Katia's Promise (16 page)

“Well, believe it, because it sure looks like that to me. Sometimes I feel like you’re fishing for reactions from me—emotional ones—and then the next minute, I get an icy chill from you. So what is it?”

“I’m trying very hard to negotiate these tricky waters I’ve found myself in, Austin. I didn’t think there’d be anything between us now, after all this time apart.”

“And is there? For you, I mean?”

Her eyes moved slowly across his face, causing an agonizing rumble in his chest that he wouldn’t have missed for the world. At that moment, he didn’t care how angry he’d been five minutes ago or what she would say five minutes from now. In this moment, he saw the Katia he knew and wanted to have faith in. Oh, how badly he wanted to believe that she still loved him.

“When I’m here with you, my mind is a jumble,” she continued. “I can’t think straight. And when I’m away from you, I think about you—a lot, actually. The truth is, you’ll always be my friend, Austin. More than a friend, really. And isn’t that enough? For now, I mean?”

Austin wasn’t sure if she was leading him on or if she was truly this confused. But no matter what she said or did, he apparently couldn’t control his heart’s reaction to her.

“If that’s how it is, then, that’s what it is. Now let’s go get those decorations.”

* * *

K
ATIA
AND
A
USTIN
spent an hour and a half in the attic, sorting through decorations in old cardboard boxes, plastic bins and enormous wooden crates. Though there was overhead lighting, Katia was thankful that Austin had brought up an orange extension cord and a utility work light, and he’d given her a legal pad and pen to make notes.

“I’d forgotten how enormous this place was,” Katia said, staring up at the gabled roof.

“It’s one of the reasons this house looks so much larger than the others on the avenue. I turned the third-floor ballroom into a home theater, bathroom and guest quarters. I don’t know why I did that. I never have any out-of-town guests.” He pulled an old sheet off an Oak Lake rocking chair. “Anyway, this fourth floor was used by household staff back when my great-grandfather built the house. I think the gardener and his wife lived up here.”

“That’s why the ceiling is finished out,” Katia replied. “And those old ceiling fixtures seem to be art nouveau.”

Austin looked up. “Wow. I missed that. You think they’re the real thing?”

“Sure. Why not? They probably didn’t think a thing of it back then.”

“My mother changed a lot of the lighting on the first floor back in the nineties when she redecorated.” He marched over to another wooden crate filled with packing straw and old corrugated cardboard. “But if she saved the original chandeliers...”

Katia rose and followed him. “You could put them in the museum?”

“Precisely,” he said excitedly, yanking fistfuls of straw out of the crate. “Amazing! They’re here!” He pulled a dark, wrought iron, twelve-candle electric chandelier from the crate. “Bring that work light. Let’s see if there are any markings.”

Katia brought the light and peered at the underside. “It says ‘Paris, 1892.’”

“Fantastic. It’s gorgeous,” he said, scrutinizing the expertly crafted acanthus-leaf design that was so popular at that time.

“Austin, this is a really precious antique. What if something happened to it? What if it was stolen?”

He chuckled. “But, Katia, I have insurance.”

“Funny. Seriously, Austin, we should put this in the dining room here at the house, where it used to be. This is a work of art. It’s irreplaceable. Sure, you can get reimbursed for stolen art, but you can’t get it back.”

Austin carefully put the chandelier back into the crate. “You told me I’d be covered. I’m about to put irreplaceable cars in my museum. You assured me I would have the best policy. I do, don’t I?”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding a bit too forcefully. “Absolutely.” Katia was confident in the products she had assembled for Austin, not just the best deals but the most extensive coverage he could possibly get. Insuring the building itself was a walk in the park. But the cars were another matter. As she looked down at the one-of-a-kind chandelier, she realized that these precious extractions from the past, these puzzle pieces of history, could never be insured completely. There were too many vagaries in life. Too many opportunities for the wheel of fortune to turn in the wrong direction. Just as she couldn’t guarantee that Austin would never again seek revenge against her, she could not tell him that his cars would ever be perfectly safe. Nothing in the world was perfectly safe.

Not possessions, not people. Not love.

“I have to know the cars have the best insurance, Katia,” he said firmly. “They mean a great deal to me.”

“Austin, I, of all people, know that. That’s why I’ve worked so hard to get you what you want and need. But think about it—you have half your cars stored in these old carriage houses here on your property. How safe are they? Those buildings haven’t been refurbished in years.”

Putting his hands on his hips, he glared at her with eyes of blue steel. “You don’t honestly think I keep my cars here, do you?”

Katia gaped. “What? But you gave me a list.”

“I did. Which is ever changing. Most of my cars are in Scottsdale, Arizona, where they won’t rust or be impaired by the freezes.”

“And when were you going to tell me this?” She asked. “I’m your insurance agent.”

“When we got closer to the finish date. Besides, I’ll be going to Arizona over the holidays, and that’s when I usually sell a car or two. Perhaps pick up something new. So the list will change. There’s a Cord 812 Phaeton I’ve been trying to trade up to for years.”

Katia frowned. Was he telling her that he didn’t trust her? He would have every reason not to trust her. But this was business. Still, Katia could see that she was going to have to keep selling Austin.

It occurred to her that he might be testing her. She had to admit, she felt a bit shaky. The prime cut of Austin’s deal was yet to be realized. Was he dangling that fact in front of her like a carrot? Or did he have genuine concerns?

“This Cord Phaeton that you want. How much are we talking?”

“To buy it or insure it?”

“Just the part that involves me.”

“At auction, it would go for one-hundred-and-eighty-five-thousand dollars. The seller has never let it out of his hands, which makes me wonder if it isn’t really the Sultan of Brunei who owns it. Anyway, I could trade my Bugatti for it.”

“The blue Bugatti that I love?” She gasped.

“Oh, you like that car?”

“You know I do.” She willed him to remember.

The Bugatti was where she’d found him on Valentine’s Day all those years ago, crying over his father’s death. She’d made him a Valentine... But he’d obviously forgotten.

“Yeah,” he said bending down to pack straw around the chandelier. “I like that car too much. I’ll trade something else. The Cord Phaeton is just a dream car. It’s out of my league.”

“Well, if you change things up, buy other cars, you have to let me know immediately, Austin.”

“Of course. I can’t buy them without providing the insurance.”

“Remember we’re doing a floater policy. No driving them up to Indiana from Arizona because you want to see the bluebonnets in Texas.”

Austin laughed. “How do you know I’d do that?”

“Lucky guess,” she replied quickly, wondering how and why she would remember a statement he’d made nearly twenty years ago one dismal March day. They’d driven out to the beach in his father’s Cadillac. After hours of kisses and promises to love each other forever, they’d mused about the future.

“If I could take you anywhere right now,” Austin had said, “it would be Texas. The bluebonnets are blooming. Oceans of blue up and down all the highways. My father used to drive that route from Arizona to Indiana in the winter to avoid the freezing rain in Kansas and Oklahoma. It takes a day longer, but it was worth it. Those were my favorite spring breaks when I was a kid. Just to see the flowers. It made me smile.”

Katia remembered more and more slices of their past each time she was around Austin. This attic and these old decorations triggered memories of her own mother, too. Inexplicably, waves of nostalgia and longing for the mother and the Austin she used to know snaked around her ankles and pulled her under like a riptide.

Katia was unsure of everything in her life. She’d moved here so quickly, without time to consider the ramifications of her actions. She’d been threatened with the loss of her job and the looming stress that Jack’s company could dissolve. The move had seemed like their only option. However, in all her calculations, Katia hadn’t given enough thought to what it would be like to see Austin again; much less be with him.

Sure, she’d known she needed to apologize and she’d hoped her shame and guilt would be assuaged. But moments like this were like opening Pandora’s box. She recalled days filled with laughter and innocent yearning for a boy she’d given her heart to the first day she met him. Austin had been her world, and she’d been so certain of his love for her that she’d planned for no other future than the one with Austin in it.

She’d loved him so deeply, so completely, she’d only believed that as long as they were together, somehow their world would be made right.

Now she knew better. Austin was just part of her youth. She’d sewn up her broken heart the way her mother had taught her to do and embraced her new life. Until this moment, Katia had believed that she’d analyzed, mourned and coped with her past.

She was wrong.

Being within arm’s reach of Austin, happiness radiating from his face, she realized all those youthful dreams were simply sleeping, waiting to be awakened with a kiss. Or just the right word.

Suddenly, Katia couldn’t breathe. In her present life, constantly lurking in the wings, there was this internal assailant that crushed her lungs and heart like tightening steel bands.

Not now!
she chided her body. Not here in front of Austin when she was trying desperately to win his confidence. Win his business.

In the end, it didn’t matter what Katia used to feel for Austin or that her head was filled with far too many thoughts about him. It didn’t even matter that several times a day, she relived his most recent kiss. She had to keep him at a distance. If Jack ever got a whiff of any personal involvement between her and their biggest client, she’d be fired.

Katia’s airway became more constricted, as if malevolent hands were tightening screws in her lungs. She felt a burning in her chest, and sweat broke out across her forehead.

From the back of her brain she swore she heard a voice telling her to run.

“I need to go, Austin,” she said abruptly.

“What? But we haven’t had dinner.”

“You know, I forgot I told Mrs. Beabots I would help her with, um, some of the food for Thanksgiving. I have to run to the store for her.”

“Oh,” he replied disappointedly. “That’s nice of you to help.”

She rushed on. “Mrs. Beabots is having a huge dinner with Sarah and all her family. I suppose you have big plans?”

Austin bent down to pick up the pad, pen, utility light and extension cord. “I usually go out of town.” He followed her as she led the way to the attic stairs. He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her around a stack of books that was placed perilously close to the first step.

“Watch that,” he said.

Katia thought her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. This was the worst panic attack yet. If she could only get outside and breathe some fresh air. Or get away from Austin and the familiarity of his touch.

“And you’re not going away this year?” she asked, barely stringing the words together.

“No. I’ll be here,” he said as they started down the steps. “By the way, when are you going to start decorating?”

“The day after Thanksgiving,” she managed.

Katia practically raced to the main staircase. The front door appeared ahead. She was nearly free.

“I’ll call you,” she said extending her hand to him.

Austin just stared back at her for a prolonged, silent moment. “So you’ll be at Mrs. Beabots’s for Thanksgiving?”

Katia got the impression he was probing for more information, but she didn’t know what.

“Yes,” she replied, taking her hand from his and putting it on the door handle. She glanced back at him. “Why don’t you join us? There will be plenty of food. I’m doing half the cooking. I don’t think Mrs. Beabots will mind.”

Austin’s face instantly shone with happiness and she realized that her invitation meant a lot to him.

“I’d love it. You clear it with Mrs. B. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll call you.”

Katia opened the blessed door. Once outside, she nearly ran down the sidewalk, taking in gulps of air. She held her hand over her heart and felt it return to normal by the time she’d walked a half a block. She was safe once again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

K
ATIA
THREW
WORRIES
and concern along with fresh grated nutmeg and cinnamon into her baked sweet-potato casserole. She added brown sugar and butter and turned on the mixer to blend the ingredients. She sprayed a ceramic casserole dish with nonstick spray and then turned to Mrs. Beabots, who was stuffing a huge turkey with quartered apples, onion, carrot, celery and orange.

“I’ll put this casserole in the oven after I take out the broccoli soufflé. For now, the soufflé demands a very even heat,” Katia said, glancing toward the lit oven interior.

She could feel a frown burrow into her forehead with the force of a farmer’s plow. She should never have suggested that Austin join them for dinner today. Mrs. Beabots had quickly picked up the phone to graciously invite him when Katia had mentioned it. Based on her last encounter with Austin, Katia now believed there was something deeper than guilt that caused her to react so anxiously when she was around him.

She just wished she knew what it was.

“Did you cut the sage from the garden for me?” Mrs. Beabots asked as she peeled the breast skin away from the turkey meat with her fingers.

“I did.” Katia went to the refrigerator and took out a paper towel with the sage and some thyme and parsley she’d previously washed. “I have it all here for you.”

“Thank you, dear. Would you mind picking off the prettiest sage leaves and handing them to me while I butter the insides?”

Katia chose long, elegant sage leaves and watched as Mrs. Beabots artistically arranged them between the turkey breast meat and the skin to form a pattern across the top of the turkey. Then she brushed the top skin with melted clarified butter.

“That’s gorgeous,” Katia said. “I’ve never seen that done.”

Mrs. Beabots smiled. “I put more sage in the cavity, along with parsley, and it’s just delicious. Once this bakes and turns golden, it’ll be worthy of a magazine cover.”

“I’ll bet,” Katia replied, and went back to the squash. She poured it into the dish. “Thank you for inviting Austin. I just assumed he would have made plans.”

“Hmm. He’s always been out of town, from what I understood. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s. He’s never been around. That’s another reason Sarah and I have had trouble getting him to participate in our Christmas Tour. I’ve noticed that he’s changing a bit.”

“Changing?”

“Why, there’s no question, dear.” Mrs. Beabots walked around the island and went to the sink to wash her hands. “If you hadn’t been part of the equation, he would never have agreed to the Candlelight Tour. And it doesn’t take a detective to figure out that you’re also the reason he’s not running off to Arizona for the holiday.”

Katia nearly dropped the mixer beater. “That’s not true.”

Mrs. Beabots pinned her blue eyes on Katia. “Are you so career minded that you can’t see the obvious? Even in your own life?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I wasn’t absolutely certain until I saw the two of you together when we went to Austin’s house. Actually, Sarah said she’d picked up little clues that something was different about Austin. Maddie had told her that suddenly Austin didn’t want his Friday-morning cupcakes delivered anymore. He actually went to the café to pick up his order. For years, Austin, who was Maddie’s sole investor, had never set foot in her café. Suddenly, you come to town and he’s stopping by on a nearly regular basis for a latte before work. Then he agreed to open his house for the tour. That was more than a milestone. It was close to a miracle—in my book anyway. Now he’s coming to my house for Thanksgiving. I invited him for years after Hanna died, and he always turned me down.” She tapped the side of her cheek with her forefinger thoughtfully. “Deductions have always been a strong suit of mine. Believe me, I think I’m right. Austin is still in love with you.”

“He is
not
!” Katia’s response was much too quick and emphatic. “He...is a client and a friend,” she said, dialing down her voice.

Mrs. Beabots gave Katia a cool, scrutinizing stare that could rival the best interrogators. The octogenarian’s keen observations sat much too firmly in Katia’s head. She hadn’t met the Austin that most of the people of Indian Lake knew. She hadn’t seen the man who had shut himself off from others, chained to his family’s business and escaping to another state or car show when holidays rolled around.

Katia had thought Austin had only been testing the waters when he kissed her. Perhaps he wanted to see how angry he still was. But love?

There’s no way.

Logically, Katia didn’t believe she deserved anything more from Austin than forgiveness. That had been a major hurdle for them. She was still only learning the extent to which she’d hurt him and, in the process, had damaged her own self-esteem.

Was her guilt the cause of her anxiety attacks? Or was there something more? For years, she’d convinced herself that her life in Chicago and her challenging career were all she needed. She was happy; her life was filled with art gallery openings, after-theater parties, dinners with friends and shopping.

On holidays, Katia always had more than one invitation from friends and either had to choose between them or do double duty and attend two dinners in one day. Her friends adored her. Their children loved her, especially when she showed up with toys and candies. She was the “special aunt” to dozens of her friends’ children.

Now, as she remembered those days, she felt a new feeling deep inside, and it was hollow. For the first time Katia realized there was something missing in that life that she now could name.

I don’t have a family.

She grabbed the edge of the island with both hands as a wave of breathlessness overtook her. She took tiny sips of air as if savoring a fine wine. The panic left her.

“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Beabots asked as she quickly came to Katia’s side and pressed her small hand against Katia’s forehead. “You’re perspiring.”

“It happens,” Katia replied. “Usually when I think too much.”

“I hope I haven’t upset you. I want this to be your best Thanksgiving ever,” Mrs. Beabots said earnestly.

Katia took her hand and held it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Frankly, you’ve helped me already. I see things more clearly now. Even myself. And that’s very good.”

* * *

I
N
THE
LARGE
formal dining room, Katia held hands with Austin, who was seated to her left, and Annie, dressed as a pilgrim girl, on her right. Down the center of the table, Mrs. Beabots had placed a dozen taper candles amongst a plethora of minipumpkins, gourds and tiny ears of Indian corn. Annie and Timmy had made pinecone-and-construction-paper-turkey place cards for each guest. Mrs. Beabots sat proudly at the head of the table, and Luke sat at the other end. Timmy, who was also dressed as a pilgrim, sat next to Sarah, across from Katia and Austin.

After the Thanksgiving prayer, Luke raised his glass of wine. “A toast to our wonderful hostess and to all the lovely cooks who prepared our meal.”

“To your good health,” Austin said and clinked glasses with Katia.

Timmy piped up. “You’re supposed to say, ‘God bless us, every one.’”

Annie immediately corrected him. “That’s for Christmas. Right, Dad?”

“I’m afraid she’s right, son. But I think it’s good for both Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Luke replied as he picked up the carving set and went to work on the turkey.

Timmy’s frown instantly turned to a wide grin. “Good. I like it for all holidays.”

“Me, too,” Sarah said. “Now, what do you want? White or dark meat?”

“I’ll take the whole leg.” Timmy grinned, eyeing the huge turkey leg his father had just cut off the bird. “I bet pirates used to eat turkey legs like that. How come we don’t have a pirates’ holiday?”

Austin laughed into his napkin. “And would you wear a pirate costume?”

Timmy beamed. “Sure would! I was a pilgrim last year for Halloween, but this year I was a pirate.”

“I remember,” Austin replied. “I think you got extra candy at my house.”

“We both did,” Annie said. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Austin said and then whispered to Katia, “Daisy told me who they were.”

“Ah!” She nodded. “So what’s your favorite holiday, Timmy?”

“Halloween. Obviously!”

“Mine’s Christmas,” Annie interjected as she stuck her fork in the fruit piled prettily on her salad plate.

“I like Valentine’s,” Austin said in a low voice that only Katia heard.

When she glanced at him, his eyes were locked on her face.

Katia felt her heart skip a beat and her face warm. This time she didn’t feel panic or anxiety. There was no tightening in her chest, only a comforting glow that made her smile ever so slightly. She knew exactly the Valentine’s Day he was remembering, and of all the holidays in her life, she had to admit it was the one that haunted her with her most cherished memories. Though it had been the day of Austin’s father’s funeral, it also marked the beginning of his feelings for her. Maybe even his love for her. She hadn’t been a pest or his shadow anymore; she’d become his confidante. His friend. He’d been at his lowest. She had been the one to pull him out of that valley.

“What’s yours, Katia?” Sarah asked, taking Timmy’s plate and adding a dollop of mashed potatoes and some butternut squash.

Suddenly, all eyes were on Katia, and she felt like a butterfly being inspected by a lepidopterist. If she gave Austin the answer he clearly wanted to hear, he would know that she remembered the same day as he did. He might even read something into her answer that she didn’t intend.

Katia was only beginning to understand her own psyche. She was experiencing panic attacks that had everything to do with her personal life—or lack of it—and nothing to do with her career, which was where she should have placed all her priorities. But if she didn’t give Austin enough encouragement, he might retreat into his shell, and no one, especially her, would get him out.

The children were looking at her with more interest and anticipation than she’d imagined a child could muster. To them, her answer mattered a great deal, though she didn’t know why. Was this their way of deciding if they liked her or not? Or was it just part of the way kids measured life, in spoonfuls of information?

“I like them all,” Katia replied diplomatically.

“That’s not right,” Timmy howled. “You have to have a favorite. Everybody has a favorite!”

Katia’s smile was impish. “Holidays are better than workdays, right? And all holidays mean that I don’t have to work, and I can do whatever I want. Today, I chose to be with all of you.” She turned to Austin.

Austin’s entire expression softened. Gone was the reservation that held his shoulders in a rigid line and the tense crease that formed between his brows each time he talked about his business. He was surprisingly relaxed amid the children’s banter and joined in their conversation about school, the upcoming Christmas pageant play and Annie’s starring role as the angel.

Katia was surprised by her own mood, as well. As they all talked about seemingly mundane activities and the usual holiday chores of putting up lights, shopping and baking, Katia felt happy. This time of year usually produced a great deal of anxiety for her. She was often overwhelmed by trying to get everything done, going to parties and dealing with the overload of work as her clients rushed to alter their policies for the new year.

Something was different this year, and though she tried to analyze the factors, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Katia had changed drastically since she’d moved to Indian Lake. She wished she knew the cause.

It always amazed Katia how fast the much-anticipated and laboriously prepared Thanksgiving dinner was consumed. Austin and Luke both had seconds on meat and stuffing, but the children kept reminding everyone to save room for pie.

“I knew we’d all be stuffed after dinner, so I purposefully decided to serve dessert at five when Maddie and Nate and Liz, Gabe and Sam can join us. Liz said she’s bringing a surprise,” Mrs. Beabots said.

“Mmm. I hope it’s dessert wine,” Luke said, rising to help clear plates.

Sarah joined him and took Timmy’s plate.

“We have to wait for pie?” the little boy asked.

“Only half an hour,” Sarah reminded him. “Besides, I still have to whip the cream. Don’t worry, there are four pies this year. Pumpkin, apple, pecan and, of course, Mrs. Beabots’s sugar pie.”

“I want some of all of them,” Annie announced. “But no whipped cream.”

Austin laughed. “No whipped cream? Are you kidding? What’s pie without whipped cream? Especially the real kind.”

Annie smoothed the white pinafore of her pilgrim costume. “I think you’re right, Mr. McCreary. I should have whipped cream on all my pies.”

Austin laughed again and rose to help with the dishes.

After the table was cleared and the leftover food was carefully covered and put away in the refrigerator, the doorbell rang, announcing the rest of Mrs. Beabots’s guests.

Katia accompanied her to the front door.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Maddie exclaimed as everyone hugged Mrs. Beabots. “And, Katia. I’m so glad to see you. How are you?”

“Wonderful,” Katia answered honestly.

“Are you settling in to our little town yet? It’s a radical change from Chicago, isn’t it? I know when I go into the city I’m already counting the hours until I come back here. I can’t believe I once thought I wanted to live there. I have the best of both worlds now.”

“I think I know what you mean. I’m not missing the city as much as I expected to.”

Austin walked up behind Katia and shook Nate’s hand. “Good to see you again,” he said.

“Mrs. Beabots told us you were invited,” Nate said to Austin. “Glad you could make it.”

“I’d forgotten what a great cook Mrs. Beabots was. I’ve had a great time,” Austin said, smiling broadly.

Nate turned to Mrs. Beabots and handed her a bouquet of fall-colored roses. “These are for you.”

Maddie gave her a yellow-and-white-striped bakery box of cupcakes tied with her signature brown ribbon. “We just came from Nate’s parents’ house.”