See You In My Dreams

by Marie-Nicole Ryan

  “I'm afraid that is something on which we disagree.” From the corner of his eye, Max spied Nikki on the far side of the room. The haughty beauty from the catwalk had disappeared, leaving behind an elegant, but shy, waif. More than anything, he wanted to protect her, cosset her. He restrained his first impulse to go and gather her in his arms.

  Damn. She had turned his way and caught him watching her. She gave him a brilliant smile and started making her way toward him.

  He turned to his mother. “A picnic Saturday is fine,” he said hurriedly, looking at his watch. “Call me with the details. I just remembered I promised to call Ned about—uh, our tennis match,” he out and out lied.

  “But I thought—"

  “Désolé. Have to go.” Without another word, he kissed his mother's cheeks and left. One confrontation with Nikki behind him. One to go. Perhaps by Saturday, he'd have regained some self-control.

  ~ * ~

  Nikki watched in disbelief as Max made his hurried escape. He must really be disgusted with her. All she'd wanted was to talk to him in private. There were things she needed to say. He'd defended her honor, after she'd made such a mess of things. At least, she owed him a ‘thank you’ for beating up Ian Starr. Never in her wildest dreams would she ever have expected him to do something like that. Maybe he was displeased with her for some other reason. Maybe she hadn't performed up to expectations on the catwalk. At least she hadn't tripped or fallen flat on her face.

  She worked her way through the crowd to Renée, trying to avoid jostling anyone.

  “You were lovely dear,” a mink-clad woman told her in passing.

  “Thank you,” Nikki replied, over her shoulder, continuing on her way. As she grew closer, she saw her mentor was smiling. At least Maman was pleased with her, she consoled herself.

  Renée held out her hands, clasping Nikki's, then kissed her on both cheeks. “Ah, Chèrie, you were magnifique. I am so proud of you."

  “Merci, Maman, I'm glad you think so."

  “And why would I not? What troubles you?"

  “Nothing. I just thought Max might hang around."

  “Oh, he was so sorry, but he needed to call his attorney about something."

  “Really?” She chewed her lip, uncertain what to say next. As a rule, the older woman was painfully frank, but Nikki surmised Maman might just be telling one of those little white lies-to keep from hurting Nikki's feelings. “I thought he might still be upset with me."

  “Maxim isn't upset with you. No, indeed. He will be joining us for your birthday celebration this weekend in the park. So you see, nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

  “Really, a picnic? Wow.” On impulse, Nikki hugged Maman, exclaiming, “You're the best. You're so good to me. I don't know what I'd do if-if—” she stammered. “If it weren't for you and Max. I mean, I haven't done anything to deserve all this.” She gestured, including the gathering with a sweep of her arm.

  “Nonsense. You are exactly where you belong, doing exactly what you should be doing—except perhaps finishing your schooling,” Renée cooed.

  “No-o-o,” Nikki groaned. “Not that again.” The very thought of school made her want to run for her life.

  “Oui, that again. But of course, you must get the GED thing. That is an absolute.” Renée looked about the room.

  Nikki looked about the room as well. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying any attention to their conversation. After all, in two days she would be seventeen, and that was a lot more grown up than sixteen. At least it had always sounded like it to her ... not that she felt any older.

  “We promised your mother that you would finish your high school studies, and I intend for you to keep that agreement."

  “I know. I just hate the thought of it."

  “But you will not have to attend classes everyday. I know you are intelligent enough to study on your own and take the test. You will do brilliantly, I am sure."

  “Okay. I give up.” Renée Devereaux was one stubborn woman ... Nikki had learned that fact quite soon after moving into the townhouse.

  “Good. That is a wise decision. Now let us mingle, and no champagne for you. The American law says you are too young to sample even the finest French Champagne. Such a pity,” Renée clucked, “but there is plenty of time for that."

  “I'd rather go home,” she said, before adding with a grin, “and study."

  “Hmph,” Renée replied with an elegant shake of her head. “Do not think to fool me. I am not so naive, Chèrie."

  Nikki grinned. “Busted.” She gave her mentor another quick hug. “Okay, I'll tag along beside you and mind my manners while I'm at it."

  A concerned expression flashed across Renée's face. “Hm, I am not so sure I trust this new person in front of me. She is much too agreeable. Tell me, what have you done with my old Nikki?"

  “She's on her good behavior, for once. Scary, huh?"

  “To be sure."

  “I know I've been a lot of trouble lately,” Nikki began.

  “Chèrie, things happen. Sometimes very bad things. What counts is that you have people who love you and want to protect you.” Maman shrugged. “Sometimes this means I have rules you might not care for—like curfews."

  Nikki nodded. “And no smoking. I guess I just want you to know I appreciate it—even if I don't always act like it."

  “I know, Chèrie. I know."

  Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a slender woman, dressed in an elegant black ensemble. “Renée, darling, how lovely to see you. And is this your new protegée I've heard so much about?"

  Nikki's face froze into an automatic smile, as she acknowledged the introduction, her mind on Max. Did he really have business or had he ducked out to avoid her?

  Eleven

  Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Nikki ran to the armoire and started rummaging through her clothes. What would she wear? After all, Max would be there. She didn't want to be too dressed up. Not like she was trying to impress him—but of course she was.

  Okay, what would I wear to a picnic, if Max weren't coming? she wondered. The answer was easy—a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

  Now that she'd made up her mind, she pulled out her best-fitting Levi 501 jeans and threw them across her bed. She crossed to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. Ah ha. There it was, the brand new baby blue tee she'd purchased in Bahama after the swimsuit shoot. Small discreet navy blue embroidery spelled out Bahama Mama. Her wardrobe selected, she headed for the bathroom.

  One foot in the shower, Nikki giggled. “Bahama Mama, yeah right.” It'd been weeks since she'd felt this good. This is gonna be a good day, she promised herself. A very good day.

  ~ * ~

  By ten o'clock, the weather report warned of a possibility for rain and severe thunderstorms by late afternoon. Of all the days for the weather to screw up—her birthday. Restless, Nikki paced about the large airy kitchen, watching Renée prepare the picnic basket.

  “But Maman, what'll we do if it rains? We can't have a picnic in the rain, much less a thunderstorm."

  Renée looked out the tall arched window that flanked the dining area, then shook her head. “I think the rain will hold off. Don't worry. The sun is still quite bright, and there are no clouds in the sky that I can see."

  Nikki gave a loud sigh and slumped across the counter. “It's my birthday, and I don't want it ruined,” she wailed.

  “It will be all right. You'll see.” Renée said, continuing to scoop melon balls. “Here, here's another melon spoon. If you help me, we'll finish them quickly. I want to get them back into the refrigerator."

  “Sure.” She took the weird looking spoon and watched Renée's technique. It didn't look that hard. She took one half of a honeydew melon and attempted to copy Renée's actions exactly. The pale green fruit scooped up easily, forming a round ball. “Hey, not bad.” She scooped another one.

  “See, Chèrie. Very easy, n'est-ce pas?"

  “Oui, madame.” Nikki chuc
kled. Maybe Maman was right. The rain would hold off.

  “Let me see. Do just enough to fill that bowl, and I will see to the paté."

  “Paté? On a picnic? Eww.” Nikki grimaced.

  “Oh, I have researched the American picnic. Never fear, there will be fried chicken, the Boston baked beans and even some of those potato chip things for you and Alexa.” Her mentor wrinkled her nose and frowned in imitation of Nikki's.

  Nikki threw her head back and laughed. “This is going to be some special picnic—fried chicken and goose liver."

  “But of course,” Renée chuckled, then added, “and I have not wished you Bon fête. It will be a very special day, I promise.” Renée turned to Nikki and hugged her.

  “Merci, Maman,” Tears threatened to well up in her eyes. Not wanting to seem too immature, she blinked them away.

  “Your French is coming along very well."

  “Really?"

  “Really."

  “I'll never get the “R” right."

  Renée's laughter trilled through the kitchen. “No, probably not, but it is the effort that counts. You will not be sorry you took the time for the lessons."

  “No, it's a beautiful language, so romantic."

  “Ah, oui, romance,” Maman, responded with a knowing look. “Something you have plenty of time for, much later. No?"

  “Much later, yes.” Like probably never, she thought, then gave herself a mental shake. Today was special. And she wouldn't let the other crap weigh her down. Today she and Max would be on a picnic together.

  ~ * ~

  In the back seat of his limousine, Max had a long strict, albeit silent, discussion with himself. Rather than face Nikki, he'd been a jerk at the fashion show, running out the way he had. Nikki deserved his support, as an employee and as a friend of the family. He'd been so upset by what had happened to her with that low-life Starr, that he'd given little thought to how she might have perceived his behavior.

  The doctor had warned them Nikki would be fragile, perhaps for quite a while. But what he'd done was plain neglect. Typically, he'd left it to his mother to bind the girl's emotional wounds, preferring to enact a physical response where it would do the most good. Beating up Ian Starr had given him more satisfaction than he'd dared to admit, but the animal had deserved it—and worse.

  Why was he always leaping to Nikki's defense? The urge to protect her was only part of it. More disturbing were the other urges. He'd done the usual. Thrown himself into work and seeing other women. It helped...

  Today was her seventeenth birthday and special because they would be celebrating together as a family. At seventeen she still dwelt in that nebulous universe—neither adult nor child. Another year and she would be legally an adult, able to strike out on her own and make her way in the world.

  Until then, he vowed he would make every effort to treat his mother's protegée with friendship, because there could be nothing else between them. Today would be a test of his resolve. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, then twenty, but a kaleidoscope of images of Nikki and her blue eyes shining with love made him stop. What a fool he was.

  ~ * ~

  For the next hour, Nikki would run to the window and look up. Each time she did, all she could see were white cotton-ball clouds, which seemed content to float around like they had nothing better to do. To her mind's eye, these puffy good-natured clouds didn't look like the kind that would be so cruel as to rain on anyone's parade—or birthday picnic. So far, so good.

  And each time she ran to the window and checked the sky, Alexa would run to the door. “Is Papa here yet?” she asked.

  Nikki grinned. The little girl was as excited about seeing her papa as Nikki was. Almost. “No, not yet, but soon."

  “But how long is soon?"

  “Well...” Nikki stalled, looking at her watch again. She was sort of anxious for Papa to show his face too. “Any time now.” She pointed at the grandfather clock in the foyer. “Your daddy should be here when the big hand gets to the three."

  Alexa tossed her head and stamped her foot, her blonde curls bouncing. “Hmph, I can tell time. He better hurry."

  Nikki wanted to giggle, but hid it. “No,” she told Alexa, “not a long time, just fifteen minutes."

  “Fifteen! That's too long."

  Nikki knew when she was licked. “Okay, it's a long time, but in fifteen minutes your Papa will come right up those steps and take us to the park."

  “Okay.” Alexa put her hand on the doorknob. “I'm waiting for Papa on the step."

  “Why don't you stay right here and watch through the glass for him. You'll be our lookout, okay."

  A frown, then a grin occupied the five-year-old's face. “Okay, I'm the lookout."

  “The inside lookout,” Nikki insisted. As neighborhoods went, they lived in a safe one, but it was still New York. No sense in taking any chances.

  “Yes, inside lookout.” Alexa finally nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, now, I'm going to help Maman finish packing our lunch, so you give a big shout when he pulls up."

  “Okay.” Alexa turned around, true to her promise, and gave a big shout. “He's here! Papa's here!” She jerked open the door and launched into her father's arms before he was halfway up the steps.

  “Help. I've been mugged,” Max said with mock terror, hugging his daughter tightly in his arms.

  Nikki looked down into Max's clear green gaze and felt like she was drowning. What was it about him? Why this man?

  Wearing cut-off jeans with a navy and green striped rugby shirt, Max looked younger. It was the first time she'd ever seen him wearing anything but a severely tailored black suit. Her eyes traveled upward. His calves and thighs were darkly tanned and muscular ... Nikki gulped and shifted her eyes back to his face, hoping like hell he hadn't caught her checking out his equipment. His eyes twinkled at her, an amused smile on his lips.

  Oh, God, he had. The blood rushed to her face.

  “Joyeaux anniversaire, Nikki.” Max said, his accented voice soft as a caress.

  How did he do that? How could he make ‘happy birthday’ sound so—so sexy? Before she could think of a single thing to say, he kissed her lightly on each cheek. All in all, Nikki decided his European manner of greeting was a pretty good deal. She just wished she had the nerve to kiss him back—just to be polite, of course.

  “Uh—thank you,” Nikki replied, finally finding her voice.

  “Are you ready?"

  “Ready?"

  “For your birthday, the picnic in the park?” Max reminded her, grinning.

  “Oh, yeah, the picnic.” Right on dummy. A couple of cheek kisses, and she couldn't think straight. He could see right through her with those damn green eyes of his.

  “Maxim, is that you?” Renée's voice called from the interior of the townhouse.

  “C'est moi, Maman."

  ~ * ~

  Nikki leaned back in the limousine and sighed. How many people went to a picnic in a limousine? Two large picnic hampers had been stowed away in the car trunk, along with a soccer ball and two large white linen tablecloths.

  Max rode up front with his driver Albèrt, but he kept turning around talking to her and Alexa. She couldn't ever remember seeing Max in such a light-hearted mood. Maybe her apology wouldn't be so difficult, after all.

  “I want to ride up front with Papa,” Alexa declared.

  “No, no,” Renée responded in her no-nonsense voice. “You are already belted in, so you must stay back here with us."

  Max turned around and flashed a smile at his daughter, showing his white even teeth. “Papa will ride in the back with you on the way home, okay?"

  Alexa gave her father a happy smile and nodded. “Okay, Papa."

  ~ * ~

  While Nikki and Renée located the perfect spot for their outing, Alexa tagged along with her father and the driver as they retrieved the hampers from the limo. The area chosen was located on the edge of the large meadow, in the shade of nearby trees. An absolute
necessity on the hot, late July day.

  Renée directed the proceedings. “First the tablecloths, then we shall unpack the hampers. The food is in this one, the china, silverware, crystal and silver wine cooler in the other.” Under Renée's precise instructions, lunch was laid out in no time.

  “I've never seen such a fancy picnic, Maman,” Nikki murmured in absolute awe at the display before her. It was elaborate enough to invite Princess Di, not to mention celebrate Nikki's birthday with crusty French bread, cheese, melon balls, tomato-basil penné pasta, along with wine chilling in the silver wine bucket. For the more American palate were fried chicken, baked beans, even potato chips.

  “I wanted the day to be very special for you.” Renée brushed a straggling auburn curl off her glistening forehead. “It does become so warm in New York in July. I wonder that everyone doesn't melt. Next year, we will rent a cottage and spend the summer at the seashore."

  Nikki gave a deep sigh. “That would be wonderful, but I'll probably be working."

  “Oh, you won't have to work all the time, and it will do you good to get away from the city. When we lived in France, every August we went to my old family home in Provençe."

  Summer in Provençe. It sounded wonderful. Nikki and her mother had never stayed in one place long enough for it to be home.

  “We've been so busy the last year with launching your career that we haven't had time to play, but next year will be different.” Renée continued to tweak the display before her.

  “I'm sorry if I interfered with your plans for the summer...” Nikki began.

  “No, no, Chèrie, you must not think that. I have never felt so alive as I have the last year. It has been wonderful for me. I had forgotten how much I missed the business."

  “I'm glad, ‘cause you—you and Max have changed my life beyond my wildest dreams. One minute I'm running from a pimp and the next—there's M-Max."

  “C'est beau, Maman,” Maxim said, leaning over and kissing his mother's cheek.

  “Merci, Maxim.” Maman smiled, gazing at her preparations with apparent satisfaction.