Promises Made- Promises Kept

by Jaclyn Rosamond

  ‘I want more than half of everything we own.’ Eddie stated, his tone hectoring.

  His lawyer took a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid you have no claim to fifty per cent of the property. I have explained this to you.’

  Eddie thumped the conference room table. ‘Why not?’

  Dom took the stage. ‘Your name does not appear on the deeds of the house, or any other properties, under consideration.’ He handed a copy of the title deeds to the lawyer.

  The lawyer read through the documents, face grimmer with each page.

  ‘Mr Gardener is correct. Ms Gardener owns this property with her parents.’ He blanched, as he read the names. ‘Judge Gardener is a co-owner?’ He looked from me to my brother.

  ‘Correct, along with Dr Anne Gardener.’

  My mother.

  Eddie’s mouth hung open. He looked from me to his lawyer and then to Dominic.

  ‘That’s a lie!’ He leapt to his feet, horror-struck.

  I bit off sarcasm that wanted to fly from my mouth. Dominic held the power here.

  ‘Please ask your client to restrain himself,’ Dom said. ‘Until he is seated again, this meeting will not continue.’ He tidied paperwork, ready to place in his briefcase.

  Eddie dropped back in his seat, like a deflating balloon.

  I hid a grim smile. Now I was morally certain Eddie had married me with the idea of ripping me off for the house. Bastard.

  After this calamity Eddie shut up. The lawyers wrangled for a while, although Dom’s opponent didn’t have his heart in arguing for his client. Eddie had been outmaneuvered.

  ‘He was going for the pity route,’ Dominic said later. He’d driven me home and we were parked outside my house, the center of Eddie’s miscalculations. ‘I bet he thought you’d feel compassion for Bianca, seeing her heavily pregnant and needing a decent roof over her head.’

  ‘Yeah, right! Eddie doesn’t know me very well, does he?’ I viewed my house dispassionately. ‘He married me, believing he could claim half the house. He never asked for his name on the deeds before we married.’ I managed a half chuckle. ‘Serve him right. He probably would have dumped me if he’d known about Mum and Dad. Saved all this hassle.’

  He chuckled. ‘You win some, you lose some. Will your plans for living overseas be a small compensation for losing your house?’

  ‘I think so,’ I said, after a few moments. ‘My life was stagnating with the same old stuff week in, week out. Anyway.’ I waved a dismissive hand. ‘Moving overseas will be the best distraction I could have to get over all this crap.’

  ‘Staying cool through this process makes for a better outcome. He’s a bloody moron.’ He glanced sideways at me in the passenger seat. ‘I knew it when I set eyes on him the first time, but he’d charmed you.’

  ‘Don’t say “I told you so”. It’s the last thing I need to hear from everyone. I wish you’d all bloody well told me before I married the creep.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have listened.’ He dismissed my retort with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Agreed. But you don’t have to be so smug about it.’ Snorting, I crossed my arms. ‘You can be such a know-all sometimes.’

  ‘Never mind, little sis. You’re going to be a lot better off without that albatross around your neck. I give it a year, maybe less, and you’ll wonder what the hell you saw in him in the first place.’

  ‘Hah. Way ahead of you. I reached that point when he told me they’d copulated like rabbits all over the house. I can’t stand him now.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded. ‘Now, scoot. I have a date with my wife tonight and I don’t want to be late.’

  ‘I love you, too, big brother.’ I gave him a hug, ruffling his dark hair. ‘Thanks for everything, I really do appreciate it. And give a big hug to Serena.’

  ‘I will. And Rose, now that things are moving, it’s time to move out the things that belong to you, because once the house is on the market, I wouldn’t mind betting that your light-fingered ex-friend might try to find reasons to get inside and you know what that means.’

  I nodded, visualizing her pawing around for the ring I no longer had.

  ‘Thanks for the heads-up. I’m on it.’ I climbed out of his spanking new BMW, knowing my divorce fees were contributing to the costs of running his lovely car. I didn’t begrudge him. It was far better working with him on my divorce than with a stranger who didn’t give a toss.

  Over the next week, I moved personal items out to a locked storage unit near my parents’ house. I would take up temporary residence in my old bedroom while my house was sold. After that, I’d be living and working as a nurse somewhere in America.

  I studied for, sat and passed the required NCLEX-RN exam, and also underwent a criminal background check. The agency applied for an appropriate visa. Waiting for results took a few nail-biting weeks, although much of the wait was overshadowed by divorce and settlement events.

  Four weeks later I moved out of my house without a backward glance. I left my furniture in situ. If someone else bought the house I’d have the furniture auctioned. If Eddie succeeded, then he’d have to pay me half for whatever he wanted to keep. Fair’s fair.

  During those last weeks before the decree absolute, I spent spare time at the gym and continued losing weight.

  Seeing the scales going down every week was a blast. After I’d lost another half stone, the thrill of climbing on the scales escalated. My eating habits changed and I had zero desire to return to unhealthy food. I still indulged in chocolate, eating a couple of small cubes at night instead of a whole bar. My shrinking silhouette gave me more pleasure than poor food choices. That sort of satisfaction could never be found at the bottom of an empty plate of chips.

  That said, Friday nights were still a special night with friends, and fish and chips still made an occasional appearance. Instead of Friday night at the pub, we hung out at each other’s places, cooking elaborate meals and taste-testing different wines. Making over-the-top cocktails proved our biggest hit. Instead of competing with pub background noise, we spent hours on fun and laughter, our discussions more personal and intimate than a public place could allow.

  Martin summed it up one night.

  ‘You know,’ he said, stroking his newly grown goatee, ‘I like this better than going to the pub. We don't have to shout to hear each other. Nobody spills beer on my jeans and the food’s much nicer. Plus, we’re getting to know each other better. Like, for instance, I hadn’t realized you had relatives in Sydney, Brigid. You never know, we might know somebody in common over there.’

  And they did. Brigid’s cousin had gone to school with Martin’s sister. They’d even taken some of the same classes and been rivals at tennis.

  Andy finally told us something he’d kept private for a while. He’d been so disgusted with his former best friend that, after giving Eddie the serve of his life, he’d walked away from his friendship without a second thought.

  ‘I wanted to thrash him to within an inch of his life,’ he said, as we sat in a cozy group propped on sofas or the floor at his house. ‘See this?’ he pointed to a bunched fist. ‘I came within an inch of socking him one on the jaw.’

  Andy, the man who never made a declarative statement and for whom violence was anathema.

  ‘I wish you had.’ Shona said, emulating thumping someone.

  ‘I punched him on the nose,’ I said with pride. ‘Made it bleed, too.’

  ‘I hope it’s broken, then,’ said Brigid.

  We had vigorous debates about my future. I was adamant about making a fresh start elsewhere.

  ‘But why not stay here?’ Andy asked, baffled and hurt.

  He still had feelings for me, while I had none for him. I couldn’t help it, and even if I wanted to give him hope I knew I couldn’t. Men were a foreign country to me at the present. It was like my heart – and any desire for sex – had been buried with my marriage with a little sign reading “R.I.P”.

  And, I’d spotted Brigid watching Andy with a speculative
look. I crossed my fingers, hoping he’d finally notice her. Shona thought they’d make a good couple. After my disaster, I wouldn’t dare predict for her.

  ‘Andy,’ I said gently and not for the first time, ‘I have no desire to stay here and do the same old thing day in and day out. I need a change, a complete break from my nightmare with Eddie. I can’t think of a better way to make a break than to leave behind bad memories of a failed marriage, my sodomized house and my battered self-esteem, than to set off on a new adventure. I want to see more of the world and being paid to do that seems like the chance of a lifetime.’

  ‘She’s right, Andy.’ Shona defended me. ‘Most of us would like to do something as daring as Rose, we just don't think of it. She’s lucky to have a profession that can take her around the world.’

  Andy, with one last sorrowful peek at my face, saw the light and realized the reality.

  On my nights alone I’d lie on my bed in my old bedroom mulling over all the changes in my life.

  Bitterness had come and gone. Some changes were heading toward adventure. Despite this, I felt lonely deep inside. Some changes left me uncertain. When I thought of Eddie, I felt bewildered. And foolish. To have been treated with such contempt left me wondering if I’d ever be the sort of woman who could hold a man’s interest. Never quite good enough.

  My mind flicked to Cal. But any woman he could love would have to be special. To compete with Lily’s memory, she’d have to be very special and very confident.

  I was none of those things. I’d taken Leah's warning to heart. Cal had met a woman he loved and when I thought of him, my thoughts were no longer tinged with romance. Regret, perhaps. I’d get over my crush on him. He’d become a long-distance friend. I wondered if I’d ever see Leah or Cal again. Living in different parts of the world made it unlikely.

  Saying goodbye to my house proved a good idea. I made a final tour of the garden I’d worked so hard on, taking all the fruit and vegetables ripe enough to pick from the back yard. Pride had kept me busy in the garden, despite the estate agent hoping I’d turn everything into lawns for a better sale. No-one liked gardening, he assured me. I left it looking cared for, seventy per cent certain Eddie would overstretch his budget to buy the house. Fruit trees and vegetable beds would be hateful reminders of me. I smirked as I left them behind.

  Settled back in my parents’ house, I filled my old bedroom with what little I’d taken from my own house. And on the final day of my weight loss journey, I stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing not a stitch, and assessed my body from head to toe. I smiled.

  I’d done it.

  Every overweight pound I’d gained had now gone. My clothes were a size ten again. In fact, I twisted this way and that in the mirror, I looked better than on my wedding day. More toned and muscular than before. Yoga had paid off, and all the weights I’d grown accustomed to lifting. I looked energized, although sadness lingered around my eyes.

  Next, I needed a hair makeover, makeup makeover and new clothes. Time to treat myself.

  I’d put together a file of my style choices and made a list of clothes I wanted to buy. I’d been online checking out boutiques and shoe stores and knew what I wanted and where I needed to shop. With no drains on my purse and frugal living habits, I’d saved enough for a splurge. Plus, my credit card, hidden in the safe, would see the light of day. It might even be abused – with the certainty I could pay it off with funds from the sale of my house.

  If Eddie could stretch to buy, it would give me immense pleasure to know his money would go towards buying my new wardrobe. He’d hate knowing that. Not that I’d tell him.

  I took a few days annual leave from work and caught the train to London for my ten-o’clock hair appointment in Marylebone. The cost would be exorbitant, but I wanted five-star service, color and skills with an expert who could transform my look.

  Sitting in the hot seat, palms sweaty, gowned and ready for change, I watched as Joe danced around me, picking up my hair, feeling it, dropping the long strands, standing behind me, scrutinizing my bone structure in the mirror, before he finally sighed a long, happy sigh.

  ‘Yes.’ He turned me to face him, fingers already twitching. ‘Do you trust me? Are you ready?’

  ‘More than you could guess.’

  ‘I’m going to transform you,’ he declared. ‘You’ll never want to turn back.’ He strutted off to mix colors in pots, swishing back minutes later, an assistant bringing up the rear wheeling a laden trolley.

  Before he began the mysterious application of color to my hair, he swept up the length and with swift snips cut off about six inches, holding them up triumphantly.

  ‘Lady Godiva you are not,’ he stated, dropping it from on high. I glanced down at long locks on the floor and shrugged. Time for an upgraded Rose.

  Each part of the process was lengthy. Joe covered the mirror, waiting for the unveiling triumph. Along the way I had an expert head massage, ate a lunch of goat’s cheese souffle and strawberry tart topped with warm chocolate sauce, followed by a chaser of champagne to celebrate my unveiling. The four hours were worth it when Joe whipped aside the veil and I sat gawping at my reflection.

  ‘Oh my God!’ I raised astonished eyes to Joe. ‘I look amaaaaazing!’

  His smile was smug. ‘Told you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I touched my hair. ‘It’s beautiful.’ Gone was my unflattering long hair and in its place was hair that looked not dissimilar to Jennifer Aniston’s famous locks (not “the Rachel”) – long enough to put into an updo for work, but layered a little round my face, highlighting my cheekbones. My base hair color remained, a color described by Joe as a glamorous Hollywood Brown. He’d added three subtly different highlights all over, and blended them so perfectly they looked natural, like I’d had a sun-kissed holiday in Spain.

  ‘No, Rose, you’re beautiful. I just highlighted your beauty. A word of advice, pretty woman – go and learn some more about makeup. I can see you’ve done,’ he tipped his head, assessing my face, ‘an adequate job, but an expert can make you look like a movie star.’

  ‘I’m on it.’ I grinned, not at all fazed by his critique of my beginner’s skills. ‘Next stop, your colleagues down the road, Dante and Roxanne. I saw the link on your website and figured you wouldn’t recommend them if they were,’ my lips quirked, ‘only adequate.’

  ‘Good girl.’ He glanced sideways at me. ‘Come and show me afterwards.’

  ‘Deal.’ We shook on it, after which I parted with a sizeable sum of money and made my way down the street for more movie star treatment.

  The next few hours flew by as Dante taught me how to do a five-minute face, for when I nipped out for a carton of milk, followed by ten-minute, fifteen-minute and twenty-minute faces for different events. At each stage I looked increasingly different and, I have to admit, more and more beautiful.

  After the final twenty-minute look I sat in a chair in front of my reflection staring at my transformation. ‘You’re a genius,’ I whispered.

  Dante nodded, beaming at his brilliance. ‘So I’m told.’

  ‘I think I know what Helena Rubenstein meant when she said there are no ugly women, just lazy ones.’

  He smiled. ‘Ah, yes, what a remarkable lady. How she would have loved all the options available today, the technology and techniques would have made her extraordinarily rich. She was my inspiration for getting into this business.’

  ‘Do you ever have dissatisfied customers?’

  ‘Never,’ he said. ‘Not everyone will adhere to the advice I’ve given, some of them even come back here and show me what they’re doing wrong.’

  ‘What do you say?’ Why pay a fortune to go against the instructions of a professional?

  ‘Depends on the client, doesn’t it? If they think they’re better than me or Roxanne, we can’t help them, because we’ve given them the best look they’ll ever have. But most of them just relearn what we taught them at our initial consultation.’

  ‘That’s an
expensive mistake.’

  ‘Truly. Which is why we developed our customized manual for each client. We photograph every stage of each makeover and give it as a guide for each customer.’

  He had taken photos of every stage and handed me my manual with a flourish, already bound, glossy and professionally put together by his personal assistant, showing me page by page how he’d achieved my different looks. Enthralled, I turned each page with due reverence. This was going to cost me an arm and a leg, but, oh, it was worth it.

  With a final lingering look in the mirror I smiled at my reflection. I’d done it. No longer fat and boring. Eddie’s cruel parting words were meaningless.

  When I left late in the afternoon, I not only exited with my makeup manual, I also purchased a large number of cosmetics, along with a bewildering number of cosmetic brushes. He sold me an extra manual for the brushes.

  I headed straight back to see Joe.

  He clapped his hand in raptures of delight. ‘Told you!’

  ‘I know.’ I beamed from ear to ear. ‘Believe me, Joe, I’d never have known I could look like this. I’ll be wearing versions of my new looks every day from now on, even to work. I don't think it’ll be a problem getting up ten minutes earlier each day to make an effort.’ I hugged him, promising to return for follow-up root color in a few weeks.

  ‘After my next visit here, I might be living in America. I hope you can recommend someone where I’m going.’

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure, just let me know where and I’ll send you to the best there is.’

  On my way home I caught a couple of second glances from men I passed. Heart dancing, the burst of pleasure was awesome.

  Mum’s mouth dropped open when she saw my new look. I wish I had a photo of her in that moment.

  ‘Darling, you look stunning. Oh, my goodness, you look like a model. Well done, you.’ She came closer. ‘I can barely see some of your makeup, but your skin looks flawless and I love your hair, it’s so rich and glossy.’