Love Letters from a Billionaire (Lone Star Billionaires, #1)

by Farr, Beverly

  “Like your nannies?”

  “And the cook, yes.”

  I said, “I think that’s unnecessary.”

  “I disagree. I’ll sleep much better knowing that you are available.”

  “Twenty-four seven?”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, almost.”

  I said, “I have a lease. I can’t just move here.”

  “Cancel the lease. I’ll pay whatever penalties there are.”

  He was so rich that paying my cancellation fees would be like my giving a dollar to one of the beggars holding cardboard signs on Garland Road. I sighed.

  He followed me to the kitchen where I started washing the dishes. He asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you think you can just throw money at a problem until it goes away?”

  “That’s been my experience, yes.”

  I couldn’t blame him. I said finally, “I wouldn’t mind moving, but it might make going to school more complicated.”

  “Where do you go to school?”

  “UTD.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Psychology.”

  He frowned. “I don’t see what the problem is, if you live near your work rather than living near the school.”

  “Bus routes,” I said succinctly. “Sometimes I’m at college late at night, and the bus routes might not work.”

  “You don’t have a car?”

  “No.” I had one at one time, but life’s trials could be messy, and I’d lost it.

  He said, “Do you want a car? I assume you have a driver’s license.”

  I blinked in astonishment. He was beginning to sound like Santa Claus. “Are you saying you are willing to buy me a car?”

  “Why not? If it makes your life – and therefore mine – easier.”

  I said, “I think it would be a lot cheaper to just hire someone else to clean in an emergency.”

  “It might be cheaper, but I don’t have anyone else readily available that I trust.”

  I looked at him sharply. He was serious. “And how do you know that I’m so trustworthy?”

  He said, “Well, for one - you didn’t poison me with your soup.”

  I smiled. He really was a darling man and I wanted to help him. I said, “Okay, even though I think you’re being a little extreme here, I can move into Nilsson Tower if you want.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  VIDAR

  It made me happy that Nicole was going to move into Nilsson Tower. I sat in the kitchen on a stool by a counter and watched as she cleaned.

  Nicole was very efficient and orderly. She didn’t waste effort going back and forth across the room. She worked smoothly, methodically.

  I asked her, “How did you learn so much about babies? Do you have younger brothers or sisters?”

  “No, thank goodness,” she said and then looked odd as if her answer has surprised her.

  I asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  She said finally, “My mother was not a great mother. It’s best that she didn’t have any more children.”

  There was a story there, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by asking too many questions. I said, “So how did you learn so much?”

  “Trial by fire, really. I babysat. A lot.” She opened the dishwasher and started emptying it. “It was the only good way for me to earn money. In hindsight, I think it was crazy for people to let me watch their kids when I was only eleven, but a lot of my neighbors were single women in a bind, having to work two jobs and needing someone to watch their kids.”

  I imagined Nicole as a child, caring for other children. How different our lives had been. I said, “When I was eleven, I was taking skiing and riding lessons and attending boarding school.”

  “Boarding school? At eleven? Weren’t you lonely?”

  Terribly lonely, but then I’d been lonely most of my life. I said, “My mother wasn’t great, either. She meant well, but she wasn’t available emotionally. My father was gone all the time and she was depressed. Sending me to boarding school was probably the best scenario.”

  Nicole looked over her shoulder at me. “I guess none of us have a perfect childhood.”

  “No, but I want to do the best I can for Chloe. That’s one of the reasons why I want to take care of her myself on Sundays. I want us to bond. I wasn’t close to my parents. I was raised by at least a dozen nannies, who didn’t last long. I think that changes a person, makes them not want to care about others.”

  “You care about people. You care about Chloe.”

  “I hope it’s enough. She’s lost both her parents, and I hope I can be the one person who loves her unconditionally and is always there for her.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” She smiled wryly. “And if not, she can write a tell-all book when she’s thirty telling the world how you screwed up.”

  I nodded. “Poor little rich girl.”

  “The Billion Dollar Baby.”

  I said, “I hate that. I hate having people reduce her to a label.”

  “I’m sorry. I won’t say that again.”

  I smiled to reassure her. “You’re not the problem. The media is. They want to reduce everyone to a tagline. Vidar Nilsson: Recluse Geek. Gareth Nilsson: IT’s Golden Boy. Yvonne Marlow: Bikini Queen. I hated reading all the death notices, but I saved them for Chloe to read when she’s older.”

  “Most of us live and die without anyone noticing.”

  I’d put my foot in my mouth again. “Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t complain.”

  “No,” she reassured me. “You’re still grieving. And I know it’s got to be rough seeing all the stories. Were you and your brother very close?”

  I nodded. “I find it difficult to believe that he’s gone. When I’m working, I keep reaching for the phone or start an email. Part of me wants to believe that he’s just on vacation and that if I want, I can give him a call.” I cleared my throat. “In many ways, he was my best friend as well as my brother.”

  “He was your half-brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you grow up together?”

  “No. None of us knew about him until eight years ago when my father died, and he left half of his holdings to Gareth. You see, my father had been living a double life. He had a second family. That’s part of why he was never home, and why my mother was so unhappy.”

  “How could he keep that a secret?”

  I gave a half shrug. “When you have enough money, you can hide a lot.”

  “Did you resent Gareth when he inherited half of what you thought you’d get?”

  It was a legitimate question. “Not at all,” I said. “My father was barely middle aged. He died suddenly from pneumonia, a freak cold that got out of hand, because he refused to go to the doctor. I wasn’t anticipating inheriting anything yet. And when I met Gareth, I liked him. Everyone liked him. Nilsson Technologies wouldn’t be doing one tenth as well without him. He was the social genius that made everyone want to use the Nils Operating System.” I smiled, remembering the dynamic presentations he gave. “He made computers seem fun again.”

  “But you’re the one who invented it.”

  “Primarily. But I have a team of programmers.” I couldn’t take all the credit.

  Nicole said, “I think you’re too modest. And you could be as good of a spokesperson as Gareth.”

  I shook my head. “No, I never know what to say. I’m not good at talking.”

  She said, “You’re not doing such a bad job right now.”

  I looked up and realized that while we were talking, she had cleaned the entire kitchen and was now finishing mopping the floor. I said, “You’re easy to talk to. I never talk this much.” I don’t think I had ever shared so much with a person in my life. I was usually the quiet one, better at listening.

  Nicole took off her plastic gloves and placed them in the trash. “I’m glad if it helped.”

  She really was a kind person. “It did,” I said. “Tha
nk you for coming over.”

  NICOLE

  I MOVED INTO NILSSON Tower within the next week. It was amazing what throwing money at a problem could do. My apartment lease? Poof, it was gone – paid in full. On Tuesday, I was handed the keys and paperwork to a new Toyota Camry. One of Vidar’s assistants, Robert, had called and asked me what color I preferred. “Red,” I had said.

  On Wednesday, movers came to box up my belongings and on Thursday they were transported to my new residence: a beautiful, fully-furnished one-bedroom apartment with one wall of floor to ceiling windows that overlooked South Dallas. I could see the Reunion Tower and some of the Trinity River. All my old, chipped and mismatched furniture was gone – either put in the apartment dumpster or donated to the Salvation Army.

  I didn’t even need to keep my thrift store dishes. The kitchen cupboards were fully stocked. I had a new crock pot, blender, and an electric wok.

  I felt like I was living on a movie set or within the pages of D Magazine. I’d never had coordinating furniture like this before. And my new bed was queen-sized with a pillow top mattress. I lay down, sinking into the softness and put my hands behind my head. I stared up at a ceiling with no cracks or water stains.

  Mind boggling.

  Brooke, who lived next door, was my first visitor.

  She came over and talked to me, sitting on my bed in jeans and a t-shirt while I unpacked my clothes.

  “Isn’t it great?” she said. “I have only been a Nanny for two years, but I’ve never lived anywhere as nice as this.”

  “Me, neither,” I said.

  “And did you see the list of amenities? We get free laundry service and gym membership.”

  “As my Gran would say: we just landed in a tub of butter.”

  Brooke wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”

  “No, I think it means we’re now on easy street. I guess having real butter was a treat back in Gran’s day.”

  Brooke sighed happily. “Well, I hope this job lasts forever.”

  “Nothing lasts forever,” I reminded her as I hung up my work uniform.

  “Well, I plan to keep this job as long as I can. Maybe until Chloe goes to school?”

  “That would be great,” I said. With no need to pay rent, I could get through school faster. I hoped that this job would last until I graduated. And who knows, maybe I could go on to get a graduate degree as well. I had taken the summer off to save money, but I planned to start up again in the Fall.

  It didn’t take long for me to unpack, and we decided to celebrate my moving in by eating dinner at one of the restaurants in Nilsson Tower. I wore my one nice dress and heels, but I felt out of place among all the young professionals and hipsters. I didn’t have a trendy haircut and my purse showed its age. My only make-up was mascara and lipstick.

  As we were shown to our table, I sensed people watching us. Brooke looked darling in a navy dress with a little short jacket. Her hair was down, and she had cute make-up with dramatic eye-liner and bright red lips. Even though I was only five or six years older , I felt like an old maiden aunt standing next to her.

  As Brooke and I looked at the menu prices, I raised my eyebrows and said, “This can’t be an everyday thing, or even a once a week thing.”

  “No,” Brooke agreed. “But it is fun to splurge once in a while.”

  She was young and didn’t know how life could kick you in the teeth. I said, “In the future we should splurge with pizza and a Redbox movie. We should save our money.”

  She smiled. “I guess that means you don’t want to order appetizers or drinks?”

  OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, I settled into living at Nilsson Tower and it looked like Vidar and Chloe were settling in as well. I met Jessica the other nanny, and I didn’t like her. She had dyed blonde hair, which isn’t a character flaw in itself, but she seemed fake to me – not open and genuine like Brooke. Whenever we met in the hallways or at Vidar’s apartment, she always wore full make-up and her hair was perfectly styled and she looked at me with a superior sneer as if to say, ‘I’m the Nanny and you are only the help.’

  Fine with me, sweetheart. Whatever.

  I didn’t care what she thought of me.

  There was no dishonor in honorable work. Cleaning toilets or changing diapers, it was all the same.

  Then one day when we were both working out in the Nilsson Tower gym riding stationery bikes, I heard her talking on the phone with one of her friends.

  “Oh yeah, he’s a bit backward, but we’re talking. It’s weird, but I’ll bet he’s never had a girlfriend before.” She laughed, and I wondered if she was referring to Vidar.

  “Easy pickings,” she said.

  I was riding one of the bikes behind her, so she probably didn’t see me.

  She continued, and I could hear only her side of the conversation. She had a Bluetooth in her ear, and I don’t think she realized how loud she was speaking. “He’s thirty-two. Do you think he’s a virgin?” Another laugh. “I give it six months until there’s a ring on my finger . . . Yes, much better than his brother. That would have been messy and taken a divorce.”

  She was talking about Vidar. I knew it. Apparently, Jessica had originally planned to seduce Gareth, and now she had transferred her plans to Vidar.

  I was appalled. What was it about nannies? It seemed that every time I turned around there was some story about some Hollywood actor or politician having an affair with the Nanny and destroying his marriage. And I suppose billionaires were equally susceptible. Not that I blamed the nannies completely, but as Gran would say, it took two to tango.

  I looked at Jessica who was wearing skin tight Lycra leggings and a hot pink sports bra. Was this the kind of woman Vidar liked?

  I wondered if I should warn him, but I didn’t know how. It wasn’t as if I could leave a sticky note on the refrigerator: Watch out. Your Nanny has designs on you.

  And not only that, Vidar was a grown man. He didn’t need me running interference for him.

  And besides that, he was a billionaire. He must meet gold diggers all the time.

  But it did make me uncomfortable. Vidar was a good man and I didn’t want him to get taken in by some scheming Nanny.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  VIDAR

  I had my driver drop me off at the home of Rick Boudreaux on Swiss Avenue and instructed him to return in an hour. I wanted to honor my friendship with Rick by attending his wedding reception, but I did not want to stay long.

  Rick’s mother was greeting guests and the bride and groom were in the backyard in front of a large canopy. There were white pillars decorated with thousands of pink roses, a small live band, and ten round tables with white tablecloths where guests could sit. Rick was the owner of Aunt Mimi’s, a successful nationwide bakery and he rented office space in Nilsson Tower. I had known him for years.

  I didn’t know his wife Amanda, but I knew they had been engaged the year before and something had gone wrong. But judging from the smiles on their faces, everything was good now.

  I wished them well. Marriage was a risky proposition at best, particularly when large amounts of money were involved.

  As I walked through the crowd, I saw various Dallas celebrities and entrepreneurs. I nodded briefly at Louisa Brannigan and her husband. I did not know her personally, but my grandfather had been friends with hers. Back then, Dallas high society had been much smaller, and as Grandfather Nilsson liked to say, “We millionaires need to stick together.”

  Many of the old millionaires were billionaires now. As my grandfather also used to say, “Money makes money, but you have to be patient.”

  I approached Rick and shook his hand. “Congratulations,” I said.

  “Vidar!” He kept my hand in his and pulled me forward for a half hug. “Great to see you,” he said as he slapped my back. He then turned to his bride. “Amanda,” he said happily. “This is Vidar Nilsson.”

  Amanda was a natural blonde, a beautiful young woman. She wore a white dress with touc
hes of pink. She smiled at me. “Rick has told me about you.”

  I never know what to say to that because the common joke response of “good, I hope” seems disingenuous.

  I smiled at her and said, “I hope you will be very happy together.”

  She said, “I must thank you for investing in my ex-husband’s business. I hope it goes well for you.”

  It took me a moment to remember what she was referring to. Then I remembered that Rick had told me about her ex-husband and how he needed investors to avoid some thug loan sharks. I had been happy to help because it was a reasonable investment. “That’s right. PSL Enterprises. The data collection software.” I had delegated the matter to someone else and did not know how it was progressing. So, I said only, “We’ll see how it goes. In IT, you never know what software will take off.”

  Rick said, “I was sorry to hear about Gareth and his wife.”

  He’d sent a card at the time. “Thank you.” I didn’t want to talk about Gareth.

  “And I understand you’ve got his child?”

  “Yes, Chloe.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s six months old. Seven months now.”

  Rick beamed. “That’s great. I’m a father, too, now.” He pointed to a boy, about age five, who was sitting underneath stairs that lead to an apartment over a separate garage. The boy was dressed in a miniature tuxedo, but he had removed the bow tie.

  “Good for you,” I said and repeated my good wishes for him and his wife. I then walked over to the refreshment tables where there were four wedding cakes – different flavors, I assumed – and one of them was labeled ‘gluten free.’

  I certainly didn’t want that one.

  I took a slice of white cake with lemon filling and walked over to the furthermost table, where no one else was sitting.

  A young man came by offering drinks. I asked for plain water.

  I glanced at my watch to see how long I had been there and how soon my driver would return.

  The noise from the band and the press of the crowd was giving me a headache.