Promises to Keep by Ann Tatlock

the wrath of the Russians once more.

    That night the doorbell rang promptly at six o’clock. Wally answered it. “Yeah?”
    A well-dressed man stood on the porch, fedora in hand. He had a full-moon face, a sharply pointed nose and a swiftly receding chin. His dark hair, heavily greased, was parted on the side and combed flat against his head. Before he spoke, he pulled at the knot of his tie and thrust out his jaw. “I’m Tom Barrows,” he finally announced.
    Wally waited for more but was met with silence. I left the kitchen, where I was setting the table, and moved quietly out to the hall to get a better look.
    “What do you want?” Wally finally asked.
    The man tugged at his tie again, and a nervous fear flashed behind the lenses of his glasses. “I believe Mrs. Anthony is expecting me.”
    “She is?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “For what?”
    The man frowned, then sniffed. “We’re having dinner and – ”
    Before the stranger could finish, my brother turned and hollered up the stairs. “Mom!”
    “Yes, Wally?”
    “Are you expecting someone?”
    “Yes. Is he here?”
    Wally looked at Tom Barrows, then back up the stairs. “I’m not sure.”
    “What do you mean, you’re not sure? Is someone at the door or not?”
    “Um, yeah. Some guy’s here. Says he’s looking for you.”
    “Well, invite him in, please, and tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”
    Wally opened the door a little wider and waved toward the living room.
    The man stepped inside, eyed me briefly, nodded at Wally. “Thank you,” he said. Crablike, he moved sideways into the living room, where he stopped just beyond the threshold. He seemed not to want to make himself at home.
    Wally shut the door and crossed his arms. “You taking my mother out on a date or something?”
    The fingers grew taut on the rim of the fedora. “We’re having dinner and going to a movie.”
    “How do you know my mother?”
    “I . . . well, I bought a hat from her.”
    Wally actually snorted. “You bought a hat from her?”
    “Um, yes, but not for me, of course. For my mother. For her birthday. She liked it very much.”
    Mom came down the stairs then, wearing one of her nicer dresses and smelling of perfume. “Hello, Tom,” she said brightly.
    “Hello, Janis,” he said with a nod and a small, relieved smile. “You look lovely.”
    Wally took a step forward, as though to come between them. “Mom,” he said, “you didn’t ask me if you could go out tonight.”
    Mom looked startled. Then she gave a small laugh. “I’m sorry, Wally, but I didn’t know I needed your permission.”
    “Yeah, well, I – ”
    “I’ll be home after the movie, around eleven, I suppose. You don’t need to wait up for me.” A sweep of her eyes brought me into the conversation. “Now, the two of you mind Tillie and help her out with Valerie, will you?”
    She retrieved her fall jacket from the closet, kissed the top of my head, and exited the house with a man neither of us had ever seen before, not even at Tillie’s welcome home party.
    Wally and I cornered Tillie in the kitchen. “Did you know Mom was going out tonight?” Wally demanded.
    Tillie was kneading a batch of biscuit dough and didn’t let Wally’s question interrupt her work. “Of course. She put me in charge of you kids.”
    “So why didn’t she tell us she was going out?”
    “I don’t know, Wally.” Tillie kneaded and shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want to have to fight with you about it.”
    “I wouldn’t have fought with her about it. I would have just told her not to go.”
    “And why not?”
    “Because the last thing we need around here is another man.”
    “Merciful heavens, Wally, she’s not marrying him. She’s just going to a movie with him.”
    “Yeah, and one thing leads to another, and next thing you know . . .” Wally slapped his hands together loudly. What that meant, I didn’t know.
    Tillie flattened the biscuit dough with her rolling pin. “Now, look, Wally. I know