The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  I strolled casually into the room and took a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk, fingering some of the mail.

  “What time did you get in last night?” His eyes never looked up from the letter in his hand.

  “Late.” I pretended to be interested in a newsletter about the rain forest.

  “That’s rather evasive. I thought I heard the door around six this morning. Any chance that was you?”

  “I guess that was the sun coming up when I got in.” I peered over the top of the newsletter at him. “Are you going to lecture me?”

  “No.” He put his letter down. “I think it’s a little late for my ‘Beware of Boys’ speech. However, I would like to know one thing? Do you care for this man?”

  “It’s not what you think, Dad.”

  He sighed and removed his glasses. “It never is.”

  “I just went over to his place and we talked. Nothing else happened.”

  “Come on, Nicci!” He threw his glasses on the desk. “I know you. You are headstrong and too damned smart for your own good, but last night I saw something I’ve never seen before. I saw it when you were dancing in his arms.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Honestly, after last night, I doubt if I’ll see David again.”

  He got up, came around the desk, and took seat in the chair next to me. “When I first met your mother, she was dating your Uncle Lance. He was better looking and always smoother with the ladies than me. He used to drive a red Maseratti that drove the women mad.” He laughed. “Then one day, Lance brought your mother inside the house to wait, while he worked on his car before their date. It was the first time I saw her. I think I fell in love with her that very same afternoon. I know your mother loved me, but I often wonder, if Lance had proposed, would she have married him instead of me?”

  I was appalled. “Mom always loved you, Dad. Uncle Lance would never have made her happy.”

  “I’m just saying; don’t spend your life wondering what might have been, Nicci. Give the man a chance.” He got up and walked out of the study.

  I shrugged off my father’s suggestion. One night filled with champagne and magical lights was not worth a lifetime of regrets.

  Chapter 8

  A few weeks later, on a chilly Sunday afternoon, I was in the kitchen preparing an early afternoon snack when the house phone rang. I checked the caller ID to see Colleen’s cell number flashing back at me. She had been frequently calling and texting to give me updates on her interactions with Eddie. I let my father answer the phone, hoping he would just take a message.

  “It’s for you,” he called to me from down the hall. “Hoover junior.”

  I reluctantly picked up the kitchen phone.

  “Hi, Colleen. What’s up?”

  I took a seat on one of the stools close by. I knew this was going to be a long conversation. With Colleen, it was always a long conversation.

  “Nic, I think I’m in trouble.” Her voice was shaky.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, without too much alarm. Colleen was always in trouble.

  “I’m pregnant.” I almost fell off my stool. “Nicci, what the hell am I going to do?” She started crying.

  “All right, calm down. Do I need to even ask who the father is?”

  “You know Eddie’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”

  “Have you spoken to him about this?”

  “No, I tried calling him a couple of times, but Sammy always picks up and tells me he’s out. I wouldn’t even know what to say to him.”

  “How do you know for sure? I mean, have you been to a doctor or anything?”

  “No,” she sniffed. “I bought a few of those home pregnancy tests.”

  “Maybe the tests were wrong?” I tried to sound hopeful.

  “I doubt it. All five came up positive. I kept trying a different test, thinking that it was a mistake. Nicci, what am I going to do? If Mom finds out, she’ll kill me.”

  “Don’t say anything to anybody. We have to get a hold of Eddie and talk to him first.” I paused before I asked my next question. “Do you want to get rid of it?”

  “Have an abortion? I can’t do that.”

  “Okay. We’ll just have to talk to Eddie and see what he wants to do.”

  “Do you think he will be happy?” Colleen pressed.

  “I’m sure he will,” I lied, knowing he would be devastated. So would Sammy.

  “Do you think he will want to marry me?”

  The realization of her plans hit me with the force of a category five hurricane. So that was it. She was actually hoping that the news would make Eddie marry her. This baby was going to be her ace in the hole, to finally snare the one man she had been chasing since childhood.

  “Colleen, do you want Eddie to marry you? Is that why this has happened?”

  “Don’t sound so patronizing. You know how Eddie and I feel about each other. Maybe this baby is a good thing. Maybe Eddie will be happy the decision is made for him. He can still continue with architecture school; we’ll just be married before he finishes, instead of after.”

  “I see.” My stomach knotted up, as I comprehended the impact of Colleen’s little surprise on Sammy’s plans for her son.

  My cousin’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Maybe I should just go over to Sammy’s.”

  “No,” I hastily replied. “I think we have to approach Eddie at the right time with this.” My mind raced with ideas. “We need to set up a meeting of some kind; something that he’ll have to come to.”

  “When?” She sounded excited.

  “I’ll have to, ah, I’ll call you back later and tell you when. And, Colleen, don’t tell anyone else about this. We have to talk to Eddie first. Otherwise, Sammy will never go along with anything you two decide. Do you understand?” She agreed and I quickly hung up the phone.

  I sat on my stool, feeling overwhelmed. How would Eddie feel when I told him a woman he did not love was pregnant with his child? And how was I supposed to set up a meeting? Why was I even bothering to get involved in any of this? I was wondering how I could resolve the situation, when the phone rang again. I assumed it was Colleen calling back.

  “Colleen, I haven’t thought of anything yet.”

  “It’s not Colleen.” David’s voice washed over me like cold rain on a hot summer’s day.

  It had been some time since I had spoken to him; I wasn’t quite sure how to react. “Oh, um…how are you?” I inquired, trying to sound causal.

  “I called to say I’m sorry and I that have to see you again.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Our, discussion,” he chuckled.

  “That was over a month ago. It’s a little late for an apology, David.”

  “Please come and see me. I want to tell you something.” His voice was soft and seductive.

  “Why in the hell should I do that?”

  “Because I’ve left Sammy.”

  I was shaken for a moment. His confession had suddenly turned my world upside down.

  “Come today, as soon as possible. I need to see you again.” He hung up the phone before I could even reply.

  “If he thinks I’m going to drop everything and…bastard.” I scrambled out of the kitchen and ran upstairs to change.

  ***

  An hour later, I pulled my red Honda Civic up in front of David’s Lakeview cottage. A heavy rain was coming down, accompanied by distant rumblings of thunder. The rain made it difficult to see if any lights were on inside. Mustering my courage, I gazed down at the pink envelope gripped in my hands.

  I had composed a letter with many reasons why we should never see each other again. It was going to be my response to his request. A letter would be much safer than seeing him again.

  “You’re just being silly. Just slip the damned note under the door and run away.”

  The rain was cold, and by the time I reached the shelter of the porch, I was drenched. My tennis shoes squeaked on the wet cement, as I tried to step quietly u
p to the door. I repeatedly attempted to push the note under the door, but the envelope was soaked and kept curling up in my hand.

  “Shit,” I said out loud. Just then a light came on inside. I quickly backed away from the door on my knees. Suddenly, the front door swung open and I could just make out a tall figure in the low light of the doorway.

  “Nicci?” David’s voice boomed above me.

  “Hi.” I held up my hand and waved, feeling like a complete imbecile.

  He opened the outer screen door and it was then I saw he was naked to the waist, wearing only his paint-splattered blue jeans. His chiseled upper torso was also covered in a variety of colored paints. He resembled a walking Picasso.

  He helped me up and pulled me inside the door. I slid on the hardwood floors in the living room and had to grab on to his arm so I wouldn’t fall.

  He examined my wet clothes. “You’re soaked. Let me get you a towel.” He was gone before I could stop him.

  He returned quickly, carrying several towels. He put a towel over my head and began gently drying my hair.

  “I can do that,” I snapped, pushing his hands away.

  “All right.” He cleared his throat and took a step back.

  I ran the towel over my hair and face and then lowered my eyes to the small puddle under my feet. “Sorry about your floor.” I kept my eyes lowered. “I was going to leave you a note.” I held up the soaked pink envelope in my hand.

  “Pink is not your color.” He took the envelope from me. “Why don’t you let me get you a robe and you can dry your clothes. There’s a big heater in the bathroom.”

  “No.” I looked up at him and our eyes met. I felt my resolve weaken. “I, ah, can’t stay.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Nicci, please.”

  I couldn’t summon the will to speak out the refusal my conscience kept telling me to make. So instead, I just nodded and let my shoulders sag forward in complete resignation. He smiled, seemingly amused by my confusion, and then motioned for me to follow him.

  We walked through the living room and into the studio. I was not prepared for what I saw there. I froze, instantly glued to the floor. The walls, the floor, and even a few easels were filled with paintings and drawings of me. I stared in disbelief. He had done a great deal of work in the time since I had last seen him. Scanning the walls, I found the portrait he had done of me reclining on the sofa the night of the party. It was finished now, and filled with all the colors I had remembered from that evening; the blue-black of my dress, the gold of the champagne, the warm auburn waves of my hair spread out behind me, the blue light from the night outside. I walked over and gently touched the canvas. All the emotions I had felt that night seemed to leap out from the piece. The passion and uncertainty of the moments we had spent together were all there, embedded within each stroke on the canvas.

  I took in the room. There were so many others. In one, I was laughing, in another, I was looking very serious, and in yet another, I stood over an ivy-clad balcony gazing out at a sunrise.

  “I tried to think about what you were doing. I painted you the way I saw you spending your days.” He came up beside me. “I call them my Jenny pictures.”

  “Jenny? Why Jenny?”

  “Better than calling them my Nicci pictures, don’t you think? Come on. The bathroom is through there.” He put his arm around me and guided me down a short hallway behind the kitchen. “There’s a robe behind the door that you can use.” Before I could object, he shut the bathroom door.

  I stripped down to my underwear, suddenly feeling very self-conscious without my clothes to protect me. I quickly pulled on the thick blue robe and knotted the belt securely. It smelled of him and I could feel myself weakening further. I looked over at the mirror above the sink and took a deep breath, reminding myself of what I had come here to do. I squared my shoulders and opened the door.

  He was waiting in the kitchen. “Looks good on you.” He nodded to the robe and then waved to a pot of brewing coffee. “I thought you could use that.”

  “Thanks.” I gestured to the studio. “You’ve been busy.”

  He grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and removed the pot from the coffeemaker. I waited as he poured the mugs full of the black liquid.

  “How have you been?” he asked, handing me a mug.

  “I was going to leave a note.” I took a large gulp of the coffee, avoiding his eyes.

  “The pink note?”

  “Yes. A ‘Dear David’ note.”

  “I see.” He sipped his coffee. “Well, now that you are here, perhaps you would care to tell me what you put in the note. Or am I to read it later?”

  “No. I was going to tell you that we shouldn’t see each other again. That we are no good for each other and, well…you know the rest.” I put my coffee mug down on the granite kitchen countertop.

  He kept his eyes on my coffee mug. “Now that you are here do you still feel the same way?”

  “I don’t know,” I sighed and rubbed my face.

  He came closer to me. “Something wrong?”

  “Colleen’s pregnant.” I noted how his face fell in surprise. “It’s Eddie’s.”

  He let go a soft whistle. “Does Eddie know?”

  “Not yet. I’m making Colleen wait until I arrange some kind of meeting to break the news to him. You know Eddie, and you can guess how he’ll take this.”

  “He will try and kill her, if Sammy doesn’t do it first.” He drank down some more of his coffee. “What does she want? Money?”

  “No, that would be easy. She wants to marry him.” He broke out into a fit of laughter. “I know, I know,” I agreed. “But that’s what she has had her heart set on since we were kids. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she planned the whole thing.”

  “It’s not all her fault,” he argued. “Eddie should have been more responsible. A man must plan ahead for such encounters.”

  “Do you always plan ahead for such encounters?”

  He smiled, raising his coffee mug to his lips. “I’m a very cautious fellow.”

  “I guess in your line of work you must have to buy condoms in bulk.” The smile disappeared from his face. “I just meant….” The blush rose on my face.

  “I know what you meant.” He put his coffee mug down on the countertop next to him. “Look, why are you getting involved in this situation? This is obviously Eddie and Colleen’s problem, not yours.”

  “I can’t help but think this is my fault. If Eddie hadn’t seen me dancing with you that night, then perhaps—”

  “Do not blame yourself for their mistake.” He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “He’s a grown man and she’s a grown woman. No one forced them together. From what you’ve said about your cousin, it sounds like she would have arranged this sooner or later.”

  I looked about the sparsely equipped kitchen, trying to think of something to say. His eyes were getting to me, and the way his thick chest and ripped abs were—

  “Was that in the note?” he intruded into my thoughts.

  “No,” I said, trying not to look at his chest. Instead, I fingered a pizza delivery magnet on the refrigerator.

  A sudden crash of thunder rocked the house and then the lights went out. I jumped and David cursed. It was too dark outside to see by the light of day. I felt for the countertop and tried to orient myself among the shadows.

  “I have candles somewhere.” I could hear him going through the kitchen drawers. “Don’t move.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I heard him rummaging around the apartment. After several bangs, and accompanying curses, I heard a cry of success from the living room. I could just make out his form wandering back with a lighted candle. He came into the kitchen and took my hand.

  “I don’t have any flashlights. I’m afraid this will have to do,” he declared, leading me into the studio.

  The light from outside was much better in the studio. I could see the eyes in each of the paintings, eeril
y watching us, as we passed through the room. In the living room, he motioned to the sofa.

  “Sit. Nothing to crash into here.”

  I sat down and, carrying the candle, he wandered back to the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, he reappeared with the two refilled coffee mugs. “I hope you know some way we could pass the time.” I could almost hear him smirking in the darkness when he sat down next to me.

  “Very funny.”

  A loud knock on the door made me flinch. David placed his hand on my shoulder when the front door flew open with a bang. The wet wind from the storm rushed into the living room, making the candle on the coffee table flicker in protest. I could just make out a large figure blocking the doorway, as a bright beam from a flashlight began probing into the room.

  “Cora,” David chuckled. “Right in the nick of time.”

  “Hey there, sonny. I thought ya could use some candles.” The voice was deep and sprinkled with a heavy Cajun accent. The flashlight beam zeroed in on me, and I found myself temporarily blinded.

  David stood from the sofa, and said, “Come on in, Cora. I want you to meet somebody.”

  The flashlight danced about the room as Cora came inside. She and David spread the candles about the living room and then the flashlight went out. It took my eyes a few moments to adjust before the image of Cora began to appear.

  She was tall and wide with a round face, turned up nose, delicate mouth, and small chin. The deep-set laugh lines that surrounded her large brown eyes seemed to complement her cheerful features. She wore her light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and secured with a red bow. Her dark blue jumper clung to her full figure, having been soaked through by the rain.

  I noticed how her eyes were all over me like a swarm of bees, buzzing with curiosity. As I rose from the sofa, trying to drag the long robe with me, I swore that her eyes flashed with recognition.

  “Cora Dickerson, I’d like you to meet Nicci Beauvoir.”

  After David introduced us, I stretched out my hand. She took it warmly and gave it a powerful shake.

  “Please to meet ya.” Cora looked at David. “But if ya ask me, she looks more like a Jenny, than a Nicci.” She gave a small tinkling trill of laughter, sounding just like a little girl.