A Winter's Vow (A Winter's Tale Series Book 3) Read online

  A Winter’s

  Vow

  By Kristi Tailor

  7th Meadow Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Les

  Cover photo from Shutterstock

  Book printed by CreateSpace Publishing USA

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, products, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Kristi Tailor

  All rights reserved.

  ACknowledgements and THANKS

  A special thanks to my alpha- reader, Camióna Friend, who has taken time away from her studies to edit this piece, and to my beta- reader Kaleb Charlton, who simply took a chance. You are both brilliant and I truly appreciate your assistance with this project.

  To my family and friends, thank you for your continual support through my writing journey.

  And to my readers, thank you so much for all of your support.

  Lord, thank you for blessing me continuously, and for filling my mind with stories.

  “It took thirty years, and a lot of tragic endings to romances for me to learn what I deem to be the most important lesson of love, and that lesson is this . . . a man, fights, for the woman he wants to spend his life with, and nothing, and no one, can keep him from her.”-Kristi Tailor

  Look for A Winter’s Secret, the next novel in the

  A Winter’s Tale series coming February 2020.

  A Winter’s Vow is also available as a paperback

  dEDICATION

  To my Aunt Stephanie, who has always been a beacon of light during the times that I felt surrounded by darkness. You’ve encouraged me in ways that you’ll never know, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Prologue

  MARCH 1991

  Nicholas Elliot sat quietly beside his brother, Caleb, in the black plush leather chair opposite their father’s marble desk. His eyes wide with wonder as his father’s close confidant and business associate, Hayward Fissicle, greedily pulled stack after stack of carefully wrapped one hundred- dollar bills from a bronze briefcase. Watching closely, he counted along silently as the greying man laid the currency out in front of his father.

  “We made out better than expected,” Hayward Fissicle bragged. “The poor bastard never stood a chance.”

  “They never do,” Spencer Elliot laughed as he stood to his feet. “Caleb. Nicholas. This is what hard work gets you,” he said. Walking over to his sons, he grabbed a couple of stacks from the still full briefcase, extending his hands to either boy, a bright smile lengthening his thin pale lips.

  Nicholas turned to Caleb, uncertainty etched deeply onto his eleven- year- old face. Should I take it? He wondered. Is Caleb going to take it? His stare never wavering, Nicholas waited for his brother to make a decision for the both of them.

  Caleb narrowed his dark blue eyes as he regarded his father earnestly. “I thought you said that a real man is self- reliant?” Caleb questioned.

  “I did,” Spencer answered. “But you− “

  “I didn’t earn that money, it’s yours. I don’t want it,” Caleb’s tone was clear, strong. “You keep it.”

  Spencer’s frown caused lines to form around his brows, but he didn’t object to his eldest son’s request. “Nicholas, here, take all of it. You’ve made out today it seems.”

  Nicholas looked from his brother to his father, his bright grey eyes mirroring his brother’s in assurance. “I don’t want it either. You keep it.”

  “You can make up your own mind, Nicholas, you don’t have to look to Caleb for every decision you make.” Though his expression was hard to read, the disapproval in his voice was easily recognizable.

  “I want to be a man like Caleb.”

  Spencer laughed. “Caleb hasn’t the knowledge to what it means to be a man yet. Being thirteen hasn’t taught him much.”

  “He’s still a man, and I want to be like him,” Nicholas argued.

  “Caleb−” Spencer began.

  “Be your own man, Nicholas,” Caleb interrupted. “Being your own man is good enough.” Standing, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the leather chair. “Call Esmerelda and tell her that we’re ready.”

  “The nanny? Are you ready to leave already?”

  “Yes,” Caleb answered, grabbing Nicholas’ jacket and handing it to him.

  “Hayward can take the two of you back to the house. You wouldn’t mind, would you Hayward?” Spencer asked, turning to face the man they had all but forgotten was still in the room.

  “No, I wouldn’t mind,” the other man answered, immediately restacking the bills into the too small space.

  “No thank you,” Caleb shook his head. “Dad, call Esmerelda.”

  “I’d like it if the two of you stayed . . . I would like to teach you a few things,” Spencer offered.

  “Don’t worry, dad, you’ve taught us plenty,” Caleb assured him. “Let’s go Nicholas.”

  Chapter One

  JANUARY 2009

  Charlotte Toutant flexed her torso upward, closing her eyes to the frigid New York temperature as her feet hit the stained cement with a purpose. The hard- edge of the wind while painful to those she passed in heavy coats and wool scarfs was of no consequence to her. Running

  a steady pace, her arms moved slow and even against the strong gusts that hit her face. Her long legs mimicked the strides of a stallion equipped with the potency and longevity of one who would never surrender to the elements surrounding her. Fluid and gracefully she ran without pause, without delay. Turning onto 9th street, Charlotte quickened her pace. Push it! She coaxed herself. Two more blocks. Just two more blocks. Ignoring the burning sensation making its way from the balls of her feet to the apex of her thighs she continued down the busy sidewalk, ignoring the crowds of strangers loitering in front of shops and food carts. A small smile touched the corner of her thin lips when Tompkins Square Park was in eyesight. You got this, Charli. Keep going . . . what’s another block? Briefly closing her eyes Charlotte fought against the ache building in her chest as heat rocketed through her lungs. 10th street turned into 11th before Charlotte began to slow her strides. Turning west on Broadway she came to a steady stop. Reaching her arms toward the sky, Charlotte greedily dragged air into her burning lungs, attempting to numb the ache.

  Since returning from the Hamptons three weeks prior, she’d all but stopped running. The honeymoon stage of her and Nicholas’ relationship was at its highest peak and there hadn’t been a day they spent apart, let alone a night. Nicholas Elliot, her boss, and best friend turned fiancé had all practically moved into her small apartment, which to her surprise made the tiny boxed space more comfortable. Slowly lowering her arms Charlotte turned on her heels, taking in a deep breath as her toned legs began to move in unison with the rest of her body. Her dark brown eyes focused on the street signs as she passed them, a necessary distraction as the January cold front began to pick up. Tightening her black crocheted scarf around her neck, she pulled her matching skully further down onto her forehead, grateful that she had dressed appropriately for the season. Without thought she turned east on Broadway, a soft smile touching her li
ps, only three more blocks until she’d be home . . . three more blocks until she’d be with Nicholas.

  ***

  Charlotte stopped cold in the foyer of her petite apartment at the sight of her sister, Marguerite LeBas, sitting on her too small couch, in her suddenly too intimate living room, beside Nicholas. Angrily, she let out a heavy breath. With her right hand tightly gripping the door knob, Charlotte forced her feet to move forward, the small act proving to be a monumental feat in that moment. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her tone harsher than what she had intended. Seeing the two of them alone in the dimly lit living room caused Charlotte’s mind to become conflicted with chaos and uncertainty. Her insecurities instantly at the forefront, controlling her thoughts of the endless possibilities of betrayal and unfaithfulness. It’s not your fault, Charli, her subconscious whispered. She seduced your last fiancé, God only knows if she’d try her luck with Nicholas, too. Looking from Nicolas to her sister and back again, she asked, “You let her in?”

  “He let me in, too,” Adeline Toutant, the youngest of the three sisters called from the kitchen. Making her way into the living room she held out a half- eaten deli sandwich. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes briefly, relieved. Knowing that Adeline had been there with them put her at ease, silencing the whispering voices and their deceitful tales of hidden agendas and deception. “Don’t mind what . . .? That you’ve shown up unannounced, or that you’re eating my food?” Charlotte asked, her expression softening.

  “Both,” Adeline smiled.

  “Do mom and dad know that you’re here?”

  “I’m sure they’ve found the note by now. They haven’t called you?” Adeline mused.

  “Note? You left them a note? Marguerite!” Charlotte yelled. “I would expect something like this from Adeline, she’s seventeen. Seventeen- year old’s do stupid stuff like this, but from you . . . you’re twenty- two! Why would you let your seventeen- year- old sister leave home for another state without telling her parents? “Does that make sense to you?” she chastised.

  Marguerite blinked rapidly at her sister as she tried to think of the best excuse. “I didn’t want to come here alone, so I asked her to come with me. We’re only in New York . . . that’s only three hours from Maryland. I don’t think mom and dad will mind.”

  “That’s not the point. She’s not eighteen. She can’t just leave home without permission from an adult.”

  “I’m an adult,” Marguerite reasoned.

  Narrowing her eyes at the other woman, Charlotte allowed an unamused laugh to escape past her lips. “Hardly.”

  “And on that note, Adie, I think we should give these two the opportunity to talk in private,” Nicholas interceded. “How about taking your sandwich to go?”

  Charlotte moved then, loosening her grip on the door knob, and allowing it to slam behind her. “You don’t have to leave,” she told Nicholas. “I’m going to call my parents, and then find a Mega bus that’s going back to Maryland tonight.”

  “Don’t you think we should talk?” Marguerite muttered, unsure if she was prepared for the harsh bite that Charlotte’s words would undoubtedly carry.

  It had been two years since the two women had engaged in a conversation, two years since Marguerite had been caught having sex with Charlotte’s ex- fiancé, Todd. And while Charlotte had finally come to terms with the betrayal, forgiving her parents for their knowledge of the affair, she still wanted nothing to do with her sister. True, she had made every attempt at forgiving the other woman, and in her heart, she knew that she had, still the notion of reconciling with Marguerite was lost on her. She had no interest in repairing her relationship with her sibling.

  Narrowing her eyes at the other woman Charlotte sighed abrasively. “Everything I needed to say to you in this lifetime has already been said.” Her gaze wandered from Marguerite’s facial features that once mirrored her own, but were now stretched from the effects of pregnancy, to her growing belly.

  “Charli, please,” Marguerite pleaded. “Let’s just . . . talk.”

  “Charli, talk to her,” Adeline cooed, her bright hazel eyes begging louder than her words. “Please.”

  Exasperated, Charlotte agreed. “Fine. I’ll listen to what she has to say,” she said, assuring Adeline. “I’ll listen to what you have to say,” she repeated, taking a step toward Marguerite, but only because Adie asked me to, it has nothing to do with regards of you.”

  Marguerite nodded her head in understanding. “Okay.”

  “Good! So now that that is squared away, Nicholas, give me a tour around Manhattan. I want to see everything worth seeing that twenty dollars will allow me,” Adeline laughed, her disposition suddenly sprightly.

  “There’s money in my purse,” Charlotte offered. “Look in my bedroom, my purse should be on the dresser.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nicholas said rising from the couch. “Let’s go Adie. The city is too big to explore in such a short amount of time, but lucky for you it never sleeps.”

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte stood by the arm of her brown leather couch, watching her sister in silence. Marguerite hadn’t spoken, let alone moved since Nicholas had left with Adeline. Quietly, somberly, she sat there, on Charlotte’s plush sofa with a forlorn look in her hunted brown eyes. Seconds turned into minutes as Charlotte waited patiently for anything to come past the other woman’s lips . . . two words, one, even a sound would have sufficed, but there was nothing. Nothing but silence, and the lost expression that overcast the young girl’s delicate features. Sighing, Charlotte sat on the edge of her couch, already exhausted by the conversation yet to be had. “Marguerite? If you have something to say, just say it, otherwise I−“

  “I left Todd,” Marguerite blurted the words out as if they were a confession she’d been waiting to be freed from. “Charli, I left him.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it. What am I supposed to say to that? I’m sorry? Is there anything I can do to help? Do I ask what happened? Even if I could care less what happened between them? What am I supposed to say to something like this? She pondered. Staring at Marguerite through long hooded lashes Charlotte shook her head in frustration. “I have to take a shower,” she said, pulling off her hat and scarf in one swift motion. “There’s food in the refrigerator if you’re hungry.” Sliding her feet out of her Nike running shoes, Charlotte quickly un-zippered her balsam green North Face jacket as she walked toward the kitchen. “Water,” she mumbled under her breath. “I need water.”

  “Did you not hear what I just said?” Marguerite let out a quailing breath, slightly annoyed by Charlotte’s reticent disposition. “I left Todd,” she repeated. “I’m filing for divorce.”

  “I heard you,” Charlotte answered. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed for two water bottles with greedy hands, the sight of the clear fluid made her mouth feel dry. I hate being dehydrated, she thought.

  Marguerite stood then, her once desolate expression suddenly replaced with aggravation. “And you have nothing to say?” she asked, making her way into the kitchen.

  Charlotte snorted at her sister’s nerve. “What am I supposed to say to that? Your marriage is none of my business.”

  “You could ask why I’ve decided to divorce him?”

  “That too, is none of my business.”

  “Charli!” Marguerite yelled.

  “Marguerite!” Charlotte shouted back at her, slamming the refrigerator door with the back of her hand. “Why did you come here?”

  Marguerite frowned. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you that I−”

  “That you left Todd. Okay. You left Todd . . . now what? Are we supposed to suddenly be on good terms again? Am I supposed to just forget about what you did, and bring you back into my life like nothing ever happened? Is that what you expected to happen?”

  “No. I . . . I . . . just wanted you to know. I thought that you should know. I wanted to tell
you face to face that I left him, and that I’m sorry for hurting you, Charli. I really am. I’m sorry.”

  Placing the unopened bottles of water on the countertop Charlotte turned to face her sister. Looking into Marguerite’s eyes, Charlotte knew that she was staring into her own. She gazed at her steadily without speaking. It astounded her how easily Marguerite could put on the air of innocence without so much of a thought. Shaking her head regretfully, her expression softened. “I don’t know what you want from me . . . I’ve already forgiven you. I’m not angry with you anymore, and I don’t hate you. But, that’s all I have to offer you, my forgiveness. As for anything else, I’m sorry.”

  “We’re sisters, and we’ll always be sisters,” Marguerite gasped, fighting to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall from her moist eyes.

  “Once, we were sisters. Now you’re a stranger to me, and I’m fine with that. I don’t need anything more from you than the memories that you have left me with.”

  “We will always be sisters, Charli,” Marguerite cried. “Always.”

  ***

  Charlotte woke to the sound of jingled keys and muffled voices. Her apartment was dark and hot. Marguerite must have turned up the heat, she gathered. Stretching her arms toward the ceiling, Charlotte let out a low groan. The past twelve hours had been a series of unexpected events to say the least. She never imagined coming home to find her sisters in her apartment with bags, and the preconceived notion that she would allow them to stay with her, especially Adeline who was all but seventeen years old and officially considered a runaway. Charlotte shook her head in disbelief at Marguerite’s inability at being responsible. What type of adult sneaks their seventeen- year- old sister out of their parents’ home, and on a whim, leaves the state? Charlotte thought, chastising the other woman silently. “Marguerite, that’s who,” she said under her breath. Throwing her legs over the couch, she allowed the garden designed knitted quilt to fall to the floor. Rubbing her eyes, Charlotte glanced at the clock, it was nearly two in the morning.