Page 5 of Little Empty Promises

“The second time you met was here,” I said, intrigued.“How did that happen?”

“As soon as your father returned from Spain, he came straight to Cambria.He knocked on my door, and when I opened it, he handed me the most beautiful bouquet I’d ever seen, and he professed his love for me.I didn’t know what to say.I stood there for a moment and then I burst into tears.I realized I loved him too.”

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell us kids the real story until now?We would have understood.”

She reached out, taking my hand.“I know that now.I should have been honest about it from the start.I felt awful about how I’d handled everything with your father.After your father and I talked, and I explained what had happened, he was disappointed at first.Then he suggested we start from scratch, and that’s just what we did.”

“What matters is you found your way back to each other in the end.”

“Just like you and Giovanni.I suppose now you can see why New York is a special place for me too.”

She released my hand and squinted, peering out the window for a third time.

Then there was another quick glance at the time.

“You’ve been looking out the window and then at your watch a lot since I’ve been here.Is everything okay?”

She tapped a finger to her lips.“Mmmph, I don’t know.Cordelia’s porch light is on.”

I glanced out the window, staring at the house my mother was pointing at.

“Why are you concerned about your neighbor’s porch light?”I asked.

“She always leaves it on when she’s not home in the evening, and she always turns it off when she gets back.It’s getting late.The light’s still on, and she should have been home a while ago.”

“Maybe she got tied up running errands.”

“I think I’ll give her a call.”

My mother removed her cell phone from her pocket and dialed.

There was no answer.

“Well, I just don’t understand it, don’t understand it at all, I tell you,” my mother said.“Cordelia doesn’t leave the house much.Not since her husband passed away.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Depressed.Yessiree, that one word just about sums it up.I was visiting with her a few weeks ago, and she made a comment about having nothing to live for now that he’s gone.She has no children and not much family to speak of, other than a sister whom she hasn’t spoken to in years.”

“Do the two of you get together often?”

“I pop in a couple of times a week to see how she’s doing.During one of my recent visits, I told her I knew what she was going through, having lost your father some time ago.I promised her it would get better.Perhaps it was a promise I ought not to have made.”

“Why?”

“Part of me worries I’ve pushed her back into society before she’s ready.As I thought of ways to help her cope with his death, I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea.Cordelia loves books of all genres.Her house is filled to the brim with them.I knew the local library was looking for a volunteer, and I proposed it would be a perfect opportunity for her to dip a toe back into the outside world.”

“What did she think about your suggestion?”

“She loved the idea.She worked there today, in fact.I’m concerned because the library closed a few hours ago.I don’t understand why she isn’t home yet.”

“You said she loves books.Maybe she stayed late to read.”

“Cordelia doesn’t like to be out after dark.She’s a bit funny that way.Why would she stay when she could just bring the book home?”

It was a fair point.

“If it will make you feel better, we can head over to the library and see if she’s still there,” I said.

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