Star Promise

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “It’s going to be an awesome vessel, Charlotte,” I gloated. “Perhaps then you’ll realise what a good catch I am.”

  “Maybe,” she casually agreed. “No promises, though.”

  ***

  Bridget and Alex had been making up for lost time. He’d cut back his hours at the café significantly since Jack was born, and the time he did spend there almost always included his little blonde sidekick. When I arrived to pick her up that afternoon, she was less than pleased to see me. “I haven’t finished working yet,” she complained. “I need to stay.”

  Somewhere along the line, my daughter’s aversion to a hard day’s work had given way to playing the part of barista extraordinaire. I wasn’t sure how Alex occupied her while she was there, but was certain brewing coffee wasn’t in her job description.

  “Pull up a chair,” said Alex. “Bridget hasn’t clocked off yet.”

  I sat at the counter, eye-to-eye with my kid. “What’s the pay like?” I asked, making Alex smile.

  Bridget leaned towards me. “Very bad,” she whispered loudly. “But I get cake sometimes.”

  After a few minutes of banter while he brewed coffee, Alex slid a cup across the counter. Bridget went to work, grabbing a napkin and placing it beside my coffee.

  “Monsieur, une serviette pour vous,” she announced, hamming it up.

  “French waitresses now?” I asked, glancing at Alex. “This place is becoming a really classy joint.”

  “Mamie will like it,” said Bridget.

  “Your parents arrive tomorrow, right?” asked Alex. “Gabi’s looking forward to seeing them.”

  I had to admit that I was too, and it was good to know that if drama took hold, I could send them Gabrielle’s way for a while. “They’re coming in on the four o’clock flight,” I replied. “It’s going to be an interesting few weeks.”

  “I’m sure they’ll adjust.”

  “You’re not supposed to smirk when you say that.”

  Alex laughed. “Come on Boy Wonder, how bad could it be?”

  75. SPECIAL AGENTS

  Charli

  Pipers Cove was never going to be Fiona Décarie’s scene. When we heard their car pull onto the driveway, we stepped out on to the veranda to greet them. Adam’s arm slipped around my waist, and he held Bridget’s hand. Suddenly we were models for a Hallmark card.

  The king and queen weren’t quite so well put together. Jean-Luc looked tired, but still managed to catch Bridget when she broke free of Adam and bolted across the lawn to leap at him. I couldn’t understand the French that passed between them, but could tell the reunion was a happy one.

  Fiona looked like she’d jogged all the way from Hobart. “Oh, darlings,” she cried, arms outstretched as she staggered up the cobbled path in four-inch heels. “Travelling is such an ordeal.”

  “Maybe they ran out of champagne in first class,” I muttered to Adam from the corner of my mouth. “She should try flying on an domestic African airline with caged chickens in the aisle.”

  He tried shushing me, but it got caught in a laugh. He covered by stepping down to greet her. I followed, and it was double cheek kisses all round.

  “This is lovely, darling,” she carolled, looking in every direction.

  She could only have been telling the truth. It was perfect for a royal visit. The day was bright and reasonably warm, and the afternoon sun glinted off the ocean below the cliffs, highlighting the beautiful coastline we called home.

  “You’ll love it here,” I assured her. “It’ll be the perfect break for you.”

  “Are there snakes, Charli?” she asked, looking down at the ground. “Ryan told me there are snakes.”

  “Only little ones,” I replied, making Jean-Luc laugh. “Tiny bites – more annoying than painful.”

  Fiona suddenly looked terrified, and when something hard pinged off the shed behind her, she ducked as if we were under attack.

  Unfortunately we were, and I knew exactly who’d declared war on our visitors. I marched over to the centre of the yard and demanded that The Lost Boys come out of hiding.

  “Right now!” I yelled.

  Too young to know that staying put was the better option, five-year-old Mason appeared first, scrambling out of a bush near the fence. Sean and Tyler took a bit longer, but eventually surrendered.

  “Who’s got the slingshot?” I barked. Sean waved it half-heartedly. “Hand it over.”

  Tyler took it from his brother, opting to take the walk of shame himself. I stayed put and waited for him to reach me.

  “We weren’t trying to hit anyone,” he muttered, dropping the slingshot into my hand. “Honest.”

  “Way to make a good impression, Ty,” I scolded quietly. “Do you know who these people are?” I glanced over my shoulder at them. “French diplomats,” I lied. “You should be protecting them, not waging war.”

  Tyler leaned past to get a closer look. “You’re lying.”

  “I am not.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Mate,” I scoffed with an upward nod, “check out the car. French Secret Service.”

  The Décarie’s decision to opt for a chauffeured car at the airport helped me immensely. Combined with the power of a ten-year-old’s imagination, the black sedan with tinted windows totally looked legitimate. Even better, the driver chose that moment to get out of the car and collect the luggage from the boot. His dark suit was a little on the cheap side, but he wore sunglasses and a surly frown – the perfect look for a French Secret Serviceman.

  Chauffeured cars were a touch of grandeur that Tyler Davis had never been exposed to before. From that point, selling the lie was a breeze.

  “Whoa,” he mumbled, eyes wide.

  I thrust the slingshot back at him. “No more weaponry while they’re here,” I ordered. “They’ve got men all over the place. Hostile acts like that will get you killed.”

  Glancing around in search of hidden agents, he nodded rapidly. “Understood.”

  “Good.”

  “We’ll help protect them too,” he offered.

  “You do that, Ty,” I agreed. “But keep your distance.”

  The Davis boys were mildly annoying and constantly intrusive. I smiled to myself as I walked back to my family. As long as the royals were in town, the miniature warriors next door would be keeping a safe distance.

  ***

  That Christmas was one of the best I ever remembered having. Two families from totally different walks of life managed to gel enough to make a wonderful day.

  It was give and take on both sides. It was fair to assume that Fiona wasn’t being truthful when she described Floss’s vegan Christmas menu as ‘delightfully non-traditional’. And poor Alex looked flummoxed when he unwrapped his gift from the queen.

  “It’s a letter opener,” she explained, noticing his confusion.

  “Oh,” he replied, examining it closely. “I thought it was a dagger. A nice silver dagger.”

  The queen sat on Floss’s big red recliner, gently bouncing Jack on her knee. She looked mortified, but Gabrielle smoothed things over. “He’s joking, tante Fiona,” she explained, giving my father a hard elbow. “He knows what it is.”

  “Of course I do.” Alex grinned at Fiona. “I’ll keep it on my desk … in my shed.”

  Jean-Luc was the first to crack, laughing loud enough to match Floss’s wild guffaw. He’d chilled out a lot in the two weeks since he’d arrived. All it took for him to soften up and pull his son back into the fold was to see the work Adam had abandoned his law career for.

  The first place Adam took him to was the bank building. I’d been slowly getting the gallery back in order, but wasn’t in a hurry to open for business. As a result it probably wasn’t looking its best, but Jean-Luc was in awe. After years of complaining about Adam’s useless hobby, he was now claiming bragging rights. “It’s a fine example of Décarie craftsmanship,” he declared to anyone who’d listen.

  The refurbished boats were just as captivating, p
articularly La Dénouement. It had been dry-docked for as long as we’d owned it, but Jean-Luc demanded that they test it on water. Father and son were the only crew on the maiden voyage, and that was exactly how it was supposed to play out. They’d both felt an unexplainable attachment to the old sloop, and now that it was restored to its former glory, their attachment was to each other and to the memories it reminded them both of.

  I’d had no idea Jean-Luc was an accomplished sailor. On a cloudy morning with very little wind, he successfully manoeuvred the boat out to sea, chasing the light breeze. Fiona and I sat on the beach and watched until it turned and disappeared around the jutting cliffs, and then her interest waned.

  “Take me home, darling,” she said, hooking her arm through mine. “All this sand is ruining my pedicure.”

  ***

  My kid had an uncanny knack for biding her time and picking her moment. It was a talent inherited from me. Picking my moments and my battles was my forte, but the problem I had faced since returning the Cove was that they were one and the same.

  In the two months since we’d been home, I still hadn’t raised the topic of Olivia with my father, which meant I was no longer biding my time – I was procrastinating. Adam never pushed me. The mere mention of Olivia’s name still riled him. In the end Jean-Luc was the one who mentioned it.

  I was on the veranda at the time, enjoying a few minutes of cool night air and peace.

  “Are you in need of an escape, Charli?” He came and stood beside me.

  I leaned both hands on the railing. “Is it that obvious?” I asked. “Whose bright idea was it to get Bridget a piano for Christmas?”

  He chuckled. “It’s a pretend one.”

  The sound that came out of it wasn’t pretend, and I’d had a constant headache since Christmas morning because of it.

  “Treasure plays too, you know.” I grinned. “She’s her support act.”

  Jean-Luc laughed. “That child is my joy.” Perhaps realising his formal vernacular grated on me, he amended his comment with a smile. “Bridget is my joy.”

  In a sense the village was raising Bridget, and I’d realised only lately that it was for the best. Adam constantly bucked against his father’s rigid style of parenting, but even he had to concede that he wasn’t always wrong. We were always going to encourage her whimsical and imaginative side, but she’d recently shown us a new side that needed nurturing too. As dreadful as her ballet experience was, she’d thrived with direction and discipline, just as her grandfather predicted she would.

  In turn, Jean-Luc finally opened his mind enough to realise that ambition and drive wasn’t the be-all and end-all. You have to save some room for bliss, whether it’s bashing away on a toy piano or tearing up boats.

  I looked out at the night sky. “It’s funny how things work out, don’t you think?”

  “Nothing surprises me any more,” he replied.

  Lots of things surprised me, namely the way he went on to thank me for suggesting they make the trip out here. “I feel like I’m back on sturdy ground with my son,” he explained. “You’re responsible for that.”

  My heart nearly burst out of my chest, which wasn’t easy to hide. Somehow, I kept my cool. “You would’ve gotten there in the end.”

  Jean-Luc pulled in a long breath. “A fine dénouement, wouldn’t you say?”

  I glanced across. “Yes, I think so.”

  The king leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing. “Do you still have the book I gave you?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you could read French, you’d see that there is lots of inspiration in there. Plenty of tying of loose ends.”

  I frowned at him. “Are you having a dig at me?” I asked. “If I haven’t learned your language after seven years of knowing your son, it’s safe to say I’m never going to.”

  He laughed. “No, I’m past trying to broaden your mind with language. I’m trying something new.”

  “Well, I’m not getting it. You’ll have to spell it out for me.”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t right. “Give me the definition of dénouement,” he ordered, putting extra French spin on the word.

  “A final act of a book or a play where all loose ends are tied,” I recited. “All puzzle pieces fit together.”

  “Correct,” he announced.

  It only took a second to work out where he was headed. “You’re talking about the Olivia thing, aren’t you?”

  “It troubles me that you haven’t spoken with your father about it,” he replied. “Alex seems like a forthcoming and reasonable man.”

  “He is.”

  “So do it, Charli,” he urged. “Pen your own dénouement.”

  76. THE BOONDOCKS

  Adam

  Despite the glorious cottage garden setting, my mother wasn’t keen on spending any time outside, even when Bridget was with her. “I feel like we’re being watched, darling,” she complained.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the Lost Boys – acting on Charli’s instruction – were carrying out surveillance.

  “It’s the dumb boys in the trees,” yelled Bridget. “I see you, dumb Mason.”

  “No you don’t,” came a muffled reply from the hedge near the fence.

  Bridget’s problem with the littlest Lost Boy dated to her first day back in town. Mason made the mistake of telling her how ugly Treasure was – an unforgivable faux pas in Bridget’s book.

  My mother glared at me, alarmed by the notion of boys spying from the trees. “What on earth is going on?”

  I grinned. “Welcome to the boondocks, Ma.”

  ***

  As if being under surveillance wasn’t strange enough, Charli was in a weird mood too. She’d been fidgety and restless all day, and couldn’t settle when we went to bed that night. I asked her a hundred times what the problem was, and her answer never changed.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  I slipped my hand underneath her thin top. “I could calm you down,” I offered.

  “Oh nice plan, Adam,” she replied, pushing my hand away. “I’d love to get it on while your parents are in the next room.”

  My laugh bounced off the skin of her shoulder. “We made a baby in their bathroom while they were in the next room,” I reminded her.

  Even in the darkness, I saw her smile. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “It’s exactly the same thing.”

  Her hand moved to my face. “I’m glad you sorted out your differences with your dad,” she whispered.

  I kissed her. “Me too, but I don’t want to talk about my dad.”

  “How about my dad? Can we talk about him?”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  Her explanation was short, but a long time coming. “I’m going to see him tomorrow,” she replied. “I’m going to tell Alex about Olivia.”

  I kissed her again, more out of support than anything. “I think it’s time,” I told her. “And I think it’ll give you the closure you need.”

  “What if he tells me something that ruins everything?” Her voice was barely there. “I couldn’t stand it.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to allay her fears, and everything I came up with would’ve sounded untrue. Charli pressed her cheek to my chest as I pulled her in closer. “Whatever will be, will be, Charlotte,” I whispered.

  77. STARS

  Charli

  Gabrielle had no plans to return to teaching, but she couldn’t completely let go of her schoolmarm tendencies. When Jack was a few months old, she returned to giving weekly art classes in the town hall. I knew she wouldn’t be home when I arrived at the house, which was a prime example of me picking my moment.

  I didn’t have Alex’s complete attention. When I walked into the kitchen, he was deep in conversation with my brother and tinkering with engine parts on the table. Jack was in his swing beside him, looking laidback and carefree as always.

  “You have to pull out the float pin,” he told him. “Need
le nose pliers work best.”

  “Gabi would skin you alive if she saw you working on car parts in the house.”

  Alex jumped at the sound of my voice. Jack did not.

  He pulled a face at me. “It’s off the lawnmower, so it doesn’t count.”

  I walked to Jack and kissed his little head. In return, he grabbed a clump of my hair and refused to let go. “Ow. Help me,” I pleaded.

  Alex was no help. “Just give his hair a pull,” he advised unsympathetically. “He’s got enough of it.”

  Something about my laugh amused Jack. He let out the cutest little chuckle I’d ever heard, which only ended once I managed to free myself. Sensing tears were on the way, I handed him a rattly toy.

  “Dad, I was hoping we could talk for a minute,” I said, pulling out a chair.

  He smiled across at me. “We can talk for hours if you want to.”

  I was hoping it wouldn’t take that long. I wanted the story of Olivia to be short and painless, but that was never going to happen because I also wanted every last detail. I must’ve looked troubled because of it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure where to begin so I dug into my pocket and dragged out something I hoped would make him start the conversation. I set the ugly locket down on the table and pushed it toward him.

  Alex wiped his hands on a rag and then picked it up. “What’s this?”

  I studied his face, seeing no hint of anything other than bewilderment. He had no clue what he was looking at.

  “You haven’t seen it before?” I asked in a small voice.

  He slid it back to me. “Never.”

  In my heart of hearts, I had known it was a lie. Alex would never have gifted something so gaudy and cheap – even to Olivia. I had one last thing to show him. I passed him the wooden box.