Читать книгу Promises, Promises - Shelley Cooper - Страница 9

Eyes stinging and heart pounding, Gretchen Montgomery sat motionless at her desk, staring at the items scattered across the blotter. An empty padded manila envelope. A letter from an attorney named Martin Sanders. A portable tape player. A cassette.

The cassette was what had her thoughts in turmoil. It was labeled “Jill Barnes—Tape for Gretchen Montgomery” and dated eight days prior to Jill’s death three months earlier. The letter, stating that the tape was an addendum to her best friend’s bequest to her, was from the executor of Jill’s estate.

Gretchen reached for the tape with trembling fingers. A minute, then two, passed before she found the resolve to insert it into the tape recorder. After drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she pushed the play button.

“Surprise!” Jill’s voice trilled, weak but full of the humor and vivacity that had been Jill all over. “I bet you weren’t expecting to hear from me again.”

Though Gretchen had steeled herself for it, the sound of her best friend’s voice had emotion swelling her throat.

“I was going to videotape this,” Jill’s voice echoed in the silent room, “but let’s face it, I look like death.”

Gretchen choked out a laugh. Even at the end, when Jill’s pain had been great, she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.

“Are you smiling, Gretch?” the tape continued. “You’d better be, ’cause if you’re sitting there boo-hooing over me, I’m going to be highly pissed.”

“I’m smiling,” Gretchen said softly, her lips turning up as she brushed away a tear.

“Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, videotaping. Since that was out, and since I’ve never been much of a letter writer, I chose this method of communicating with you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

Gretchen knew she was talking to the air, that Jill couldn’t actually hear her, and that anyone chancing upon her would think she’d lost it. She didn’t care. She’d been so lonely these past months with Jill gone. It was wonderful to hear her friend’s voice again, even if it was just a recording and not the real thing.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” Jill said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

An understatement, if ever there was one. Best friends since kindergarten, and the only family each had had after the deaths of their parents, it had taken the marauding power of cancer to part them.

“More than the average bear,” Gretchen murmured.

“Matter of fact,” Jill stated, “I can’t think of a single area of our lives we haven’t shared. Training bras and braces. Pimples and periods. The hard times your family went through. Unrequited crushes and failed romances. The struggle to build a successful career. Regrets and unfulfilled dreams.”

There was a pause. “It’s the regrets and unfulfilled dreams I want to talk about today. I can’t tell you how many regrets I have for some of the things I’ve done during my life. But they pale in comparison with the regrets I have for the things I didn’t do. The things I won’t get to do now.

“I have a question for you, Gretch. What is the best thing a person can say about you? And I don’t mean your appearance. I mean you—Gretchen Montgomery the person.”

The tape whirred silently while Gretchen pondered the question. What was the best thing a person could say about her? That she was neat, clean and dependable. That she was loyal to those who had gained her trust. That she showed up at work on time every day and did a thorough job. That she had the respect and admiration of her colleagues.

She felt her lips twist. Just how boring could you get?

The sudden sound of Jill’s voice made her start. “Do you have the answer yet? Well, here it is. Other than that you are the most wonderful friend a woman could ever hope to have, for which I thank you from the bottom of my heart, the best thing a person can say about you is that you never break a promise. Ever. You’ve made quite a few promises over the past twenty-nine years, haven’t you?”

Yes, Gretchen acknowledged, she supposed she had. Her family, particularly her mother, had been great on the making and keeping of promises. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what any promise she’d made had to do with Jill’s unfulfilled dreams, with Jill’s regrets.

As if reading her mind, Jill said, “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m bringing up those promises of yours. Because there’s something I want you to do, and I want you to do it for both of us. In the name of our friendship, Gretch, I’m going to ask you to make a few of those promises you’re so good at keeping.

“First, I want you to celebrate every day by living in the moment. That means you have to let go of the past and stop waiting for the future. Now is the only time that counts. Now is the time to tell the people who are important to you how much they mean to you. Now is the time to not put off, hold back or save anything that will add laughter to your life. Now is the time to tell yourself that the day is special, that each minute, each second, each breath is a gift that must not be squandered. Can you promise me that?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Now for the hard part. I want you to take the money I left you out of the nice, safe money-market account I’m sure you’ve invested it in. You have enough put away for the future, you don’t need any more. This is your mad money, Gretch, and you are to spend every penny of it. You are not to give it to charity. You are not to spend it on anyone else. Every cent must be spent on you, and you are to buy things that you never in your wildest dreams imagined you would find yourself buying. Some necessities, yes, but mostly wild, crazy, impractical things. Fun things. Promise?”

“But why?” Gretchen asked, appalled at the thought of throwing away good money on items she neither wanted or needed. It went against everything she’d been taught, against the philosophy of her chosen career. She was a CPA, for heaven’s sake. Frugality was her middle name, alongside practicality.

Again, as if anticipating her question, she heard Jill say, “It’s important, Gretch. Because, if you keep going on the way you are, your nose to the grindstone, always doing the safe thing, when your time comes you’re going to have as many regrets as I do. You still have a choice. God willing, you have many years ahead of you, a lot of life to live. That’s why I had my lawyer wait three months before sending this tape to you. Surely by now you’ve started questioning the meaning of your life.”

She had. Mostly at night, in the stillness between wakefulness and sleep, when she could no longer escape the discomfiting thoughts with activity.

“Promise me, Gretch,” Jill insisted. “If you promise, I know you’ll follow through.”

“I promise,” Gretchen whispered.

“Good. Remember how, when we were kids, you used to dream of being a concert pianist? Well, I want you to promise to enter a piano competition. ASAP. I want you to find out, once and for all, whether you have true ability. After that you can choose what you do with the knowledge.”

Gretchen’s head whirled. “You have my word. Anything else?”

“One last thing, and I’ll let you go. I gotta warn you, though, it’s a biggie, so prepare yourself. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Gretchen wondered what, after everything she’d already heard, could be left to surprise her.

“Okay, here goes. I want you to promise to have a wild, crazy affair. No more Ms. Practical for you, when it comes to men. No siree, Bob. You are now going to be Wild Woman.”

For a second or two, Gretchen stared at the tape recorder, her mouth slack with shock. Then, giving a small shake of her head, she smiled ruefully. She should have known better than to wonder what Jill could have had left to surprise her.

“I told you it was a biggie.” Jill’s voice sounded amused, but determined. “There are also a few stipulations with this one. The man can’t be anything like the men you’ve dated in the past. He can’t be steady and unimaginative when it comes to both work and play. Especially play. He can’t be more focused on his career than he is on your figure. And he can’t be more comfortable in a suit than he is in a pair of jeans. In a word—and no offense, Gretch, ’cause I’m also describing every man I’ve ever dated—he can’t be dull. Dull, dull, dull.”

“No offense taken,” Gretchen murmured.

“You’ll know you’ve met the right guy, when just a mere look is enough to curl your toes, when your heart all but stops when he smiles at you and when you think you’re going to incinerate on the spot when his fingers chance to brush against yours. And if he sports a tattoo, wears a leather jacket and rides a Harley, all the better. That’s a guy you can let your hair down with. That’s a guy you can have a wild, crazy affair with.”

Of all the promises Gretchen had been asked to make, this one gave her the most pause. In the simplest terms, she was not the wild, crazy affair type. Even if she had been, she didn’t know any men like the one Jill had just described.

Or did she? Her thoughts flew to her tenant, the man who rented the other half of the duplex she’d grown up in, and which had been left to her when her parents died. Dr. Marco Garibaldi. She rarely saw him, but whenever she did she experienced all the reactions Jill had just described, and then some.

“Yeah, right,” Gretchen muttered wryly. She had about as much chance of having a wild, crazy affair with Marco Garibaldi as she did with a movie star. Still, the thought filled her with a restless yearning she couldn’t deny.

“Promise me, Gretchen.” Jill’s voice filled the room with a determined strength. “For the first time in your life, I want you to be totally selfish, to for once do things for you and only you, and to hell with what anyone else thinks or says. I want you to live the life we always talked about living but were too scared or busy with our careers to actually get out and live. I want, when you lie on your deathbed, for you to have no regrets.

“Remember that line from Auntie Mame? ‘Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.’ I want you to feast, Gretch. Feast like no one has feasted before. Promise me you’ll do everything I asked.”

Despite her conviction that Jill’s request was beyond crazy, Gretchen felt a growing excitement in the pit of her stomach. Sitting in her office, listening to the voice of a dead woman and making outrageously impractical promises, she felt more alive than she had in months, maybe even years.

“I promise.” The words slipped out before she was consciously aware she intended to utter them.

Could she really do it? Could she do all the things Jill had asked? Could she actually have an affair with Marco Garibaldi, or any other man like him?

One thing was certain: she had to try. After all, she had made a promise, and promises were to keep.