“Thank you, Robert,” she said.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Robert said. “I brought along a friend of mine. He’s staying with us this summer. Margaret Winslow, I’d like you to meet Nick Sebastian.”
CHAPTER THREE
This is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, Meg thought, and then just as quickly she thought, but that doesn’t matter, and the two thoughts bumped into each other and made her blush. She felt like a fool standing there, turning red in that ridiculous dress, with Aunt Grace standing by her side, making sure she didn’t slouch or mumble or forget to thank people. He’ll hate me, she thought, and then she couldn’t remember his name, or why it was important that he not hate her, and she wished she could vanish, and she wished the moment could last forever.
“Let’s dance,” he said.
“But I have to stand on line,” she replied. Did she mumble? Probably.
“Do you?” he asked.
Meg considered his question. “No,” she said. “I don’t, do I.”
He stared at her and she stared back, and she knew she wasn’t blushing anymore. He took her hand, and led her away from the line, away from Aunt Grace. The band was playing Gershwin. They began to dance.
“I don’t know your name,” Meg admitted. “I heard it, but I guess I didn’t listen hard enough.”
“Nick Sebastian,” he said. “Do people really call you Margaret?”
“My aunt does,” Meg said.
“I’ll call you Daisy,” Nick said. “You should be called Daisy.”
“That’s what my parents called me,” Meg said. “Most people call me Meg. Aunt Grace insists on Margaret.”
“May I call you Daisy, then?” Nick asked.
Meg nodded. She couldn’t get over how wonderful it felt to be in his arms. She prayed he wanted to have his way with her.
“Robert and Isabelle said something about a birthday,” Nick declared. “Yours, I take it.”
Meg nodded.
“I should have brought something,” he said.
“You brought me my name,” Meg said. “That’s a very special gift.”
“I want to give you more than that,” he said. “But there’ll be other birthdays. We’ll dance on each of them, I promise.”
“Don’t tease,” Meg said.
“You know I’m not,” Nick replied. “What birthday is this, Daisy?”
“Sixteen,” she said. Please let that be the right answer, she thought.
Nick shook his head. “You’re older than that,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Meg thought about the hideous baby dress Aunt Grace had forced her to wear, and she pledged at that very moment to spend the rest of her life with Nick Sebastian. She intended to tell him that but Clark tapped Nick on the shoulder, and cut in on the dance.
“Do you know him?” Clark asked her. Meg felt herself inch away from Clark, stiffen her body just slightly, turn back into Meg Winslow, stoops and mumbles and all.
“He’s a friend of the Sinclairs’,” she said. “Robert introduced us.”
“He’s a bit pushy, don’t you think?” Clark said, being sure to lead as they danced. Meg hated it that Clark led. Not that she’d minded Nick leading. “There were people on line waiting to wish you happy birthday.”
“They’ll know where to find her,” Nick said, tapping Clark right back, and stealing Meg away from him before Clark had the chance to react. “Daisy, may I?”
“Who’s Daisy?” Clark asked, but they didn’t wait to answer. They left him sputtering on the dance floor, as they ran, hand in hand, away from the party guests.
“This is terrible,” Meg said, when they’d reached a safe distance. They could hear the sounds of the party, but they knew they couldn’t be seen. “Aunt Grace will be so angry.”
“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “I needed to be alone with you.”
“I know,” Meg said, and then she laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. “I’m not sorry. The hell with Aunt Grace.” She waited for the gods of gratitude to strike her down, but the only thing that happened was the band kept playing, and people still danced. The gods have the night off, she thought. I have never been so happy in my life.
“I know you don’t know me,” Nick said.
“You don’t know me either,” Meg said.
“I know who you are,” he replied. “In some ways I know how you got here. Robert and Isabelle told me a few details. Margaret Winslow of the Beacon Hill Winslows. Your parents died in an accident a few years ago. You go to school with Isabelle. You do well academically; you’re fairly popular. You live with your aunt, Grace Winslow. People treat Grace Winslow with respect. They do not steal her niece from under her nose.”
“It’s such a terrifying nose,” Meg said. “I remember even when I was little, Aunt Grace’s nose scared me.”
“I don’t want you to be frightened ever again,” Nick said. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”
“What can I do for you?” Meg asked. “I want to do something too.”
“You can love me,” Nick said.
Meg laughed. “That’s too easy,” she said. “I do that already.”
Then Nick smiled, and Meg realized all those wonderful flirty words were true, that everything they’d both been saying, they meant. She looked then, really hard, at Nick, tried to see who it was she felt so instantly connected to, tried to understand what it was about him that made her feel more eager to live than she’d ever dreamed. But all she could see was he loved her, and for the moment, that was all she needed to see.
“What’s your middle name?” she asked. She wanted to know his complete name. He required a full identity, this man she loved.
“George,” he said. “I hate it.”
“I hate my dress,” she replied.
“We can burn it,” he said. “We can turn it into ashes.”
“We’ll do the same with your name,” she said. “We’ll print it on a piece of paper and tear it into a hundred pieces and put it on the fire, and let it burn. And then you won’t be George anymore.”
He kissed her then, and Meg was so surprised that she shifted awkwardly, and he thought she was resisting. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” he said.
“Oh don’t be,” she said. “Don’t ever be sorry again.” She yearned to kiss him, but before she had the chance, Clark came storming over to them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, and Meg was uncertain which one of them he was speaking to, until she saw him grab Nick by his jacket collar as though intending to punch him.
Nick merely shook him off. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he said. “I’m Nick Sebastian.”
“I don’t care if you’re Santa Claus,” Clark replied. “You have some nerve dragging Meg off like that. Her aunt is furious. And I imagine Isabelle Sinclair isn’t any too pleased either.”
Nick laughed, but there was no warmth in the sound. “Isabelle doesn’t matter. Neither do you nor Aunt Grace. Daisy is all that matters.”
“Who’s Daisy?” Clark asked again.
Meg found herself standing so tall Aunt Grace would have to look up to her. “I am,” she said.
“What’s gotten into you?” Clark asked. “Have you been hitting the champagne?”
“I’m happy, Clark,” Meg said. “That’s your problem. You’ve never seen me happy before.”
“You won’t stay happy once Grace gets through with you,” Clark said. “Look you, Sebastian, whatever, if you really care for Meg the way you claim you do, you’d better bring her back to the party and apologize like crazy to her aunt. Otherwise Grace will take it out on Meg for what you’ve done.”
“Let her,” Meg said. “I don’t care.”
“You heard her, Clark,” Nick said. “Will you leave us alone now, please?”
“I don’t know who you are,” Clark said. “And I don’t know what you’re doing to Meg to make her act this way, but I’m goi
ng to tell Grace, and that will be the end of that. Meg, I’ll do what I can for you, but Grace is furious already, and your best chance is to go back to her alone and apologize like the blue devil.”
Meg shook her head. “Aunt Grace can’t do anything to me anymore,” she said. “Nick will protect me.”
“It’s drugs,” Clark said. “You slipped her some kind of drug, didn’t you. If you hurt one hair of her head, I’ll kill you.” He paused, and Meg used all her self-control to keep from laughing at him.
“Calm down,” Nick said. “You’ve done your good deed for the evening. You’ve earned your merit badge. Go back to the party and have a good time. It’s been a pleasure knowing you. Good night, Clark.”
“Meg, please,” Clark said, but Meg took Nick’s hand in hers, and entwined her fingers with his. Clark looked at them, shook his head with funereal solemnity, and walked back to the party.
“We don’t have much time,” Nick said. “May I see you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she said. “We’ll find a way.”
Nick nodded. “I love you,” he said. “Do you know that?”
Meg smiled her reply.
“We’ll get married, you know,” Nick said. “I suppose we’ll have to wait a couple of years, but we will get married. I’ll make you so happy, Daisy. I’ll give you everything you want.”
“You already have,” Meg said. She looked up at him, to commit his face to her memory, and saw a small scar by his right ear.
Nick turned his head slightly away from her. “I’m imperfect,” he said. “Damaged goods.”
“How did it happen?” Meg asked.
“The truth?” Nick asked, and Meg realized he wasn’t being flippant.
“The truth,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”
“My stepfather hit me there,” he said. “With a skillet. We were fighting and he wanted to kill me. My mother was so scared she called the police, and I wound up living in foster care for a few months. No one knows that about me, none of that. No one. They think my parents … they think I’m respectable.” Nick looked straight into Meg’s eyes. “You have power over me now,” he said. “I’ve trusted you with who I really am.”
“I won’t fail you,” she said, and she kissed him. “No matter what, I won’t ever fail you.”
“Daisy,” Nick said, and there was so much in just that one word, so much past and future, that Meg felt free of all fears and burdens, yet tied to time, to place, and reality.
“It will be all right,” she said. “I never knew that before, but now I do.”
“We’ll save each other,” Nick said. “That’s it, isn’t it.”
“Of course it is,” Meg said. There was so much she wanted to tell him, even more she wanted to hear, but the sound of footsteps interrupted them.
“You’d better get out of here,” Clark said to Nick. “Grace has called the police. If you don’t want to get arrested, you’d better leave right now.”
“Arrested?” Nick said, and he laughed again. Meg marveled that his laugh could be so cold when his smile was radiant.
“The police,” Clark said. “Meg, please. There’s going to be awful scandal.”
Meg laughed. “I imagine there will be,” she said.
“He’s nobody,” Clark said. “Robert says he hardly knows him. He isn’t even a year-rounder.”
“I love him, Clark,” Meg said, and it seemed odd that Clark should be the first person she told, but then it was right. Clark was her friend. In his own foolish, feeble way, he cared about her.
“You don’t even know him,” Clark said. “Meg, come back with me, and you, you get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”
“I do know what’s good for me,” Nick replied, and he held Meg’s hand.
“The police, Meg,” Clark said. “Do you really want this guy arrested?”
“No,” Meg said. “Nick, you’d better go.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“No,” he said. “I’ll take you back to the party. That’s the least I can do.”
Meg thought about the scene Grace was likely to make and shuddered.
“You don’t have to be scared of her,” Nick said. “Come on, Daisy. Let me take you back.”
“I’ll go with you,” Clark said. “Meg, you don’t have to protect him. You can tell Grace the truth, that he made you leave with him.”
“I know what the truth is, Clark,” Meg said. She walked hand in hand with Nick back to the party. The band stopped playing as they approached.
“I guess they don’t know the death march,” Nick whispered. Meg laughed out loud. Clark looked grimly determined to guard Meg from further contamination.
“I bring you back your niece, Miss Winslow,” Nick proclaimed as they rejoined the party. “Safe and sound.”
“Get off of my property this minute!” Aunt Grace shouted. “I’ve called the police to chase you away!”
“I’m leaving,” Nick said, but he seemed in no hurry to go.
“Margaret, go to your room immediately,” Grace said. “Your behavior has been shameful. We will discuss your punishment later.”
“No,” Nick said. “You won’t punish her.”
“Will you shut up,” Clark whispered. “You’re only making things worse.”
“It was my fault,” Nick said. “I made her go with me. She didn’t want to. She begged me not to, but there were things I had to say to her, and I needed privacy. Daisy, Margaret, was a victim. You don’t punish a victim.”
“Nick,” Meg said.
“I’ll stay if you want me arrested,” Nick said. “If that will give you pleasure, fine. But you have to promise not to do anything to Margaret. It’s her birthday. This party is for her. Isn’t the embarrassment she feels punishment enough?”
“I don’t know who you are, young man,” Grace said. “But I intend to find out.”
“Do you promise not to hurt Margaret?” Nick asked.
“I’ll promise you nothing,” Grace said.
“There, there, Grace,” Clark’s father said. “This has all been very unpleasant. Let the boy go, and let’s forget the entire incident. Margaret’s unharmed, no damage has been done. We don’t really want to see this incident in the papers, do we?”
Grace stood still for a moment, considering the situation.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Grace,” Meg said, but the words weren’t hateful, the way they usually were. She could say anything if it protected Nick. “I’ll apologize to all the guests if you want.”
“Daisy,” Nick said, but Meg shook her head slightly, to force him into silence.
“Go,” Grace said to Nick. “And don’t ever return here again.”
Nick held Meg’s hand for one last moment. “Tomorrow,” he whispered so quietly she could barely hear him.
She nodded back as imperceptibly. Nick smiled at her again, and then turned to Aunt Grace. “Thank you for having me,” he said. “It’s been a lovely evening. Good night, everybody.”
“Wait up, Sebastian,” Robert Sinclair said. “I’ll go with you.”
“Fine,” Nick said. The two young men walked out of the party together. Meg waited to burst into tears at the sight of his departure, but found she was too happy to cry.
“What exactly happened?” Grace demanded, as Meg humbly but with good posture faced her.
“We needed to talk,” Meg said. “That’s all. Clark blew it all out of proportion.”
“I did not,” Clark said. “Margaret was behaving very peculiarly. I felt it my duty to report it.”
“Very noble of you, my son,” Clark’s father said. “I’ll call the police now, Grace, tell them not to bother.” He walked back to the house, carrying his camera with him. Meg wondered how much of this amazing evening he had preserved on film.
“I suspect you have been a very bad girl,” Aunt Grace said, and Meg realized her aunt had no vocabular
y for what she felt. It gave Meg a sense of power, which she tried not to show.
“I suspect I have been,” Meg replied.
“When you write your notes tomorrow, you will include an apology to every single guest,” Aunt Grace said. “You should probably apologize to each of them in person, but this party has been memorable enough without that for people to gossip about.”
“Gossip,” Meg said. It had never occurred to her that she was capable of doing anything interesting enough for people to gossip about.
“I blame this all on your mother,” Aunt Grace said. “She was a nice enough girl, but from New York, and New Yorkers have no real sense of appropriate behavior.”
“They certainly don’t,” Clark said. “I bet that guy …”
“Don’t say ‘guy,’” Grace said.
“That man then, whatever he says his name is, I bet he’s from New York,” Clark said. “Or someplace even worse.”
Nick hadn’t said where he was from, Meg thought. Not that it mattered. He knew where she was, so he could find her and be with her, and rescue her forever. Knowing all that made her feel strong and reckless.
“Come on, Clark,” she said. “If you’re so determined to dance with me, let’s dance.”
“That’s not a very nice invitation,” Clark said, but he followed Meg onto the dance floor. She laughed silently from the pleasure of leading.
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About the Author
Susan Beth Pfeffer wrote her first novel, Just Morgan, during her last semester at New York University. Since then, she has written over seventy novels for children and young adults, including Kid Power, Fantasy Summer, Starring Peter and Leigh, and The Friendship Pact, as well as the series Sebastian Sisters and Make Me a Star. Pfeffer’s books have won ten statewide young reader awards and the Buxtehude Bulle Award.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, 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, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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