“Relax, Shan,” Willie had said earlier when she’d finally reached him. “Dream’s assistant, Lawrence, called last night and let me know that you arrived safely.”
“Oh, they had time for you but not for me. I think that Jonathan Dream is a rude, overbearing man.”
“Now, now, Shan. Most women would envy you, on top of a mountain with Jonathan Dream. What more could you want?”
“An interview, an apology, a little courtesy, and a return ticket, in that order.”
It was the interview that was most on her mind. She’d had enough of shadows and conflicting emotions. One minute she felt his presence so acutely that she expected him to speak, the next minute an aura of childish curiosity seemed to settle over her.
“Ah, Shan,” Willie was saying, “take it easy. I know you aren’t interested in wealth and fame, but I am. Our new building is almost finished, and Expressions is ready to cross the threshold of greatness. All we need is the NightDreams sleepwear account. It’s important, Shan. If this works out, I’ll even make you a partner.”
“I don’t want to be a partner, Willie. I like our arrangement just as it is. At least I have until now.”
“Isn’t there something I can do to make you see this through? Shan, it’s time you broke out of your ivory tower and let the world see the real you. Don’t you have any secret dreams?”
“No!” At least she hadn’t until she’d arrived there. “What I’d like you to do is—is—make Mr. Dream get out of my dreams. If there’s a lake in the basement of this place, Willie, I’m out of here.”
“He hasn’t—I mean he didn’t—”
Willie might be a free spirit, but Shannon knew how protective he was of her. He’d understood her need for privacy and had been her shield against the world. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Jonathan Dream might be secretive, but he’d done nothing to compromise her.
“Don’t worry, Willie.” She started to say she hadn’t seen him, then remembered the man in the snow and changed her statement to, “I don’t think I’ve laid eyes on the man yet, unless you count the nightmare I had last evening. This place is spooky.”
“Any new place is spooky to you, Shannon. I know this is hard for you, but try to relax and enjoy your visit.”
But she couldn’t relax. Even the big dog, with his joyous welcome, didn’t erase the feeling of unease. Now she was seeing shadows in windows and feeling things that she couldn’t understand.
The snow was wet and cold, and she’d been out in it long enough. She’d go back inside and take a nap. Mr. Dream was due to return by dinnertime, and she’d finally complete her mission.
With the dog loping along beside her, she made her way back to the house. Returning the clothing to the rack, she allowed her fingertips to brush the thick jacket on the last hook. There was a curious tingle when she touched it, as though it was surrounded by an energy field.
The man last night had been wearing a thick jacket.
The man who had to have been Jonathan Dream.
The man who was a phantom.
• • •
Jonathan Dream didn’t return in time for dinner. Shannon had finally given up and gone to bed, only to be wakened by Mrs. Butterfield.
“Mr. Dream will see you now,” she said. “Wear this and come with me.” She handed Shannon a velvet dressing gown, nothing like the sheer clothing in the bureau. Shannon hesitated for a moment, then, deciding that getting the meeting behind her was more important than how she looked, she slid her arms into the long fitted sleeves, buttoned the front to the waist, and slipped her feet into the matching velvet shoes.
Now Shannon was pacing back and forth in the study, growing more alarmed by the moment. If Mr. Dream didn’t appear soon, she was out of there, even if she had to tie her sheets together and go over the wall.
There was a crackling fire in the massive fireplace and music playing softly on a stereo. But the room was empty. Butter had backed away quickly, closing the door behind her without explanation.
Flickering firelight created more shadows falling across the chairs and the sofa near the fire. In the darkest end of the room was an enormous desk and a chair that was turned toward the two windows, now framing the moonlit winter night.
The grandfather clock began to chime.
Midnight.
“Have a seat, Ms. Summers.”
Shannon started. She’d believed the room was empty. It wasn’t. There was someone in the chair.
“Mr. Dream, it is Mr. Dream, isn’t it?”
“I am Jonathan Dream, yes.”
“I don’t understand why you brought me here. I know nothing about hard-sell advertising campaigns, or costs, or proposals.”
“I don’t care about advertising campaigns, Ms. Summers. Your Willie can handle that. I brought you here for my daughter, to bring her back to life.”
Shannon let out a shocked cry of disbelief. “You did what?”
“I know you spent the afternoon with DeeDee. You know she’s in a wheelchair. The doctor thought that after the last operation, with work and braces, she could walk again. But the therapy is painful, and she’s been through so much. She isn’t cooperating with her therapist. She’d given up—until I promised her that Kaseybelle would come to help her.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. I’d do almost anything to make my daughter happy, including buying an imaginary fairy, if that’s what it takes.”
“Kaseybelle isn’t for sale.”
“Maybe not, but there’s you. How much do you cost, Ms. Summers? I’m buying.” He didn’t know why he was being so severe, unless it was his unexpected attraction to the woman. He needed to reinforce his authority. Or did he? He stared at her as he considered what he was feeling.
He was going too fast. She was hearing his words, but she was having trouble with their meaning. People weren’t for sale, at least not her. She lost his voice for a moment, then caught it again as he said something about a contract, not for advertising, but for … her services?
Shannon could understand the man’s phenomenal success. With a voice that wrapped around her, he was very persuasive. And for one incredible moment she wanted to agree—to whatever he was asking of her. She shook her head, trying to break the invisible link he had forged between them. She didn’t want to care about him.
“Turn around, Mr. Dream. I’m not for sale, and even if I were, I won’t do business with a man who isn’t willing to deal with me face-to-face.”
“But I was told that you conduct all your work by telephone and computer. Even your employer thought you would understand my unique situation and need for privacy. I can offer you anything you want.”
“I don’t want anything, except to keep my life from changing.”
“But that isn’t possible, is it?”
For a moment she looked frightened, and he understood. There’d been a time when he felt that way, before he’d realized what was happening to DeeDee—and to himself. “Please hear me out.”
“All right,” she agreed. She ought to insist that he let her leave immediately, but she didn’t. Once more that curious connection held her, along with the suggestion of a vulnerability that was as strong as her own. In spite of his thorny exterior, he couldn’t quite mask the truth. There was something about this man’s need to hide his inner goodness under the guise of being a bitter recluse that made her listen.
“I’m not what people think,” he finally said.
“None of us are. We all hide in different ways. Why didn’t you meet my plane?”
“I never go into Asheville!”
“No? You only go into locked bedrooms and watch people while they sleep. Was I what you expected?”
“No, but I didn’t expect anything. You saw me?”
“I wasn’t certain I had—until now. Turn around, Mr. Dream. Please. Whatever the problem is, I’ll understand.”
“Perhaps you will.”
The chair began to swivel. At that moment the already
-dim lights went out, leaving only the flickering fire, which washed the room with a warm glow.
Shannon forgot her fear and took a step closer. All she could see was an outline, a dark image of a man that blended in with the oversize chair in which he was sitting.
“Turn on the light,” she said softly.
“No. A night dream never survives the light.”
“Why? Are you afraid of me?”
He was tempted to rise, walk over to her, and challenge her statement. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair, feel the hesitancy of her breathing against his cheek. The wanting kept coming at him from out of nowhere. He couldn’t allow that to happen. That wasn’t part of the plan.
“Maybe I am afraid. Sit down, Shannon. We’ll talk.”
She came closer, sitting in the chair opposite the desk. As her eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, she began to distinguish the features on the man who was sitting half-turned to her, his face a profile in the flickering shadows.
“That’s better. You get on well with my daughter. I’m pleased.”
“You were watching?”
“Yes.”
His honesty surprised her. “I knew. I felt you.”
That surprised him. He’d thought he was the only one caught up in the connection between them.
“Why did you have Mrs. Butterfield lie about your being away?”
“I’m sorry,” he admitted. He owed her that. “I wanted to observe you with DeeDee. If the meeting had been a failure, I would have let you go immediately.”
“What about Willie and the NightDream advertising account?”
“Oh, that. I spoke with Willie this morning. You can have the account so long as I get what I want. And I’ve already told you, Ms. Summers. I want you.”
“Mr. Dream, you could probably have anyone you want, why me? I’m not your kind of woman. I’m not good with people. I don’t mix easily and I’m not very brave. The truth is, I know nothing about handling children.”
“You’re wrong. Only a very special person could create a character who touches children the way yours does.” He didn’t want to think about how she’d already touched him.
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me try to explain. My daughter wants Kaseybelle, the Chocolate Fairy. And I expect—no, I’m asking you to give her what she wants.”
“How?”
“Draw her pictures. Tell her stories. Watch the program with her, whatever it takes to get her out of that damned chair.”
“But, Mr. Dream—”
“Please, call me Jonathan.”
She couldn’t. That made it personal. “The Kaseybelle character belongs to the candy company and their television studio now. I don’t own her anymore.”
“I know, but DeeDee doesn’t know that.”
“I like DeeDee, Mr.—Jonathan—and I’m so sorry about her problem, but I can’t give her what I don’t have. Now, I’d like to go back to Atlanta. I’d planned to leave this morning.”
Jonathan hated what he was doing. But he expected her to agree because she cared about Willie. He liked Shannon and he approved of her loyalty. That was real. He stood and walked to the window.
“For every day you stay with my daughter, your firm gets my advertising for one year. I’ll set up an office here so that you can work, and you can name your own price.”
“I can’t. I really can’t.”
His fist crashed against the wall by the window. Then he leaned his head against his arm. “Ms. Summers, there are ways to force people to do almost anything. I’d rather not do this, but I must. If you don’t agree to my terms, I’ll buy the candy company and destroy Kaseybelle and your friend Willie Hicks as well.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I don’t want to, but I would.” There was no mistaking his determination, nor his attempt to control his desperation. Finally, from somewhere in that terrible state of his despair, he said, “Do you want me to beg? Fine, I will. Please!”
She could have lived with his anger, but not his pain. And she couldn’t let others be hurt because of her. Whatever the world said about him, he had great capacity for love. She wondered what it would feel like to be the recipient of that kind of powerful emotion.
“Don’t beg, Jonathan. You don’t understand. It isn’t that you haven’t offered enough. It’s me. I simply can’t do what you ask. I’d be afraid.”
“Afraid? You don’t know what it is to fear. To watch someone you love shrivel up inside, to feel the most important thing in your life die.”
Whatever other lies he’d perpetrated, Jonathan Dream was telling the truth now. His request wasn’t for himself. He was in deep pain, and she could feel the darkness that threatened to engulf him. But he was wrong. The pain didn’t touch only DeeDee. It was his. It was more.
“What happened to DeeDee?”
“There was a wreck. The car sailed off the mountain. She was left a cripple.”
“And her mother? What happened to her?”
He turned from the window, turned and took a step toward her.
“Her mother? Her mother’s dead.”
“How?”
“How? I killed her.”
A log broke and the flame flared.
The man standing before her squared his shoulders and lifted his face to the firelight. The man she’d seen in the snow. The man she’d seen standing over her bed. The phantom she’d dreamed about. He had a horrible scar across his face and a patch over one eye.
Three
She must have slept the second night, but she couldn’t be sure. Her dreams were filled with the face of the man wearing a patch over his left eye. She heard his stern voice, snatches of phrases, words that made her feel afraid yet strangely drawn to him.
Did he ever smile or let himself feel joy? As isolated as she’d always been, she’d found simple pleasures rewarding. But she didn’t think that Jonathan Dream ever relaxed.
The next morning she was very tired, her mind was fraught with tension. She didn’t believe for a minute that he’d killed his wife. Any man who cared enough about a child to buy a fairy to make the child happy couldn’t have hurt anybody. He was only warning her, telling her to stay away. Still, there was something dark about the man.
Shannon dragged herself from bed, trying to separate how she wished things to be from how they were. The truth was, she couldn’t be certain that any decision she made would be rational. Somehow she’d been bewitched, and the only safe thing for her to do was leave.
Dress first, she decided, then call a cab and have it meet her at the gate. That way she’d be gone before anyone knew—before she fell under the spell of the castle’s magic—before she acknowledged the power of the man who’d brought her here. Yes. That’s what she’d do.
Now that she’d made her decision, she was impatient to be gone. She went to the closet—
Her traveling suit was gone. Hanging in its place were … fairy clothes? She stared in disbelief. The prototype costumes she’d had made up as samples of Kaseybelle’s wardrobe were hanging in her closet. How?
Jonathan Dream. He’d done this. He hadn’t waited for her decision. It was as if he’d known what she planned and had circumvented her actions before she could carry them out. Even if he was one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world, she’d dealt with power and wealth all her life. She might not have been able to stand up to her mother, but this man was about to learn that she could fling a full-fledged, mouth-full-of-nails temper tantrum.
But not in her nightgown. If the only way she could get to Mr. Dream was as a fairy, that’s what she’d be. She pulled on a pair of lavender leotards, the matching filmy jacket constructed of what looked like spun silk, and the golden slippers that Kaseybelle always wore. She pulled a brush through her hair and dashed downstairs.
She could hear DeeDee’s voice and the murmur of Mrs. Butterfield’s bright, ongoing monologue. First Shannon intended to talk to Jonathan Dream. She headed for the stu
dy.
Empty. At least the room was empty of any physical presence. Still, it swirled with the rush of emotion that seemed to permeate the very air. The phone. She might as well call for her cab while she had the opportunity. There was no telephone directory. Let Mr. Dream pay for the information call, she thought, he owed her. She lifted the receiver. There was no dial tone. Impatiently she jiggled the buttons. Nothing.
Either the phone was out of order or the system was another one of those things that were controlled electronically by Jonathan Dream. Shannon’s head ached. She was getting very tired of the melodrama.
She whirled around and headed for the kitchen. Mrs. Butterfield could tell her where Jonathan was. She’d demand to know. She’d—
“Kaseybelle!” DeeDee stopped the glass she was about to drink from in mid-air and let out a wondrous sigh of contentment. “I knew all along that you were really Kaseybelle. My daddy was right. You’re so beautiful.”
“My, my.” Even Mrs. Butterfield was awestruck. “You’re the spitting image of that fairy, all right. No wonder your hair startled me so when you got here yesterday.”
Shannon pressed her lips together and stepped into the room. This entire incident had gone too far. She had a great deal of respect for a father who cared enough for his child to make her happy. But happiness couldn’t be bought.
She was living proof of that. Her mother had tried and failed. Shannon had learned early that happiness had to come from inner strength, and depending on a fairy to provide it was an illusion.
Sure, but isn’t that what you did? a little voice inside her head asked, a voice she ignored, at least to begin with.
“Nonsense, DeeDee, I’m not Kaseybelle. This is just one of her costumes. You remember that I told you I draw her. I always have her fairy clothes made up so that I can see the garments I’ve visualized.”
“Oh, yes, Kasey,” DeeDee said with delight, oblivious to the point that Shannon was trying to make. “Come and eat. Mrs. Butter has made more elixir and fairy puffs.”
“Mrs. Butterfield, where is Mr. Dream?”
“I believe he’s in your office, Shannon.”
“My office? My office is in Atlanta, on Peachtree Street, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth Streets, on the second floor of a building that used to house a flower shop. The window boxes are still there.”
Night Dreams Page 3