Promises to Keep by Nan Rossiter

Author:Nan Rossiter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Paperbacks
Published: 2021-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

27

“THANKS FOR COMING, MRS. HARRISON,” MASON SAID, AS HE HELD OPEN the door of the attorney’s office.

“Oh, Mason, you don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to help. If you ever need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to ask.” She stopped and put her hand on his cheek. “You are part of our family and you always will be.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “That means a lot.”

“And we fully expect you to spend the holidays with us. We’ve always loved having you and your mom come over, and we expect you to continue the tradition.”

Mason laughed. “Okay. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else anyway.”

“Good,” she said, as they approached the receptionist’s desk.

“Good morning,” the silver-haired receptionist said without looking up. “How may I help you?”

Sue looked at Mason, and he cleared his throat. “Umm, we—I have an appointment with Mr. Bartholomew.”

“Your name?”

“Mason Callahan.”

The receptionist looked up and her stoic face crumpled as she removed her glasses and came around from behind her desk. “Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry about your dear mom,” she said, reaching for his hand. “She was the kindest person I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing . . . and she baked the most delicious apple pies. Did you know she would bring us a pie every time she came into the office?”

Mason smiled. “Thank you. I’m not surprised. She was always baking pies and giving them away.”

The receptionist smiled. “I hope she baked some for you, too.”

“She did.”

“You must miss her.”

He nodded and then gestured to Sue. “This is my mom’s friend, Sue Harrison.”

The receptionist let go of Mason’s hand and extended hers to Sue. “How do you do? I’m Carol Carson.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Carson,” Sue said, shaking the older woman’s hand.

Mrs. Carson nodded. “Well, you may sit right over there,” she said, motioning to two stiff Queen Anne chairs in the corner, “and I’ll let Mr. B know you’re here.”

She returned to her post and resumed her all-business demeanor, as she called into the office to let her boss know his client had arrived. Then she looked up again. “May I offer you some coffee or water?”

Mason pressed his lips together—he hadn’t had breakfast or coffee that morning. He looked questioningly at Sue and she nodded that it was okay, but he declined. “No, thank you. We’re all set.”

He leaned back in his chair and looked around at the dark paneling, wishing he could be anywhere else—anywhere, even mulching.

He was just about to reach for a magazine when a tall, stately gentleman with a mane of white hair filled the doorway. He was wearing a light blue seersucker suit, crisp white shirt, and red bow tie. “Mason?” he boomed.

And because the man’s demeanor demanded respect, Mason lurched to his feet. “Yes, sir.”

The older gentleman smiled and extended his hand. “Beau Bartholomew.”

Mason shook it politely. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“I’m very sorry about your mom. She was a sweet lady . . . and her apple pies, oh my!” he said in a slow Southern drawl.

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