But then suddenly the back door opened.
He turned to watch as his mother slowly climbed out of the Escalade and shut the door. Then she stood there with her eyes closed and her face lifted toward the sky, breathing in the honeyed fragrance of the afternoon as she heard the whispers of childhood ghosts.
After more than four decades, Georgina Harrington was back.
Back with the family that coldly repudiated her and the man she loved. Back to face the past from which she’d courageously turned away.
Watching her, Quentin was struck by the profound poignancy of the moment. When his mother finally opened her eyes, he wasn’t surprised to see them glistening with tears.
Meeting his gaze, she gave a barely perceptible nod that conveyed more than any words she could have spoken.
She was ready.
As they all turned and started toward the house, the massive front door opened and Edward Harrington emerged. He stared out at them for a long moment, then walked to the top of the porch stairs to wait for them.
As Georgina came up the steps first, he gazed at her. His eyes were dark and full of emotion. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Edward,” she said quietly.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek and gently clasp her hand. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you here, Georgie.”
She smiled tremulously at him. “I’m glad I came.”
“So am I.” Edward kissed her forehead, then turned to shake Quentin’s hand and clap him on the shoulder. “Thank you for coming, nephew.”
Quentin nodded, putting his arm around Lexi. “This is my wife—”
“Alexis. Of course.” Edward smiled warmly at her. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“Hello, Mr. Harrington.” Lexi ignored his outstretched hand and hugged him, catching him off guard. After a startled moment, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back with an expression of fierce gratitude.
And just with that simple gesture of acceptance, Lexi had won him over.
He released her and smiled, his eyes warm. “Please call me Uncle Edward.”
Lexi smiled. “All right.”
Edward’s pleased gaze shifted to Junior, who was now awake and eyeing him curiously. “What a beautiful boy. Six months old, right?”
Quentin and Lexi nodded.
Edward looked hopefully at Quentin. “May I?”
After a brief hesitation, Quentin handed his son over to his uncle.
Edward stroked Junior’s hair and kissed the top of his head, then looked at Quentin and whispered humbly, “Thank you.”
Quentin inclined his head.
“Edward,” Georgina said quietly, “are they here?”
Her brother didn’t have to ask whom she meant. “They’re attending a luncheon,” he explained, presumably referring to their parents. “I planned it that way. I wanted to give you a chance to arrive and get settled before you see them.”
Georgina nodded, looking relieved and grateful. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary. I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Edward smiled gently. “On that note, I want you all to meet the rest of the family.”
As if on cue, the front door opened and a large crowd of people emerged from the house, moving with an orderly precision that made Quentin yearn for the boisterous energy of his father’s family.
As the group came forward, Edward swept his arm around the slender waist of a primly attractive light-skinned woman in a high-collared gray dress with matching pumps. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce my wife, Grace.”
The woman smiled pleasantly and shook their hands in turn.
“Your brother has told me so much about you,” she informed Quentin’s mother. “It’s an honor to meet you at last.”
“Thank you, Grace,” Georgina said warmly. “I look forward to getting better acquainted.”
The next several minutes were filled with the many introductions that come with meeting relatives for the first time. There were three adult children who belonged to Edward and Georgina’s sister Olivia. All three had spouses and kids who ranged in age from toddlers to teenagers.
Standing behind Edward’s wife were their four children. Richmond, the eldest son, was married with two small kids. He resembled his father, tall and fair skinned with astute dark eyes set in an aristocratically handsome face. He pumped Quentin’s hand, clapped him on the shoulder and welcomed him to the fold. The other two, Wesley and Lavinia, were more reserved, although they seemed more shy than aloof.
“And last but not least,” Edward announced, putting his arm around the shoulders of a beautiful girl who appeared to be in her mid twenties. “This is my youngest daughter.” Watching his sister’s face, he added quietly, “Her name is Georgina.”
Quentin’s mother gasped. Her stunned gaze flew from her brother to her niece. “You named her…after me?”
Edward nodded, smiling poignantly.
With her smooth honey complexion and long dark hair, Georgina Harrington bore such a startling resemblance to her namesake that Quentin couldn’t help staring at her.
She stepped forward with a shy smile. “Hello, Aunt Georgina. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Blinking back tears, Quentin’s mother pulled her niece into her arms and hugged her long and hard. Watching them, Quentin felt a lump rising in his throat. When he glanced at Lexi, he could tell she was just as moved.
As expected, everyone oohed and aahed over Junior, with some of the girls vying to hold him. After much cajoling, Edward relinquished the baby to one of his niece’s teenage daughters. Junior looked at the smiling young faces gathered around him and flashed his toothless grin, drawing coos of delight from the enraptured crowd.
Edward grinned at Georgina, Quentin and Lexi. “Let’s go inside.”
They followed him through the intricately carved front door into a cavernous entryway. The sweeping grandeur of the house made Quentin blink in surprise as he looked up and around.
A spectacular crystal chandelier hung above the foyer, lighting every corner of the massive space. The vaulted ceiling seemed to soar to the sky, flanked by palatial balconies on the upper level. A dramatic curving staircase reminded Quentin of the one featured in Gone With the Wind—one of many movies Lexi had maneuvered him into watching over the years. The walls were adorned with rare oil paintings that had undoubtedly been passed down through generations of Harringtons. Although the hardwood floors were probably original, they had been sanded, stained and polished to a high gleam that made them look new. Through open doorways on either side of the foyer, Quentin could see that there were not one but two high-ceilinged parlors. Both were lavishly appointed with rich fabrics, marble fireplaces, ornate antiques and heirlooms, and expensive Persian area rugs. Sunlight shimmered like rainbow prisms through French doors that overlooked well-tended gardens.
As Quentin took it all in, he couldn’t help thinking of the old row house he’d been raised in. Although his mother had kept their home spotless, it might as well have been a shack compared to this mansion. While she’d never once complained, it hurt him to think of her settling for such shabby digs after growing up in a place like this.
He turned to look at her, gauging her reaction to being here after all these years.
She was walking around slowly, touching things here and there with an expression of quiet nostalgia. “Everything looks the same.”
Edward watched her with a soft smile. “Think so?”
She nodded. “It’s like…” She trailed off, but the unsaid words hung in the air like a ghostly whisper. It’s like I never left.
After a long moment, Edward announced, “Grace and I live a stone’s throw from here with our two youngest. If there’s time tomorrow, I’d like to take you all over there, show you our home.”
“I’d like that,” Georgina said softly, studying a painting of a pastoral landscape on a lazy summer day.
Suddenly the front door burst op
en, and a stylishly dressed woman in her early sixties strode into the house, her high heels clicking smartly on the polished wood floor. She bore such a strong likeness to Quentin’s mother that he knew she must be his aunt.
As his mother turned around, the woman froze and stared at her. “Georgina?” she whispered.
Georgina’s smile was bittersweet. “Hello, Olivia.”
Olivia rushed forward, pulled Georgina into her arms and gave her a hard, welcoming hug that went on forever. When they pulled apart, both women had tears running down their faces.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia whispered with feeling, cradling her sister’s face between her hands. “I am truly sorry—”
Georgina shook her head. “Liv, please—”
“No.” Olivia gave her a fierce look. “It needed to be said. That and so much more. But we’ll talk later. Let me say hello to my nephew.”
She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes before hugging and kissing Quentin, exclaiming over his height and “devilish” good looks.
“He takes after his father,” Georgina said, her eyes glowing with pride.
“Indeed.” Olivia gave Quentin another admiring glance, then turned to embrace Lexi. Drawing back, she cupped her cheek and sighed. “Such a pretty little thing, isn’t she, Georgie?”
Georgina smiled warmly. “Yes, she is.”
“And just look at this precious child.” Olivia took Junior from her granddaughter, gushing over him as he stared up at her in bewildered wonder. “Goodness, what a handsome baby boy you are! You look just like your daddy.”
“Where’s Ellis?” Edward asked Olivia. “I thought he was coming with you.”
“He couldn’t get away. But don’t worry. Everyone will meet him tonight at dinner.” She looked across the foyer to where the younger girls were huddled together, whispering and giggling as they darted covert glances at Quentin.
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “You girls look idle,” she told them. “Why don’t you go to the ballroom and practice your waltz for the winter ball?”
“Actually,” Olivia’s eldest daughter interjected, “we were just about to leave. But we’ll be back for dinner this evening.”
The others echoed the same promise as they said their goodbyes to Georgina, Quentin and Lexi before taking their leave.
As the junior debutantes followed their parents out the door, they could be heard whispering to one another, “He’s so tall and handsome.”
“And he has the prettiest eyes. So dreamy.”
As the door closed behind the fawning girls, Edward gave Quentin a knowing grin. “Looks like you’ve already got yourself a fan club.”
“He’s used to it,” Lexi quipped dryly.
Everyone laughed.
“You all must be tired from your travels,” Edward said. “Let’s get you settled into your rooms.”
As if on cue, a housekeeper materialized to welcome them and introduce herself as Mrs. Branford. She was an older black woman with neat gray hair and a kind face. Her eyes lit up when she saw Junior. She plucked him right out of Olivia’s arms and cuddled him to her, cooing nonsensical endearments. When Junior gurgled back at her, everyone laughed warmly.
As Quentin’s mother watched the housekeeper with her grandson, her smile turned wistful and nostalgic. She looked to Edward and Olivia. “Mrs. Weaver…?”
A mournful glance passed between the siblings before Olivia answered Georgina’s unspoken question. “It’s been eight years now.”
“Eight years?” Georgina whispered.
“Yes. She went quietly in her sleep.” Compassion softened Olivia’s voice. “I’ll walk you down to the cemetery tomorrow. Let you pay your respects.”
Georgina nodded mutely, her eyes moist with tears.
Quentin remembered the many stories she’d told him about Mrs. Weaver, the spirited housekeeper who’d worked for her family since before she was born and had helped raise her. She’d been hoping that Mrs. Weaver had been blessed with the same gift of longevity that Mama Wolf had. Now that her hopes had been dashed, all she could do was mourn the fact that she wasn’t here to say goodbye to her dear old friend.
“Sorry for your loss, Ma,” Quentin murmured.
She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you, Junebug.”
He refrained from adding, And I’m sorry that your family wasn’t considerate enough to send word so you could attend the funeral.
Olivia took her sister’s hand. “Let’s go for a stroll in the garden. We’ve got so much catching up to do.”
“We certainly do,” Georgina solemnly agreed.
Olivia looked at Quentin and Lexi. “You all can go on up and get some rest before dinner. Mrs. Branford will show you to your room.”
Still carrying Junior, the housekeeper led them up the grand staircase and down a long corridor to an elegantly furnished guestroom on the second floor. It had a marble fireplace, double chandeliers and a sumptuous four-poster bed. Fresh-cut flowers from the garden were arranged in a vase on the bedside table.
The suite came with a private bathroom and an adjoining room that was used as a nursery, a convenience that guests with small children undoubtedly appreciated.
“Someone will bring up your luggage shortly,” Mrs. Branford said between bouncing Junior on her hip and cooing to him.
Lexi smiled at her. “Do you have grandchildren, Mrs. Branford?”
“Why, yes, I do. Eleven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.” She beamed at Junior. “I just love them at this age. They’re so sweet and precious, aren’t they?”
Quentin and Lexi smiled. “Yes, they are.”
“I’ll feed him and change him for you while you rest up before dinner,” the housekeeper offered.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense, chile. This is what I do.”
Lexi wavered. “If you’re sure—”
“Of course I’m sure. Been taking care of babies all my life.” She tweaked Junior’s nose and winked at him. “He and I will be just fine.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it,” Lexi acquiesced. “I pumped some milk before we left home. The bottles are in the cooler, which is in the truck with his diaper bag—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Mrs. Branford assured her warmly. “Just make yourselves comfortable and let me know if you need anything at all.”
After the housekeeper departed with their son, Quentin and Lexi sat on the edge of the bed and stared at each other for several moments.
Lexi was the first to speak. “They don’t seem so bad, do they? Your family, I mean. They’re a lot friendlier than I was expecting. Especially your aunt and uncle.”
Quentin was silent.
“You don’t agree?” Lexi prodded.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
Pushing out a deep breath, he got up and walked over to the window to look outside. He could see his mother and aunt strolling arm in arm through the lushly manicured garden. He watched them, marveling at how at ease they seemed with each other. No one observing them would ever suspect that they’d been estranged for more than forty years.
How was that possible? he wondered. How could his mother seem so willing to forgive and forget what her family had done to her?
Lexi rose from the bed and walked over to join him at the window. After watching his mother and aunt for a few moments, she said softly, “What a beautiful sight.”
“It is,” Quentin admitted.
When Lexi smiled at him, he drew her around to stand in front of him, facing the window. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he bent down and nipped her earlobe.
She giggled softly, then leaned back against his chest with a sigh. “Did you know your mother’s childhood home would be so…so…”
“Dope?” Quentin chuckled. “No, I didn’t. I knew her family had money, but I wasn’t expecting anything on this scale. But I guess I should have. She told me stories growing up.”
“But th
ere’s nothing like seeing it in person.”
“Exactly.” He rested his chin on top of her head. He loved the smell of her hair, some sort of fruity shampoo mingled with the scented oil she used.
“Your family certainly seems to have won Junior over,” Lexi observed.
Quentin snorted. “He doesn’t know any better.”
“On the contrary. Babies are the best judges of character.”
Quentin grunted. “We’ll see.”
Lexi turned in his arms, then reached up and framed his face between her hands. Her eyes twinkled as she crooned softly, “All I am saying is give peace a chance….”
The “peace mission” was put to the test an hour later when they were summoned downstairs to meet George and Lenore Harrington.
They left their room and followed Edward down the long corridor, where they met Quentin’s mother at the top of the staircase. Sensing her nervousness, Quentin took her hand and gently squeezed it. “Ready?”
She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Together they descended the staircase and walked across the foyer with the focused resolve of envoys sent to an enemy nation to broker a peace deal.
George and Lenore Harrington awaited them inside the first parlor. Seated in silk-upholstered chairs by the crackling fireplace, they looked as regal and imperious as a king and queen perched on their thrones. As Quentin approached the arched doorway, he couldn’t help feeling like a lowly peasant who’d been granted an audience with royalty. He wondered humorously if he and his wife and mother would be expected to bow.
George and Lenore made a strikingly handsome couple. Both had fair complexions, keen dark eyes and silver hair that added to their distinguished appearance.
Lenore sat with her head held high, back ramrod straight, legs primly crossed. Her pose struck Quentin as distinctly familiar, and then he realized why. It was the same way his mother sat.
When he turned to glance at her, he saw tears glittering in her eyes. She held them in check, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.
At the door to the parlor, Edward cleared his throat and announced, “Mom, Dad. I’m—”
This I Promise You Page 18