The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  “I’m sorry. Don’t leave. I’m just angry.” His started caressing my hand. “And disappointed.”

  The trickle of blood from his cheek had slowed and I reached for more paper towels to clean his face. I sighed and wiped away the comma of wavy hair that always fell into his eyes.

  “There will be other showings, David. I know one day you will be a famous artist.”

  “You are too good for me.” He shook his head. “I’m not angry about the showing. I guess I’m just realizing what a fool I’ve been.” He pulled me closer to him.

  “I don’t think you’re a fool,” I disagreed, as I put my arms around him.

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about.” He pushed me away.

  “David, you are not making any sense. Let’s get you home. Did you drive here?” He sighed and shook his head. “Well, my car is out front, come on.”

  ***

  He slept most of the ride home. When we arrived at his Lakeview cottage, he was still very unsteady on his feet and I had to help him up the steps to his door. Once he was settled on the sofa, I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Under the sink I found some peroxide. I took it, a towel, and a mug of coffee back to the sofa.

  I poured some peroxide on the towel then I dabbed the towel against his cheek.

  “That hurts!” he yelped.

  “If I don’t clean it, the cut will get infected and then your face will fall off.” I was getting tired of having to dodge his hands.

  “Great bedside manner. They teach you that in nursing school?” He winced as I reapplied the towel to his face, but this time he sat still.

  “Among other things.”

  “What other torture do you have in mind for me?”

  I handed him the mug of coffee. “Drink this.”

  He took a sip from the mug and instantly made a face. “Oh, this is awful. Now what are you trying to do, poison me?”

  “No, it’s just strong. Drink it down,” I ordered.

  He muttered under his breath and slowly sipped from the mug.

  I finished cleaning his face and inspected the cut. It didn’t look like he needed stitches, but his cheek was already beginning to bruise and swell. His eyes watched my every move.

  “You’ll look like hell for a few days, but you’ll live,” I diagnosed, as I left him on the sofa.

  Washing my hands in the kitchen, I steadied myself for a moment against the counter. The events of the entire day had suddenly gotten to me.

  “You okay?”

  I turned to see him, standing behind me. “David, you shouldn’t be walking around. You’ll just fall down again.”

  “Nicci, I wasn’t that drunk. Anyway, that cup of coffee would have revived a horse.” He laughed, nervously. “Thank you.”

  I shrugged. “No problem. Part of the job.”

  He inched closer to me. “I’m sorry I said those things. I was disappointed and angry and you were just within firing range.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve had worse. I have to admit, finding out about your showing from Sammy was a bit of a shock.”

  “Sammy had no right to do that to you. I asked her not to say anything. I just told her because I thought she could help me. Maybe send a few friends over, but she didn’t. She never saw my Jennys. I couldn’t show them to anyone or put them on display, either. I was afraid your reputation would be ruined.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’ve been dealing with Sammy and her cronies for years. My reputation has survived through much worse, trust me.” I folded my arms, trying to keep him from getting to me. “You know, Sammy gave me the impression she was supportive of our relationship.”

  “Hell, that’s a laugh! All Sammy has done for weeks is question me about you.” He threw his arms up and walked into the bedroom.

  I followed behind him and stopped at the bedroom door. I leaned against the doorframe while he pulled the bloodstained sweater over his head.

  He went to the closet and started searching for something else to put on. When he turned and saw me standing in the doorway, he knitted his dark brows together and frowned. He quickly went back to rummaging through his closet.

  “Why would Sammy question you about us?” I pressed, wondering why he was acting so antsy. Was I missing something?

  He sagged into the closet for a moment, and then retreated from it. He came up to me and put his arms around my waist.

  “You know I’ve been keeping in touch with Sammy to keep an ear out for her future plans. Well, she’s definitely taking advantage of the situation.”

  “I guess Sammy thinks you’re still interested in her and that I’m only a diversion.”

  “You are much more than a diversion. Enough about that.” He shook his head. “You look pretty,” he said, going back to the closet. “Tell me about the shower.”

  I played with the folds of my dress. “It was okay. The usual affair.”

  He rested his shoulder against the closet door, gazing at me. “Two more weeks to go and then the whole mess will be over, right?”

  “That’s right. You are going to the wedding with me, aren’t you? I won’t be able to sit with you at the service, but we could be together at the reception.”

  “I would be honored to join you at the reception. I guess I’m rather looking forward to being able to announce to the world that we are an item.” He abandoned all pretense of searching for something to wear and came toward me. Within seconds, I was wrapped in his arms.

  I gave him a questioning glance. “Are you sure you want to do that? Sammy might not appreciate you rubbing our relationship in her face.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m just looking forward to spending the evening dancing with you.”

  Chapter 13

  The day of the wedding quickly arrived. I was deposited at Colleen’s door to be prepared with the rest of the bridesmaids…all ten of them. Aunt Hattie was already in a tizzy, running around in her girdle, and screaming about a large crease in her designer dress. Colleen was in the bathroom fighting a bout of morning sickness.

  “Your room is up at the left of the stairs. Hattie wanted you to have your own place to dress,” a young woman with lovely blue eyes said to me, as soon as I entered the house. “There’s a glass of champagne already up there. I suggest you drink it before you look at the dress.” She shook her head. “You’re gonna need it.”

  I recognized the girl as one of the debutantes from the previous season and desperately tried to remember her name. “Thanks…Sara, right?” I asked hopefully.

  “Emily.” She smiled weakly.

  In my room were a glass of champagne and a blue bag hanging from the closet door. I made sure I followed Emily’s suggestion, and drank down the entire glass before I pulled out the dress. Even knowing Colleen, I thought perhaps Emily might have been exaggerating a little. I removed the entire dress from the bag and placed it on the bed. It was worse than I could possibly have imagined.

  The dress was done in taffeta, with bright swirls of pink, cream, and orange. There was a large pink bow on the back, antique lace around the bottom of the skirt, exaggerated puffy shoulders, and an orange sash about the waist. It looked like a giant Dreamsicle. I sat down on the bed, stunned. I would have to go downstairs and find a bottle of champagne to get me drunk enough to put this thing on.

  “No wonder Hattie never let us see the completed dresses,” I murmured to myself, fingering the thick layer of lace.

  I retreated downstairs and found several bottles of champagne chilling in the refrigerator. After my fourth glass, I was ready to return upstairs and put on the dress. Back in my room, I slipped it on and gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror next to the bed. There was nothing to do but shake my head with disbelief and head down the stairs.

  ***

  Our limousine arrived about an hour later, after everyone’s hair and makeup were finished. We were ushered into the back of the car with urgency b
y Uncle Ned. I sat next to Colleen on the way over. She looked like hell. Her face was very pale and she had dark circles under her puffy brown eyes. She did not say a word to me but kept grabbing at the door, trying to steady herself against the jostling motion of the car.

  I placed my hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I should have listened to you.” She wobbled next to me. “I never knew it was going to be like this. Mom said pregnancy was a breeze. I think she was lying to me. I don’t know if I can take six more months of this.”

  I patted her hand. “They say the first three are the hardest.”

  “I thought it was the last three,” she groaned

  We arrived at the church and were ushered into the ceremony. We racewalked down the aisle, trying to make up for lost time. Everything was such a blur. During the service, I remember watching Eddie, in his tailored white tuxedo, continually wiping away small beads of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Before I knew it, the couple said I do, the organist belted out the wedding march, and we were back in the limousines.

  The reception was held at the prestigious Gallier Hall—the original city hall of New Orleans. Once again, Sammy’s political and financial connections had been used to acquire the best for her son.

  I spotted Sammy drinking champagne and laughing with Uncle Ned when we arrived at the reception. She was in an elegant, black silk designer dress that clung to her voluptuous figure. She never acknowledged poor, bloated Colleen. Instead, she devoted all of her attention to Eddie, greeting him with kisses, as soon as he entered the reception hall, and whisking him away from his bride the moment the formal pictures were done.

  I had been searching all over the reception for David, but he was nowhere to be found. My father saw me and waved me down. He was in a corner talking to an unfamiliar gentleman. When I approached, Dad smiled and kissed my cheek.

  He glimpsed my dress, then said, “Darling, you look beautiful.”

  “Nice try, Dad.”

  “Nicci, I would like you to meet Dr. Jerry Fagles.” I shook the man’s hand. “It seems Dr. Fagles is a dentist.”

  “I have a practice in Metairie,” Dr. Fagles added.

  Dr. Fagles was of medium height with a thick head of gray hair and piercing blue eyes. His nose was rather long with large nostrils that flared when he breathed. When he spoke, he had a habit of rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  “Your father,” Dr. Fagles continued, “was just telling me that you’re studying nursing.”

  “Yes, I finish in May,” I asserted.

  “Nice profession. We need more caring people in the health industry.”

  “Yes, we do.” I turned back to my father. “Have you seen David?”

  “Not yet. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

  I excused myself and left the men to their conversation.

  I found Hattie standing by the buffet table, chattering away to several guests. She had a run in her stocking and her slip was beginning to show from beneath her snug, bright yellow dress. She was still steady on her feet, which meant she could not have had too much to drink. She saw me and waved, leaving the small crowd of people around her.

  “Nicci, my dear,” she all but screamed. “I want you to come with me.” She locked her sweaty little hand around my wrist and proceeded to drag me to the dance floor.

  “Yoo hoo, Jenny! Here she is!” Hattie called across the reception hall.

  I did not see to whom she was calling at first. Then a round little woman turned to face me. It was the same woman I had met at the shower; the one who wanted me to meet her son…the doctor.

  “Nicci, you remember Mrs. Fagles,” Hattie said as she let go of my arm.

  I smiled, trying to hide my aggravation. “Yes, Mrs. Fagles. I just met your husband a few moments ago. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Oh, how lovely you look.” She reached out and caressed the fabric of my dress. “Well, he was here a minute ago.” She surveyed the crowd.

  I turned to Aunt Hattie. “Who?”

  “Why, Mrs. Fagles son, Doctor Fagles. You remember I told you about him.” Hattie suddenly pointed across to the bar. “Oh, there he is!”

  I followed the direction of her attentions. A pale man with soft blond hair and light blue eyes was coming toward us, carrying a glass of champagne. He was barely taller than me, and looked like he lifted weights in his spare time.

  “Michael, come here,” Mrs. Fagles urged.

  The blond gentleman came alongside his mother. His eyes were immediately all over me.

  “Here he is, my son, Michael.” She patted his bulging arm.

  He held out his hand to me and I took it. His grip was strong and the squeeze he gave me lasted a few moments longer than what polite society considered necessary.

  “Hello,” he purred, apparently attempting to be seductive.

  “This is my niece, Nicci, Nicole Beauvoir. She’s in nursing school.” Hattie’s eyes parleyed between Michael and me.

  “Ms. Beauvoir.” He dipped his head slightly, but never took his eyes off me.

  “Well, we can see you two have a lot to talk about.” Mrs. Fagles then clasped my aunt’s hand and dragged her away.

  Michael laughed nervously. “I must apologize. My mother has all the subtlety of a tow truck.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. His sudden discomfort was more appealing than his attempt at seduction. “That’s all right. My Aunt Hattie is the same way.” I shook my head. This was going to be a long process. “So you are a physician?”

  “And you are a nurse.”

  His voice was almost boyish. I missed David’s deep, velvety voice in my ear at that moment. I looked around the room to see if he had arrived. Nothing. I turned back to the doctor.

  “Student nurse,” I corrected. “I finish in May.”

  He took a sip from his champagne. “Do you have any idea what specialty you’re interested in?”

  “Cardiology. I liked my rotations through intensive care. I think I would like to work there. Your problems suddenly became very trivial when you see others trying so hard to hold on to what you take for granted.”

  “I can understand your reasoning. You must be technically oriented. Me, I found the night call way too stressful to work in intensive care. I like my sleep. I specialize in psychiatry. Now that’s an interesting area you should consider.”

  I hadn’t liked my psych rotations much. “I may have grown up around a lot of nutty people, but I don’t plan on making a career of it,” I confessed, trying to lighten my disinterest.

  “Well,” he laughed, “believe it or not, psychiatry is better suited for a woman. It’s not as stressful as the floors, and the hours can more conducive to raising children. You might want to seriously look into it.”

  I glared at him. Did he really just say that?

  He cleared his throat. “I mean, women like psychiatry more than most other areas of the hospital.”

  The band, next to the dance floor, started belting out a snappy jazz tune. Michael put his champagne down on a nearby table and took my hand.

  “Why don’t we dance?”

  Reluctantly, I let him lead me to the dance floor. One dance to be polite and then I could go in search of David, I thought. Once we were on the dance floor, Michael pulled me close to him and put his arms around me. My immediate reaction was to pull away and slap him. I smiled, instead, as he tried to waltz me around the dance floor.

  “My mother said you were quite pretty. I’m glad to see she was right,” he mumbled in my ear.

  I continued to smile at him, ignoring his attempt at conversation. I was determined to finish our dance and make a speedy exit.

  “She talked about you for some time. She literally dragged me to this wedding to meet you.”

  I was going to have to say something to dissuade him. “I’m flattered, but I know you probably have other things to do. I won’t tell if you need to sneak out. Getting set up is so uncomfortable.”
>
  He gave a childish giggle. “No, I’m glad I came. I have no intention of sneaking off, now that I’ve met you. I must admit, I was apprehensive. I thought you were going to look like your aunt.” That made me laugh. His face suddenly lit up. “I wondered if you knew how to do that? You seemed very serious there for a while.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, very serious.”

  The tempo of the music changed to a slow beat and he held me tighter. His arms were strong and his body felt like it had been well disciplined with training. His thick, callused hands were rough against my skin. I was going to need a crowbar to get out of his suffocating embrace. Just then, I saw a tall figure emerge from the crowd behind Michael’s head.

  David winked at me, as he tapped on the doctor’s shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

  Michael looked from me to David. He puffed out his chest, and I thought for a moment he was going to refuse.

  “He’s my cousin,” I blurted out.

  Michael hesitated and then moved to the side. “I’ll see you later,” he avowed when David stepped in to my arms.

  David and I began to take a turn around the dance floor. He was smirking at me. I smiled at him and then I started to laugh.

  “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you are already picking up strange men. Who was that?”

  “Dr. Michael Fagles. I think Hattie was trying to find me a husband.”

  “I’m glad I came when I did. I see I will have to keep my eye on you. You look,” he eyed the dress, “well, you look absolutely ridiculous in that thing.”

  “Thanks. I feel better already.” I paused as we waltzed in front my aunt and Uncle Ned. I saw Hattie’s jaw drop as David spun me around on the dance floor. I turned my attention back to David. “What did you think of Dr. Fagles?”

  “He wasn’t your type. Too bulky.”

  “They’re called muscles. Most women find them attractive.” I was enjoying his grumbling. “What would you consider my type?” I challenged.

  “Oh, the artistic kind with less muscles and better taste.” His intense eyes stayed on me while I chuckled at his comment. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I want to talk about us.”