A Promise to Remember (6 page)

She picked up the phone to make the next call. By the time
this day ended, she would have an entire armada of Hope Ranch
residents driving their grocery business across town. Their exodus would work like a vacuum, sucking the life's air from Alfords.
It could not go unnoticed or unanswered for long.

Andiejerked her hands back from the sink full of scalding water.
"Ouch! That's hot!"

Mrs. Greenfield, the cook for the soup kitchen, scowled.
"Did you see the crew that ate out there today? Honestly, they
were dirtier than Silas on a bad day. I believe we need the extra
sanitation of the higher temperature, so I cranked it up."

Since Mrs. Greenfield was not the one who would be sticking
her hands in the almost boiling liquid, that was easy for her to
say. Andie tried again.

On her third attempt she managed to keep her hands in the
water long enough to remove the first bowl from the hot suds,
scrub it, then rinse-in much cooler water. Fifty more dishes
waited their turn.

"I would venture to guess that you will be more than delighted
when we raise appropriate funds for a dishwasher. Yes?"

Andie jumped. "Silas, I didn't hear you sneak in here." Or
smell you, she thought despite herself and turned to give him
a hug.

Something about him looked different. The mannered speech
was the same-always a strange contrast with the brown dreadlocks. But today his clothes were relatively clean, and his face less grimy than usual. Patches of white skin showed around the
edge of his collar. Interesting. Must have found a girlfriend.

He bowed in his formal way. "I did not sneak, ma'am. I simply walked with care. It is delightful to see you back at your
old post."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. They all knew where she'd
been for the last weeks, and she didn't want to talk about it.

"I must go tend to the window cleaning now." He bowed once
again and left the room.

Mrs. Greenfield waited until he was out of the kitchen. "Did
you hear he finally used his shower?"

Andie stopped washing and turned. "The one in the back
room? You're kidding."

"Nope. He used it before the funer-" Mrs. Greenfield's
eyes grew wide, then she looked down at the tomatoes she was
chopping. "I mean ..."

Andie turned back to her dishes, the steam blurring her vision.
"The funeral?"

"I'm so sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't bring that up."

"It's all right." Andie searched through her fog of funeral
memories, and could not find Silas's face among them. °I don't
remember seeing him there."

"You didn't."

"But I thought you said ..."

"He got all ready, went over to the church, then lost his nerve.
Said there were a bunch of fine people in fine cars, and he didn't
want to embarrass anyone. Came back here and cried."

Silas crying. Alone. Over Chad.

So much pain. It seemed to touch everything and everyone.
How could they keep moving?

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "He loved Chad,
didn't he?"

"We all did. Especially Silas, though. Chad's the one who
gave him his dignity back."

"I remember." Andie scrubbed harder, remembering the skeleton of a man who refused to take "charity," waiting for his
buddies outside the door, starving while they ate.

"He needs to feel like he earned his food-that's all." Chad's
voice still echoed so clear in her mind. "I'll take care of it."

He grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner and some paper towels
and made for the door. "Hello, sir, I need some help washing
these windows. How much would you charge 'r"

From that day forward, Silas cleaned the windows every day
before he ate. Months later, Chad came up with the idea for
the "caretaker" title and convinced Silas to move into the back
room, complete with bathroom and shower-a shower he refused to use. Except once. To honor Chad.

"I thought you were in a hurry today." Mrs. Greenfield's voice
chased the memories.

Andie looked at her watch. "You're right, I better get on it."
She needed to get some paperwork done for the Fair. And she
needed to get tonight's dinner together for Blair, who might or
might not show up to eat it. As much as she wanted to curl up
in a ball and die, the duties of her life were piling up around
her. With the exception of the Fair, she just didn't want to deal
with them.

Blair pulled onto the freeway and realized he was so slumped
that he couldn't see out of his rearview mirror. He tried sitting
up but felt too worn and eventually just adjusted the mirror.
Next to him waited a mound of paperwork requiring his attention before the night was over. He patted the stack like an old
friend.

His phone chirped and he pressed the button on his steering
wheel while changing lanes. "Blair Phelps."

"Hello, Blair. Mike Daniels."

A green VW cut in front of Blair, forcing him to hit his brakes.
Idiot. Where do these people learn to drive? The car swerved
across the final two lanes and off the exit, followed by the angry
blast of horns.

When the horns quieted, the following silence felt thick,
suffocating. "Mike, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

The presence of grief seemed to block people's ability to
carry on a normal conversation, even for lifelong friends. Even
for Mike-the life of the party. He, too, fought the silence and
lost. The hush, louder than any spoken words, screamed out
the agony. Blair couldn't take another second. "So what's on
your mind?" He exited the freeway toward home.

"The bank president paid me a visit today."

Blair turned onto Las Palmas Drive. "Really? Is there a promotion in the near future? I've been wondering when they were
going to make you VP. Will you still have time to surf?"

A choked sound came through the phone. "Oh man, Blair.
Its not me. It's about you. Your loan."

Blair turned onto his street. "What about it? The principal's
not due for another few months."

"Let's just say he's ... concerned."

"Concerned?"

"We've had a couple of major loans go bad lately. Then he gets
a call from his brother-in-law up in Seattle-those two hate each
other like you wouldn't believe-and he's telling him the Vitasoft
geeks are shaking in their white socks about the buyout."

"I've seen no indication of that on my end." Blair's company
had the product Vitasoft needed-it was as simple as that.
Acquiring Phelps, Inc., would save them millions of dollars in the long run, and make millions for Blair in the short-term. It
would pay off all loans, with plenty to spare.

"I'm just telling you, the talk up north is that the lawsuit
has those guys nervous. Vitasoft's putting out noise that they
might not pay up until they know for sure they won't have to
pay out."

Blair stopped at the gate to his driveway. He didn't have the
strength to push the remote to open it. If Vitasoft backed out
of the deal ...

"Blair, you do remember I tried to talk you out of that loan,
right? A personal guarantee on an unsecured loan ..."

Blair remembered the conversation. Mike had paced back
and forth, ranting, while Blair signed the Continuing Guarantee.
"Man, think before you do this. Something goes wrong, they
can come after you. You could lose everything. Your house ...
everything. Don't do this."

"I won't default." Funny how the same words, a few months
later, felt paper-thin.

Blair pushed the button for the gate. He started up the winding drive, looking around at his front lawn in a way he hadn't
in a long time. The manicured grass, well-tended flower beds,
giant oaks. It was his. No way would he allow anyone to take
this from him.

"How is Andie holding up?"

"Like you'd expect, I guess. She's pretty wrecked." His phrasing was too mild to be precise, but it was true enough.

"Give her my best, okay?"

"Sure."

Blair hung up the phone as he reached the top of the drive.
This deal cannot fall through. I won't lose this house. It would
kill what's left of Andie. And me.

The house sat in darkness. Andie always turned on the porch
light to welcome him home, unless something was wrong. Usually, a dark porch meant she was angry with him. Since
the accident, it could also mean she was having a hard day. He
didn't really want to deal with either option at the moment.

He pulled the car into the garage and sat without moving.
Maybe he should have stayed longer at the office. I can't handle
one of Andie's eying spells. Not tonight.

The advent of cable and DSL negated the millions of dollars he'd invested in dial-up technologies just a few years ago;
he had been forced to spend twice that to upgrade. Until their
latest software unveiling, things tottered on the knife-edge of
financial failure. Then Vitasoft stepped forward, waving big
money and big promises.

Blair looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. Eight p.m.
Of course. Andie probably made dinner and was mad because
he hadn't called or shown up to eat it.

She hated to cook. Although he came home late and forgot
to call at least once a week, it never failed to make her angry.
You'd think that after twenty years she would have moved past
that. I'll get an eai ful of "taking her for granted" tonight. He took
a deep breath, gathered his papers, and entered the house.

The kitchen was dark, save for the one light over the sink.
No dishes sat on the counter, no dinner waited at the table.
"Andie?"

No one answered, but Blair saw a glow coming from the back
room. Andie's studio. He followed the shaft of light and found
her sitting in the chair, staring at the wall, stone-faced. A large
bowl sat beside her chair, empty. Only the brown traces against
the white of the china told him she'd been eating chocolate ice
cream-again. A lot, apparently. Her hair looked as though it
hadn't been brushed since morning, and there were three brown
spots on her white T-shirt.

Since Chad's death, Andie had begun to medicate her pain
with chocolate and other sweets, and greasy food. She'd been skipping the gym, too, and after only three weeks, there was a
noticeable difference in her appearance.

He took a deep breath, too tired to even attempt compassion.
"Andie, what are you doing?"

She looked at him. "Thinking." She swiveled in her chair so
that her back faced him.

Tempted though he was to take the cue and walk out, he
knew it would only make things more difficult in the end. He
set down the stack of papers, urgently wanting-no, needing-to
get them taken care of, yet forced to deal with Andie's grief as
if his own didn't matter. Sometimes it was hard to be the man
of the family.

"What are you thinking about?" He reached over and put his
hand on top of hers.

She didn't pull away, but made no attempt to return the gesture. "Did you know that a group of women from Hope Ranch
are refusing to shop at Alfords because of this lawsuit?"

"Scott Baur told me about that. He said Christi started making
calls." He forced a lightness into his voice that he didn't feel.
You know how Christi is. Once she sets her mind to something,
things are going to happen."

She swung around to face him. "You sound like you approve
of what she's doing. Don't you think its wrong?"

"No. Those women are trying to support you. Why would I
condemn them for it?"

She shrugged.

Blair used his last ounce of energy to point out the obvious.
"You know how excited they all were when the planning commission finally approved the proposal for a grocery store in this area.
Now, not a year after it opens, your friends are driving across
town again. They are inconveniencing themselves because they
care about you. How could that be wrong?"

"Why do they want to punish that other boy's mother? She
didn't do anything wrong."

The stress that had built up in Blair over the course of the
day exploded from him before he could think to calm it. "Andie,
she's trying to ruin what's left of our lives. What purpose does
it serve her to sue us, other than to make herself rich? We lost
our son, too, didn't we? She should be thankful for the child
she still has, instead of trying to destroy what remains of our
lives. How can you say she's done nothing wrong? She's selfish-that's what she is."