Promises to Keep Read online

  “It wasn’t just Marshall’s company. My sweat, tears and several years of my life are embedded in the walls of that business.”

  McKenna and Marshall decided on the idea at the same time. Both loved cars and both had contacts in the automobile industry. It was McKenna who first broached the subject of starting a business to service vehicles, but Marshall jumped right in as if they were both of the same mind-set.

  Marshall knew the economy affected car sales, but people were willing to buy more efficient cars in a bad economy. Those that didn’t, took better care of the car they already owned. Their business, of a full line of automotive products sold to both retail outlets and the automotive industry, had taken off.

  The business didn’t just sustain them, it turned them into millionaires. But when Marshall got into the high-end, custom-made conversions, the carriage trade lined up and the business’s annual income became serious money.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that Marsh did it all himself,” Sara was saying when McKenna’s attention came back to her. McKenna gestured for her sister-in-law to stop talking.

  “George Hightower is not an idiot. He’s a capable manager and Marshall trusted him implicitly. So do I. George will keep things moving if he has to go out on the floor and run the machines himself.” She paused, waiting for Sara to refute her statement. Sara looked as if she disagreed, but she remained quiet.

  “Good. Then there’s nothing to keep me from pursuing my dream. Marshall is gone and I’m free and single. I’m alone here and I want to do this before I die.”

  “You’re not dying...” Sara said but then questioned, her expression changing to concern.

  “We’re all dying, Sara!” McKenna shouted. Fighting to quickly compose herself, she continued, her voice at its normal volume. “When Marshall died, I wanted to die, too. My life had been so much his life. Without him I didn’t know what to do, but after I was running the company alone for a while, I felt the old me emerging.”

  McKenna looked at her friends, studying their faces. “You remember the old me, don’t you? I used to be brave, yearning for new experiences. I loved Marshall, but he held me back.”

  “Held you back. How?” Sara challenged.

  “He didn’t mean to, Sara. And I let it happen.” She said the words gently. “I was happy to run the house, take a backseat to his decisions. I was happy to do what he wanted. We planned to have children, but our efforts were focused on the factory. We started the business and settled in. It took all our time and energy. But he’s gone now and I don’t want to die thinking I shoulda, woulda, coulda followed my heart and I didn’t. If I fail, at least I’ll know I gave it a chance. Can’t you understand that?”

  For a moment it was quiet in the garage. Silently she pleaded for their understanding. Lydia, Sara and Adrienne all had different expressions. McKenna didn’t know if they were reviewing the younger versions of themselves, the people they used to be when their dreams were fresh and new and the thought of not accomplishing them wasn’t an option, or if they were judging her.

  “You haven’t said anything, Lydia,” Sara prompted. “What do you think of McKenna’s plan?”

  Lydia Osbourne was McKenna’s oldest friend. “I don’t think you can make a trip like this alone,” she said.

  “There,” Sara seized the comment as consent that Lydia was in her corner. “Lydia’s right. What woman do you know who wants to drive from here to Los Angeles alone?”

  “And on roads that are cracked, overgrown with weeds or so badly in need of repair they’re essentially nonexistent,” Adrienne said.

  “You’re not going to talk me out of this,” McKenna said. “I’ve planned it for a year and I’m leaving in ten days.”

  “Ten days,” Adrienne said. “This car may not make it from here to California. That’s got to be...”

  “2,400 miles along Route 66,” McKenna finished for her. “And I know every single part of this automobile. I have personally installed every part, every piece. I know what its purpose is and what it needs to keep it working properly. This car is better equipped for a road trip than anything any of you drive.” Her comment was a challenge and she didn’t care how they took it.

  There were drawbacks, but McKenna didn’t know what they were yet. She chalked that up to being part of the adventure.

  “At least take someone with you,” Lydia said.

  “The car’s only got two seats and no trunk to speak of,” Sara observed. “Where are you going to stay and how can you even put one suitcase in this thing, let alone one for another person?”

  “Only you would call a fully restored ’59 Corvette a thing, Sara. I’m not planning on taking much. I want to travel the land the way the two guys on Route 66 did it.”

  “I thought Route 66 was a road?” Lydia asked.

  “A defunct road,” Adrienne added.

  “It’s an old television series, with two guys traveling the roads, finding work where they could, and having a wonderful time,” McKenna explained.

  “I never heard of such a thing,” Sara said.

  “It was before our time, but I watched the reruns on Nick at Nite,” McKenna said. She’d watched them while Marshall was ill. It played in the hospital and she felt as if those two guys had kept her sane during an insane time.

  “Isn’t that a children’s television station?” Adrienne asked.

  “During the day, but at night they play vintage programs. The guys were Buz and Tod and they were the hottest thing going during the late ’60s. They traveled that road working and meeting people along the way.”

  “How would you know? You weren’t even born then.”

  McKenna was tired of explaining herself. She was going and that should be that. “The internet,” she finally said, unwilling to go into how much she had read on the subject, the books, songs, associations she’d joined, not to mention the two Disney movies surrounding that road that came out only a few years ago.

  “All of this is because of some fifty-year-old television program? I cannot believe you,” Sara said.

  McKenna clenched her jaws. At this moment she could strangle Sara. She wanted her friends to approve of her trip, not plant doom in her head.

  “Sara, the show was only part of the inspiration for the trip, but it’s something I want to do. I’d forgotten about it until I started watching those reruns.”

  “Sara has a good point, McKenna,” Lydia said. “Have you given this enough thought? There are hundreds of things that can go wrong on the road. And trying to work your way to LA. How long do you think this is going to take? And what about emergencies?”

  “I’ll deal with them. If I can build a car, I can certainly drive it.”

  Lydia looked the car over with the eye of a teenage greaser. “It’s very low to the ground. Those roads haven’t been maintained in years, if ever. You’re likely to have trouble with the muffler and oil.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “If you get someone to go with you, I’d feel better.”

  “How about you going with me?” she asked Lydia.

  “What?” Lydia said. “I can’t—”

  “Why not?” McKenna interrupted. “What are you doing for the next few months?”

  “I have a job.”

  Lydia was a dressmaker by profession. She had a shop attached to her house and Sara worked there, too. They mainly did wedding gowns and big-ticket dresses for wealthy clients.

  “Sara can run it while you’re gone. You have a staff of people who make and alter the dresses. You’ve been doing management and client relations for years. And you haven’t had a vacation since I can remember.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sara said. “You’re not considering this?” she asked Lydia.

  “Of course not. I can’t just up and leave.”

 
“Lydia, it’ll be fun,” McKenna said. “The two of us, the wind in our hair, a car that any man over thirty would drool over. Just think about it. The open road. No cares. No deadlines. No one screaming for your attention.”

  Lydia considered it for a moment. She walked around the car, checking inside at the upholstery and smallness of the interior.

  “Fine,” she said. “We’ll be like Thelma and Louise.”

  “No, we won’t,” McKenna exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in protest. “The Grand Canyon is several hundred miles north of any part of Route 66.”

  “I was kidding,” Lydia said.

  McKenna’s shoulders dropped. “Lydia, I’ve been thinking about this ever since Marshall died.” She faced Sara and addressed her. “It’s something I want to do. I have to do it. Don’t burst my bubble now.”

  “I know you’re slightly off your rocker,” Lydia spoke up. “But it’s good to give life a jolt once in a while, instead of waiting for it to do it to you.”

  “Now she’s got it, too,” Sara said. “You’re both crazy.”

  “The car’s only got two seats,” McKenna pointed out, ignoring Sara. “We’ll be traveling light and that means no men.”

  “But Tod and Buz had women. Why can’t we have men? Thelma and Louise had men, too, only they killed them,” Lydia said.

  “I draw the line at murder, but pretty much everything else is fine with me.” McKenna smiled.

  Lydia and McKenna grinned at each other. And then they grinned at Sara and Adrienne. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.

  CHAPTER TWO

  TWO MORE DAYS, McKenna thought, leaving the store. The last thing she needed for the trip was a lightweight jacket. She’d found one that was warm, but not bulky. It was red and swung inside the bag she carried.

  She stopped along Main Street to look in the window of a small boutique. A royal blue gown expertly displayed on a mannequin stood in the window. McKenna gasped at its beauty. She could see herself wearing it. If she was going to a ball, it would be perfect. But her car was small and now she had a passenger. There was no room for anything superfluous. Not even a gorgeous royal blue gown would fit into the single bag she was using for this trip.

  Not to mention her plans didn’t include any evening functions requiring such a dress. Turning away, McKenna wasn’t expecting anyone to be so close to her. She ran directly into the massive chest of a man. Strong arms came out to steady her. The bag dropped to the ground as her fingers grabbed and found hefty biceps and held on.

  “I am so sorry,” she began, looking up at the man she’d walked into. “Parker!” He was the last person she expected or wanted to see.

  “McKenna,” he replied, letting her go.

  “Excuse me. I should have been paying more attention.”

  He glanced at the blue ball gown. “Apparently you were.”

  She smiled quickly, only allowing her lips to widen and close. Parker Fordum had to be the most boring man in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs. McKenna had had run-ins with him in the past and did not want either a repeat of them or to spend more time in his company than was absolutely necessary.

  “As neither of us is hurt, I’ll say goodbye,” she told him. She reached down and retrieved her bag, then moved to leave, but Parker stopped in front of her.

  “I hear you’re planning an adventure,” he said.

  “I am.” She raised her brows, meeting his gaze, ready for the challenge she knew would be reflected there. She wasn’t disappointed. She had to look up, as Parker stood a head taller than her five feet, five inches.

  He was a good-looking man. She had to admit that. His eyes were piercing and at times they could be comforting. She’d seen him look at Lydia with happiness then changing to a soft warmth.

  Reflecting his European ancestry, Parker had thick dark hair, a square jawline and features that commanded attention. His arms were long, extending from broad shoulders. Equally long were his strong legs. While she wouldn’t call him athletic, Parker and Marshall often went skiing together and they had a regular Saturday morning basketball game. She didn’t know who, if anyone, he played with now that Marshall was gone.

  For all his attributes, college professor described him best, the phrase like a tattoo. In her presence, at least, that was the personality he showed. Granted it was also laced with hostility. She didn’t blame him for that. She was hostile to him, too. The two of them just didn’t hit it off.

  “California, by way of Route 66?” His voice interrupted her assessment of him.

  “How did you know?” McKenna asked.

  “How often do we have the female owner of an international automotive parts corporation restoring a Corvette in her garage and planning to drive it from here to the Pacific?”

  “I suppose word is all over town about my trip.”

  “I don’t think it made it to downtown Chicago, but the entire township of Woodbine Heights has had the privilege.”

  “Adrienne or Sara?”

  “Sara.” He nodded.

  McKenna had no doubt her sister-in-law would be telling the tale, including her opinion of how harebrained the scheme was.

  “Don’t worry about what she says,” Parker told her. “The idea of driving Route 66 is fascinating.”

  “You think so?” she asked. McKenna forced herself not to blink. Was this the real Parker Fordum she was talking to?

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  McKenna looked at Parker to make sure he wasn’t being facetious. She knew people could say one thing and mean another. But his appearance seemed to be genuine.

  “I envy you.”

  “What?” McKenna couldn’t be hearing the straitlaced, put-everything-into-a-box Professor Parker Fordum was envying her.

  “Taking off for the wild unknown with only your wits as backup. It’s a brave thing to do.”

  She was about to thank him, but his next words stopped her.

  “And a foolhardy one.”

  “Excuse me?” McKenna pushed her hand through the plastic bag’s handle. She should have known he was setting her up. Parker was always true to character. How could McKenna have thought for a moment he would agree with her motives? She was going and she didn’t need or want Parker’s opinion.

  “Don’t you understand who you are?”

  “Of course I do.” And she knew who she was not. She wasn’t someone who was going to be talked out of what she wanted to do.

  “You are the owner of a billion-dollar business. You are female.”

  “Thank you for noticing. I might have missed those two points, especially as I come out of the shower each day. And I don’t care to hear any more from you.”

  McKenna moved to pass him. Again he blocked her path.

  “If you were only going on a driving trip, I’d say hail and farewell.”

  “But...” she prompted.

  “But you’re planning to work your way to the coast, doing only what you can afford.”

  “Parker, I’m taking enough money with me to get me there. It’s not like I’m planning to sleep in a field or cook over an open flame. And Jim Talbott is expecting me.”

  “That’s good to hear, but what about the safety factor? The world isn’t as safe as you might think.”

  Leave it to him to put everything on a nice neat little graph.

  “I’m well aware of the dangers and I’ll be careful to stay away from them.”

  “From kidnapping?”

  “You think someone wants to kidnap me?”

  “Why not? You’re a wealthy woman. You’ll only have Lydia as backup and she’ll panic the first time she sees a bug, let alone someone bent on harming the two of you.”

  “What are you talking about?” The bag on her arm was getting heavy. She wante
d to be gone. She and Parker had never agreed on anything. Sara may have told him her opinion, but McKenna was leaving in two days and nothing he could say would keep her from going.

  “Even though this is a small town, your movements haven’t been lost on the population. Especially with everyone knowing now about this trip. And a red-and-white ’59 Corvette will be easy to spot. If some guy takes it into his head to subdue you and hold you for ransom, what could you do about it?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I could use some of my self-defense training and slam him to the ground with a kick to the groin and a chop to the larynx. Or maybe I should bring you along as my personal bodyguard. The only problem with that is the car only has two seats and they’re occupied.” Her voice virtually oozed with sugar. “The trunk is available but it isn’t big enough for someone with shoulders as wide as yours, or legs as long.” She stepped around him. “See you when I get back.” To herself, she added, but preferably won’t.

  * * *

  BY MORNING, THOUGHTS of Parker weren’t McKenna’s main concern. The call came half an hour ago. Lydia had fallen and was in Mercy Hospital.

  McKenna turned into the parking lot. The lights of an ambulance momentarily blinded her. The car skidded to a stop next to a white van. Slamming the car door, McKenna ran to the hospital entrance. The revolving door hampered her hurried efforts. Inside, she rushed straight to the room number Adrienne had given her.

  Parker Fordum came out of the door as she reached it. McKenna stopped, frowned. She did not want to physically run into him a second time. She remembered his arms around her, the feel of his hands as they steadied her.

  “McKenna,” he said by way of greeting, his head bowing in a curt nod.