Star Promise

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  11. BURNED AT THE STAKE

  Charli

  Adam’s plan of winging it was only good for one day. Neither of us was in a position to take any more time off, and we’d come up with no solution to our childcare problem over the weekend.

  On Monday morning we resorted to playing scissors, paper, rock to decide who’d have the unenviable task of calling their boss.

  I won because I always win.

  “I’m sure you cheat,” grumbled Adam, reaching for his phone.

  “I’ll call your dad if you want me to,” I bravely offered.

  “Brilliant idea, Charlotte,” he mocked. “That’s bound to end well.”

  Bridget wedged herself in between us. “I’ll call Papy,” she offered brightly. “He likes me.”

  Adam must’ve really been fed up. He tapped his father’s name on the screen and handed the phone to Bridget. Despite the fact that it was on speaker, she held it to her ear. “Hello, Papy,” she greeted. “It’s Bridget Décarie.”

  Jean-Luc’s chuckle filtered through the kitchen. “What can I do for you today, young lady?”

  Bridget’s hand moved to her hip as she paced the kitchen, holding the phone to her ear. “I want you to look after me today,” she demanded. “My mum and dad have to go to work.”

  A frantic silent conversation took place between Adam and I in the form of frowns and raised eyebrows. The king had never spent the day with her before, and it was unimaginable to think he’d start now. I held my breath, waiting for the crotchety tyrant to shoot Bridget down in flames.

  “I would love to spend the day with you,” he replied, shocking me half to death.

  “Can you please come and get me now?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” replied Jean-Luc. “Let your mother know I’ll be there shortly.”

  Bridget spun around to look at me. I confirmed that I’d heard his instruction with an awkward smile. The deal was complete, and she’d carried it out with the arrogance and panache of a true Décarie.

  ***

  I wasn’t entirely convinced that Jean-Luc would show up. Adam didn’t hang around to find out. He was shrugging on his jacket before Bridget ended the call. “See you later,” he said, kissing me as he passed.

  I grabbed his arm to slow him down. “Wait. What do I do if he doesn’t show up?”

  He kissed me again. “He’ll be here.”

  I grabbed him again. “And what do I do if he does show up?”

  “Just play it cool.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “And let Bridget do the talking.”

  I could count the number of times that Jean-Luc had visited our apartment on one hand. It was always awkward and uncomfortable, and that morning was no different. Bridget met him at the door with her trademark leg hug. All Décarie men were used to it, and strangely, none of them seemed to mind having a small child crash into them.

  “You’re here, Papy!” she squealed. “Mummy said you wouldn’t come.”

  My mouth gaped open, which was as close as I came to defending myself. No words followed.

  He smirked at me. “Did she now?”

  I steered Bridget toward the hallway. “Go and get your bag, please.” It might not have been my smartest move. Bridget took off at warp speed and I was left with the king.

  He wasted no time in putting me in my place. “I’m a man of my word, Charli,” he said pointedly. “If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” I slyly replied. “What about that time you told me you were going to have me tried as a witch and burned at the stake? That never happened.”

  He grinned, looking exactly like his sons. “I’m still working on it.”

  Bridget reappeared and declared that she was good to go. I hugged her. “Have fun today, and be good, okay?”

  Her head nodded so swiftly that her blonde pigtails whipped her face. “Come, my love,” urged Jean-Luc, nudging her toward the open door. “Press the elevator button. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Was there something else?” I asked when she’d gone.

  “I’m awaiting instructions,” he replied. “I’m assuming you have some.”

  I wondered if there was any point in telling him what they were. I knew he’d probably ignore them, but I laid out my rules anyway. “Please don’t give her any money,” I said strongly. “She hasn’t spent a single cent that you’ve given her so far.”

  His brown eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

  “None. I’m thinking of wallpapering her bedroom with it.”

  Jean-Luc huffed out a sharp laugh. “I didn’t realise,” he said. “I won’t give her any more.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Perhaps I could take her shopping,” he suggested. “I would like to see her spend it on something worthwhile.”

  I couldn’t kill the smile that crossed my face, or the smartarse words that followed. “As opposed to seven hundred bucks worth of glitter and a cauldron?”

  He dropped his head, smiling down at the floor. “And where might one buy a cauldron, Charlotte?”

  “Bridget will show you,” I replied. “She gets discounts on her frequent shopper card.”

  ***

  Despite my misgivings, I was happy that Bridget was spending the day with her grandfather. My concern was for him, not her. Jean-Luc wasn’t used to dealing with small children, least of all Bridget.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about her recently acquired shrewd streak. I couldn’t find it in me to be appalled. She reminded me too much of myself, and every crafty act she carried out sent me straight back to all the years my father had spent trying to pull me into line. Just thinking about it made me want to call and apologise.

  I wasn’t intent on holding her feet to the fire like Adam was, but I certainly didn’t encourage bad behaviour. Her latest misdeed had been an ill-gained Hermes scarf that she’d swindled from Bente a few days earlier. I found it stuffed in her backpack, completely trashed thanks to the red lipstick all over it. I hadn’t been entirely sure who to direct my anger at. Bridget had wrecked it, but Ryan was the fool who’d given it to her in the first place. All I could do was replace it and apologise to Bente, which was how I spent my lunchbreak that day.

  The rest passed in a blur. Most of the afternoon was spent dealing with pieces that had been delivered the day before. Three sold before they even went on display, and two buyers had shown interest in another. Bronson was over the moon. “Exceptional, darling.” He clapped his hands together. “Find me more art. Buy me more art. More, more, more.” He didn’t give me a chance to reply. He was out the door before he’d finished his theatrical ramble.

  I closed up shop soon after, managing to make it out on time for once. I wasn’t the only punctual one. Adam beat me home, which had never happened before. He greeted me at the door with a huge hug that wasn’t the least bit romantic.

  “What’s going on?” I wedged my elbows between us, trying to break free. Adam didn’t release me until he’d walked us out into the foyer and pulled the front door closed.

  “You’re beautiful,” he declared, lurching forward to kiss me.

  I held him back. “Adam, what have you done?”

  His tight smile led me to think it was nothing good. I didn’t wait for him to string an answer together. I pushed past him and barged back into the apartment, stopping dead in my tracks at the edge of the living room.

  “It’ll only take a few days,” he promised. “A week at the most.”

  I barely heard him. I was focused on the shabby green dresser taking up valuable space in the living room. “You have ten seconds to explain.”

  Adam couldn’t tell the time in less than ten seconds. His long explanation wasn’t that interesting. Bente’s ugly drawers weren’t to Ryan’s snobbish taste, and he wanted Adam to fix them. The part that interested me was the pure excitement in his voice as he laid out his plan for restoring them. “It’s Victorian – cherry
wood, I think.” He ran his hand along the top of the dresser, chipping off flecks of green paint in his wake. “It’s solid and gorgeous – and they want me to paint it pink.” He screwed up his handsome face as if the whole notion was ridiculous. “It should be lacquered and left alone.”

  It had been a long time since he’d talked carpentry, and I couldn’t ever remember him doing it while wearing a tie. It threw me back to the cold winter afternoons we’d spent together in the shed in Pipers Cove. I could sit and watch for hours as he worked on boats. That was Adam at his very best, and seeing his joy while he talked about working on the drawers made me realise that I hadn’t seen him at his best for a long time.

  “You miss working on boats, don’t you?”

  “I can live without boats,” he replied making his way back over to me. “I can’t live without you.”

  I’d spent years being riled by the way he dodged my questions. I used to demand a straight answer. I didn’t do that any more.

  “I just want you to be happy,” I mumbled.

  “Seeing you find your feet in a job you love makes me happy,” he replied, edging closer. “Having conversations with my kid about sea dogs makes me happy.”

  I wondered if that meant that the good outweighed the bad, then realised that he was the only one who could decide. “You thought it would be different, didn’t you?” I asked.

  His arm slipped around me. “New York never changes, Charli.”

  “No, I meant your job,” I clarified. “It’s not what you thought it would be.”

  It was impossible not to feel his angst, even though I wasn’t supposed to. The be-all and end-all had always been a career in law. He’d studied for years to get his degree, then put his career on hold for a life in Australia with us. A great job in a prestigious law firm was supposed to be the reward, but for Adam, getting up every morning and going to the office had become a never-ending punishment.

  He just wouldn’t admit to it.

  “We’re okay, Charli.” He smoothed his fingers through my hair. “For as long as you want to be here.”

  I bunched up the sides of his shirt in my fists, pulled him closer and kissed him hard in reply. I wasn’t going to argue. Ryan had been the one to remind me that Adam was a grown man. When he was ready to call it quits, he would. But for now, he’d take a walk down memory lane and tear up some wood in our living room.

  12. DEBT

  Adam

  My father was unapologetically hard, but there were two women who always managed to bring out a softer side. One of them was my mother. The other was just as feisty, only much shorter.

  They arrived home in the early evening. Bridget was her usual amped-up self. My dad was much more reserved, but that might’ve had something to do with his outfit.

  “Nice scarf,” I told him.

  “I do believe it’s a feather boa,” said Dad, flicking the string of green feathers. “My granddaughter says it suits me.”

  “It looks nice, Papy,” insisted Bridget. “I picked it.”

  I glanced at my little girl and noticed she was rocking a few accessories of her own. Most notable was the little red stroller.

  “What’s in the stroller, Bridge?” I tried sneaking a peek, but was thwarted at the last second. “I’ll show you,” announced Bridget, forcing me back with a hands-up motion. “It’s a lovely girl.”

  That was debatable. The lovely girl she dragged out headfirst was Treasure – and she was still heinous.

  “Mamie couldn’t get the red off her,” she explained. “But she said I can have her back if I’m nice to her, so I will be nice.”

  It was hard to believe, mainly because she was clutching Treasure by the throat. The doll was already dead meat. Bridget roughly dumped her back in the stroller. “I got something else, Daddy,” she announced. “Papy has it.”

  Dad pulled a small black box from his pocket. I flipped the lid and came face to face with the compass we’d nearly bought a few days earlier.

  My heart sank. I’d been trying to prove a point to Bridget, and thought I was making headway. Bad behaviour shouldn’t be rewarded, which meant the compass was off limits. I should’ve known that she’d pick her moment and con someone else into buying it for her.

  Something in my expression let my father know I was pissed. “Many small lessons equal a large education, Adam,” he told me.

  There wasn’t any point trying to make him understand, so I concentrated on the crooked little girl next to him. “I told you no.”

  She almost shrugged but thought better of it. “I paid the man all my money. I have no money left.”

  I shook my head, too furious to reply. She’d made it sound as if she was doing a good deed by offloading the cash.

  Dad jumped in and quickly added to the story. “Bridget learned that impulse purchases aren’t always a good idea.”

  I tore my eyes from my daughter to glower at him. “It’s not an impulse purchase,” I said roughly. “She’s been plotting to get hold of it for days.”

  Dad pointed at the stroller. “Bridget bought the buggy first,” he explained. “She didn’t have enough money left to buy the compass.”

  I groaned out loud. It was going from bad to worse. “So you fronted her more cash?”

  “Not exactly.” He almost smiled. “I loaned her the money. Bridget owes me thirty-four dollars.”

  I had no idea what the implications of owing him money were. It was Bridget who spelled out the terms of the agreement. She grabbed the handle of the stroller and violently shook it. “I have to work now,” she grumbled.

  “Bridget is going to work off her debt,” he told me. “I have some chores for her to do at home.” He looked down at the disgruntled little girl. “You must learn to save first and spend afterwards, my love.”

  “Little girls can’t work hard, Papy,” she whined.

  Dad dragged the feather boa off his neck and draped it around her. “That’s not my issue, Bridget.” He kissed the top of her head. “A deal is a deal.”

  ***

  Thanks to a well-timed phone call to Australia, Charli had conveniently missed Bridget’s homecoming. She was ending the call when I walked into the bedroom.

  “Is Bridget home?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “She’s getting Treasure reacquainted with the rest of the girls.”

  “Treasure’s back too?” She sounded so revolted that I felt like apologising. “I thought we’d seen the last of that horror.”

  I sat beside her on the edge of the bed and handed her the small black box. “Dad took Bridget shopping,” I said listlessly.

  Charli flipped open the box and moaned as if I’d just given her diamonds. “It’s lovely.”

  “It is a nice piece,” I agreed. I would’ve been much more enthusiastic about it if it hadn’t been so ruthlessly gained.

  Charli took the compass out and held it in her hand, running her thumb across the glass front.

  “Are you trying to turn it on, Charlotte?” I teased.

  She bumped me with her shoulder. “What do you know about compasses, wise guy?”

  “Only the basics,” I admitted. “I was a boy scout for a while – until Ryan got us kicked out.”

  Her wonderful laugh instantly made me forget the pissed-off edge to my mood. I pushed her back on the bed and flopped my head down beside her.

  “What did he do?” she asked, still giggling.

  I stared up at the ceiling. “Broke a scout law,” I said gravely.

  “Scouts have laws?”

  “Sure they do.” I lazily turned my head to wiggle my eyebrows at her. “A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind –”

  Her laugh grew louder, but she still managed to cut me off. “You remember all that?”

  “Of course.” I rested my hand on her thigh. “I was a conscientious scout. Obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.”

  “And Ryan lacked which attribute?”

  I reach
ed across and pulled her on top of me. “Three quarters of them,” I murmured.

  Charli softly kissed me. “I thought scout law was about being prepared.”

  “No, that’s their motto; but for the record, I’m always very prepared.”

  “Good.” She straightened up and held the compass out to me. “You’ll be able to show Bridget how to find her way.”

  “I’m always trying to help her find her way,” I muttered. “I don’t think I’m succeeding at the moment.”

  It was an overly dramatic statement. A few naughty episodes in quick succession didn’t necessarily mean she had the makings of a career criminal, but it weighed on me and Charli knew it.

  She smoothed my frown with her fingertips. “Give the girl some magic and pull her back into line,” she suggested.

  I smiled enough to earn a thumb to the cheek. “You think it’s that simple?”

  Angling the lid open, Charli placed the compass on my chest as if setting a trap. “You have the makings of magic right here.”

  “Will you tell me about it, please?”

  “I don’t know a thing about orienteering.”

  I expected to hear that Alex had regaled her with all sorts of tales of being guided around the earth by bearings on a compass. It was almost impossible to believe otherwise. “Why not?” I asked.

  “I had no use for a compass.” Her shoulders lifted again. “I couldn’t get lost in the Cove even when I wanted to. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The ocean was east. That was my compass.”

  For the first time ever, she had no story for me. That meant I was on my own when it came to sharing it with our daughter. “I’m disappointed,” I said seriously. “I thought you’d know all about it.”

  “It just wasn’t my thing,” she replied. “What I really wanted was an astrolabe. That’s where the real action is.” I didn’t even know what an astrolabe was. “Imagine a tool that can measure the altitude of stars. How cool would that be?” she asked wistfully.

  “That would be cool,” I agreed. “You never had one?”