Glittering Promises

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “No, Mr. Kensington!” Andrew said. He came around the desk and stood near us. “You can’t be serious. There’s giving a horse a little rope, and then there’s giving her the whole field…”

  “I am hardly a horse,” I said, turning to face him.

  “You are a wild and untamed filly,” he bit back, staring down at me, “with no sense of a bit and reins. If we don’t teach you what it means—”

  “That’s enough, Andrew!” Mr. Morgan cried.

  “She will lose it all!” Andrew shouted, lifting his hands to his father, then mine. “This mine…” He shook his head and then ran his fingers through his hair. He turned to my father. “I don’t know what you’re doing here. If you are so desperate to forge a bond with this girl”—he jabbed a hand toward me—“so desperate to make her beholden to you that you’d risk earnings that would help your other children in the future…”

  My father’s face became bright red, his eyes even more blue against the ruddiness of his skin. “That is enough,” he said with such vehemence that the last word became a shout. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. This mine is only going to bring income because my daughter was raised on its doorstep. It has nothing to do with my other children.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Andrew persisted. “Isn’t this your mad attempt to level the playing field? To give your precious Cora an inheritance of her own? An inheritance that would rightfully be split with Vivian, Felix, and Lillian?”

  “No,” my father said, shaking his head. “They have more than enough with their inheritance that I will leave them through Kensington & Morgan Enterprises.”

  “But what of your forty-nine percent?” Andrew yelled. “Are those not funds that will filter into K & M? Into Montana Copper? And is she not risking those funds? Quit thinking like a forlorn father and start thinking like the businessman I’ve always known you to be!”

  “Andrew!” Mr. Morgan shouted.

  My father was so angry that he couldn’t seem to form words for a long moment. Then he settled on two: “Get. Out.”

  Andrew stormed out, then. A moment later, we heard the front door of the apartments slam shut.

  The four of us—me, my father, Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Grunthall—stood in silence a moment.

  “Forgive him,” Mr. Morgan said tiredly, rubbing his forehead. “I fear he’s been taxed of late, between these…changes, and his inability to, uh, come to an…understanding with Vivian.” He met my gaze. “He’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He seems to loathe me.”

  “Loathe?” Mr. Morgan said, blinking. “That’s a strong word…” But he didn’t offer an alternative.

  “I think it’s enough for today,” my father said, the fury all gone now, only a weary countenance in its place. “Let us reconvene tomorrow after breakfast.”

  I walked out, feeling stung and worn out and wondering if I was in the right place at all. Everything in me longed to be with Will, with my siblings, out on the trail, exploring, laughing, having fun. Instead, I was in here, at an impasse with men I wasn’t certain I wanted to spend my days with.

  After making it to my room, I stood by the window and looked outward until, gradually, my heart settled into a normal rhythm even if my head had begun another daily thrum of complaint. Is this what You want from me, Lord? Is this the right path?

  Words from the basilica in Venice returned to me again. Wait and trust.

  But what exactly was I waiting for?

  CHAPTER 9

  By the time the others returned the next day, I was desperate to see them…and even more desperate to be away from Andrew. We’d spent a tense morning in negotiation, cooped up inside the sweltering apartment, and then after lunch, Mr. Grunthall interviewed me again, apparently so he could continue writing his own stories. Apparently, my father and I would review every story before it was sent out to the San Francisco Chronicle, which was then going to syndicate the articles to other papers. So far, the two I’d seen were fairly mundane accounts of our travels—exactly what Mr. Grunthall and my father wanted. Essentially, they were trying to throw flour on a grease fire, and apparently the world was hungry enough for word of our whereabouts and progress that they were willing to take whatever was sent to them. Grunthall, of course, was careful to only send a story about our stay in a specific location after we departed that locale, and in this way, we stayed ahead of those who sought us out.

  When I finally heard the travelers return, I rushed down the stairs and fairly threw myself into Will’s arms. He laughed and hugged me in surprise, casting an embarrassed look around at the group.

  “Cora!” Viv chided me.

  “Aw, let her be,” Felix said, giving me a brotherly smile and then winking at Will.

  “I’ve missed you dreadfully,” I said, looking about at the group. “All of you.”

  “We missed you too,” Lil said, looping her arm through mine. “Wait until we tell you of the young men we saw,” she whispered, giggling with Nell.

  “The only young men you need to pay attention to are your brothers,” Felix said, mock-sternly. The girls twittered a giggle again and moved off to change.

  Will took my hand and led me through some French doors to a small balcony. “Are you all right?”

  “What? Oh, yes. I’m fine, fine. It’s only that…” I paused, suddenly feeling shy.

  He bent his head, trying to get a good look at my face. “Only what? Was it as bad as all that?”

  “Worse.”

  He wrapped me in his arms and held me close. “I’m sorry. Surely it will get better in time.”

  “I don’t know. Andrew is simply awful,” I whispered.

  “He’s only defending his territory. You keep defending yours.” He kissed my head, and again, I was so glad that he was back. The rest, too. It would alleviate some of the tension, being in their company again.

  “Will, do you think we might slip away for a walk together?”

  “I’d love that,” he said. “Let me change my coat, and I’ll meet you in five minutes, all right?”

  I nodded, and we kissed and parted. But soon, I hurried up the stairs too, knowing that this was the moment I had been waiting for. The perfect opportunity to give him his gift. In my room, I went to the bureau and opened the top drawer, sliding out the wooden box. I opened the lid and smiled over the gold watch. He was going to love it. What a joy it was to be able to give something so nice to the man I loved…

  I slipped on my hat, pinning it with three long pins, and placed the box in a drawstring purse, then left the room. Will was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and offered his arm with a grin. Hearing voices approach, we quickly scurried out of the foyer and through the front door, closing it quietly behind us. Both of us were more than eager for a little time alone, and wished to slip out unseen in order to avoid a chaperone’s company.

  “I know just where to go,” Will said, leading me down the street. “There’s a place my uncle took me once, not far from here.”

  “Wonderful. Lead on.”

  Along the way, Will told me of their hike and the people they met, of the beautiful vistas, and of a fish fry for dinner down by the sea the night before. It all sounded so much more idyllic than my last two days, it practically made me cry that I had missed it. But such were the sacrifices I might need to make if I were to take on the mantle of responsibility my father had offered me.

  Soon enough, we had turned the corner, and I saw where Will was taking me. We went down between two tall buildings to the very end of the street, which was capped by a waist-hall wall. I leaned against it and over it, looking down the cliff face to the sea waves crashing against the rocks two hundred feet below. The sun was sinking in the distance, and the wind blew against my hat. I unpinned the hat and removed it, worried I might lose it, while Will looked up the quiet alleyway and then wrapped his arms around me from the back.

  “Mmm,” I said happily. “This reminds me of Carcassonne.”
/>   “Me too.”

  I turned in his arms. “I have a present for you,” I said.

  “You do?”

  I nodded and slipped my purse strings from my elbow and opened it. “Will, I’m so happy to be with you. And I wanted to get you something special. When I saw this, I knew you had to have it.”

  He moved his head backward, as if he was both surprised and a little displeased, but he reached for the box and carefully opened the lid. His lips parted in surprise, and I grinned as he lifted the watch from its bed of velvet. But then he was frowning. “Cora, I can’t take this. It’s far too expensive.”

  “But you have to accept it!” I said. “I bought it for you! I can’t take it back to the watchmaker…it’s miles behind us now.”

  He looked at me in misery. “But I haven’t given you a thing. It’s not proper!”

  “I don’t want anything,” I said, confused, taking his hand as he stepped a few inches away. “I have everything I need in you.”

  He looked to the sea and then back to me, and so much was going on behind his handsome light-blue eyes, it frightened me. Was he having second thoughts? About us? “Don’t you see?” he asked, squeezing my hand. “This is what I fear most. You buying me gifts. And me, the pauper beau, unable to reciprocate. What will that look like to others?”

  “To others?” I repeated, pulling him closer. “I thought we didn’t care what others thought.”

  “Oh, Cora,” he said, pulling away. “We all care, despite what we say. Don’t we?”

  “This is ridiculous! So I am to never buy you a present? Throughout our courtship?”

  “No. I didn’t say that. But this watch…” He held it up, and it glinted a warm, burnished gold in the evening sun. “It’s an extravagance, Cora.”

  I shifted, uncomfortable. I’d known it was too much at the time. Why hadn’t I listened to that note of caution in my heart? And all at once, I was thinking about the pearl necklace, the one Father had sent to me for my sixteenth birthday, as he had given Viv and Lil on theirs. But were such gifts the way toward true relationship? I shook my head—confused, embarrassed, frustrated, hurt, angry, all in quick succession. “Keep it or not. I don’t care.” With that, I shoved off, walking swiftly up the street.

  “Cora!” he called, and I ignored him, continuing on. “Cora,” he said again a moment later when he’d caught up. He took my arm and forced me to a stop. “Can we talk about this?”

  “What, Will? Apparently I made an error of judgment. I purchased the man I love a gift. And that was clearly wrong.” I hated what I was saying, how I was saying it, but couldn’t seem to stop myself. I hurried off again.

  He caught up with me again. “Look, it’s not that I object to the gift. It’s that I can’t reciprocate. Is it too much to ask that we keep presents small? Trinkets, until…I don’t know,” he said, running an agitated hand through his hair. “For the foreseeable future?”

  We were at the corner, and I paused to allow a curious couple to pass us. “Yes. I’m sorry I gave it to you, truly.”

  He stared at me in misery. “Please, Cora. Don’t be like this.”

  “Like what? Generous? Loving? You’re the one who is practically throwing my gift back in my lap. I didn’t know it would offend you. Why do we have to reciprocate at all? Why can’t I give a gift without expecting anything in return? And why do you think I expect it? I don’t!”

  “It’s not proper,” he resorted to saying. “It’s a man’s place to give a girl a gift, not the other way around.”

  I sighed and tried to gather myself. “What if this is the only gift I give you—for say…a year?”

  He gave me a tentative smile and took my hand. “So…you anticipate being together for a year or more?”

  I squeezed his hand hard and gave him a look of displeasure. “Now who is behaving ungentlemanly? What sort of question is that?”

  His smile grew, and my tension eased a little, even though I was irked with him. “That was ungentlemanly of me,” he admitted, holding on to my hand and covering it with his other. “Here is my proposal. You make the watch your only gift to me for two years, and I’ll accept it.”

  Two years. I smiled. “Deal.”

  He kissed my hand and tucked it through the crook of his arm, and we walked back to the apartments. But even as we settled into some semblance of a conversation, my stomach turned. Because something was now off between us. Just a little skewed. And I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.

  William

  They left the Cinque Terre and journeyed southward for a time, settling into sleepy Siena rather than the crowded Florence. The group traveled into Florence for the day, hoping to get in and out before they were recognized by any journalists or other American tourists, as they had done in Pisa and Lucca. That morning, they were touring the Uffizi in smaller groups—in an effort to attract less attention—gazing in rapt fascination at Botticelli’s massive Birth of Venus painting. Time and time again, it surprised Will, seeing the famous works of art in Italy in person. But as they stood there, admiring the painting of a lovely naked woman arising from a clamshell, Hugh Morgan came up behind Cora and whispered loudly, “Well, you all have found far more intriguing artwork than we have today.”

  “Really, Hugh,” Cora said. “Must you always try and insert the devil in every tranquil scene?”

  “Yes, must you?” asked his little sister, fanning her round face. “And why aren’t you with your group?”

  Hugh shrugged. “A man needs a little fun, Nell. Look,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and around the room, “I realize it’s a gift to see such famous works of art. But I have to say, if I never saw one more oil painting, it would suit me just fine. My head simply cannot take in any more facts of artistic methods or dates or titles. Can we not find a more entertaining method of learning about Firenze?” he asked Will. “Preferably something involving wine and women?”

  “Much as I hate to admit it, I, too, seem about saturated,” Cora said, giving Will an apologetic look. The younger girls bobbed their heads.

  Will understood their weariness; by this time on the tour, almost everyone resisted seeing one more art museum or church, as they’d already seen so many. “Regardless of your weariness, Hugh, you’d best return to your group. You’ll send Antonio into fits if he discovers you’ve disappeared.”

  “Not at all,” Hugh said with a dismissive wave. “Antonio’s in the next room. About to enter…now.”

  Will shook his head and heaved a sigh, then waved Antonio over as the other group did indeed appear. “I’ve changed my mind,” Will announced to the reunited group. “I’ll give you the short course of the Uffizi, then take you to see something rather more interesting…something few tourists can see. If I can manage a visit with no notice, of course.”

  “Well, that sounds intriguing,” Vivian said, her eyes alight. But she wore a certain worry in the depths of her eyes. He wondered how she and Andrew were faring. Would she ever have the courage to break off her courtship with the man, once and for all?

  “It is,” he said, cocking one brow and nodding. “So, onward. I wouldn’t be any sort of tour guide if you didn’t at least see a fair number of Lippi, Titian, and Caravaggio paintings, as well as a few da Vincis and Michelangelos. Then we’ll separate again outside and get some lunch, meet at the campanile, and I’ll take you someplace special.”

  Antonio gave him a long look, questions in his eyes.

  “I thought we’d stop by Signore Feliza’s,” Will said quietly. “See if he might grant us access to the warehouse.”

  Antonio’s bushy black-and-grey brows shot up on his wide, wrinkled forehead. “You think it’s possible? It’s been years. Last time your uncle tried, he refused us.”

  “But he felt bad about that and now probably feels he owes Uncle Stuart a favor. I think I’ll collect on it, since Stuart shan’t be seeking to do so.”

  Antonio half turned to the group. “If your bear succeeds, you are in for a trea
t. A treat indeed.”

  “My man is most resourceful,” Cora said, looping her arm through his and placing her other hand on it too. “I have every confidence he’ll succeed.”

  Will blushed at her use of “my man,” partially liking her claim but chafing over it too. Was he her man? Or was she his woman? Or both? He shook his head. You’re being foolish. Prideful. Move on, man.

  He loved her. And if he could afford a ring, he’d propose to her that very day. If she wore his ring, if he knew they were promised to each other, would that ease some of his agitation? He pondered that as they left the Uffizi, walking down the street and opting for a brief picnic of bread and cheese on the steps of the church and baptistery. It reminded Will of another place he wanted to take Cora. He lifted his head and checked the sun. It might be perfectly timed, if he was figuring right.

  After eating, they moved back into the stream of crowds, passing vendors who sold leather goods and pottery, and crossed over the cobblestone streets to the Accademia dell’Arte. “Inside is the David,” Will said to Cora, “which I definitely want you to see. But today I want you all to see something I like even better.”

  Cora

  We passed the front entrance of the Accademia and moved around to the back of the big building, pausing at what appeared to be an entrance to a storehouse behind it. Will cast an anxious eye to the throngs of people heading to the famous museum that held David and rapped on the door around the corner. After a minute, a short, older man with a bulbous nose opened it, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Chi è?” he asked in irritation, squinting into the sun.

  Then recognition softened his expression, and his face split into a wide grin. “William!” he said, lifting his arms out and offering his face for the common Italian greeting of a kiss to one cheek, then the other. The man I assumed was Signore Feliza squeezed Will’s arms and then patted them, speaking rapidly in Italian. He cast an admiring glance over Will’s charges, and then his eyes landed on me.

  “Bellissima! Chi è questa ragazza?”

  I didn’t know what he said, but his expression and tone seemed directed at me, so I smiled at the man, who was about my height. He patted his chest as if my smile alone gave him heart palpitations and elbowed Will knowingly, chattering on.