| |
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 court, 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.”
He smiled as he spoke, but I could tell there were other emotions as well. I said, “Oh, no. Was your heart broken?”
“No. I was embarrassed at first, but deep in my heart, I knew she would prefer Gareth to me. Everyone did.”
“That sounds pathetic.”
“No, it’s the truth. I am not a dynamic person. I’m actually very boring.”
“I don’t think you’re boring.”
He leaned forward. He said, “And that’s why I want to marry you rather than someone else.”
“I don’t love you,” I said. “I like you. I admire you. But I’m not in love with you.”
“I’m not in love with you, either, but I think perhaps that it is better to start as friends and let the love grow gradually.”
He had a point. My prior attempts at love had not been successful.
He asked, “And we are friends, aren’t we?”
I supposed we were. As odd as it might sound, I considered Vidar Nilsson, multi-billionaire, creator of the Nils operating system, my friend. I nodded slowly. “Yes, we are.”
He looked at me pointedly as if to say ‘well, then, what do you say?’ but I wasn’t ready to commit to anything. I looked down at my plate instead, considering the matter.
I was tempted by the offer – who wouldn’t be? Vidar was handsome, rich, and a very nice guy. I said finally, “I don’t think you know me well enough.”
“What else do I need to know? You’re honest, hard-working, and kind. And you make the best chicken soup in the world.”
I looked him straight in the eyes. It was time to come clean. I said, “I grew up in Houston, in one of the poorer neighborhoods in a dysfunctional family situation. My mother has no idea who my father is, and she’s been in and out of jail for petty crimes – shop lifting, destroying other people’s property, driving drunk. I was raised mostly by my grandmother. By the time I was eighteen, I was desperate to leave home, so I married my boyfriend Peter and we moved to San Antonio. He wasn’t a bad guy, and I think he loved me, but we were too immature and when money got tight, he went drinking with his friends and ended up sleeping with the bartender.”
Vidar said, “If you marry me, I promise that I will be faithful.”
I said, “That’s not all. Peter ruined my credit, kept sleeping around, and it took me two years to decide I wanted something better for myself. I divorced him and moved to Dallas.”
“You kept moving north, I see.”
“That’s right. And if Dallas doesn’t work out, I’ll go to Oklahoma City.”
He smiled briefly at my humor.
I continued. “But that’s not all. In Dallas, I got some temp office jobs because I could type and answer phones. Eventually, I got a job working for a financial advisor, Mr. Edward Lindsey. I worked for him for two years. He liked me. He wanted to marry me, and I said ‘yes.’”
I sighed, remembering those dark days. “He was seventeen years older than I was. I didn’t love him, although I admired and respected him. Maybe he was the father figure I never had, I don’t know. But whatever the reason, I agreed to marry him. I told myself that marrying for love hadn’t worked out, so this time I would marry for security – and that love would grow, as you said.”
He said quietly, “Then what happened?”
I took another bite of my steak. “Well, I think my guardian angels or Gran’s prayers must have been working overtime. Because a week before we were supposed to get married, Edward was arrested on fraud charges. I’d signed a lot of papers for him, acting as his secretary, so I was in trouble too. But the prosecutors offered me immunity to testify against him. He was sentenced to seven years. It was during that investigation and trial that I started working at Nilsson Tower.”
“Is that it?” Vidar asked.
“Isn’t it enough?” I asked. “You can tell from my history that I have lousy judgment. That’s probably why I’m studying psychology, so I can figure people out better.”
He said, “I don’t see it that way. When I look at you, I see a survivor. Someone who doesn’t give up. Someone who isn’t afraid to do the hard work. Someone who doesn’t sit around feeling sorry for herself.”
“That’s very kind of you to say but be honest. Would you have proposed to me if you’d known all that before?”
Vidar said, “I did know it.”
“How?”
“I run background checks on everyone that has access to my personal apartment, and when I decided that I wanted to marry you, I hired a private detective as well.”
Good heavens. I wasn’t sure what I thought of that. “I’d like to see that report, if I could.”
“Sure. I’ll email you a copy.”
I watched him warily. He reached across the table to touch my hand gently. “Did you ever think that maybe third time is the charm?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your first and second attempts at marriage didn’t work, so maybe this one will.”
“Third time lucky?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me so earnestly, I could not refuse him. I said finally, “I’ll think about it.”
Vidar brought my fingers up to his lips and kissed them. “Thank you,” he said calmly, then looked at our empty plates. Somehow, during our conversation I had consumed a steak and a potato.
He raised his hand and said, “Dessert, I think?”