Promises to Keep (12 page)

“I
can’t believe you.” Callie, now dressed, fully made-up, feeling beautiful, tries to fight the tears in her eyes. “It’s my birthday, and we’re about to go in for dinner. Why do you need your goddamned BlackBerry?”

“I’m sorry, Callie,” Reece looks contrite. “I just need to send one quick email and then I’m done, I swear. I can’t believe I didn’t bring my BlackBerry.”

“Can’t you send it from your iPhone?”

“No, sweetie. All the back-up emails that reference this campaign are on the BlackBerry, and I need to be able to type properly.”

“Can’t you access your email account from the hotel? I’m sure they have a computer you can use.”

“Callie, Loki.” Reece puts his arms around her and pulls her close. “I can’t. I already checked. I know it’s your birthday, and I know how you hate me having to work nights, but I swear this will be quick. We’ll just run home and pick up the BlackBerry, and come straight back. If you drive, I can get the email out while you’re driving, and then I am all yours for the rest of the night, I swear. It will take twenty-five minutes, tops. Come on, baby. Don’t let this ruin your birthday. Please?”

Callie sighs dramatically and turns her head, eventually shrugging her acquiescence as she grabs her evening bag and shawl. “I’m still not happy, Reece,” she says, using his name instead of the more familiar term of endearment, which she only does when she’s angry with him. “But okay. Let’s go.”

 

 

I
n the TV room of 1024 Valley Road, Honor Wharton gives her grandchildren a kiss each, and reluctantly pulls herself away to go back to the kitchen to help out.

“Hey, I like your skirt,” Eliza calls nonchalantly as Honor is walking out of the room. Honor walks back in and twirls, the sequins and tiny mirrors sewn all over the bottom of the floor-length skirt catching the light as she turns, and she blows her granddaughter a kiss of thanks as she leaves.

She is constantly amazed by the love she feels for these grandchildren, quite different from the love she has for her daughters, and, more, by the love they have for her. If she could, she would live next door, but Maine has been her home for forty years and she cannot see herself ever leaving.

Three times a year she plans her big trips to Bedford, with day trips to New York to spend time with Steffi; and now, this year, there is a fourth visit to celebrate Callie’s birthday.

Despite seeing their grandmother less than a handful of times each year, Eliza and Jack beam with love every time they see her; they hurl themselves into Honor’s open arms, cover her with kisses, crawl onto her lap as they did when they were babies. Eliza always asks whether Googie—their name for Honor—can sleep in her room tonight.

Which Googie invariably does. She forgoes the guest room downstairs, with its connecting bathroom and beautiful canopied bed, for the twin bed in Eliza’s room, because there is nothing more magical for her than being waked at six a.m. by a small nose, inches from her own, a hand on her arm, and a plea for Googie to wake up and play horses with her.

Which Honor does willingly and joyfully, drinking up everything about her granddaughter and marveling at the bond they have, despite the distance and the scarcity of time together.

“Googie! We were looking for you!” Lila looks up from where she is pulling the Boursin triangles out of the oven. “Do you know where the name tags are?”

“I do.” Honor opens a drawer beside her. “I put them in here for safekeeping. Do you have the table plan?”

“I’ll get it for you in a moment. Have you met Kim and Mark? Callie and Reece’s friends?”

“Of course I’ve met Mark.” Honor reaches up and kisses him hello with a warm smile. “But I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure”—she turns to Kim, ignoring her outstretched hand and giving her a warm hug instead—“I’m Honor.”

“So nice to meet you!” Kim says. “I’ve heard so much about you! Did you say your name was Honor? I thought I just heard Lila call you something else?”

“Googie.” Honor smiles. “It’s what Eliza has always called me and it seems to have caught on. Now I’m Googie to the whole family.”

“So should we call you Honor? Or Googie?”

“Whichever you prefer. I’ll answer to pretty much anything these days.”

“I’ll let Dad know.” Steffi, busy refilling her wineglass, looks up with a grin. She checks her watch. “Mom, I’ll come with you to do the place mats. I know the table plan. They should be here soon and we have to get everything ready. Lila? Is all the food done?”

“I think so. I’ll just plate these and put them in the living room.”

Steffi and Honor walk into the dining room, and Honor admires the table. “Is this you, darling? Did you set the table?”

Steffi nods.

“You’re so creative, darling. I love those flowers, and in paper bags! Adorable!” Steffi bought armfuls of green hydrangeas and has put them in glasses and jam jars, then covered the jars with white lunch bags, tying them up with raffia and placing them all the way down the center of the table.

The name tags are brown-paper luggage tags, tied around tiny little terra-cotta pots stuffed with lavender.

“I thought it was very spring-like.” Steffi shrugs, unable to hide her pleasure. “And it smells good too.”

“It smells better than good, it’s divine.” Honor buries her nose in the lavender, just as a blood-curdling shriek is suddenly heard from the living room.

They look at each other in alarm and turn to race in and find out what has happened.

“FUCK!” Lila yells. “Oh CHRIST,” then, spying Honor, “Oh God. I’m sorry. My language. BUT STEFFI! That GODDAMNED DOG has eaten all the pâté.”

“It wasn’t Fingal,” Steffi says defensively. “He’s in the TV room with Eliza and Jack, and I told them to keep the door shut.”

“So who’s that under the table?” Lila gestures to a large snout poking out from under the table at the other end of the room. “My imaginary friend?”

“Oh shit,” mutters Steffi, before turning to shout, “Eliza! Jack!”

“It’s not their fault,” Honor says. “They’re children.”

“Yeah?” Eliza wanders into the living room, balancing a hot cheese triangle on her fingers and blowing on it. “These are really good.”

“Where’s Fingal?” Steffi puts her hands on her hips.

“He’s . . . Uh-oh. I kept the door closed. I swear. It wasn’t me. It was Jack.”

“I don’t care who it was,” Lila says. “But he ate all the pâté. Good thing I came in when I did, or he would have eaten everything.”

Eliza’s face falls. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Lila feels the anger seep out of her just as quickly as it arrived. “Don’t worry. It’s not like we don’t have enough food. It was good pâté, though.”

“Thanks,” Steffi said. “Mushroom pecan. You can also form it into burgers and grill it.”

“Will you give me the recipe?”

“Sure.”

“And more important, will you get the damned dog out of the way?”

“I will. Here, Fingal. Good boy. Come on, let’s go back to the TV room.”

“Darling”—Honor stops Steffi as Fingal lopes next to her, both of them heading out of the living room—“don’t you think a dog this size is a little much for you? I’m not sure you should agree to dogsit him again. He is lovely, but he’s enormous. I think next time you need to say no.”

Honor looks closely at Steffi’s face. She knows this look. Very well.

“Oh no. This isn’t just a weekend thing, is it?”

Steffi shrugs and looks away. “It is just this weekend . . .”

“So what aren’t you telling me?”

“I kind of said I’d look after him for a while.”

“Oh Steffi. Why do you do these things? How long is a while? A week? Two?”

“No, a bit longer.”

“How long?” Honor pushes, but she already knows the answer. “It’s permanent, isn’t it? This is your new dog. Oh Steffi. Really. Is this wise?”

“No, Mom. He’s not my new dog. I’m just looking after him for a year, that’s all. I’m taking him back to his owner on Sunday, I think, but then I get him in a couple of weeks. He’s really easy, even though he’s big—and guess what? In exchange for me looking after Fingal, I get a farmhouse in Sleepy Hollow!”

“Sleepy Hollow? You mean, right by here?”

“Yes. I’m so excited!”

“But . . . it’s a bit more of a commute from here to the city for Joni’s. And you’ll be hitting rush-hour traffic.”

“I know,” Steffi says happily. “I’ve thought about all of that. I was going to just use it at weekends, but . . . Honestly? I think it’s time for me to leave the city. I need a quieter life, and this is exactly what I’ve always dreamed of: an old farmhouse and a big hairy dog.”

“But Steffi, what about your job? Your boyfriend?”

“Oh Mom. I love my job, but that’s the great thing about doing what I do: I can do it anywhere. And Rob and I are on a break.”

“A year-long break?”

“Okay, so that’s my way of dealing with our breakup, but Mom, you have to be happy for me. You know how much I’ve always loved the country. Look at how much I love being up at home in Maine. Haven’t I always said I loved living in the open air? Didn’t you always say that I was just like you? That I would be happy living up in Maine too? Well, maybe eventually I will come home to Maine, but right now I have this amazing opportunity to live rent-free in the country—and he has animals too. I just feel, in every bone in my body, that this is the right thing for me to do.”

Honor shakes her head, but she can’t help a small smile. “I know I should tell you no, but you’re so like me, sometimes it’s terrifying.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but with more courage. You’re doing all the things I always wanted to do, but instead I tried to please my parents by marrying your father. You remind me so much of me, and you’re right: I shouldn’t judge. I think it’s wonderful. I just wish Fingal were a bit more manageable.”

“He’s great. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine. OH SHIT! What time is it? They’ll be here any second. Lila? Hit the lights!”

 

 

“L
oki? Honey?” Reece calls over to the car, where Callie is sitting, still in a bad mood, refusing to talk to Reece for ruining her birthday, furious that even on this night work has to come first.

She presses the switch to move the window down.

“What?”

“Eliza just wants to give you a birthday kiss.”

“Tell her to come out to the car.”

“She doesn’t have shoes on. She says can you come in.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Callie mutters, swinging the door open and marching into the house.

“Eli . . .?”

“SURPRISE!”

The lights flick on and there are the people she loves most in the world, standing in the entrance hall with smiles of delight on their faces and champagne glasses in their hands, and Callie stands there in shock for two seconds, then bursts into tears.

 

Five minutes later she is beaming, wiping the tears away.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says as she cuddles up to Reece. “I was so mean.”

“I know!” He grins, looking down at her. “And all the time we’d worked so hard to give you this wonderful surprise and you were just in the worst mood ever.”

“Oh my God, don’t! I’m so embarrassed! I had no idea. And Mom’s here! This is just the best. Did you . . . is . . . any chance you might surprise me with Dad?”

“I tried, Cal. I’m sorry. I think he was really conflicted. He badly wanted to be here, but he just couldn’t deal with being around your mom.”

Steffi walks up and overhears. “Good Lord. It’s about time he got over it.”

“That’s the problem with men who are divorced and angry,” Callie says. “They never get over it because they never talk to anyone about it.”

“Are you suggesting Dad have therapy?” Steffi says, and both Callie and Steffi then burst out laughing.

“Can you imagine?” Callie asks. “Dad having to reveal his childhood? Someone saying, “So, Walter. Tell me how that made you
feel . . .”