Star Promise by G. J. Walker-Smith
“The connection between a mother and daughter is more delicate than you think,” she said quietly. “It’s not always strong, Charli.”
I wasn’t buying her sad expression. She was talking in riddles, and it scared me.
“I have to get back to work.” I dropped the invoice down on her desk. “Please take care of this by the end of the day.”
If she said anything else, I didn’t hear her. I hightailed it out the door as if I was being chased.
56. PURE ENCHANTMENT
Adam
Between ballet lessons and flower girl duties, Bridget’s schedule was as busy as ours. Thanks to a last-minute dress fitting, she wasn’t due home for dinner. The night was ours and we made the most of it by dining out.
The Blue Lark wasn’t exactly upmarket but it had no children’s menu, so to us it was haute cuisine. We found a booth in the corner, opting for privacy over a window view. Our decision to sit side by side wasn’t exactly upmarket either, but without the distraction of our little person, I made the most of being able to sit next to Charli without interruption.
“It’s odd without, Bridget isn’t it?” she asked.
I put a hand on her thigh and reached for a menu with the other. “We can make it seem like she’s here,” I offered.
“How?”
I glanced at her, grinning. “Well, you can cut my food into small pieces, hand me a napkin every two minutes and keep reminding me that my fork is not a sword.”
Charli lifted her menu to hide her giggle. “And you can ask me to take you to the bathroom the second our food arrives.”
“She does do that.”
“Every single time,” she agreed. She put her hand on mine. “I’m actually glad it’s just us tonight,” she said quietly. “I need to talk to you about something.”
I dropped the menu and angled toward her. “Are you pregnant?”
She managed to smile and cringe simultaneously. It made for an odd expression, but she still looked beautiful. “No.”
“Well that’s a relief.” I reached into my pocket and grabbed the small box I’d been hiding from her. “Because that would totally kill the sentiment behind my present.”
Her puzzled frown melted the instant she spied the box in my hand.
“Open it,” I urged.
My eyes never left her face as she lifted the lid, searching for the look of wonderment that inevitably set in whenever magic took hold. She dangled the pink heart-shaped stone in the air by the chain. “Rose quartz,” she mumbled, seemingly deep in thought.
If my wife had been the kind of woman who was dazzled by diamond rings and bouquets of flowers, life would’ve been much simpler. But she wasn’t, which was partly why I adored her. Charli’s tastes were much less ostentatious, but harder to cater to. I’d spent an hour in a new-age jewellery store that morning, listening to a bohemian woman named Azure rattle off the meaning of the rocks on display in her showcase.
Charlotte didn’t exactly seem enamoured by the piece I’d chosen. It made me wonder if Azure’s knowledge of gemmology was as sketchy as the gypsy headscarf she wore. “Do you know what it signifies, Coccinelle?” It was a stupid question but the only other one that came to mind involved asking if she liked it – and at that moment I was almost certain she didn’t.
“It’s a stone of the heart,” she quietly replied. “It promotes self-nurturing, tending and reassurance if the wearer has lost their mother.” She held the stone to her heart and looked straight at me. “It denotes empathy and sensitivity, and aids in the acceptance of change.”
I’d inadvertently gifted her the most inappropriate present on the planet. At a time when Charlotte was gearing up to cut her mother loose, I’d given her a rock to help her get over it. When I made a grab for the necklace, she moved it out of reach. “Charlotte, please.” I held out my hand. “Just give it back and I’ll exchange it tomorrow.”
“Not so fast, Boy Wonder,” she replied. “Tell me your version.”
“It’s not my version,” I grumbled. “I don’t know rose quartz from a lump of marble. Azure, the hippie from a new-age store in the West Village told me it’s supposed to aid in fertility. Clearly she has no idea.” Left hanging with my arm outstretched, I wiggled my fingers. “Give it back.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Please give it back,” I repeated. “If you want, we’ll go back to the store and throw it through the front window.”
Charli laughed, which lessened my chagrin. “Some say it does boost fertility,” she explained. “So Azure isn’t a fraud.”
“Truly?”
“Yes,” she confirmed with a slight nod. “Others gems do too. Moonstone, black coral, pearls, red carnelian, turquoise –”
I didn’t let her finish. I pressed my lips against hers, overtaken by nothing more complex than the feeling of pure enchantment. I was madly in love with a girl who could forget to pick up the dry-cleaning for three days on the run, but could recite the names of a hundred obscure gemstones on demand.
Charli finally broke away, which wasn’t kind to either of us. “What was that for?” she asked.
“Because you know all the lovely words.”
Charli turned her back. “Can you help me put it on, please?”
“Tell me what it means to you first.”
I had to know which option she was running with. If it was the nurturing mother replacement I’d ask her to hang her keys on it and keep in her purse.
“I don’t need help with fertility,” she replied. “We’re good at making babies when the time is right. It’s only been three months, Adam.”
“So it’s a proxy hug from your loving mom?” I wiggled my eyebrows as I said it, leaving no doubt that I was joking.
“No.” She laughed, but it was slightly off. “Remember, I said it denotes empathy and the acceptance of change. I think I’m going to need a big dose of that soon.”
“Why, Charli?” She passed me the necklace. “What’s happened?”
Her explanation wasn’t short, but nor was the task of securing the necklace. I just managed to fix the clasp as she finished the tale of how Olivia had made off with a painting from Bronson’s gallery without paying for it.
“Bronson sent me over to the studio this morning to chase it up.” She turned back to face me. “I told her she had to come in and make payment by the end of the day.”
I swept her hair off her shoulder. “And did she?”
Charli shook her head. “She doesn’t have thirty grand, Adam. I don’t think she has thirty cents.”
Charli didn’t know half of what I did. All she had to go on was suspicion. I had a folder in the drawer of my desk full of cold hard proof that the woman was a stone-broke fraud, but I would’ve felt no joy in enlightening her.
I studied her worried face carefully, quickly deciding that the universe had probably put an indefinite hold on our baby plans until we could get our act together. Charli was stressed to the point of snapping, and none it was her fault.
“Just pay it,” I told her. “Write Bronson a cheque tomorrow.”
“It’s a lot of money,” she mumbled.
“It is, but not to us, okay?” I kissed the back of her hand. “You work for Bronson. You can’t have your mother indebted to him.”
“So Olivia wins,” she said sourly. “You wouldn’t pay her off but she got your money anyway.”
“She hasn’t won anything, Charlotte,” I explained. “I’m an attorney. One way or the other, I’m going to ruin her.”
***
My father was usually unflappable, so when he stormed into my office early that morning, I knew something big was going down.
“The Dixon deal is falling apart.” He’d made it sound like the sky was falling. “And if that happens, it’s six months of work and countless millions down the drain.”
It might’ve been his million-dollar fee at stake, but it was six months of my hard work that would all be for nothing if the deal collapsed. Strang
Dad’s frown intensified. “I’ve called a meeting. Cancel everything else,” he ordered. “It’s likely to take the rest of the day.”
Corporate law is all about the meeting of minds. It was frustrating when we couldn’t make it happen, but for it to happen on this day was nothing short of maddening. It was the day of Bridget’s concert, which meant my troubles weren’t limited to the collapse of a company merger. I had to decide which to deal with, and the seconds I spent doing it were long enough to rouse the suspicion of my father.
“Whatever else you have planned for today needs to come second.” He lowered his tone, sounding more like my pissed off dad than my boss. “For once, Adam, make your job the priority.”
Either way someone was going to be let down, and in a very rare moment of duty, I decided that it wouldn’t be him. There was no reason why Charli couldn’t take Bridget to the concert, but only I could deal with the problem my father was facing.
“I’ll be at the meeting, Dad,” I assured him.
His demeanour changed and he dropped his grip on the door handle. “Excellent,” he replied. “Thank you.”
I’d become so unreliable lately that he’d come into my office expecting me to let him down. It didn’t feel good. Another thing that didn’t feel good was calling Charli and explaining what had happened.
“It’s no problem,” she assured. “We’ll handle it.”
“Film it for me?” I asked. “I’ll watch it with Bridget and make a big deal of it when I get home.”
I really didn’t need to see it. I’d been to so many practice sessions over the last few weeks that I knew the routine by heart, but I was going to pretend I didn’t.
“Of course,” she replied. “No worries.”
I had plenty of worries about how that day was going to pan out; I just didn’t want to tell her that. “Break a leg, Charlotte.”
“Better than breaking hearts, right?” she quipped.
“Definitely,” I replied. “No broken hearts today, please.”
It wasn’t her promise to make. It was all going to come down to the hateful ballerina and how twisted her play of the day was going to be.
I didn’t want to tell Charli that either.
57. CONNECTIONS
Charli
To say that Bridget was disappointed that I was chaperoning her to the concert was an understatement. The kid lost the plot.
“My dad has to go,” she demanded with a stamp of her foot. “You can’t.”
My feelings were hurt, but the last thing I wanted to do was let it show. I wasn’t used to diva-like behaviour from Bridget, and I had no idea how to handle her.
“Daddy has to work,” I explained, trying to keep my cool. “Either I take you or you don’t go. Those are your choices.”
Her crystalline eyes bored into me. “You’ll appoint me,” she complained after a long moment of deliberation. “And I’ll be sad.”
I frowned, unsure of what she meant. “What does that mean, Bridge?”
She threw out her arms, frustrated that she couldn’t articulate her grievance properly. “Appoint me,” she repeated.
On a hunch, I filled in the gap with a suggestion that hurt my heart. “Disappoint you?”
She nodded wildly. “Yes. It always makes me sad when you do that.”
I was so crushed that every ounce of breath left my body. I took a step back, slumping onto the couch. Bridget wasn’t in the habit of trying to use words she didn’t understand. She’d been coached, and even though I knew exactly who’d done it, I asked anyway. “Who told you that?”
“Madame Kara,” she said proudly.
“When?”
Her little shoulders lifted. “Sometimes.”
My thoughts turned to the last conversation I’d had with Olivia. “The connection between a mother and daughter is more delicate than you think,” she’d told me. She wasn’t talking about my connection with her. We had no freaking connection. In the most abhorrent of moves, she’d been chipping away at my connection with my daughter.
“Find your bag of letters,” I said weakly. “I’ll put the word in your bag so you can remember it for next time.”
Her little pink satchel of scrabble letters usually held fabulous words that I wanted her to know. Constellation and February had been the latest inclusions, and now I was gearing up to add a hideous word that my vile mother had seen fit to introduce.
Bridget returned to the room a short while later, excitedly rattling her bag of letters. I upended it on the coffee table, picked out the letters and pointed out the word as I choked on the pronunciation.
“I will get it right one day,” she announced.
I kissed her cheek. “Me too, Bridge.”
***
I knew something was amiss the second we walked through the front door of the studio. It was empty, which was impossible to accept because we were twenty minutes early.
With a firm hold on Bridget’s hand, I marched through to the dance hall, and saw not a soul. My heart started hammering, already knowing we were in deep trouble.
“Where are they?” asked Bridget, clueless.
I unfairly shushed her, needing a minute to think. “Hello!” I called.
When I heard footsteps coming from the reception area, I scooped Bridget off her feet and rushed to find the source.
Erin met me at the doorway. “The concert,” I blurted. “Where is everyone?”
She frowned at me. “At the Stafford Theatre,” she replied. “Broadway and 8th.”
It wasn’t the most opportune time to be checking, but I was determined to know whose mistake it was. I lowered Bridget to her feet and reached for my phone. It was then that I noticed a text from Adam that I’d somehow missed in the commotion of getting Bridget ready.
– It’s at the Stafford Theatre. You have to have her there by 2 p.m. Love you both.
I wanted to cry, and when I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was a quarter to two, I nearly did.
“Are you alright?” asked Erin.
I sniffed. “Perfect,” I lied. “We’re just running a little late.” I picked Bridget up and ran for the door
“We can’t be late,” Bridget insisted. She put her hand to my cheek to ensure she had my full attention. “No one can be late.”
“I’m going to get you there, baby,” I promised. “Don’t worry.”
I stumbled as I stepped out onto the street, forcing Bridget to cling tighter. Adam and Ryan could carry her around for hours on end when the need arose, but I wasn’t that strong. I lowered her to her feet and scanned from left to right in search of a cab.
For once, the universe took pity on me. Not only did a cab drive up, it actually stopped when I waved it down. I bundled Bridget inside, gave the driver curt and precise directions, and told him to hurry.
***
We arrived at the theatre fifteen minutes late. The backstage area was bedlam, but seeing so many amped-up ballerinas brought me hope. Olivia’s girls weren’t the only ones dancing, which meant there was a chance they hadn’t performed yet.
When Bridget pointed out one of her friends to me, we followed her. The little girl wove through the crowd, leading us straight to Olivia and the rest of her posse.
From what I could tell, all the girls were there, each dressed in gorgeous sage green leotards with matching stiff tutus.
The mistake was mine, and I felt the need to greet Olivia with an apology. “I’m so sorry we’re late.”
She turned to face me, whacking me with a look of pure thunder. “I said no later than two.”
“I know, but there was a mix-up of venues. We’re here now.”
“I’m going to dance soon,” announced Bridget, maintaining her hold on my hand while she excitedly bounced on the spot.
I expected Olivia to point her in the direction of
“I said two,” she repeated before dropping her line of sight to Bridget. “There will be no dancing for you, Bridget. You can blame your mother for that. All she had to do was get you here on time.”
“Please Olivia,” I begged. “Don’t do this to her.”
I could feel Bridget’s hand trembling in mine.
“You should’ve brought your daddy,” she continued. “He’s obviously the reliable one.” Olivia glowered at me, and I knew in that instant she had no heart whatsoever. “Bridget will not be participating on stage. Feel free to watch from the audience if you’d like. There are probably some seats at the back.”
The finality of her words hit Bridget like a freight train. She burst into tears. I wasn’t faring much better, but it had little to do with her not dancing. My devastation came from the realisation that Olivia probably never had any intention of letting Bridget dance. Every single thing she’d put us through over the past few weeks had been designed to punish me, and me alone.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice was pathetically small, giving my daughter no confidence that I could remedy the situation.
“Leave, Charli,” she said simply. “While your daughter still has a little bit of respect for you.”
Using the last bit of strength I possessed, I picked Bridget up. She felt like a ragdoll in my arms, just as broken as I was. “Adam was right all along,” I told her. “You are a hateful bitch.”
Olivia smirked and pointed at the door. “Run along, darling,” she mocked. “We have a dance to perform.”
***
The cool air that hit my face as we pushed through the front door and exited onto the street was heavenly. I tilted my face to the sky, trying to soothe the burn in my cheeks. I couldn’t ever remember feeling that level of rage before, and I wasn’t the only one having trouble holding it together.
Bridget stopped crying once I got her outside. Devastation had given way to anger, and it took me less than a minute to work out that it was directed at me.