NICOLE
I WAS VERY SURPRISED when Amanda Jones invited me to her wedding reception. She left an invitation for me at the employee’s area with a sticky note that said, “It’s for real this time. Rick and I married in Vegas and this is just a celebration. I’d love to see you. Give me a call sometime.”
Wow. Amanda and Rick Boudreaux, together at last. I remembered when Amanda first started working with me, cleaning on the night shift, and Rick used to come by with his incredible sweet rolls.
The invitation said I could bring a guest, but there wasn’t anyone I wanted to invite, so I came by myself, driving my beautiful new Toyota.
And since I was feeling less worried about money, I did splurge and buy a pretty summer dress. I rationalized my expenditure because my only other dress was black and that didn’t seem appropriate for a wedding reception.
I parked several houses away and walked up to Rick’s house, which was in the Swiss Avenue Historic District. The beautiful brick homes on this street had been built in the 1920’s, and they had a vintage charm. Rick’s home was a lovely red brick with white windows.
I walked up the neatly trimmed walk and then around one side of the house to the backyard. There were about two hundred people present, and I noticed that there were several men in suits standing in the periphery – possibly armed security guards.
For a moment, I held my breath, looking at all the well-dressed guests – at Rick’s extended family. I could do this. I could be happy for Amanda and not think about my own sad little wedding day.
I’d gotten married the minute I was eighteen with no special dress, no party, and no cake to a young man that I mistakenly thought was the love of my life.
Gran had not been pleased. “Oh, sweetie,” she said. “What were you thinking? You’re so young. I’m afraid you’re going to regret this, but at least it’s not a bad tattoo. You can walk away from this if it doesn’t work out.”
My mother had laughed. “Good riddance. Don’t come crawling back to me when he leaves you. You’re on your own now.”
But that was all in my past, I told myself firmly. I refused to be a prisoner of my prior mistakes. I was on my own now, and doing better, thanks in part to Vidar Nilsson. I had a new car, a pretty apartment, and I was going to school. I was going to be okay.
Amanda looked like an angel in a white lace dress decorated with pale pink embroidered flowers. She stood by Rick, who was the one of the most attractive men I’d ever met – before Vidar – as well as being the most charming.
They were happy to see me. We all hugged.
I knew that Amanda had a tough life, tougher than mine, especially with her autistic son, and I was glad she now had someone who would stand beside her and make life easier.
After talking with them, I wandered over to the refreshment tables. The food was fantastic, but I expected that from Rick. Everything at Aunt Mimi’s tasted divine. I stood for a moment with a little plate and a glass of punch, looking for a place to sit, and then I saw Vidar sitting by himself at a table in the corner of the yard. He rested his head in his hands and he looked tired. My heart was touched.
I walked over to cheer him up. “Hi.”
He looked up, frowning at the interruption, but then smiled when he recognized me. “Nicole,” he said brightly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I motioned towards the bride and groom. “I’ve known Amanda for a long time. We actually worked together cleaning at Nilsson Tower.”
“Small world,” Vidar said. “I guess that’s how Rick and Amanda met.”
“Yes. And of course, I knew Rick from meeting him in the elevators.”
Vidar said, “I sometimes think Rick has more friends than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I think anyone who hands out free sweet rolls is going to make friends.” Everywhere he went, Rick carried a box of sweet rolls to hand out. Everyone who worked at Nilsson Tower liked him.
“True.” Vidar glanced at my plate. “That lemon cake is very good.”
I saw from the crumbs on his plate that he’d eaten all of his. “Thanks. I decided to take a tiny sliver of each one. Do you mind if I join you?”
“No. Sure,” he said quickly and then yawned and belatedly covered his mouth.
I sat in a chair opposite him. “You look tired. Is Chloe keeping you up?”
He shook his head. “No, actually she is doing much better. Even with teething, she’s been sleeping through the night. Miss Jessica has put her on a sleeping schedule that seems to be working.” I noticed that Vidar followed the Southern custom of calling women in caretaking positions ‘Miss.’
Sleeping schedule? For a baby? For some reason, that didn’t sound right to me, although I knew that some mothers had to train their babies to sleep during the night instead of during the day. Maybe it was just that I didn’t trust Jessica.
He said, “Chloe isn’t keeping me up. Nilsson Technologies is. I’m beginning to think that I should spend more time in California, but I hate California and don’t want to take Chloe there.”
“You’re CEO. What’s keeping you from moving headquarters to Dallas?”
Vidar looked at me, eyes narrowed as he considered my suggestion. “That’s not a bad idea. I should do some cost analyses. Gareth liked being in Silicon Valley, but with him gone, I need to do what is best for me and the company.”
“Absolutely. I agree.”
He said thoughtfully, “Dell is headquartered in Round Rock, Texas and Microsoft is in Washington State. There’s no reason why Nilsson Technologies can’t be in Texas.”
“None at all.”
He smiled as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked at me as if truly noticing me for the first time and said, “That’s a pretty dress. You look very nice today.”
I fingered my filmy skirt. I normally didn’t buy floral patterned clothes; I usually stuck with solid colors. I said, “Thanks, but it’s not surprising. This is the first time you’ve seen me out of my work uniform.” And with make-up. I’d even curled my hair.
He said, “And your hair’s down. I like it.”
I wasn’t used to compliments. I nervously tucked my hair behind my ears.
“Oh, and earrings, too,” he said. “Sweet little pearls.”
This was too weird to have him looking so closely at my ears. I felt myself blush at his attention. I said calmly, “You look nice, too.” And he did look good in a dark blue suit, crisp white shirt and a yellow tie.
“Much better than the last time you saw me.”
But not has good as the first time, I thought, briefly remembering him in his underwear. I hastily sipped some punch to clear my mind. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be the weird one, fixating on how great he looked in his underwear.
Ralph Lauren underwear. Red boxer briefs. Red had always been my favorite color.
I took too large a sip of the punch and choked, coughing and sputtering.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need me to slap your back?”
“No, thank you,” I gasped. “I’ll be fine.” I dried my eyes with a paper napkin and motioned to one of the caterers to bring me a glass of water.
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man said.
After that, we talked briefly about the band and the decorations. Vidar asked me if I was enjoying living in Nilsson Tower. I said honestly, “I’ve never lived in such an elegant place. I keep wanting to pinch myself to make certain it isn’t a dream.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it,”
Then we were silent, while I finished eating my food. I kept thinking about Jessica, though, thinking that something wasn’t right. Then it hit me – the facts that were making me uncomfortable. “Oh no,” I said out loud.
“What is it?”
“I may be wrong, but I think Jessica might be giving Chloe liquid Benadryl every night to make her sleep. I’ve seen several bottles in the trash lately. That’s too much to be a normal consumption.”
&n
bsp; He frowned. “Is Benadryl safe for infants?”
“I don’t think so. But you should talk to Chloe’s pediatrician and watch the daily surveillance videos to see what Jessica has been doing.”
He was completely awake now. “I will,” he said solemnly. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER SIX
NICOLE
Jessica was fired two days later and left in a huff, escorted from the building. The next day, a new Nanny was installed: a forty-year-old woman named Elizabeth. She chose not to live at Nilsson Tower because she was married with her own family to take care of. Apparently, she had one child in college, two in high school and one in grade school. Elizabeth spoke with Brooke and they exchanged shifts, so Elizabeth could be at home with her family in the evenings.
I liked Elizabeth and found her easy to work with. Elizabeth was gentle with Chloe and she implemented various games and activities to help her progress. She said, “Did you know that playing classical music to babies can later help them with math and languages?”
I hadn’t known that, but I found the idea fascinating. I also wondered what Vidar thought of Mozart playing in the background. From what I observed, he spent the early mornings and evenings at the apartment with Chloe, and he left during the day. Where he went, I didn’t know.
At six months, Chloe could roll over easily and she learned to roll herself in a specific direction to reach her favorite toys, although sometimes she would make a mistake and would cry with frustration when the toy was now even further away. I thought she was quite clever. Chloe was also babbling and interacting with people, watching them with interest, smiling at them or making noises to get their attention.
I learned from Brooke that Vidar read Chloe a bedtime story every night. “I think that’s sweet, don’t you?”
Very sweet. I’d never had a Dad to read to me, and it warmed my heart to think of Vidar reading to his niece.
About two weeks after Jessica left, officers from Child Protective Services came to the apartment to investigate a claim that Chloe was being neglected. I wasn’t there when it happened, but Brooke told me about it later.
“The concierge wouldn’t let them in, which is right without a warrant, but Mr. Nilsson got a copy of the complaint and he was livid. I’ve never seen him so angry.”
I was astounded as well. “How could anyone think Chloe was neglected? She’s got two nannies for heaven’s sake!”
“I know,” Brooke said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
I had seen more of life than Brooke, and I wondered if the complaint had been revenge from someone who had reason to hate Vidar. Possibly Jessica?
The next day, I left a sticky note for Vidar in his sock drawer. I couldn’t very well leave notes on the refrigerator now that there were so many people in the house. I wrote.
Are you all right? N.
His answer:
IT’S A ROLLERCOASTER, BUT YES, ULTIMATELY, I SHOULD BE ALL RIGHT. V. Smiley face
I was glad to see the smiley face, but I wished I knew more about what was happening with Vidar and Chloe. I wrote again:
Is there anything I can do to help? N
His answer:
YES. HAVE DINNER WITH ME TOMORROW NIGHT. 7 P.M. I’LL PICK YOU UP AT YOUR APARTMENT. V. Smiley face.
This note completely discombobulated me. Vidar wanted to have dinner with me? Was this a date?
I told myself not to be ridiculous. Maybe he just wanted to talk to me about Chloe. But then that evening, when Brooke came home from work, she stopped by my apartment. “I think Mr. Nilsson has a date,” she said. “He wants me to work late tomorrow night - until eleven.
That meant he was counting on me to accept.
But I knew I had to accept his invitation, if nothing more than from basic curiosity, to learn what he wanted to talk about.
I decided to wear my floral dress again.
The next night I was seated in the same elegant restaurant in Nilsson Tower where Brooke and I had eaten a few weeks before. But this time, there were no other patrons. Vidar and I sat at the best table that overlooked downtown Dallas. The wait staff had been told not to approach our table for any reason unless Vidar raised his hand.
“Do you often buy out an entire restaurant for an evening?” I asked as we both looked at the menu.
He said, “Only when I want to speak to someone privately.”
Well, that made sense, I guess, although I think he could have found a less expensive way to speak to me alone. “What happens to the people who had reservations for tonight?”
“I assume they are offered complimentary meals on another date, or if they must eat tonight, they are given a complimentary meal at another restaurant in the Tower.”
“With you picking up the tab.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
I smiled. “Must be nice to snap your fingers and get whatever you want.”
He looked at me closely. “Money makes some things easier, I won’t deny it. But it doesn’t solve all my problems.”
“Name one.”
He smiled briefly. “Why don’t we enjoy our dinner and we can talk about my problems later.”
I shook my head. “No. If you do that, I’m just going to be a nervous wreck, worried that you’re going to fire me or –”
“I’m not going to fire you.”
That was good to hear, but I still didn’t want to wait. “If you don’t tell me now, I’m just going to sit here and worry and not enjoy the meal at all. I might as well be eating cardboard covered with gravy instead of seared salmon with a creamy dill sauce.”
He gave a little laugh. “That’s one of the things I like about you. Just when I think I know what you are going to say, you surprise me.”
“Is that your polite way of saying, ‘you’re still going to have to wait?’”
“No,” he said kindly. “If you want to talk first and eat later, we’ll do that, but I’d at least like to order the drinks and appetizers.”
“All right,” I said.
“What would you like?” he asked.
I looked at the menu. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to worry about the cost of a meal. “The shrimp kabobs look good.”
“We’ll get them. And what about the caprese bombs?”
I looked back at the menu. “What is caprese?”
“An Italian salad with fresh mozzarella and tomato.”
I found it on the second page of the menu. “Oh, it’s breaded and fried. No, thank you.”
“You don’t like fried food?”
“Not really. I ate too much of it as a child. I ate an entire lifetime’s worth of grease before I was twelve. I think I am completely fried out now.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said. “These are very good.”
“All right,” I said, “I’ll eat one, but that’s it.”
“Very well,” he said and raised his hand for the waiter to approach us. Vidar ordered a glass of wine and asked me what I wanted. “Dr. Pepper.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “You know that neither one of us are going to be driving home tonight,” he reminded
“I know, but it’s not that. I don’t drink alcohol.” After my mother’s example, I would have been a fool to start. I looked at Vidar, “Is that a problem?” Some men take it as an insult if you won’t drink with them.
Vidar said, “Not at all. Actually, that’s very good.”
I had no idea what he was referring to, but I assumed he would explain eventually. In a few minutes, our drinks and then the appetizers appeared. I ate one of the shrimp kabobs and one of the caprese bombs – both delicious, and then I waited, hands in my lap for him to speak.
He looked at me, smiled, and said, “I do have a problem. Gareth’s mother is suing for custody of Chloe, alleging neglect and saying that I am incompetent to be a parent.”
I gasped. “That’s terrible. How can she do that?”
“Very easily, apparently. People can allege anything in c
ourt, and then it comes down to the evidence presented and the legal arguments.”
“But you can hire the best lawyers.”
“I have,” he said. “And they say my case would be stronger if I were happily married with a potential mother for Chloe rather than just hiring nannies.”
I said, “So how can I help?”
“You can marry me.”
I laughed, then realized he was serious. “A fake marriage isn’t going to help you.”
“It won’t be fake, at least I hope not,” Vidar said. “I’m asking you to marry me because I like you and because I think you would be an excellent mother for Chloe.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was flattered by his proposal, even if it was misguided. “Thank you, but I don’t think it is a good idea.”
“Why not? Are you in love with someone else?’
“No.”
“Are you dating anyone else?”
“No.”
“Is there anything about me that you dislike so much that you could never marry me?”
“No.”
“Then I want you to consider my proposal.”
When he said it like that, it made me feel like a jerk to say ‘no’ again, so I just said, “I think it’s time to order dinner.”
He nodded and motioned to the waiter to approach our table. Vidar ordered a ribeye steak and I said I’d have the same. I was too distracted to make a decision about what I wanted to eat.
Vidar Nilsson wanted to marry me.
He wanted to marry me to help take care of Chloe, but even so, he wanted to marry me: Nicole, the woman who cleaned his apartment. It didn’t make sense. While we waited for the entrees to arrive, I said, “Surely there is someone you like better than me. Someone higher class?”
“Like whom?”
“I don’t know. A business woman? An actress? Your brother married a fashion model, for heaven’s sake, not the woman who scrubbed his toilets!”
Vidar smiled at me. “You know, I had a crush on Yvonne, years ago, and I was the one who decided that she should be in our commercials. I thought I would gather my courage and talk to her. But then when the commercials were filmed, I was too shy. I didn’t say anything, and Gareth, not knowing of my hopeless infatuation, made his move. Within a week they were dating. In six months, they were engaged, and a year later, they married.”
Love Letters from a Billionaire (Lone Star Billionaires, #1) Page 4