This I Promise You

by Smith, Maureen

  Or so it seemed.

  After breakfast, Quentin was standing on the porch waiting for Edward to come outside so they could head off to the family’s law firm. When the front door opened, he glanced over his shoulder expecting to see his uncle.

  But it was his grandfather who stood there.

  He stared at Quentin for a long moment, then closed the door and came forward. Although he was an old man, his shoulders were still broad and erect, his back straight and his stride assured. He carried himself with an air of aristocracy that left no doubt he descended from a long line of proud men who’d known their worth long before society acknowledged their humanity.

  He joined Quentin at the porch railing, then stood staring out over the vast grounds of his estate.

  Quentin waited for him to speak. It seemed an eternity before it happened.

  “Your mother did a fine job raising you.”

  Without turning his head, Quentin said without inflection, “Did you expect otherwise?”

  “No,” his grandfather said quietly. “Georgina was the eldest, so she always looked after her siblings. Nurturing was second nature to her.”

  When Quentin said nothing, another long silence lapsed between the two men.

  “I didn’t want her to leave.”

  The words were so low, Quentin wondered if his grandfather had even meant for him to hear them.

  He waited tensely.

  “She was my pride and joy. The light of my life.” The old man gave his head a solemn, mournful shake. “I loved that child.”

  Quentin turned slowly to search his grandfather’s face. “Why did you stop?”

  Some emotion flared in the old man’s eyes. He tightened his lips, staring at Quentin without speaking.

  At that moment Edward stepped from the house. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Quentin. Just had to go over some things with…” He trailed off, dividing a speculative glance between his father and nephew. “Is everything all right?”

  Neither man answered.

  Edward looked at Quentin. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Ready whenever you are,” he murmured.

  His grandfather gave him one last long look, then turned and slowly walked back inside the house.

  Once Quentin and Edward were settled in the plush leather backseat of the Town Car, Edward asked quietly, “What was that about?”

  Quentin shook his head slowly, staring out the window at the closed front door. “I wish I knew.”

  Harrington LLP was housed in an elegantly refurbished office building in historic downtown Savannah. The walls of the marble lobby were lined with enormous portraits of the firm’s founding partners and successors.

  Quentin wandered from one portrait to the next, silently studying the austere countenances of his deceased forefathers. They were distinguished men, fair complexioned and aristocratically handsome, the pioneering descendants of Southern slave owners.

  Edward came to stand beside him, clapping him warmly on the shoulder. “This is your legacy, Quentin. Your birthright. No matter what anyone says or thinks, Harrington blood runs through your veins. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Quentin looked around at the gallery of portraits, waiting to feel some spark of connection to these people, this place, this heritage. But it didn’t come.

  They left the lobby and rode the elevator to the first of several floors that housed the law firm’s offices. The elegant décor featured heavy mahogany furniture, rich dark rugs and intricately carved crown molding. The hallways and reception areas were lit by chandeliers, and ornately framed paintings paid homage to Savannah’s genteel past.

  Quentin couldn’t help contrasting the firm’s Old World refinement with the ultramodern stylishness that characterized the offices at Wolf & Reddick. He definitely preferred the latter.

  His uncle showed him around, introducing him to several employees who were diligently hard at work on a Saturday. The attorneys he met greeted him with a combination of curiosity, respect and caution. When Edward joked about putting Quentin in charge when he retired, the lawyers responded with nervous laughter.

  Quentin gave his uncle a look of wry amusement as they walked away. “If that little joke gets back to your son, he’s going to think I’m trying to usurp him as heir apparent.”

  Edward laughed. “No, he won’t. Richmond’s more secure than that.”

  Quentin hoped his uncle was right. He didn’t need any more enemies out of the Harrington clan.

  Edward took him up to the top floor to see his executive suite, which featured more ornate furnishings and impressive views of the Savannah River.

  With the tour concluded, they left the law firm and climbed into the backseat of Edward’s chauffeured car. Quentin stared out the window as they rode through the picturesque historic district, a grid of public squares bedecked with statues and monuments and ancient oak trees draped with silvery Spanish moss.

  As they drove down a cobbled street lined with nineteenth century mansions, Edward pointed to a large neoclassical building with Doric columns and an octagonal tower.

  “See that?” he told Quentin. “That’s Harrington Bank and Trust, which was founded by your great-grandfather in 1929. It’s one of the oldest and largest banks in Savannah, did you know that?”

  Quentin nodded. “My mother told me about it when I was growing up.”

  “Many of your cousins work there, including Georgina.”

  Quentin lifted a brow. “She didn’t want to work at the law firm with her siblings?”

  “No.” Edward chuckled. “Practicing law has never really appealed to Georgina. Even as a child, she was more interested in the inner workings of Harrington Bank and Trust than the firm. So after she earned both of her finance degrees from Vanderbilt, she went to work for the bank. She’s been implementing new programs while working her way up through the executive ranks.”

  “Impressive,” Quentin murmured.

  “She is.” Edward smiled proudly. “She’s smart as a whip, and she’s got a real head for business and finance. I’ve no doubt she’ll end up running the bank one day.” He glanced down at the expensive gold watch encircling his wrist. “We’ve got time before we have to head back for lunch. Let’s stop somewhere for drinks.”

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at a luxury gated country club located on a sprawling golf course. As the driver steered toward the clubhouse perched on a hill, Edward proudly informed Quentin that the Harringtons had been members of the exclusive country club ever since his father integrated it twenty-five years ago.

  “Do you play golf?” he asked Quentin.

  “Some.”

  Edward nodded approvingly. “We’ll play a few rounds the next time you’re here.”

  Quentin didn’t bother to challenge his uncle’s assumption that there would be a next time.

  At the entrance to the posh dining room, they were greeted by a smiling hostess who inquired about Edward’s family and beamed with delight when he introduced Quentin as his nephew.

  She seated them at a private table that overlooked the undulating, manicured fairways of the golf course. Over cocktails they talked about some of the big cases they’d litigated throughout the years. Edward had followed Quentin’s career so closely he could recite the minutest details.

  “God, what I wouldn’t give to have you working for the family firm,” he proclaimed. “It’s where you belong.”

  “My law partner would beg to differ,” Quentin said dryly.

  “I’m sure he would.” Edward chuckled. “Marcus Wolf is a formidable attorney. I certainly wouldn’t mind having him on board either.”

  Quentin raised an amused brow. “Something wrong with your roster of talent?”

  “Not at all. We’ve got some of the best legal minds working for us. But if I could choose a dream team of brilliant young lawyers to steer the firm into the future, it would consist of you, Richmond, Brandon Chambers and Marcus Wolf.” He grinned. “Hey, we can all dream, right?”
/>   A brief smile flickered over Quentin’s face. “Sure.”

  His uncle considered him for a moment. “You know, we really wanted that whistleblower lawsuit you won a few years ago. After we heard that your firm had landed the case, one of our senior partners floated the idea of making a play for your client. We didn’t, of course. But we were tempted.”

  “Is that right?” Quentin drawled sardonically. “Is that why you’re trying to poach me and Marcus? Eliminate the competition by absorbing it?”

  “Of course not,” Edward said with an easy laugh. “That was a high-profile lawsuit, one of the biggest whistleblower cases we’ve ever seen in Georgia. Every law firm worth its salt would have jumped at the chance to take on a major health insurance giant, and we were no exception. But the case went to the right firm and, more important, the right lawyer.” He raised his glass in a toast to Quentin. “Salud.”

  The two men knocked back the rest of their drinks and then grinned at each other, enjoying a genuine moment of camaraderie.

  Their waitress brought them fresh cocktails and departed just as discreetly as she’d materialized.

  “Your wife is quite the firecracker,” Edward declared, leaning back in his chair. “After you left the table last night, she gave a speech to end all speeches.”

  “Yeah?” Quentin drawled, picking up his glass. “What’d she say?”

  “I can practically repeat it verbatim, that’s how powerful it was.”

  As Edward relayed Lexi’s parting words, Quentin’s heart swelled with pride and gratitude and love.

  “Yeah, that sounds like Lexi,” he said with a warm laugh.

  Edward smiled. “It was very touching. I nearly stood up and applauded, and your mother and Olivia were moved to tears. And my parents…well, last night was the first time anyone has ever come close to making them feel ashamed of their behavior. Make no mistake about it, Quentin. The words you spoke to your grandmother cut deep, and your wife’s closing argument just drove the dagger home.” He paused, his eyes boring into Quentin’s. “My parents are very proud, obstinate people, so it’s never been easy for them to admit when they’re wrong. But even if they go to their graves without ever uttering an apology to you and your mother, please know that your presence here this weekend has already had a powerful impact on them.”

  Quentin said nothing as he took a careful sip of his drink, barely disturbing the ice.

  A quiet, reminiscent smile softened his uncle’s expression. “You know, your Alexis reminds me of a girl I once knew. Her name was Bettina. I met her one day while waiting for my father to come out of a Boulé meeting,” he said, referring to an elite national organization for professional black men. Its past and current membership included some of the most influential black leaders and power brokers in America, among them W.E.B. Du Bois and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Generations of Harrington men had belonged to the prestigious club.

  “I wasn’t a member at the time,” Edward explained. “I was only twenty-four and had just graduated from Howard Law. So I couldn’t join the Boulé until I had more professional experience and accomplishments under my belt. In the meantime, my father wanted to introduce me to some of the senior members, so he told me to come to the hotel where they were meeting that day. When I got there, Bettina was just getting off her shift. She worked as a maid at the hotel. The moment I saw her…wow,” Edward recalled with a laugh that made Quentin grin.

  “She looked good, huh?”

  “Yes, Lord have mercy. She looked like a young Angela Bassett, right down to those high cheekbones and beautiful brown skin. Even wearing a maid’s uniform, she carried herself like a queen.” Edward shook his head, marveling at the memory. “She took my breath away. I felt like…like I’d just been struck by lightning.”

  Quentin was smiling and nodding vigorously. He’d felt the same way the first time he saw Lexi.

  “She left the hotel and started walking to the bus stop,” Edward continued with a glint in his eye. “Without thinking twice I pulled up alongside her, rolled down my window and asked her if she needed a ride. I’d never been so forward with a woman before. I was raised to be a gentleman, and Harrington men don’t holler out car windows like some common hoodlum. But I couldn’t help myself. She was so beautiful, and I didn’t know whether I would ever see her again. I knew my father was expecting me, and he wouldn’t take too kindly to being stood up. But I didn’t care. So after Bettina turned down my offer, I drove out of the parking lot and followed her down the street.”

  Edward grinned unabashedly. “I could tell she thought I was attractive, but she didn’t know me from Adam, so she had every reason to be cautious. But I was persistent. She finally agreed to accept a ride, but only because she was running late to her second job. She was a student at what was then Savannah State College, and she worked two jobs to put herself through school.”

  Quentin nodded, sipping his drink.

  “So I pulled over to the side of the road, got out and chivalrously opened the door for her. Before she got in the car, she warned me that she had a pistol in her purse and she wasn’t afraid to use it, so I’d better not try anything funny.”

  Edward laughed, and so did Quentin. He could totally see Lexi making a threat like that.

  “We talked on the way to her job,” Edward continued, still smiling. “She told me her name was Bettina, but everyone called her Betty. Her mother was a housekeeper and her father worked for the railroad company. She’d been to Africa and spoke passionately about the Pan-African movement and apartheid. She’d strongly opposed the Vietnam War and marched in protest rallies.” Edward shook his head. “Let me tell you, Quentin. I’d been around socially and politically conscious black people all my life, but Bettina fascinated me like no one else. After that day, we started seeing each other. But we didn’t tell our families. Her parents wanted her to focus on finishing school since she would be the first in her family to graduate college. And my parents…well, they had certain requirements for the woman I would marry, and Bettina didn’t exactly meet their expectations. So we kept our relationship a secret. Sometimes I’d sneak out of the office early to drive her to work or take her out to dinner, or we’d have a picnic by the river. We were from two completely different worlds, but it didn’t matter when we were together.”

  Quentin put his glass down, watching as bittersweet sorrow settled over his uncle’s face. “So what happened?”

  Edward turned his head to stare out the window. “One day I arrived at the hotel to pick her up, and I was told that she no longer worked there. She’d quit the day before. I was surprised because she hadn’t mentioned anything about finding another job. Naturally I was concerned. I’d never been to her house, but I knew where she lived. So I drove straight over there.” His tone turned grim. “The moment she came to the door, I took one look at her face and knew we were over. She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her so her parents wouldn’t overhear our conversation. And then she looked me in the eye and told me we shouldn’t go out anymore. She said we were a distraction to each other, and we needed to refocus our priorities.”

  Quentin stared at his uncle. “Do you think your father got to her?”

  A muscle clenched in Edward’s jaw. “He said he didn’t, but I knew better. Just two weeks before, he’d called me into his office to lecture me about leaving work early. He was concerned that I wasn’t taking my job seriously enough, and he reminded me of my duties and responsibilities as future head of the law firm. Although he didn’t come right out and say it, I knew he’d found out about my relationship with Bettina. So in hindsight, I shouldn’t have been surprised by what happened.”

  Quentin shook his head with a grim, sympathetic expression. “Did you try to convince Bettina to change her mind?”

  “I did, but her mind was made up, and she wouldn’t be swayed.” Edward paused, absently fingering the rim of his glass. “I suppose I could have pushed harder and used my powers of persuasion. But I knew deep
down inside that we never would have worked out. Our backgrounds were too different.”

  Translation: I punked out on following my heart and making her my wife because she wasn’t a debutante.

  “Did you ever see her again?” Quentin asked.

  “Once. It was many years later at the Boulé annual convention.” Edward smiled faintly. “Ironic that we would encounter each other at a Boulé event when the very first time we met, I blew off meeting members of my father’s chapter in order to be with her. Anyway, she ended up marrying a congressman and moving to Washington, D.C. When we found ourselves at the same formal dinner that evening, it took us both by surprise. We were there with our spouses, and I had never told Grace about Bettina. So when our eyes met across the room, all we could do was nod and smile at each other, and that was it. I haven’t seen her since.” Edward stared down into his glass for a long moment. “Over the years, I’ve often wondered if she…well, if she thinks about me and wonders what could have been.”

  “Why, Uncle Edward,” Quentin murmured, “are you still carrying a torch for your old flame?”

  “Of course not.” Edward laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “I love Grace. She’s a good wife and mother.”

  And she has the right pedigree, Quentin silently added. Edward had let Bettina get away because his parents wouldn’t have approved of her. Rather than risk being disowned like his sister, he’d done what was expected of him and married a well-bred young lady from the right family.

  Quentin didn’t know whether to pity him or condemn him as a coward.

  “Anyway,” Edward went on, “you’re very lucky to have found a woman like Alexis. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

  “No,” Quentin agreed, “you certainly don’t.”

  The two men shared a small smile, then picked up their glasses and drank, silently regarding each other across the table.

  “I can’t tell you enough how much it means to have you here, Quentin,” Edward said at length, breaking the silence. “I’ve looked forward to this day for years. It’s been a long time coming.”