to the third floor. Crossing to the door marked 'Alexander Edwards Advertising Agency', she used her own key to let herself in. Slipping the snow speckled scarf from off her head she crossed the waiting room and knocked on the closed office door.

At the gruff, preoccupied response she opened the heavy door and stepped into the familiar room.

Alexander Edwards didn't even look up from the papers that lay spread out on the desk in front of him. "What is it, Grace? Have you forgotten something?"

"No, Mr. Edwards," she said, realizing that he had recognized her knock.

He must also have been familiar enough with her voice to realize that something was bothering her, for at her words he glanced up, his broad forehead wrinkling with concern.

"Have a seat, Grace," he directed, pulling out a chair next to his desk. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Grace took the chair and sat stiffly upright on the edge of the seat, trying to maintain her impersonal, office manner. Mr. Edwards wouldn't appreciate her going to pieces, she reasoned, and cleared her throat of its tightness.

"I've just gotten word that my eldest sister is dying," she said, coming straight to the point as she knew he would want. "I'm afraid I shall have to take a few days off and go see her."

Mr. Edwards didn't speak for a moment but his fingers drummed the top of his paper strewn desk.

"Of course, if you must go, you must," he said at length, and though he was frowning his voice was sympathetic. "It's too bad it had to happen just when the McCall account is coming up. Miss Perry and I will have to manage as best we can on our own. When did you plan on leaving, and for how long will you be gone?"

"I've booked a flight for tomorrow morning," she said, relieved he had taken the news of her departure so calmly. "I'm afraid I don't know when I'll be coming back. The nurse I spoke with said my sister wouldn't last much longer."

"Well, as you've taken precious little vacation time, there's not much I can say about your going now. You'll get in touch with me as soon as you know where you're staying, won't you, so that if Miss Perry or I have any questions we'll know where to get hold of you?"

"Of course," Grace said, getting up out of the chair. "I'll write Perry a few instructions and drop them off early tomorrow morning, before I leave. Though she already has a good knowledge of how to handle the account, and will probably fill in for me quite nicely."

"That is doubtful," the man said, also raising to his feet. "You've been with me how long now, Grace?"

"Almost ten years, sir."

"I remember when you first appeared on my doorstep, a young, inexperienced girl fresh out of school, willing to work the extra hours necessary to help an energetic, demanding boss who was determined to make the most of his profession. We've become quite a team in that time, haven't we? Don't stay away too long, Grace. We've still much to accomplish."

"I'll return as soon as I can," she promised.

She glanced back just before leaving, but his dark head with its graying temples was already bent back over his work. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, she let herself out, shutting the door softly behind her.

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