Katia's Promise

by Catherine Lanigan

  “He didn’t schedule a time. It’s not a formal visit.”

  “Oh?” She shot Katia a curious glance over the top of her glasses. “He didn’t tell me, either.”

  “I’m an old friend.”

  “I’m Midge,” the receptionist said, reaching for the telephone. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” Midge rang Austin’s office, but there was no answer. She hung up and checked the clock hanging on the paneled wall behind her. “I know where he is. Follow me.”

  Midge rose slowly from her chair and went to a door marked Employees Only.

  Katia remembered that this door led to the management and billing offices, but she was surprised to see that the hallway of offices was gone. They were standing in the middle of an open area with a concrete floor, high ceilings, a metal roof and metal walls. To the right were three double-wide garage doors, two of which were open. A pickup truck was parked just inside one door, and another car was up on a lift. To Katia’s left were shelves filled with motor oil, solvents, auto paint, antifreeze and mechanics’ tools. Under the car on the lift, two men were discussing a problem with the catalytic converter, a connecting pipe and the need for a new muffler. Two legs and part of a mechanics’ dolly stuck out from under the pickup.

  Katia may have been standing in a garage, but she knew this space was something else. It was one of Austin’s childhood dreams.

  “Mr. McCreary,” Midge shouted over the din of air tools and male conversations.

  “Yeah?” came Austin’s voice. “Darn!” he yelped.

  “You okay, Austin?” one of the men under the raised car answered back.

  “Fine, fine. I just dropped the screw I was using. I’ll find it.”

  Midge put her hand on her hip. “Visitor to see you, Mr. McCreary.”

  “Tell them I’m busy,” Austin answered.

  Midge started to reply, but Katia grabbed her arm and put her finger to her lips. Midge smiled knowingly and nodded, apparently quite pleased to be included in Katia’s game. Katia walked over to the car, her high heels clicking on the concrete. The tap-tap-tap was distinct enough to be heard above the tools and laughter. The men grew silent and turned toward Katia.

  She stopped at Austin’s car, scrunched down on her heels and peered under the car. “Hi, Austin.”

  His face was smeared with black grease, but even in the dim light his blue eyes shone out at her like two bright beams. A work light glowed around his head like a halo. Had he been this handsome yesterday?

  “You’re here,” he said, his tone a mix of disbelief and delight.

  “I am.” The garage felt eerily silent. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No.” He smiled, but didn’t make a move to come out from under the car.

  “You like it under there, do you?”

  “You, of all people, should know that I do.”

  She crooked her neck to the left. “I see that. But it would be easier for me if we continued our conversation in a more, um, upright position.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Immediately, Austin wheeled himself out from under the car and stood up.

  His hair was messy and his clothes were filthy, yet seeing him still made her heart trip. His eyes held a wariness that she should have expected, though she had hoped he would have shown a hint of excitement at seeing her. She’d hoped for too much. He wiped his hands on his overalls, then looked at them. “I guess I should clean up before I show you around.”

  “Brilliant,” she said as he reached for her arm, which she jerked away from him. Austin grinned and quickly turned to the two men under the lift. “Pete, can you finish this up for me? I’ll be a while and I promised Tom he’d have the car by end of day.”

  “Sure, Austin,” replied the taller of the two men, who wore a Cubs baseball cap. “Tom told me to thank you. His wife is very appreciative, as well.”

  Austin picked up a rag and wiped his greasy hands again. “Pete, you know I empathize with him. Tough break. It’s the least I can do.”

  Austin began to lead Katia back toward the door to reception.

  “What kind of tough break did Tom have?” she asked him.

  “Oh, his wife just got laid off from the book-binding company, but they just bought a new house because she’s pregnant.”

  “What kind of job did she have?” Katia asked.

  “Executive secretary, I think. She was the boss’s right hand. But some ax-man from corporate came down, and she was one of the ones to go.”

  Katia stopped in her tracks. “Really? Just a minute.”

  Katia ran back across the garage to the lift where Pete was still working. She pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse and jotted down her number.

  “You don’t know me,” she said, handing the paper to Pete, “but my name is Katia Stanislaus and I’m a friend of Mr. McCreary’s. He told me about Tom’s wife. My company just moved to Indian Lake, and I need an assistant. Could you give her my number? Maybe we can work something out.”

  “Sure, I’ll do it right away.”

  She thanked him and rejoined Austin. He looked at her quizzically. “What was that all about? Fraternizing with my staff already?”

  “Just a thought I had. I’ll let you know if it works out.”

  He glanced down at his dirty overalls. “I’d better change.”

  Austin took her through another doorway into his private office, which had an en suite bathroom.

  “I won’t be long,” he told her. “You can wait in here.” He headed into the bathroom and shut the door.

  This office had once been Daniel’s domain, but the old paneling had been replaced with gray-blue paint, and all the molding was now glossy white, giving the room a fresh and airy feel. Charcoal industrial carpet covered the floor. Daniel’s old walnut desk sat in the middle of the room, and a wide window faced the street. The two wing chairs opposite the desk had once sat in the library in Austin’s home. Photographs of the McCrearys’ antique cars and of Austin playing tennis decorated the walls. In many of the pictures, he was holding a trophy.

  “You like those?” Austin asked.

  Katia had had her back to him as he entered the room, and his voice startled her. She turned around to face him.

  “That’s pretty impressive, Austin. I’m really happy that you decided to keep playing tennis.”

  “Thanks to you,” he said quietly.

  “What have I got to do with any of that?” She gestured at the trophy photos.

  “You were the only person in my life who encouraged me to keep pushing myself with tennis. Who knows what limits I might have reached if I’d listened to you earlier or defied my mother or both.”

  “You were really good, Austin. Really good.”

  “I still am.” He smiled, tilting his head. He came around to the side of his desk. “That’s not why you’re here, though. Would you like to see the changes I’ve made at the plant?”

  “You ripped out the offices, I saw. Don’t you still need them?”

  “I moved the offices to the new addition. We also added four new docking bays and loading areas. It’s great—the break room is gigantic, and I put in vending machines.”

  “And you built yourself a playroom,” Katia teased. Funny, how his smile made her heart light up. As a child, Austin had been morose most of the time. And lonely. She’d been the one to break through his self-imposed prison back then. Could she do it again?

  “Yes, I built the garage for myself, but I also did it for the guys who work for me,” Austin said. “When they have car trouble, I fix their cars free of charge. They pay wholesale for the parts we need, but I do the work or teach them how to fix the problems themselves. Saves them some money.”

  Katia scrutinized him. When had he become so generous? Not that he’d been unkind to people before... But when she had stood outside the school with a car wash poster to raise money for the new gymnasium, Austin had been playing tennis. When she’d helped her mother at the St. Mark’s pancake breakfasts, she’d served Au
stin. Her view of the adult Austin was changing faster than the twist of a kaleidoscope. This Austin felt responsible for his employees. She valued that in her clients.

  “Sounds as though you care about your people a great deal,” she said.

  “I suppose I do.”

  “Austin, I have to ask. Have you adequately insured the plant here? Covered all your bases, including personal injury coverage for accidents on the job?”

  His smile dimmed. “I believe so...”

  Her spine straightened as she readied herself for her pitch. “I was also thinking that with your new museum, you’re going to need an extensive insurance package for construction, liability and future employees. I’d like to put something together for you to look at.”

  Her mouth went dry. He was staring at her with a gaze so steady and hard, it could shatter glass.

  “You’d like to put something together.”

  She was finding it hard to catch her breath. She refused to think about the possibility of a panic attack. Not here. Not with Austin.

  She tried to force her voice to be light. “I’m very good at my job, Austin. I’d like to dazzle you with my expertise. If you’d let me.”

  He inhaled and held it. Katia remembered this move. He only did that when he was really angry and trying to control an outburst. His cheeks weren’t flaming red as they used to get when he was young. Maybe he’d conquered that one.

  “I haven’t gotten that far,” he replied, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

  She felt the distance between them growing. She was familiar with the cues executives gave to signal the end of a meeting. That was what this was. He was giving her the brush-off.

  “Well, think about it,” she said. “I’ve got another meeting in twenty minutes downtown. Can I call you?”

  “Sure.” His phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID. “Later,” he said, then answered his call.

  Katia turned and headed for the door. Her meeting couldn’t have gone worse if she’d purposefully scripted her failure.

  CHAPTER TEN

  INDIAN-SUMMER AFTERNOONS in Indian Lake were as beautiful as a poet’s dream. Sun gilded the trees and warm, dry breezes blew through town, rustling leaves that would soon cover the roads and sidewalks. The stores were already decorated for Halloween, and in many shop windows banners announced the Indian Lake High School Homecoming football game and dance.

  Austin drove his ’89 Corvette convertible down Main Street toward Maple Avenue. He stopped at a red light and glanced at the county courthouse clock tower. Then he looked to the left. On the upper floor of the vacant loft he saw Carter and Associates painted in gold.

  He shook his head. What idiot thought of that sign? It doesn’t even say what Carter and his associates do.

  The light changed, and Austin turned left. His eyes slid over to his side-view mirror and he saw the word Insurance on the loft’s other window and a phone number glinting in gold letters in the setting sun’s light. “I take it back. Clever,” he grumbled, continuing down Maple Avenue.

  Austin loved Maple Avenue in the fall. Gone were Ann Marie Jensen’s beloved spring tulips and daffodils, but in their place were black-eyed Susans and intriguing grasses that waved in the wind when he passed, making him smile. Few people other than Ann Marie, who’d died a few years ago, knew that he had helped fund nearly all of her horticultural projects. In fact, she was the one person he’d never in his life said no to.

  Ann Marie would bake him something sweet, gooey and delicious, and after she’d delivered her “bribe,” she would ask for money for one beautification project or another. Sometimes the project was a person, like Lester MacDougal. Lester had walked all the way from Kentucky to escape a violent and brutal father. He’d stopped in Indian Lake when he had seen Ann Marie planting her spring bulbs along Maple Avenue. At Ann Marie’s bidding, Austin, Sarah Jensen and Maddie Strong had pitched in to help him, and now Lester operated a fairly successful landscaping business. During the winter and whenever Lester needed a bit of extra cash, Austin hired him to detail his cars.

  Austin never regretted fulfilling any of Ann Marie’s requests. He wished she was still alive so that he could talk to her like he used to after his own mother died. Ann Marie had become both a friend and a maternal figure for him. They’d kept their friendship a secret from most of the town. Daisy knew about Ann Marie’s visits, but that was all.

  Although he’d sworn Daisy to secrecy about all his private matters, she had told him long ago that she was a “practical” woman and that she knew “which side of the slice her bread was buttered.” As long as she had her job, she’d keep her mouth shut. After that, he shuddered to think about what would happen. This “practical” understanding would keep Daisy employed until her death, most likely. Not that Austin had any great secrets. He simply didn’t like nosy neighbors.

  Austin approached Ann Marie’s old house, which Sarah owned and lived in with her new husband, Luke, and his two children. Austin supposed he should be more of a neighbor himself and send them a card or flowers or something. He wasn’t quite sure what the etiquette was in this situation.

  Mrs. Beabots’s house was next door, and in the driveway was a silver Honda with an Illinois license plate. It was the car that Katia had rented for her move to Indian Lake.

  As he drove past the house, his thoughts were conflicted. He’d been angered and surprisingly hurt when Katia brought up the subject of selling him insurance. The idea that she wanted him only as a client, another dollar in her pocket, goaded him. He felt used and dismissed; it reminded him of the seemingly friendly people he’d met at a tennis club in Indianapolis during his tournament days, who didn’t support the sport at all and only wanted to sign him up for their pyramid schemes. Austin also felt a bit foolish. Apparently, Katia had returned to Indian Lake for her business. He’d wanted to be the one and only reason she would come back. What an arrogant idiot he was.

  Austin stepped on the gas and sped toward his house. He went down to the end of the boulevard where there was a break, turned left and cruised up the half block to his house. He drove up the drive and into the second carriage house, where he always parked the Corvette.

  He got out of the car, admiring the 1965 Aston Martin parked next to it. His father had bought the Aston from a collector in Scottsdale the year before he died. Austin seldom looked at the car without thinking fondly of his father.

  From a long ceiling beam, Austin had hung several used parachutes he’d bought out at the skydiving school at the Indian Lake Airport. The parachute material was light and didn’t scratch the cars, and they served as the perfect dust covers for his prized automobiles.

  He billowed a parachute around the Aston Martin and another one around the Corvette. Austin had intended to replace a taillight in the Aston Martin that morning, but he’d taken a longer swim than he’d intended. There were only a few more days left of this glorious weather, and soon it would be time to drain the pool and winterize it.

  Austin went into the house through the back door. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and cloves, and Daisy was pulling a baked chicken out of the oven.

  “Are you in for the night?” he asked her. “Can I put the alarm on?”

  “Yes!” she said.

  Austin punched out his security code and walked over to Daisy. “What smells so good, besides the chicken?” he asked.

  Daisy harrumphed. “Not pumpkin pie, if that’s what you mean. But close. Baked butternut squash.”

  He hooked his navy sweater over his arm. “Aw. I was hoping...”

  Daisy swatted at him. “You and your sweets. I’m saving you from diabetes. Your mail is on your desk. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. And Mr. Nate called. He wants you to call him back.”

  “Thanks,” Austin replied as Daisy took a large casserole out of the oven. She lifted the lid. The mashed squash was covered with marshmallows. He grinned. “You do love me after all.”

  Daisy frowned and shooed him away. “The rec
ipe called for it. I was just following orders.” She turned away and smiled to herself.

  Austin went into his office, picked up his mail and flipped through it. After the usual utility bills, he found a letter from the Indian Lake County Council. He assumed it was a thank-you letter for the luncheon and his announcement about the museum. And he was right...until he got to the last paragraph.

  As you move forward, Mr. McCreary, we will also need proof of your insurance for the building and the liability umbrella insurance for the workers on site. Later, you will need to provide proof of liability insurance for visitors, maintenance workers, your employees and all volunteers on the premises.

  He put the letter down, then sat in his chair. Drumming his fingers on the desk, he went over every detail of his architectural meetings with Chase. They’d secured their building permits and plumbing permits. Parking-area specs were exact. They must have placed nearly a hundred building material orders already. He had insurance on the cars...

  Austin shoved his fingers in his hair and groaned. Daisy appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t believe I forgot something.”

  Daisy smiled perceptively. “I do that all the time.”

  “Well, I don’t,” he replied with a worried frown.

  “Wanna bet?”

  * * *

  AUSTIN FINISHED THE last of his dinner and was pouring himself a glass of Madeira port when the telephone rang. Daisy was cleaning dishes in the kitchen, so he went to the library and picked up the phone.

  “Austin,” Katia said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your dinner again.”

  “I just finished.”

  “I—I bet it was good. Daisy is a very good cook.”

  “She is.” He sipped his port.

  “I just made scallops and linguine for Mrs. Beabots and myself...” She laughed awkwardly.

  “Katia,” he said, pausing to look at the clock on the mantel. It was almost seven-thirty. “I’m going to take a wild guess that you didn’t call to talk to me about recipes.”