Katia's Promise

by Catherine Lanigan

  Austin’s smile was thin. “I’m sure he was a great guy. And I’m sure there’s truth behind the family history I was given, too.”

  “I’m sure there is, Austin,” Katia agreed. “Maybe up in those old trunks in the attic you might find the documentation you need. I can’t believe Hanna would ever have thrown away anything that important.”

  Austin released Mrs. Beabots’s hand and glanced at Katia. “I think I should help you get to those dishes.”

  She could plainly see that his mind was miles away and a century back in time. “Forget the dishes. I can handle them myself. You have work to do, right?”

  “Yes, I do,” he replied, taking her hint. “Thank you for a delicious meal and a wonderful holiday, Mrs. Beabots.”

  “You’re most welcome, Austin.”

  He turned to Katia. “Thanks. I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

  Katia walked him to the door. Just as he stepped outside, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve just been told that my family history is a hoax. My museum is a theater of pure foolishness, and the dream I’ve held my entire adult life is now some kind of cosmic joke. No, Katia. I’m not all right, and I would ask that you keep all of this under the heading of ‘client privilege.’”

  “I’m not going to gossip about you, Austin.”

  “Great. That will make one person in Indian Lake.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her. “I’m your friend, Austin. Not your enemy. When are you going to realize that?”

  “Really? I thought you were my insurance agent.”

  He pulled his arm back and rushed down the steps to his car.

  In the blink of an eye, Austin had sped away into the night shadows.

  * * *

  KATIA FINISHED THE dishes, dried the pots and pans and put away the crystal. She brewed a fresh cup of tea for Mrs. Beabots, who was dozing in the tufted Victorian chair in the front parlor.

  “I made you some tea,” Katia whispered, wondering if she should wake her friend.

  Mrs. Beabots opened her eyes. “I feel just terrible,” she announced with a frown.

  Katia was worried about Austin, but her heart was filled with just as much empathy for Mrs. Beabots, who had stumbled into a hornets’ nest of generations’ old tales and legends. None of this mess was her fault, and the worst part was that Mrs. Beabots had thought she’d won back Austin’s friendship.

  “What can I get you? What can I do?” Katia asked.

  Mrs. Beabots gestured for Katia to sit next to her. “It’s just heartsickness. I feel awful about what I said to Austin. I have always made it a habit not to meddle into other people’s lives. Goodness knows that I had plenty of people telling me what to do when I was young. I wouldn’t have hurt Austin’s feelings for the world.” She rested her cheek against her palm and stared up at Katia.

  “You can’t blame yourself. You were simply sharing your story. You had no idea that he’s been living under false pretenses all these years,” Katia said heavily.

  Mrs. Beabots slapped her thigh. “I’m ashamed of Hanna and Daniel for these...myths they’ve filled Austin’s head with.”

  “What if it wasn’t their fault, either?”

  “What do you mean, Katia?”

  “I lived in that house most of my childhood. Neither of them ever impressed me as duplicitous. What if the source of the problem goes all the way back to Austin’s great-grandfather? Perhaps he created these stories to aggrandize himself in the eyes of the townspeople. When he came to Indian Lake, initially, after the Duesenberg plant shut down in 1937, he wasn’t rich. I heard Daniel tell Austin that several times. Austin’s great-grandfather, Ambrose, established the family business with his son, David, who was only about fifteen then.”

  “I see your point. The real truth is probably long buried with the past.”

  Katia nodded solemnly and looked down at her hands. “Austin has spent his whole life revering the past. He’s come to believe all of his ancestors were better, smarter, more creative, more influential than he is. He doesn’t understand his own worth.”

  Mrs. Beabots leaned forward and touched Katia’s arm. “I have always believed that everything in this life happens for a reason. Even when we don’t understand that reason at the exact moment we’re seeking answers, we will understand eventually. I believe you came back to Indian Lake to save more than your boss’s company, Katia. I believe there is a young man out there who has been floundering a bit too long. Mostly, I believe that we all have to save ourselves, but sometimes we can do that by helping others.”

  “You think I should go see Austin?”

  “I do. And the sooner the better. He was very upset when he left.”

  Katia rose, leaned down and kissed Mrs. Beabots’s forehead. “I know just where to find him.”

  * * *

  A GENTLE SNOW had begun to fall outside, decorating the rooftops and bare tree branches.

  Katia parked outside the McCreary mansion and walked to the back of the property. Not a single light was on in the house, which she’d expected.

  She followed the curve of the driveway to the gate that led to the carriage houses. The entire backyard, tennis court and two of the carriage houses were pitch-dark. But the third carriage house was ablaze with lights.

  Katia had learned to unlatch the gate long ago, and tonight it opened easily for her. She knew Austin had left it unlocked on purpose. He was hoping she would come after him. She tried the carriage house door. It, too, was unlocked.

  Rather than barge in, she knocked. One soft rap. Then three hard ones.

  There was no answer. Katia took a deep breath for courage and opened the door.

  “Austin?” She went inside, closed the door and looked around the garage.

  Austin was bent over the engine of the blue Bugatti. His hands were covered with grease, and he wore an old pair of work overalls. He used to wear those overalls in high school, whenever he retreated to his sanctuary—just as he was doing now. She’d teased him then that the overalls were his armor against his parents, who wanted him to aspire to become head of the McCreary business and not just be a mechanic.

  “Do you know that it was this Bugatti engine that caused the Duesenbergs to radically change nearly all their engineering ideas?” Austin said without taking his eyes off his work. “Sure, the First World War was coming about, but this straight-eight engine was actually two straight-four engines mounted in a series on an everyday crankcase with two flat crankshafts, which were both linked at ninety degrees to form a single shaft. The competition back then was crushing. The world was changing because of the war. They had to innovate to stay in the game. They landed an American contract to produce the engine for the French government, which would be used for war vehicles of all sorts.” Austin stood and leveled his gaze at her.

  He obviously wasn’t surprised to see her. He acted as if her coming to him late at night was a habit. Something they’d been doing for years. “And that’s the history of how the famous Duesenberg straight-eight engine came to be.”

  “Fascinating,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, her head tilted to the right. “Do you mind telling me what any of that has got to do with your anger and your parting shots at me earlier this evening?”

  He picked up a rag and wiped his hands. “History, Katia, is in its purest form the retelling of facts.”

  She harrumphed. “We both know that’s not true. History is the filtered legends and myths of politicos who want to be remembered for things they did or didn’t do.”

  “You are so jaded.”

  “And you, my friend, are being naive,” she bantered back. This wasn’t the time to assuage Austin’s pain, but to set him straight. Though she had only just realized she was still in love with him, she couldn’t allow her emotions to alter good judgment. In her opinion, Austin was off base in trying to give accolades and honors to his great-grandfather when it was possible that the man didn’t
deserve them at all. Why couldn’t he see that he was a worthy person, perhaps even more so than Ambrose or his father? Austin had never manipulated the truth to aggrandize himself. She believed he was the best of all the McCrearys.

  “Katia, the museum walls were finished this week. The masons will be bricking through most of December, if it doesn’t get much colder. I’m very serious about my position in all of this.”

  “I know you are, Austin. I’m not telling you to abandon the museum.”

  “Then, what are you saying?”

  “Simply that I want you to broaden your scope. Let’s just say that your great-grandfather didn’t actually design anything. But he was there, Austin. He chose to work with inventors, trying to build cars that could race in the Indianapolis 500. Only the visionaries of the day would risk their lives and futures on a couple of immigrants who clearly were not businessmen, who went bankrupt, who were always scrambling for investors. Frankly, it’s your great-grandfather’s loyalty that I see. He never gave up on them until they closed down for good. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, slipping the rag into the back pocket of his overalls. “Like I said, that’s when he moved his family here.”

  “And what did he do here?”

  “He built his auto-parts company.”

  Nodding, Katia took another step forward. “That’s right. I bet he started with no more than a secretary and an associate or two at first.”

  “My grandmother did the accounting, typing, answered the phones.”

  “Ah.” Katia’s eyes brightened. “So there’s another unsung hero in your story.”

  Austin held up his hand to stop her. “Where are you going with this?”

  “I’m trying to show you that heroes aren’t only the guys who go through a war with guns blazing or whip out a scalpel and save lives. Many heroes—the ones who built this country—are quiet men. Men like Ambrose, who believed in their mentors. Believed that what little they could do or were allowed to do in their jobs mattered. A hundred years ago, men risked their lives every day to build skyscrapers. I worked for a decade in a skyscraper in Chicago, and every single day I thanked those men, long dead now, who worked so hard so that I had a nice place to do my job. And that made me think of my father, a Russian immigrant like many of those workers, who made so many sacrifices for me.”

  Austin remained silent, but she could tell from the intensity in his eyes that he was listening to her. Really listening.

  She continued, “I’ve never been a gossip, Austin, and to my knowledge neither is Mrs. Beabots. Apparently, she keeps secrets better than anyone I’ve ever met. She didn’t intend to hurt you, and I have her word to you that she will never say anything that you don’t want said about your family. Her own family history is her business. She only wanted to share it with you. She thought it would bring you closer together, not split you apart.”

  “I understand that, Katia. I’m not blaming her. I’ve always liked her a lot. Sometimes I even thought she empathized with me when my parents were giving me a hard time.”

  Katia’s voice softened. “She told me she was always fond of you.”

  “I guess I felt that.”

  “Austin...” Katia moved very close and put her hand on his cheek. “I hope you understand what I’m saying. I think you’re one of those silent heroes. I think what you’ve done, taking over the family business and running it all these years, even though you would rather have been playing tennis or making a living trading in antique cars, is worthy of admiration and respect. You didn’t close the plant, and you could have. You’re loyal to your workers. Because of you, I met Melanie, and she’s probably one of the best assistants I’ve ever had. Jack and I talking about making her a sales associate. So you see? Even if your great-grandfather didn’t actually invent some part of the Duesenberg engine—or even a headlight—that doesn’t diminish what he did. He was there. He stayed right to the very end.”

  Austin placed his hand over hers and removed it from his cheek. He attempted a smile, but it fell quickly from his face.

  “Thanks. But the problem is that even on the brochures I printed up for the presentation, which you attended—”

  “Crashed,” she interjected lightly, hoping to brighten his dour mood.

  He ignored her joke. “On that brochure, I made a point that my great-grandfather was instrumental in several breakthroughs that helped to create the Model J supercar.”

  Katia thought for a long moment. “Did your father ever tell you what he did specifically for that car?”

  “The chassis and suspension were conventional. Nothing new there. But the SJ had a forced induction that raised the power and helped increase the speed from 116 miles per hour to 129. That was an enormous breakthrough back then.”

  “And so when your father said that, you understood that it was your great-grandfather who’d been responsible, not Fred.”

  “I did,” he replied glumly. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So you see? I was right. People will think I’m an idiot.”

  “Stop saying that! You’re making me nuts. Okay?”

  “Look, this isn’t your problem. It’s my family and my mistake.”

  Katia felt dismissed, just like she used to when Hanna wanted her out of the way. Katia despised this feeling, and she’d learned over time to beat it back with fiery anger.

  “Get over yourself, Austin. Don’t come at me with your retreat taps blowing. It’s simple. You dig through all those papers in the attic and find what facts you can. Then you mount the best ones and display them. I know you’ve got old photos of your great-grandfather standing with Fred and August Duesenberg next to one of their racing cars. Play down everything except what you can substantiate.

  “You told me you wanted a museum here to preserve history. Let it be just that. Make a room in the museum that allows other families to present information about their own heritage, their family or associates who did noteworthy things. You could have one room dedicated to local sports alone. Use your brain, Austin.”

  Suddenly, Austin was smiling broadly.

  “What?”

  “I forgot about the fire you carry around in that belly of yours. You really come alive when there’s a fight, don’t you?”

  Katia exhaled through her nose, her inner heat dissipating. “That’s true.”

  “See? That’s what I envy about you. You’re so passionate, Katia. You fight for your job and your clients, but you’re also willing to take on challenges for me. Why is that?” He moved closer to her so that they were only a breath apart.

  His eyes searched hers.

  “Because I don’t want to see you hurt anymore, Austin. Maybe it’s my way of making up for the past when I was the one who did the hurting.”

  “Maybe.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face. For years, she and Austin had lived in a world where this was all that existed. They’d practically thought each other’s thoughts. Now things were different.

  “So you’re just balancing out the karma, coming to my aid like this.”

  “I guess.”

  “You don’t know?”

  She could tell him that she was falling in love with him again, but then she’d be throwing away her career. Katia felt as if she was being sliced in two. Either choice left her with a half-life. She wanted it all.

  And what of Austin? He was a man consumed with his family’s past. His attention to his car collection teetered on obsession. How would she fit into that world? Austin remembered the young girl she’d been, but did he care to get to know the person she’d become? And if he did, could he ever really commit to her, especially since he apparently didn’t completely trust her? They were adults now, not naive children. Did he feel anything for her that was true and real?

  Katia believed in insurance against risk. She preached it every day, but this gamble was much too precarious.

  “I’ve always been your friend, Austin. Even when I left and hurt you s
o badly, in the end, it was the right thing to do. I would have ruined your life.”

  His steady gaze wavered as he tilted his head back slightly. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Well, I’m sure. Waiting around for you to finish school would have made me even more needy and clingy than I already was. I couldn’t stand being away from you. We would have ended up married—think how young we were! Our mothers would have been livid. We would never have had a chance to grow as individuals. One or both of us would have had to give something up—education, our careers—to stay together. You would have resented me, and knowing my temper, I would have picked fights with you daily. I would have destroyed us.”

  Austin stepped back. “Well, that’s really bleak.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I’ve always liked my version better,” he replied longingly.

  Rolling her eyes and clucking her tongue, she said, “Maybe that’s the real fissure between us, Austin. I deal with facts. Stats. Charts and graphs. You reminisce. You fantasize about the not quite real. Then you live there...or here.” She gestured toward the house. “Alone.”

  Austin retreated from her as if she’d thrown ice water into his face. He took his hands out of his pockets, turned away and closed the Bugatti hood. “I’m done,” he said.

  “That didn’t come out right. I’m sorry. I just meant—”

  “Oh, you said it fine,” he replied. “But it’s nearly midnight. You’d better go.”

  “Happily,” she shot back, taking a pair of gloves out of her coat pocket. “Looks to me like my assessment was dead-on. Tell you what, Austin. If you ever want a real friend, call me. Maybe you don’t like what I’m saying, but that’s what friends are for. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Katia let herself out. The snow was coming down in large, fluffy flakes that clung to her hair. She lifted the gate latch and walked down the driveway, her boots leaving clear prints in the snow. There was no wind to disturb the still, cold night, but Katia’s angry heat dispelled the chill.

  Driving away, she realized that she was just as guilty of retreat as Austin was.