Katia had stuffed her past deep down inside her, refusing to bring those shadows into the light. She knew all too well that it could be dangerous to allow those memories to rise to the surface.
Katia had grown up in a mansion in Indian Lake filled with elegant antiques. Katia’s mother, Stephania, had been the housekeeper, but Katia had paid attention to every nuance of Hanna and Daniel McCreary’s lifestyle. Because Stephania had been responsible for overseeing the McCrearys’ everyday schedule, as well as holiday events and dinner parties, Katia had eased into whatever job needed doing, from sous chef to table decorator to bartender. Before Katia had hit her teens, she’d learned about wines from Mr. McCreary. Katia had developed a sharp palate, which she believed was even better than Austin’s at the time.
Austin was three years older than Katia. She hadn’t seen him since the summer she was sixteen, when she and her mother had left Indian Lake. That was the summer Katia had known for certain that Austin had finally fallen in love with her. She’d been in love with him since the day she and her mother had moved into the McCreary mansion when she was only seven years old.
Katia’s parents were immigrants from Russia. Her father had been a mason and tile layer until his death in a truck accident on the South Side of Chicago. Katia’s mother, Stephania, spoke very little English and had never worked in her life before her husband’s death. A friend from their church had told Stephania she knew of two people looking for a full-time housekeeper. Stephania had applied for both jobs, but Hanna McCreary had wanted a live-in housekeeper, and Stephania couldn’t turn down the offer of free room and board for her and Katia.
Daniel McCreary owned a large auto-parts manufacturing plant and a retail store in Indian Lake. That same year, he had signed a very large corporate contract, which required him to spend more hours at the plant and less time at home with his wife and son. Hanna was the president of three charities and overwhelmed with her duties.
Stephania and Katia lived in the rear rooms on the first floor with their own entrance at the back, next to the driveway that led to one of three large old carriage houses. These buildings had been converted into garages to house Daniel’s collection of antique cars.
When they were kids, Austin often treated Katia like a pest and did his best to pretend, especially around his school friends, that she wasn’t anyone special to him. But in the long summer evenings when the light refused to fade and children’s attentions were not easily occupied, Austin had sought Katia out for tennis matches on the family clay courts, a swim in the pool, games of chess or Monopoly when it rained. She was his partner when his mother had forced him to take dancing lessons, and she had held a foil and worn thick cotton armor when he’d learned to fence.
Even then, Katia had known that she was only a substitute playmate for Austin, someone to stand in when his father was too busy to see him, but she didn’t care. She thought Austin walked through the stars at night and skated on sunbeams in the day. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. When Austin was with her, he was happy, carefree and inquisitive. She didn’t care that he shunned her as a “servant” when he was trying to impress his school friends, though at times, their barbs pierced the edges of her feelings. Katia believed that Austin would be her hero and come to her rescue if she ever truly needed it. She believed they were closer than any two people alive and only she knew the “real” Austin.
When Austin was fifteen and she was twelve, Daniel McCreary died. Gone was the man Austin had revered and tried to emulate. She remembered eavesdropping on dinner conversations where Daniel would herald the accomplishments of his grandfather, Ambrose McCreary, who had been one of the pioneer automobile designers at the turn of the century in Indianapolis. He’d talked to his son about Duesenbergs, Auburn Cords and Studebakers. Names from the past, connoting elegance and innovation. Katia had been enthralled as Daniel had spun his dreams of manufacturing replacement parts for antique cars. Austin had continually nagged his father for more stories about Ambrose and the kind of mind that he’d had. More than once, Katia had heard Austin say, “I should have been born back then. I could have been great like him.”
Though she’d understood that Austin was expected to take over his father’s manufacturing plant once he finished business college, for Austin, life without his father in it was like sleepwalking.
Daniel’s funeral had been on Valentine’s Day. Afterward, nearly a hundred people had come to the McCreary mansion for an enormous buffet dinner reception. They’d eaten, drunk, cried, laughed and reminisced.
That night, a blizzard had barreled into Indian Lake, nearly shutting down the interstate. Many guests had been snowbound and talked about sleeping on the library floor until the weather cleared up.
For Austin, it had all been too much. He’d disappeared.
Katia had been frantic until she’d glanced out her bedroom window and seen a faint light glowing in one of the carriage houses. She pulled on her boots and coat, and, taking an envelope from under the sweaters in her dresser drawer, she’d clomped through the new-fallen snow to the carriage house.
She’d found Austin sitting in a blue 1926 Bugatti convertible—Daniel’s favorite. Austin had been sobbing his heart out.
Katia was careful not to make any noise as she approached the car. Daniel had never allowed her to look at the cars, much less touch them. Austin, however, had gleefully sneaked her into the carriage houses each time his father had acquired a new beauty. Austin had been all too happy to display his extensive knowledge of the features and history of each car. He’d taken pride in the fact that his father would go to great lengths to find authentic chrome bumpers for his Duesenberg or brass and glass headlamps for a 1920 Stutz Bearcat. Katia had loved the romance of the exquisite cars with their leather seats, velvet upholstered doors and sterling silver flower vases. It was her way of living in another era by literally touching objects from bygone times.
Sometimes Katia would double-dare Austin into sitting in the 1955 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. She liked to pretend she was a movie star or a princess in Monaco. Anyone but who she was—the maid’s daughter.
Most of the time, Austin obliged her. He’d told her that since she understood his love for antique cars, she had to be his “kindred soul.” She hadn’t known what that meant at the time, so she’d looked it up in one of the books in Daniel’s library. When she’d read the meaning, she’d wondered if this was Austin’s way of telling her that she was special to him.
She’d just begun to feel as if they were becoming real friends when Daniel had died.
Katia eased her hand over the side of the door and opened it from the inside so as not to smudge the polished exterior. Usually, touching the precious car would have been an invasion, but Katia felt that the world had somehow changed.
It was time for Austin to learn that she was more than just the housekeeper’s daughter and his stand-in playmate. Austin’s eyes were swollen. “Katia. I should have known you would find me.”
“I’m not leaving. Even if you ask me,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I won’t,” he said, wiping his tears on his tweed jacket sleeve. He folded his arms across the steering wheel and then laid his face on them. “I can’t believe he’s gone. What will I do?”
“What you’ve always done. You’ll grow. Learn and become a man,” she said with a tiny shrug.
“I miss him so much already,” Austin said. He gulped, sounding to Katia as if he’d swallowed something very large. She understood the feeling intensely.
“I know you do,” she said softly,