The Promise Page 2

  Kris was intrigued by the conversation and the woman named Claire. They were at least a respite from her current problems. “Do you mind if I ask why she’s had a tough time? You don’t exactly look like a person from a family who would fall on hard times.” Melissa’s clothes would have taken two months or more of her salary.

  Melissa cocked her head and stared at Kris. “Hmm, perhaps. However, money does not buy happiness, wisdom, or health.”

  “I’m sorry I….” Kris knew her cheeks were red from the blazing heat that surged through her face. Damn, I can’t finish a sentence. She’ll think I’m an idiot.

  Melissa smiled. “I like you, Kris. You are not only forthright, but sympathetic. It is refreshing in this day and age. Claire was in a rather horrible accident; a train hit her car. She’s very lucky to be alive. It’s not, of course, what she thinks most of the time, but we are working on that aspect. Depression is a terrible thing.”

  Kris’s eyes widened. “She was hit by a train! Whoa, I’m so sorry. I think I’d be depressed as well.”

  “Yes, well, my dear, Claire was responsible for the accident. She’d indulged in excess. I never understood why her life took that direction.” Melissa dropped her gaze.

  Kris saw the tears forming, and she reached across and touched the older woman’s hand.

  “Younger people don’t always understand,” Kris softly said.

  “‘Younger,’ my, I wish. Claire was thirty-three! She knew better.”

  Perry returned and deposited their beverages on the table. “Be right back with the goodies.” She winked at Kris.

  “She likes you,” Melissa said, stirring her tea.

  “No, no. She’s just being friendly. It’s part of the job. Most people don’t even notice me.” Kris shrugged, depositing a sachet of brown sugar into her coffee and stirring vigorously.

  “Does she call you by name when you come into the café?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “You don’t come every day or even every week, right?” Melissa insisted.

  Kris frowned. “Well, no. I only come in here as a treat. I can’t really afford anything else. Today was special. You can’t let life get you down, right?”

  Melissa grinned. “No, you can’t and—”

  “Here you go, ladies. Your goodies.” Perry placed their food on the table.

  “Thanks, Perry.” Kris smiled.

  “Perry?”

  The waitress looked at Melissa, and Kris did the same thing.

  “Yeah?”

  “You won’t remember me if I come in the café again, will you? My friend here uses your establishment infrequently, so why do you remember her?” Melissa stared at Perry.

  Perry frowned and then slapped a hand to her brow. “Oh now I remember you. You’re Mrs. Jackson, who helps the women’s mission on Smith Street, and when I mean help, I do mean that big-time. My sister—”

  “Thank you, my order looks perfect.” Melissa waved Perry away.

  Kris watched Perry leave. She looked uncomfortable as she muttered, “Enjoy.”

  “What was that about?” Kris asked.

  “Nothing, my dear, nothing. I may have a proposition for you. Would you be willing to listen?”

  Kris picked up one of her muffins, and before she took a bite, she replied, “Sure.”

  †

  Kris stroked Knight’s sleek, black hair as he lay across her lap. She gazed blindly at the TV screen. If anyone asked her what the program was, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. Her fingers tickled Knight’s ears, and she smiled as he purred gently and snuggled closer, wanting more.

  “She offered me a job for a month, Knight. Not long in the grand scheme of things, but the pay is more than I get in six months.” She dropped her head and nestled it close to Knight’s head. “What do you think, puss?”

  Several purrs later, Kris spoke again.

  “Dad taught me carpentry. He said if I put my mind to it I’d be better than he was.” Kris shrugged and laughed. “Yeah, and I took that advice to become a carpenter.” She scanned the apartment. “I know I refitted the kitchen cabinets and they look good, but that was out of necessity.” The midnight-colored, shorthaired cat simply gazed at her. “Knight, you are no help.”

  Knight jumped off her lap and ran to the kitchen window. Kris dutifully walked to it and opened it. Knight gave her a cursory glance and vaulted out onto the small, enclosed balcony where his litter tray and playthings were located. She half closed the window and sighed heavily.

  “Melissa said Knight will be taken care of in a superior cattery until I come back, but I’d need to see it first.” Kris scratched the side of her head and frowned. “I love Knight. He’s my only family. I need to be sure this place is good enough. If everything checks out, at least this option is better than going to my parents’. They hate pets. I’d have to find him a new home—never going to happen.” Kris drew in a huge breath.

  That’s it, decision made. I’m in.

  Chapter Two

  Claire threw the remote on the floor and stood. She glanced around the single-floor apartment in the basement of her parents’ home in Central Park. Not that anyone outside of the multimillionaire crowd would call her home a basement. It had been remodeled to include a bathroom, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a large open-plan area.

  To Claire it was a prison.

  One she had made herself, true, but nonetheless, a prison.

  The doorbell chimed. Claire grimaced and rolled her eyes. I guess an unwanted visitor is better than that crap they call TV today. Reality show after reality show. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned fiction?

  The chime rang out again.

  “I’m coming,” she snarled.

  She walked toward the door, then swung it open and glared at the person on the other side. “Grams?”

  “Well, I have to say by your expression you are not happy to see me,” Melissa Jackson replied with raised eyebrows.

  “Sorry, Grams, it’s not the usual day you visit. Anything wrong?” Claire waved her grandmother inside.

  Melissa glided into the apartment and looked around. “Don’t you ever tidy up? This place is a pigsty and that’s being unkind to the pigs of this world.”

  Claire frowned. Sure there were a few clothes scattered around the place, and yes the dishwasher was full and pots were filling up the sink, but she had been about to set the machine in action.

  Defensively Claire picked up an errant sweater and held it, twisting the fabric through her fingers. “Yes, you caught me on cleanup day, that’s all.”

  “Well, you know the word at least.” Melissa turned to face her.

  “You have that expression on your face, Grams.” Claire frowned.

  “I do, good you recognize it. You made me a promise before the—” Melissa gestured toward Claire “—accident. Do you remember?”

  Claire pouted. “Not really. Was it important? Oh, silly me, you are here now, so it must be. What did I promise?”

  “That you would give me a month of your time to help me resurrect the disused cottage at Seasons.” Melissa sat on the only chair that didn’t have an item of clothing on it.

  “Grams, I’m a cripple. I can’t help you.” Claire turned her back on her grandmother, stalked over to the kitchen, and slammed the electric kettle on the counter, then switched it on.

  No reply. Claire gazed in her grandmother’s direction. “I can’t keep that promise.”

  Melissa gave Claire an intense stare and shook her head.

  “What does that look mean?” Claire said.

  “I was nearly killed yesterday.”

  “What!”

  “Nearly. That’s the important thing; details don’t matter at this stage. It brought me to my senses about life, at least some of the things I hadn’t followed through on,” Melissa said. “You took the pity-party way out, and I’m taking the opposite.”

  Claire pursed her lips and scrunched her nose. “Okay, I’m game, but making you a promi
se a couple of years ago surely can’t be the only thing that’s on that bucket list.”

  “No, but you are the most important part of it. Darling, we have both diced with death earlier than we would want. That must mean something.” Melissa sank into the chair.

  Claire scowled. “Yours was a genuine accident, mine was stupidity.” She looked at her virtually lifeless right arm. “I got taken big-time. I suppose it was inevitable.”

  Melissa nodded. “Make that tea and we will talk. What do you have to lose? Believe me, the daytime shows are horrendous. Whatever happened to old-fashioned entertainment that made you feel good?”

  Claire chuckled. “Got that right, Grams. Okay, I’m prepared to listen. What’s so important?”

  Melissa laughed. “Darling, this is going to be the best decision you have ever made in your life. I met a wonderful young woman and she saved me….”

  †

  Carl Tremont poured a glass of single malt whiskey and turned to his wife and daughter. His features contorted as he advanced toward them. “She’s mad. Claire isn’t in a fit state to do manual work.” He sat in his favorite Swiss recliner, one of the few presents from his wife in the last forty years that he actually enjoyed.

  “Carl, that’s rather harsh. Darling, don’t take any notice of your father. Mother was trying to help, I’m sure. However, I agree. Claire, manual work on the cottage isn’t really you, now is it? Never has been your forte, really. You’re a party girl and what with….”

  Carl shot his wife a glare. “Your mother needs to be institutionalized, Anna. I’ve mentioned that she’s been more irrational than normal in the past year. Claire isn’t going. End of story. If she wants to work, I’ll organize a desk job putting stamps on envelopes.” Carl took a drink from the crystal glass he held.

  “Carl, that’s rather menial. Can’t she take up her old job as one of our executive salespeople? She knows some very influential people,” Anna said.

  “Look at her, Anna. Are we going to sell a property if she’s the face of the company?” Carl flicked Claire a look. “Sorry, kid, but it’s business. Besides, you could get it fixed, but oh no, you have a stupid mindset that you need the scars to remind you. What about the fact you can’t hold a cup of coffee in your right hand as the reminder? Your hand isn’t a problem; we can get around that.”

  “Always knew you understood me, Dad.” Claire dropped her gaze.

  “Yes, I do; you take after your mother’s side. Who the hell wants a reminder of an infidelity?”

  “Haven’t a clue what you mean, but I’m going to Seasons and help Grams out. Hey, she actually thinks I’m useful, unlike you two.” Claire stood and strode out of the room.

  Her quiet words rang out like an explosion.

  Anna turned to him. “Really, Carl! Now you’ve made it worse. She’s going. You know how stubborn she is.” Anna sank into the brocade sofa and sighed. “That’s your side of the family.”

  Carl shook his head and took another sip of his drink. “I’ll guarantee she’ll be home within a couple of days, and that’s being generous. Besides, what can she possibly contribute to a renovation?” He reached for the New York Times and buried his head in the property section.

  “You could be more sympathetic. Look at what she’s been through.”

  Carl lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. Anna was the only woman he had ever loved enough to make a commitment; the family money hadn’t hurt either. They’d met in college and both had similar aspirations except for one thing—children. Still, one had sufficed to keep her and the family happy, and then he’d had a secret vasectomy. Damn, what a dead loss the kid had turned out to be. A party girl and a lesbian to boot.

  Now she’s a cripple both in mind and in body. Damn, I should have forced her to have that surgery to fix those scars. It’s going to cost a fortune to fix them now.

  “Like I said, she can work for the firm when she gets back. It’s about time she did a decent day’s work.” An interesting listing caught his eye. “Anna, 13 Craddock Avenue is up for sale again. I’ll give Jed a call. I know the right person for that loft conversion.” He stood and headed for the door. “We’ll go out for dinner. Let’s celebrate our next sale.”

  Anna frowned. “But we haven’t even begun negotiations.”

  “I feel lucky.” He left the room.

  †

  Claire flopped down on her bed and heard a spring pop. She glanced at her body. At one time, her physique had been strong and toned. Now it was thin and weak. “Just like me.” She spoke to the lemon-sorbet-washed wall and ran the fingers of her left hand through her blonde hair, which could only be termed a shaggy mess.

  She closed her eyes as tears rushed forward, trapping them like a dam.

  “Dad’s right of course, but when isn’t he? I’m no use to anyone. What was I thinking agreeing to Grams’s suggestion? I’m not the woman I was when I made that promise, even if I can’t remember it.”

  Claire opened her eyes and saw nothing but the shimmering tears that obscured her vision. When she blinked enough times to clear her sight, her eyes caught a silver-framed photo on the bedside table. In it two women raised a glass in a toast, smiling.

  “I miss you, Racheal. I wish I hadn’t been so foolish to think that I didn’t have to pay for my behavior.” She turned the frame facedown. Then she fell back onto the bed and sobbed for the life she had ruined—hers.

  Chapter Three

  Kris clapped her hands against her cold cheeks and stared at Seasons. The taxi had dropped her off at the eight-foot black gate adorned with four red symbols: flower, sun, leaf, and snowflake. She’d almost told the driver to turn back since the place looked way too imposing and grand for the likes of her.

  After going through the gate, she gazed upon the turreted mansion called Seasons and was overawed. It was immense. Who could possibly have a family large enough to fill all those rooms? She nervously bit her inner lip as she scooted toward the front door and rang the bell.

  Waiting, she scratched the back of her neck and looked down at her small suitcase. As she was about to ring again, the huge, white door opened.

  Kris sucked in her top lip as she came face-to-face with a dour expression the likes of which she had never experienced before.

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, I’m…well, I’m….” Kris frowned and wondered if this was the place. “I….”

  “Ms. Lake, I presume. Mrs. Jackson told me to expect you.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s me. Kris Lake. I wasn’t sure if….” Seared by a harsh gaze, Kris stopped talking.

  “I’m Mrs. Rank, the housekeeper. Please come in, and I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Thank you, but I kind of expected to stay at the cottage. This is too grand for me.” Kris swallowed hard, her cheeks growing hot as she averted her gaze.

  “The cottage isn’t livable. That’s why you have been employed.”

  Kris stared into dark pools of brown that were almost black. She didn’t want to stay in this house, at least not alone with this woman. She figured all her nightmares would come alive at once if she did. “Yes, yes, but I thought I’d be staying in the cottage and not having to bother anyone.” Kris held her breath.

  “You will not be a bother unless you make yourself one. I’ve a pot roast almost ready. Are you hungry?”

  Kris was amazed at the offer and decided there and then as she nodded that she would make no more assumptions about people. “Thank you. To be honest I’m starving, haven’t eaten since a piece of toast at six this morning. I had to put Knight in the cattery early, it was hard for us both,” Kris rambled.

  Mrs. Rank turned and gazed at Kris. “You like cats?”

  “Well, never thought I would.” She giggled. “Knight took my heart when he turned up as a stray on my balcony and has been with me since then. That was five years ago. I guess I’d end up a cat woman if I could afford it.”

  Mrs. Rank nodded. “Then you will be very welcome here. Seasons, and espec
ially the cottage, likes people who love animals. Please come inside, Ms. Lake, and I will show you Seasons as I’ve known it from childhood.”

  What an odd thing to say that the house and cottage know you like animals. Kris gave a tight smile and gawked at Mrs. Rank. She was a plain woman and at least sixty, perhaps a little acerbic, yet something else, yes something else—

  “Are you going to come inside?”

  “Yes, sorry.” Kris entered, and as she did, felt the overwhelming sensation that this place was what she always dreamed of.

  †

  Kris leaned back in the kitchen chair and rested a hand on her belly. “Wow, Mrs. Rank, I’ve never tasted pot roast that good before.” She smacked her lips.

  Mrs. Rank nodded, threading her fingers together. “A family recipe from my late husband’s mother’s side. My mother-in-law implied it was centuries old but with updated ingredients by each generation.”

  “Goodness gracious, how wonderful. I don’t think there’s anything in my family like that.” Kris shrugged. “I wish there were.” She had picked up the melancholy note in Mrs. Rank’s voice and flashed her a beaming smile. “Maybe one day you might share it with me… if we get to know each other better, that is. I figure that family recipes need to be remembered.”

  Kris furrowed her brow. Lame. Why did I even say that?

  Mrs. Rank stood without replying. She pointed to the teapot. “Do you care for tea or coffee?”

  “Tea please, thank you. Please, can’t I help? I don’t want you to wait on me.” Kris frowned.

  “Perhaps when Ms. Claire and Mrs. Jackson arrive you could help with the preparation of meals.” Mrs. Rank prepared the tea at the kitchen counter.

  “Absolutely, anything to help.” Kris bit down on her lip and said, “I’ve never met Claire, but Mrs. Jackson said she was in a terrible accident. Do you know her well?”