Page 8 of Enduring Promise

Russ grinned. “Looks like we’re not the first to break the rules around here.”

With a gentle push, Hillary opened the door, and they stepped into the library. A cozy, forgotten world seemed towelcome them. Despite the years of apparent disuse, the room felt warm, rich with the scent of aged leather and parchment. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, and towering shelves filled with dusty volumes reached up to the high ceiling. An antique globe stood in one corner, and a fireplace with a heavy stone mantel added a touch of rustic charm, though it hadn’t been used in some time.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow, making the space feel timeless, like a well-kept secret. Plush leather armchairs with deep seats and polished brass studs invited visitors to sink in and get lost in a good book, and heavy velvet drapes framed the tall windows, concealing the outside world entirely.

Claire was already there, seated comfortably in one of the large armchairs, a small tray with three glasses and a crystal decanter of brandy resting on the table beside her. She held out a glass for each of them as they entered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“Glad you could make it,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet room.

Hillary took a glass, feeling the warmth of the brandy in her hand. “This takes me back to my rebellious phase. I miss it. We passed Sophie in the hall and I was sweating a bit.”

Claire chuckled. “Sophie is good at keeping secrets. She’s practically family, really.”

Hillary sank into the armchair across from Claire, taking a sip of her drink and letting the smooth warmth of the brandy spread through her. The rich, smoky flavor was a comforting contrast to the formal, guarded atmosphere of the dinner. She relaxed into the seat, savoring the rare moment of freedom.

Meanwhile, Russ wandered around the room, his eyes scanning the shelves of books. “This place is incredible,” he murmured, pulling a book from the shelf and studying its cover. “I can’t believe no one comes in here.”

Claire nodded, swirling her brandy thoughtfully. “It used to be one of the best rooms in the house. My grandfather and Mr. Fournier would sit here for hours, reading, smoking cigars, talking politics with their friends... but ever since he passed, Madame Fournier seems too sad to let anyone in.

Hillary watched as Russ moved from shelf to shelf, his fingers trailing lightly over the dusty spines. He was clearly in his element, fascinated by the stories locked within the room.

“So many bottled up feelings in this world,” Hillary sighed. “We seem to have access to everything we want, but we have to pretend we don’t feel anything at all.”

“I know,” Claire agreed, staring off for a long moment. “I have so much family. So many people I grew up with and yet I’m utterly alone in my real life. I chose my career and the company I work for and in turn, I’ve become someone my family can’t relate to.”

Russ grunted. “Then they don’t deserve to have you around. Family isn’t supposed to have your back only when you’re acting the way they expect you to. It kind of misses the mark on unconditional.”

Hillary noticed the subtle shift in Claire's expression—a flicker of surprise, maybe even relief, as if Russ’s words had caught her off guard but had also managed to hit home.

Claire took a small sip of her brandy, her gaze fixed on the glass. "I used to be able to turn to them... when things got hard. When I was in trouble or needed advice. But now..." She trailed off, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Now it feels like there’s no one who would understand. Or maybe they wouldn’t care if they did."

Russ and Hillary exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. Hillary took the lead, leaning forward a bit, choosing her words carefully. "I get that feeling. After college, I got myself tangled up in a pretty terrible relationship.Thought for sure he was 'the one,' or at least I convinced myself he was." She glanced at Russ with a smirk. "I'm sure you love hearing about my ex-boyfriends."

Russ snorted, giving her a teasing look. "Nothing I enjoy more."

Hillary rolled her eyes, continuing her story. "Anyway, he seemed perfect on paper. My family adored him. Checked all the boxes in their minds. But there were... signs. Little things that showed me who he really was, but I kept ignoring them. Even when things got really bad, and I finally told my mom, she tried to convince me to 'stick it out.' Thought I should just deal with it rather than rock the boat. She couldn’t see past the image of him that she’d built in her mind."

Claire’s face tempered, her gaze dropping to her glass as she listened. "That’s awful. I think my mom would react the same way." She sighed, tracing her finger along the rim of her glass. "But I try not to let her meet anyone I date. I keep them far away. For their own sake, really."

"Are you seeing anyone now?" Hillary asked casually, testing the waters.

Claire shook her head quickly, almost too quickly. "No. Work has been... consuming. No time for a relationship. No time to even breathe really. I shouldn’t be up here now. It was a terrible time to step away from the lab. But I needed..." She trailed off and forced a smile, but Hillary could sense the tension, a barely concealed flicker of something deeper. Work. The word lingered, charged with unspoken weight.

Hillary tucked that detail away, making a mental note. She was starting to sense the trouble Claire was facing wasn’t only a matter of family expectations or social obligations. There was something about her work—something heavy, maybe even dangerous. And judging by Claire’s evasive answers, it was a topic she was reluctant to bring into the light.

But tonight, in this forgotten library with two strangers who understood more than she might expect, perhaps Claire was closer to revealing her secret than ever before.

As the silence began to settle between them, a quiet knock echoed through the room. The sound was gentle, barely more than a tap, but it sliced through the cozy atmosphere with an unsettling sharpness. Hillary felt her pulse quicken, glancing at Russ, whose gaze had hardened, his hand instinctively gripping the arm of his chair. Claire looked tense, her expression slipping from reflective to alarmed in an instant.

They sat frozen, each of them holding their breath as the door creaked open. Sophie’s head appeared in the doorway, her expression pale and taut. The easy, knowing smile she’d given them earlier was gone, replaced by something far more serious. Her eyes darted around the room before she stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Sophie?” Claire’s voice was a whisper, laced with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Sophie took a deep breath, her gaze shifting between the three of them. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but... someone is on the phone for you. The residence phone. They said it was urgent.”

“Urgent?” Claire questioned, the color draining from her face.

CHAPTER 8

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