I wondered if Jessica had sought DeeDee out after she was fired as Chloe’s nanny. I asked, “And what evidence is there?”
He said, “For one thing, there’s my headphones. Sometimes when Chloe was crying, I would wear noise cancelling headphones, so I could concentrate on whatever I was working on. Not all the time, and only when there was someone else to take care of her, either Brooke or Jessica. I never wore the headphones when I was alone and taking care of her by myself.”
He looked worried as if I wouldn’t believe him. I nodded. “I believe you.”
He still looked worried. “But will a judge?”
I had to believe that Vidar and his fortune would be able to pay for the best attorneys who would present negative evidence in the best light possible. Gareth’s mother had money, but not as much as Vidar.
“You can’t be the only parent who has worn noise-cancelling headphones,” I said.
On a more practical level, Vidar also said I needed an assistant, and he was right. His assistant Robert sent me three young women to consider. I chose a friendly, efficient young woman named Stefanie. She made lists, did the research, and reminded me of my appointments.
I decided that I liked having money to throw at problems.
I called Gran to invite her to the wedding and she said, “Is he a good man, Nicky?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Better than that boy you married before?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’m coming. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
I asked about my mother, and I was relieved to hear that she was in jail again and wouldn’t be out for six months. As much as Vidar was willing to deal with her, I was glad that we’d be married for a while before he had to meet her face-to-face.
I had to quit my job, but Mr. Cline was more amused than annoyed when I gave him my notice. “Don’t worry. We’ll find someone else to clean Mr. Nilsson’s apartment.” He even made a joke. He said, “You know, with your marrying Mr. Nilsson and Amanda Jones marrying Mr. Boudreaux, I’m beginning to think that I should be running my own dating service.”
He was right; it was unbelievable. And when I was away from Vidar for more than a few hours, sometimes the unreality of my situation would hit me.
How could I be marrying Vidar Nilsson, the IT billionaire?
But when I spent time with him, he was so matter-of-fact, he made the situation seem reasonable again.
When I told Brooke, she said, “I knew it. I knew it. Y’all look so cute together. And you are just what Chloe needs – a new, full-time mama.”
I hugged her for that.
I also called Amanda and we met for lunch at a beautiful tea room on Forest Lane with white wicker furniture and fresh flowers on the tables. After we sat down and started looking at the menus, Amanda said, “I still can’t believe it. You and Vidar? How long has this been going on?”
“Not long,” I said, not wanting to lie to her. “But we’ve been friends for a while, and now we want to be more than friends.”
“Well, I think it’s fantastic,” Amanda said. “I think you’ll be good for him, making him get out more and see people.”
I don’t know why everyone thought Vidar was a hermit. He went places, he saw people. He didn’t talk much, but despite what the media and DeeDee said, he didn’t live in a cave.
“We’ll see,” I said and changed the subject by asking her if she wanted to be my matron of honor.
“I’d be happy to! And that means we get to go shopping. Have you chosen a dress yet?”
“Not yet.”
We ate our delicate sandwiches and finished with a decadent dessert with layers of brownie crumbs and whipped cream and topped with fresh strawberries, and afterwards we went shopping.
That evening, when I was at Vidar’s apartment and he asked about my day, I told him that Amanda had helped me find a wedding dress.
We sat on a leather couch looking out the wall of windows at all of south Dallas below. I sat next to him and his arm was loosely around me, and my head rested on his shoulder. “Excellent,” he said and played with a few strands of my hair.
I was pleased that we were so comfortable together. I felt like we were friends with the possibility of becoming more. But the wedding was less than a week away and I still had a few doubts. I said, “I think we’ll work well together as parents, but what if we don’t?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“We both love Chloe, but what if that’s not enough? What if we get on each other’s nerves?”
“Some of that is inevitable in any relationship,” Vidar said calmly. “If we annoy each other, we can give each other space. You or I can take a vacation. To Palm Beach or Alaska.”
Sometimes I forgot the options money afforded. “Or London.”
He said, “Have you ever been to Europe?”
That was like asking if I had ever been to the moon. Of course, I had never been to Europe. “No,” I said in a tone that meant ‘duh.’
“Well, then, maybe when the custody battle is over, we can go to Europe.”
“And stay in all the Nilsson Hotels,” I said.
“If that’s what you want, it will take about five years.”
“How many Nilsson hotels are there?”
“Including timeshares?”
I said, “Sure. Why not?”
He said, “We have more than four thousand properties worldwide. At least one thousand in Europe.”
“Okay, then, we can pick our top ten favorite locations.”
“It’s a deal.”
I said, “What about Nilsson Technologies? Can you run the business effectively while traveling?”
He said, “I’ll have a new CEO by then.”
He didn’t sound entirely pleased. “What’s the problem?”
“Part of me doesn’t want to have a non-family member in charge. It seems disloyal, but Nilsson has grown to have so many business interests, it is impossible to run without some delegation. I know that, but I don’t like it. I wish Gareth were still here.”
Yes, that was the real problem. Vidar was still grieving the loss of his brother. For Chloe’s sake, I also wished that her father was still alive. After a long moment of silence, I asked, “Could any of your cousins run Nilsson Technologies?”
“Conrad won’t. He doesn’t take any interest in the Nilsson empire. He is an artist.”
He said the word with a French twist – artiste. I thought Conrad sounded like a trust fund baby. I said, “He’s a rock star.”
Vidar said, “To him, it’s art. And Philip is already doing most of the legwork for his father with Nilsson Worldwide – that’s all the real estate. Bennet nominally supervises the oil interests, but he’s more interested in his documentaries and philanthropic work.”
“What about Selinda?”
“What about her?”
“Does she have any interest in the family businesses?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good question. Her mother never did, so I don’t think anyone has ever asked Selinda if she wants to take a more active role.”
“Chauvinist.”
He said, “If I am, it has been unconsciously done.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think we’ve all been following in Grandfather Nilsson’s footsteps. He respected my Grandmother Rika’s input, but he never put her in charge of anything outside the family.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century.”
‘You’re right.”
I smiled. That was one thing I appreciated about Vidar. Perhaps it was due to his Aspergery tendencies, but he took whatever I said and evaluated it fairly on its merits with very little emotion clouding the issues.
We sat in companionable silence until Chloe started fussing. We both popped up from the couch like an old windup Jack in the Box I had as a child, and I said, “Let me take care of her.”
Vidar nodded. “Go ahead.”
I walked as quietly as possible into
the nursery to check on Chloe in her crib. She had kicked off her lightweight blanket, so I covered her up again and patted her back. She sighed and seemed to relax. What an angel. My heart swelled to think that I would be her mother. “I love you, Chloe,” I whispered and tiptoed out of the room.
Vidar stood in the hallway, watching me. “Very good.”
“Thanks.”
We returned to the couch, and this time I sat with my knees up, my stockinged feet on the seat cushion. I hugged my legs and stared out the window at the great expanse of lighted buildings and brilliant dark sky.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just thinking about Chloe and being her parent.”
He said, “Me, too. I’ve been reading about step-parenting and I think she should call us Mom and Dad rather than Aunt Nicole and Uncle Vidar. I mean, we won’t hide the fact that I am her uncle, but I think children need someone to call mom and dad.”
This from the man whose parents had effectively ignored him. “I agree,” I said. But I knew that no matter what we did, and what she called us, there would be challenges. Every parent and child had tough times.
I hoped that Vidar and I would work together to weather the storms.
I sighed, remembering Peter and the plans we’d made when we were both young and idealistic. We’d planned to have half a dozen children and I’d chosen the names.
I glanced over at Vidar, admiring his handsome profile and the shadow of his beard along his jaw. How did I get to be so lucky?
I said, “I know you promised that you’d be faithful, but if that changes, I want you to be honest with me. I think the lack of honesty hurts even more than the infidelity.”
“I’m not going to cheat on you, Nicole.”
Yes, well, that was nice to hear, but experience had taught me otherwise. I said, “I say we should both give this marriage our best efforts for five years, and then if it doesn’t work out, we can walk away with no hard feelings.”
“That’s not how marriage works,” Vidar said. “I’ve never seen a truly amicable divorce. Have you?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “Because if the parties were truly amicable, they would stay together.”
“Exactly.”
“All right,” I said. “Maybe we don’t set an expiration date. But whatever happens between us, let’s be honest. I’d rather have you tell me something I don’t want to hear than have you bottle it up, hiding it from me.”
Vidar nodded. “Communication is not my strong suit. Sometimes I don’t know how to express myself.”
“I know, but if we’re not honest, what are we doing getting married anyway?”
He looked me right in the eyes and said, “I promise to be honest.”
It was as solemn as the vows we would be making in a few short days.
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER TEN
NICOLE
I felt like a princess in my beautiful white wedding dress. Rather than go for a big floofy skirt, my dress was smooth and lean, more like Megan Markle’s with a little bit of flared skirt at the bottom. Vidar looked like a million dollars in a dark suit and gray waistcoat – correction, make that a billion dollars. He’d shaved completely so he had a clean, crisp look.
We were married in large church near SMU with several hundred guests. As Vidar said, “We don’t want to look like we’re hiding anything.” It reminded me of some of my friends who needed to make Immigration believe their marriage was real – they threw a large wedding and took lots of pictures to impress an Immigration officer down the line.
The wedding service was lovely and when the minister said, “You may kiss the bride,” my feelings were a jumble of impressions: the strength of his arms through the smooth fabric of his suit, his lips warm on mine for only an instant, his intoxicating scent.
He pulled back and smiled at me as if to say, “Good job. We did it.”
Afterward the wedding, photos were taken, and then there was a small family and friends’ luncheon at a nearby restaurant. At the luncheon, Rick Boudreaux, Vidar’s best man, stood to give a toast.
Apparently, he and Vidar had met seven years before when Rick wanted to move the headquarters of Aunt Mimi’s to Nilsson Tower. Vidar had said, “I don’t know. Are your sweet rolls any good?”
Everyone laughed.
Rick said, “I guess they must be good because I got windows in my office.”
Rick went on to say that one thing he liked about Vidar was he didn’t talk much, but when he did talk, what he said was important.
I noticed that a lot of the guests nodded their approval at that comment.
Then Rick said, “I don’t know Nicole well, but just a few weeks ago, at my own wedding reception – hey there must be something in the water here in Dallas.” He pointed at Vidar’s cousins. “You better be careful now. You’re next.”
Vidar’s cousin Conrad shook his head emphatically as if to say, “no way.”
Rick continued, “But no, seriously, both Nicole and Vidar were at my reception, although they were playing it cool, coming in separate cars. Anyway, I watched as Nicole walked up to Vidar. He looked up at her, and the smile on his face said it all. I’ve never seen him so happy.”
He raised his glass of champagne. “Vidar. Nicole.” He paused so everyone could raise their glasses as well. Instead of champagne, I was drinking sparkling apple juice. “To a lifetime of joy, love and fulfillment.”
I smiled at Vidar. That’s what I wanted, too.
Vidar and I were partners now, and I hoped we would be happy together.
That evening, there was a large reception with over one thousand guests at a Nilsson Hotel, naturally, in North Dallas.
Stefanie was invaluable, running around, making certain everything went as planned. She assigned another assistant to shadow Gran, making sure she was where she was supposed to be, wearing what she was supposed to be wearing.
There had been only one mishap that morning, when Gran came to the church early to help with my dress.
Gran wore a beautiful lavender suit with a corsage of orchids. She was five foot two to my five foot six and she was a bundle of energy. Her thinning white hair had been expertly washed, curled and sprayed into place, and looked a little like a football helmet, but she liked it, so I liked it.
“Oh Gran,” I said and moved to hug her, but she waved me away.
“Not now, sweetie. I don’t want to wrinkle your dress.”
“I don’t mind a few wrinkles,” I said and hugged her gently.
She smiled at me. “I love you, darlin’” she said, and my heart sank.
She wasn’t wearing her partial dentures and she had a big gap where a row of her upper front teeth should be. “You forgot your dentures,” I said gently.
“I didn’t forget them,” she said firmly. “I left them at home.”
“Home in Houston or home at the hotel?” Gran was staying at – you guessed it – a Nilsson hotel.
If her dentures were at the hotel, Stefanie could find someone to go fetch them.
“In Houston. I knew if I brought them, you’d make me wear them, and they hurt, so I left them at home.”
I loved Gran dearly, but at times she could be annoying. I was also annoyed with myself that I hadn’t noticed the missing teeth earlier, but with all the excitement of getting ready for the wedding, I hadn’t noticed it. I had paid more attention to getting Gran a pretty new suit, hat, shoes and purse. “Okay,” I said finally, trying to calm myself. It shouldn’t matter if my only relative attending the wedding didn’t have all her teeth. Vidar and his family would either accept her and respect her, or they wouldn’t. I couldn’t control that. “I love you, Gran,” I said and gave her another hug.
I mentally decided that once the custody battle for Chloe was finished, I would go to Houston and take care of Gran, making sure she had new dentures that fit right and a new trailer. I’d talked to Gran about moving up to Dallas, but she didn’t want that. “I can’t leave all my
friends,” she said.
At the reception, there was a formal sit-down dinner, followed by a small orchestra playing and dancing.
I sat at a rectangular banquet table with Gran on one side and Vidar on the other. Vidar had changed from his morning suit and was now wearing a tuxedo. On Vidar’s right was his mother, Joanne.
Joanne was tall and slim and soft-spoken. She had welcomed me into the family with a hug and a cool kiss on my cheek. “I hope you will be very happy.”
She was a reserved person, and although I doubted that we would become close friends, I felt that at least we would not be enemies. My first mother-in-law had not liked me at all, thinking that her son was too good for me.
And my family thought he wasn’t good enough. Funny how that worked.
Vidar’s other relatives were there – his Aunt Dawn and Uncle Theo and the cousins. I had been meeting them over the past few days, as they arrived in town. We had skipped having a rehearsal dinner because Vidar thought that was a ridiculous custom. “A wedding reception before the wedding reception?” he said. “I never understood that.”
Technically, it was usually a party thrown by the groom’s parents, a chance for everyone to meet before the big wedding day, but in our case, the groom was paying for everything and I didn’t have a big family. It was just me and Gran.
So, I agreed that a rehearsal dinner was not needed.
At the reception, it was time for the wedding couple’s first dance after dinner. I had never thought about it, and Stefanie hadn’t mentioned it. “Can you dance?” I whispered.
“I took lessons when I was a kid,” he replied as he escorted me and my beautiful dress onto the dance floor. Unlike him, I had not changed clothes since that morning. I thought that the guests might like to see my real wedding dress, and since I was only going to wear it once, I thought I should get as much mileage as possible out of it.
“I’m not very good at this,” I whispered as we assumed the correct dance position – my right hand in his left, his right hand on my upper back.
Love Letters from a Billionaire (Lone Star Billionaires, #1) Page 6