Page 6 of Enduring Promise

“Come in,” Russ called, his voice deep and husky as his eyes never left her.

Madame Fournier walked quietly into the large sitting room and closed the door behind her. With a serious expression she addressed them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more of an indication of what to expect but you both did wonderfully. While I love and trust my staff, it’s vital that I am the only one on site who knows who you really are. It helps keep everyone safe.”

“We understand,” Hillary said with a tip of her head.

“We don’t,” Russ corrected. “Or I don’t. It seems like a risk to be guests at a party with so many people attending. We have no idea what’s happening with Topeka and her father. Has he been arrested? Are we going to need to testify soon?”

“I have no knowledge of any of those things,” Madame Fournier said curtly. “You are here for another purpose.”

“We’re hiding out,” Hillary clarified. “Russ is one of the few people on this planet willing to testify against a monster and finally bring him down. He just needs to stay alive long enough to do so. That’s our purpose.”

She shook her head. “There will be a young woman here. The daughter of a dear friend. We believe she’s in some trouble and we’d like you to try to offer her some assistance.”

“Us?” Russ asked, furrowing his brow. “What kind of trouble is she in? We’re kind of up to our necks in trouble already.”

“We don’t know exactly what she’s dealing with.” Madame Fournier looked away. “But I do believe both of you might be in a position to help her. I’ve arranged for you to be seated near each other at dinner this evening. All I ask is you try to connect with her. She’ll be here for a few days. I’ll need you to do everything you can to try to offer her what she needs.”

“Why us?” Hillary asked, knowing she sounded cold.

“We are an insulated people. Many generations, many families all congregating together for the same parties, the same celebrations. We need outsiders. People who can reach out to Claire without bringing years of history and baggage along. She’s a bright girl but terribly guarded. She’ll never open up to one of us.”

“That’s why we’re here?” Hillary hadn’t had her feet on solid ground for what felt like weeks. Now everything just got even more complicated. “We’re supposed to try to help someone else? We’re not really in a position to?—”

“You’re safe here in Willowbrooke. I’m glad for that. But we still took on great risk bringing you here. In return, we ask that you do your part.”

“We didn’t ask to come here,” Russ reminded her. “We didn’t know where we’d end up. I’m not trying to sound ungrateful. We appreciate having the refuge but we’ve been through hell.”

“Good,” Madame Fournier said firmly. “Then you’ll know how to show her the way out.”

Without another word she stepped from the room and closed the door behind her.

CHAPTER 6

Russ adjusted the collar of his crisp dress shirt, feeling oddly out of place in the formal attire provided by Madame Fournier’s staff. He glanced at Hillary, who was already dressed and ready, looking stunning in a deep burgundy gown that complemented her hair and gave her an air of elegant mystery. If this situation wasn’t so complicated, he might even acknowledge how stunning she looked. Instead he gave her a nod and tried to stay focused on the mission at hand.

Staying here was far better than any of the dank and dangerous motels they’d been shuttled to. But he wasn’t exactly sure he was ready to get mixed up in someone else’s mess. Especially without any details. But there was no time to protest.

They were escorted down a wide, sweeping staircase that led to a grand dining room, a room that seemed to belong in a bygone era. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, golden light over the massive table that dominated the space. The table was set for over thirty guests, each place meticulously arranged with gleaming silverware, fine china, and delicately folded napkins. An opulent centerpiece ran the length of the table, decorated with fresh flowers, trailing ivy, and tall, slender candles that flickered gently.

As they were led to their seats, Russ noticed a young woman with tight, dark curls and large, almost doll-like eyes sitting near their assigned spots. She had an air of quiet poise, though her gaze was alert, assessing everyone who came near. When she noticed Russ and Hillary approaching, she offered a polite smile, her expression kind but guarded.

Russ and Hillary took their seats on either side of the woman, who introduced herself as Claire. The first course was brought in with the sort of reverence one might reserve for presenting a royal treasure. Delicate bowls of velvety butternut squash soup, drizzled with a swirl of cream and garnished with microgreens, were placed in front of each guest. The rich aroma wafted up from the bowl, and Russ couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship that went into such a simple dish.

As they began their meal, Hillary leaned toward Claire with a warm smile. "Claire, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Hillary, and this is my husband, Russ."

Claire returned the smile, though her eyes remained cautious. "It’s a pleasure," she said politely, her voice soft but clear. "Are you both enjoying the estate?"

"Very much," Hillary replied smoothly, settling into her role. "It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? And I hear there’s a big celebration coming up?"

"Yes," Claire nodded, her tone polite but distant. "The estate’s anniversary. It’s always quite an event. I’ve had to come here every year since I was five years old. Almost everyone at this table has been here every year," she responded with a resigned sigh. Her gaze drifted briefly to the other guests, then returned to her soup, as though she were trying to gauge how much to reveal.

Hillary kept her expression friendly and open. “Ugh, that must be claustrophobic.” She took a spoonful of soup and looked partially distracted.

“It is,” Claire replied, obviously looking as though she’d been seen for the first time. “You can’t imagine how right you are. I feel like I’m in a bad dream I can’t wake up from. But these little gatherings aren’t exactly optional. I’m basically a hostage.”

Russ tried to dissect what she was saying and look for the subtext. Was she actually a prisoner? Was someone forcing her to be here?

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