The Promise

by JM Dragon

  Shirley stopped a foot away from her. “You are both doing a good job here, and I hope this won’t jeopardize anything. It’s important for both of you, although you probably don’t know it yet.”

  Kris whipped her head upward and looked at the older woman. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t, my dear, but you will soon enough. Believe me, you will—I know.”

  Cryptic remarks were never a strong point for Kris. I hate riddles and was terrible at working out anagrams. “What have we for lunch today, Shirley?” That was the easy way out. Puzzles always gave her a headache, and she’d rather not have another one. Claire was enough of a headache.

  “Beef and sour pickle on rye, potato salad, and corn cobs.”

  Kris silently groaned. It’s everything Claire likes. I guess the potato salad and corn cobs are okay. “Great. Thanks, Shirley. Do you want to join me?”

  “No, no, I’m afraid sour pickle doesn’t agree with me. I’ll see you at dinner.” She gave that tight smile she was famous for, at least to Kris. She looked around again and then said good-bye and left.

  Kris watched her leave and summoned up the enthusiasm to open the wicker basket. Sure enough, the odious beef-and-sour-pickle sandwiches, but as she ventured further, she found a greaseproof paper package with a couple of shrimp rolls inside.

  “Oh you are wonderful, Shirley. I swear you are a clairvoyant.” She grabbed the package, opened it, and bit into the roll with gusto.

  †

  Claire sank on the bed in her room and groaned.

  What an idiot I am. What does it matter that Kris is having lunch with someone else? She’s a means to an end. A promise I made and will endeavor to complete for Grams. What difference does it make if Kris makes a friend or two here? She deserves it. Ah, but what if this friend isn’t what she seems? Kris is so naïve.

  With Claire’s thoughts in turmoil, she closed her eyes and her stomach rumbled.

  Damn I’m hungry too, and I left a lunch for what? Stupid jealousy. Idiot, you are not jealous, not in a sexual way, anyway. She doesn’t come close in the beauty department to Racheal or other women I’ve dated.

  Claire opened her eyes wide.

  “Maybe Shirley has seconds.” She got up from the bed and wandered over to the window.

  Sure enough, Shirley was making her way toward the house. “Hmm, I’ll wait a few minutes and go down and ask for a baloney sandwich. It will suit my thoughts—a load of horseshit.” Claire shrugged. “Kris can take care of herself. Why should I be concerned?”

  The statement reverberated around the room. Claire frowned, reached for her phone, and began to tap rapidly on the screen. As she pressed the Send button, trepidation fluttered in her stomach, and it had nothing to do with hunger.

  She jabbed the End button. “I’m an idiot.” Leaving the room, she decided food would help her chaotic emotions.

  †

  Kris used the napkin to wipe her lips, and then folded it neatly before placing it back in the picnic basket. Smiling, she touched the coarse wicker and trailed her hand over the leather straps that held the cutlery, cups, and glasses in place. Not that they had used the glasses, she thought with a chuckle. They were purely for effect; who had wine at a midday picnic?

  They probably aren’t even glass.

  She pressed her forefinger and thumb together, then flicked the rim of the object. It gave off a high ping. “Wow, it is real and sounds like crystal too. I’ve never used crystal glasses before. I thought it was a myth about the sound—awesome.”

  She unwrapped the small tablecloth, which she’d thought was a large napkin the first time she’d seen it until Claire gently corrected her. Stupid to use it just for me. She knew Shirley would wash it after one use.

  The food, perfectly catered on a china plate, had been made especially for Claire. She guessed the less elegant sandwiches were almost an afterthought. Not that it mattered; the housekeeper did make the effort to accommodate her tastes, and that was the most important thing.

  She placed the utensils she’d used inside the basket, closed the lid, and hooked the toggles securely to make sure it stayed shut.

  Kris stood up from the kitchen table and looked around. The old stove, her pride and joy, was pristine. This morning she had even playfully suggested they make dinner on it one evening before they left. Claire had given her a genuine laugh instead of a tolerant one. Claire said she was good with a wok and maybe she should cook, but a fire extinguisher would need to be at the ready. They had both burst out laughing, and Kris was sure they had connected in some deep, fathomless way that was difficult to explain.

  Kris opened the door and walked onto the porch. “Those windows do shine. I could even do my makeup in them if I ever used any.” She shrugged. “Time to do more. Claire will be back, I know it. She’s not a quitter.” She began to collect the items to paint the decking.

  Chapter Twelve

  Claire didn’t return to the cottage that afternoon. In fact, she had her dinner in her room. When Kris asked Shirley what was the matter, a headache had been the explanation. It could be true, but somehow she didn’t think so. Concerned but not sure what to do about it, Kris decided to respect Claire’s decision and had a quiet dinner with Shirley. As they progressed to coffee, Kris decided to ask what the older woman had meant earlier that day.

  “I know you said it might not be a good idea for me to meet Jess. Is that the real reason Claire isn’t having dinner with us? Although I confess it’s a crazy notion.” Kris gave Shirley her full attention and could see every flicker on the other woman’s plain features.

  “Claire is a complex person. I do not second-guess her. If she said she had a headache, then I’m sure that’s the truth.” Shirley’s neutral expression didn’t falter.

  Kris didn’t know what to make of Claire or Shirley. In the time she had been at Seasons, she felt like this was the place she needed to be and the people she needed to be with. Right now, she was wondering if her loneliness and lack of prospects had created that picture in her head. She wasn’t in Claire’s league nor did she come from the right financial background to be her friend. Shirley, although she was the hired help, was part of Seasons and the family. Kris was nothing more than a temporary worker, without the prospect of a long-time relationship with the family and, in particular, Claire.

  “I’m the hired help. Right, I understand that, but why do you make cryptic statements about it being important that Claire and I…? She doesn’t care if I meet someone else. Why should she? If it’s because I might shirk my duties, that’s not going to happen,” Kris stated dramatically and then stood.

  Shirley remained seated and poured another cup of coffee without a flicker of emotion.

  Kris sighed heavily and shook her head. “I’ll load the dishwasher before I go to my room. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

  As she reached the door and began to turn the handle, Shirley’s nasal voice drifted toward her.

  “It’s more complex than that, my dear. Seasons has a history of bringing people together and equally tearing them apart if they don’t follow their destiny.”

  Kris turned abruptly, her eyebrows arched at the statement. “Destiny? You think Claire and I have a destiny together? Does she know this? She’d have hightailed it back to New York if she did.” Kris wiped a hand over her mouth. Okay, this is ridiculous.

  Shirley brought her coffee cup toward her lips, and before drinking from it, she placed it back on the saucer. “As I said, Claire is complex. It will be up to you, unless you think me crazy?”

  Kris had to tamp down the urge to laugh at the question. Damn straight she’s crazy. But who is crazier, her for the words, or me for listening? “No, I don’t think you are crazy. I haven’t known you long enough to make that judgment call.” Kris smiled. “Besides, aren’t we all crazy at some stage in our life? Good night.”

  “Good night, Kris, sleep well.”

  Kris gave her one last look as Shir
ley sipped her coffee. Weird, that’s all I can say about today—weird. She opened the door and left.

  †

  Jess giggled like a sixteen-year-old as Kris related her passion for an old stove. “Really, you are turned on by a piece of metal. Granted, there is fire in there to make you hot, but….” She grinned.

  Kris laughed too. Jess made her feel relaxed because she wasn’t purporting to be something she wasn’t. “Don’t be silly. Not turned on, exactly, but she’s a wonderful piece of equipment. Maybe before I leave, you can come over to the cottage and feel it for yourself.”

  “Well that’s an invitation I’m not going to pass up. You do know that Seasons has a reputation, don’t you?” Jess moved her hand slowly to her coffee mug and drew it to her.

  Kris watched in fascination as Jess clasped her mug. If you didn’t know any different, her disability wouldn’t be evident. The deep blue of her eyes disguised the fact the orbs were sightless. She always had a bright smile, and it gave her an ethereal look that went with her elfin features.

  “As you didn’t ask what that reputation was you must know already. Guess you should as Shirley Rank still lives there,” Jess said with a smile.

  “What?” Her daydreams disappeared as she tuned back into the conversation. “Shirley? You know her?”

  Jess chuckled. “By reputation.”

  “She has a reputation? Please tell me more.” Kris cupped her chin in her hands and leaned her elbows on the table.

  “No, I’d rather know more about you.”

  “Spoilsport.” Kris released her chin and sat upright. “I told you about me last week. Now, you are less of an open book.”

  Jess sighed.

  “If you don’t want—”

  Jess slipped her hand across the table and touched the little finger of Kris’s right hand. “Okay, I can do that. I told you the gruesome details of my accident.”

  “Yes, a landmine in Iraq, and you came home here afterward. That was…2009, right?” Jess’s hand trembled, and she gently drew Kris’s hand into a firm grip.

  “Yeah, right. I was in the hospital for a while but eventually came back here to Chartres. Where else would I or could I go? Family roots and all that stuff. I tried living by myself.”

  Kris eyed Jess. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. This might have been a bad idea. “Sorry, Jess, I’m way too inquisitive. Tell me about Seasons instead.”

  Jess stared at Kris, and she could have sworn her new friend could see her, but that wasn’t possible. “I live with Mary—my big sister—and her two kids. She’s a widow. Steve, my brother-in-law, was killed in a boating accident three years ago, and she was finding it hard to make ends meet. No life insurance, but at least the house is paid for. It’s a derelict almost. Maybe we should have you over to our place after you finish at Seasons.” Jess chuckled.

  “You have nephews or nieces, or one of each?”

  Jess’s whole body jolted. She straightened up and excitedly reached for her pocketbook and withdrew a wallet. “I know this looks strange, a blind person carrying photos she can’t see, but take a look. The eldest is Annie. She’s ten and Kim is five. Great girls, even if I say so myself.” Jess proudly shoved the wallet toward Kris, which she took and gazed at the grinning children who were standing next to a swing in a park.

  “Little blondies, and their grins remind me of you.” Kris felt sadness for the youngest, who had never really known her father. Jess laughed and retrieved the wallet as Kris placed it close to her free hand. “Must be tough for them all.”

  “Yeah, it was, but kids are very resilient. They move on quicker than adults. Mary sometimes breaks down and cries for Steve. What can you do? She loved the guy. It must be hard to lose someone unexpected like that.”

  “She has you now to help.”

  “Well, she has my money anyway. I don’t really contribute that much. How could I?” Jess waved a hand over her eyes.

  “You sound like Claire.” Kris rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you don’t seem the type not to contribute.”

  Jess shook her head. “Here I was going for the sympathy vote and you caught me.”

  Kris laughed. “I knew it.”

  Silence settled between them for a few moments. “Saturday evening, are you doing anything?” Jess smiled at her.

  Kris considered the question. “I guess it depends on the timing. I’ll be working until around six, and then usually we have dinner with Mrs. Rank at seven. Why?”

  Jess hesitated.

  “And?”

  “I play piano and sing at Chartres Golf Club on Saturday evenings. If you were free, I was going to invite you. I have several breaks during the evening, so you wouldn’t be on your own all night,” Jess quietly said.

  “You sing and play piano. How awesome, Jess. What time do you start?”

  “Eight until midnight. If you can make it by six thirty I’m sure I can swing us dinner in the restaurant. What do you say?”

  No one had ever invited Kris to a function where she knew the entertainer. In fact, she’d never been out before on a dinner date. Is this a date though? She scratched her left eyebrow, deep in thought.

  “No reply. Bad idea? I guessed it might be. I’m not exactly Alicia Keys, but I can promise you I’m not tone deaf.”

  “It isn’t that, Jess. Can I call you later once I’ve checked in with Claire and Mrs. Rank? You probably think that’s crazy.” Kris shrugged.

  “No, I don’t think it’s crazy. It’s thoughtful. They might have plans and not have told you yet—right? You have my number. Call me, even if it’s last minute.”

  “You are wonderful. I’m so glad we met. I think we need more coffee now. We’ve been so engrossed in chatter it’s gone cold.” They both laughed, and Kris scraped back her chair. “I’ll go order again, my treat.”

  As she walked toward the counter, she considered the possibility of going out on a date with Jess. It felt good. Jess was nice and they got on well. Perhaps things between them were meant to be. Fate had a way of stepping in and showing you another path when you needed one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Claire looked at her watch and pursed her lips. Where was Kris? She’d said she was just having lunch, not taking the whole afternoon.

  The chirp of a bird sounded familiar, and she looked at the tree outside the cottage and then to a spot three branches up—sure enough, her new buddy was perched watching her.

  “Missed your treat yesterday, didn’t you?” She withdrew an oatmeal cookie and crumbled it with her good hand, then sprinkled it at the bottom of the trunk. She stepped back a few paces and waited.

  Her new best friend flew down confidently and began to peck at the pieces strewn on the ground.

  Claire watched the bird, which she had researched online and discovered was a male Baltimore oriole. Shirley would be giving her deepest scowl if she knew Claire had given the cookie to the birds, or rather this bird.

  “Enjoy it, little fellow. Can’t guarantee this will last for that much longer.” Her phone buzzed, and she took it from her pocket and looked at the caller ID—Racheal. She stared at the screen. Irritated by the tone, she pressed the Decline symbol.

  Claire looked up through the tree’s branches and saw the sun trying desperately to send its bright rays through the dense foliage. A bit like her situation with Racheal.

  “I miss you, Racheal but….”

  A rustle of vegetation indicated someone was around. She turned to see who the intruder was.

  “Claire, sorry I’m a bit late. Shirley, would you believe, was delayed at the post office. She wouldn’t tell me why, but she looked upset. Do you think maybe you could go and check if she’s okay? She might confide in you.”

  Claire looked at Kris. Why on earth would she think Shirley would confide in me? “Oh, it might be something or nothing. As far as I know, she doesn’t have any close family, so it can’t be someone has died.” Claire regretted the words as soon as th
ey were out of her mouth. The shock on Kris’s face mirrored her own. “Okay, I’ll go. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

  She didn’t want to watch Kris’s features so closely, but she couldn’t help herself. A smile traveled not just to Kris’s lips but seemed to emanate through her whole body.

  “Yes. Jess is so talented, Claire. Would you believe she’s a singer and piano player? I’ve never met anyone who can play an instrument. It’s way cool. She asked me out Saturday to watch her play at Chartres Golf Club. Do you mind if I go? I don’t want to leave you with Shirley if you prefer me to be with you.”

  Claire held herself motionless. Her eyes moved to her best buddy perched on a branch…. Yeah, I’ll call him Buddy.

  “Look, if I’m out of line about wanting some free time, I will decline.” Kris frowned. “I’m not a slave here though, so I figured Saturday night you wouldn’t care either way. Do you?”

  Do I? Claire pondered that. Not only was her body impaired, obviously her thought processes were too. This should be a no-brainer. I don’t care. Who is this woman who can make me feel torn? “Go. As you say, it doesn’t matter to me. I take it being a Saturday night she’s taking you out to dinner too?”

  Kris shrugged. “Yes, if I can make it by six thirty. Do you mind if I stop working at five? It will give me time to have a shower and arrive at the golf club by that time.”

  Claire gazed at Buddy, who was still tucking into the oatmeal cookie. What would you say, Buddy, if you were in my shoes? Yeah, easy, right. Kris doesn’t matter in my long-term, and if she did…it’s as a friend. Friends are good for you, and I’ve never had one like Kris.

  “I’m glad you’ve found a friend. Why don’t we stop at four, and that will give you lots of time to get ready for your date.”

  Kris shuffled from one foot to the other for a few seconds. “I’m not sure we can call it a date, Claire, but I’m hopeful,” she tentatively said.