Bookman's promise

world thinks of as beauty. She had a satchel mouth to rival Louis Armstrong’s, and when she smiled, she lit up a room.

“Mr. Janeway. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I got to my feet. “Mrs. Ralston.”

I introduced Erin and they had a warm exchange. She insisted at once on being called Denise. Her hand was warm in mine and I liked her eyes. I liked her face, which reflected a heart that I knew I’d also like. She said, “I think we’d better go right on in,” and her voice managed to ask and tell at the same time, steady as it goes, boys, with just a hint of a French accent. “I don’t think we have much time,” she said.

Erin backed away from the door. “I’ll just sit out here at the table.”

The bedroom was cool, bathed in a soothing orange light from a lamp at the side of the bed. Mrs. Gallant lay with her eyes half-closed, but again that second sense, her instinct, something told her I was there. Her eyelids fluttered. I felt Denise at my side and for a crazy moment I had a sense that I had merged with these remarkable women, all of us standing in some single spirit outside ourselves. Denise touched my arm, moving me to the bedside. Mrs. Gallant said, “Mr. Janeway,” and I sat in the chair beside her.

“Hey, Mrs. G. You’re not feeling so hot, huh?”

“Not so hot. I’ve really messed things up here, haven’t I?”

“You have made life very interesting for all of us. We’re very glad you came to us.”

“I can’t imagine. But somehow I believe you.” She turned her head. “Is Denise here?”

“She’s right behind me.”

“I can’t see that far. Mr. Ralston?”

Ralston loomed out of the shadows. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I want you to promise me something. It’s none of my business but that’s one of the prerogatives of very great age—you get to meddle in other people’s affairs.”

“You meddle all you want, ma’am.”

“Just…take good care of this wonderful girl. She is very special.”

“I do know that, ma’am.”

“Denise?”

She came up and took the old woman’s hand.

“Did you tell Mr. Janeway about the picture?”

“Not yet.”

“There used to be a photograph tucked into my book. A picture that proves what I’m saying. It shows Charlie and Richard together, in Charleston.”

“What happened to it?”

She looked distressed. “I don’t know. It vanished long ago, like everything else. But I remember it. Koko knows.”

“Koko?”

“Yes. Koko can tell you.”

She turned her face up to Denise. “You’re such a grand girl. I wish you were my daughter.”

Denise grinned. “Maybe I am.”

Mrs. Gallant made a sad little laughing sound. “Wouldn’t that have shocked the stuffing out of my proper old Baltimore family?”

A moment passed. The old woman said, “Besides, you’re not old enough.”

Another moment. “Where’s my book?”

“It’s right here.” Denise got it from a table beside the bed.

“Give it to Mr. Janeway.”

I took the book and put it on my lap.

“It’s yours now.”

I started to protest, but Denise squeezed my arm and shook her head. Mrs. Gallant said, “I want you to have it, but it’s not an outright gift. I want you to make an effort to find the others.”