To My Senses The Nicci Beauvoir Series Book 1 (32 page)

“
Is your reputation more
important than your integrity?”

“
Jesus, Nicci!” she
shouted, sounding exasperated. “You were always so high and mighty.
Talking about silly things like that. My mother agreed to our
story. She thought it would be better if no one knew. Ned, however,
went ballistic, as usual.”

“
Hooray Ned!” I cheered,
throwing up my hands.

She slapped her hand down
on the bed. “It’s not that easy for me, Nicci. I don’t come from
the rich old family, or have the brains and the great looks like
you. I have to take whatever I can get in this world. If that means
I have to get shit on every now and then, I can handle it. I would
rather keep my status and money than be a nobody with integrity. If
I walk away from this marriage, you know what I’ll be? I’ll be poor
old Hattie Vasterling’s kid—she blew her chance to be on top of the
social heap. I’ve spent my whole life, always being on the outside
looking in. And now that I’ve arrived, I’m not about to give it all
away because of your stupid integrity.” She held her hand against
her packed nose, as if our heated conversation had aggravated her
injuries. “Go away, Nicci. Sammy is coming to take me home and I
don’t want you here when she arrives. You always seem to upset
her.”

Too angry to think of a
rebuttal, I stormed toward the hospital room door. I rested my hand
on the door handle, and glanced back at her.

“
Make sure you give that
plant water, Colleen. It can’t live on bullshit.”

Once outside of her
hospital room, I was fuming. Sammy had done quite a job on Colleen.
And Eddie had obviously not hit her hard enough to knock any sense
into her. Even so, I knew Colleen probably wielded more control
over her husband and mother-in-law from that hospital bed than ever
before. The truth about her miscarriage had become the one thing
that could threaten the political and social empire Sammy had
worked all of her life to attain.

Looking at it that way, I
had to smile to myself. As I walked down the hospital corridor, I
realized Colleen had been a lot smarter than I had first surmised.
She had single-handedly eclipsed the enigma of Sammy Fallon. And in
the process, Colleen was going to make sure Sammy spent the rest of
her life paying for the mistakes of her overindulged
son.

Chapter 19

It was New Year’s Eve and I
was dressed for the big party at the Hilton. Standing in front of
my mirror, I couldn’t decide if I should wear my hair up or down. I
had chosen a peach, off-the-shoulder satin dress that complemented
my fair complexion. Most of the evening dresses I owned were black,
but tonight I wanted to wear something colorful, to offset my
dismal mood. Not that I was depressed, but I was just not very
excited about going out this particular evening. The year had not
ended as I had expected, and I didn’t feel there was much to
celebrate.

Michael was due around
nine. We hadn’t seen each other all week. He had been bogged down
at his office with a backlog of appointments, while I had stayed
busy checking in on my aunt. Hattie had agreed it was best for
Colleen to go back to her husband to avoid any further gossip, but
she was heartbroken when Colleen went home from the hospital with
Sammy and not her. Colleen had not even called her mother to let
her know of her plans. Poor Hattie had gone to the hospital,
expecting to take her daughter home, only to be told by the nursing
staff that Colleen had already been discharged.

I had spoken to Michael
several times on the phone about the current events shaping
Colleen’s life. He made suggestions about how to talk to her, but I
hadn’t spoken to her since that day in the hospital. I knew she was
hopelessly entangled in Sammy Fallon’s web.

After a brief deliberation,
I decided to wear my hair down and curled. It was just easier that
way. I could hear my father pacing outside my bedroom door, as I
sat at my makeup table.

“
Dad, you can come in,” I
called into the hall.

Gingerly pushing my door
open, he came into my room and sat down on my bed.

“
You look nice.”

I stared at him through my
makeup mirror. “Fathers usually say their daughters look beautiful.
Nice? Now I know you don’t like the guy.”

“
I just don’t think he’s
right for you.”

“
I thought we had this
conversation already.” I put my powder brush down on the table.
“Look, if the guy really bothers you that much, I won’t see him
again after tonight, okay? Unfortunately, he’s probably on his way
here and I would really tick him off if I stood him up on New
Year’s Eve.”

“
I just remember how happy
you were before, and I don’t see that now. This one isn’t as
interesting, is he, Nicci? I could hire a private investigator and
find out where he went. Would that make you happy
again?”

I picked up my lipstick.
“I’m happy. I don’t want him back, Dad.”

“
You’re not happy; not like
you were. Michael will never replace David. As far as the rest of
it is concerned, I don’t care what he almost did to me. I forgave
him all of his crimes the moment I saw he was in love with
you.”

I could feel the anger
welling up inside of me. I put my lipstick and spun around to my
father. “I wish I could forgive him that easily. He used me. David
tricked both of us. I’ll never forgive him.”

“
Nicci, I learned a long
time ago that it is healthier to forgive, rather than to spend the
rest of your life with ulcers.”

“
He left such a hole in me,
Dad. What do I do about that?” The heaviness was still there when I
thought about David, sinking me like a weight to the bottom of the
dark ocean floor.

“
You go on,” he returned.
“Every day it gets a little better. Some days, it seems like it
will never be over and then some days you think, maybe you can make
it. Loss never goes away, we just work around it.” He came up to my
chair and put his hand on my shoulder. “I just want to make sure
you’re not burying yourself in someone else to forget about him. It
never works that way. Sooner or later, you’ll find that you have
only managed to avoid the inevitable confrontation with your soul,
and in the process, hurt someone else.”

I patted his hand on my
shoulder. “You’ve been down this road before?”

“
More than you know.” He
kissed my forehead. “I hear his car driving up. I’ll go get the
door.”

Michael was nervously
pulling at his bow tie when I descended the stairs. My father was
standing next to him, watching him fidget. The moment Michael saw
me, a glint of disappointment flashed in his eyes.

“
You look very nice,” he
said, without smiling.

Dad winked at me. “Popular
word this evening.”

I ignored my father and
eyed Michaels’ tuxedo. “You look…well you look like a
waiter.”

“
Yeah, that’s the first
thing I thought when I looked in the mirror.”

My father was shaking his
head when we walked out the front door. It was cold and raining
when we stepped outside. I raised my head to the starless sky
above.

“
That dress is just a bit
too revealing, don’t you think?” Michael hinted, as he opened his
umbrella.

I fretted over my dress,
gliding my hand over the fabric. “I thought it was all right for
the party. Do you want me to go change?”

“
No, we don’t have time. I
just don’t want all the men ogling you.”

Looking over Michael’s
outfit, as we hurried to his car beneath his wide umbrella, I
couldn’t help but remember David’s tuxedo that night at Val’s
party. It made him look like a prince, not a waiter. I guess that
was the difference between Armani and Sal’s Tuxedo
Rental.

“
I had a real hectic week
at the office,” he began on the drive to the hotel. “The holidays
must bring all the crazy people out.”

Michael seemed awkward
behind the wheel of his Porsche. He was one of those safe and
courteous drivers. The kind I usually liked to run off the road. He
drove too slow to own such a fast car. David would have put this
car through its paces.

“
I had this one patient at
the hospital who thought she was Santa Claus and kept trying to eat
everybody else’s food so she could gain weight for next Christmas.
And that was not the worst of it….”

I didn’t pay attention to
the rest of his story. I stared out of my window while the rainy
streets passed by. Michael was not the same engaging man he had
been on the phone all week. Our conversation felt strained and was
mired, once again, with his usual inane chatter about his job or
himself. I would turn and see him continually staring at his gold
watch or pulling at his tie as we headed down St. Charles
Avenue.

“
Is there a problem?” I
finally asked, fed up with his nervous behavior.

He looked at me, crinkling
his brow. “What?”

“
You’ve been fidgeting
since you picked me up at the house. Why?”

His eyes nervously darted
about the console in front of him while his hands clenched on the
steering wheel. “I have to tell you something,” he eventually got
out. “You know I have many clients who will probably be among the
guests at the party tonight. One in particular—”

“
Sammy Fallon,” I
interrupted.

“
Yeah. She might be a bit
surprised to see us together.” He appeared somewhat relieved. “Will
it be a problem? If it’s going to be a problem, we don’t have to
go.”

I grinned at the idea of
seeing Sammy’s face when I arrived at the party with Michael. “No,
it’s not a problem. Sammy and I have traveled down this road
before.”

His blue eyes narrowed on
me. “You’re kidding? When was this? What happened?”

“
It’s part of that stuff I
carry around inside of me. I’ll have to tell you about it one day.”
I patted his leg. “Sammy won’t cause any trouble for us tonight. I
promise.”

My mood brightened as we
drove along the wet streets. Sammy was going to be there, and I had
a date with the man she had hoped to land for herself. It might not
be a bad evening, after all. Instantly, I felt instantly
invigorated at the prospect of ruining Sammy Fallon’s New
Year.

***

The thud of the music
guided us, as we made our way to the grand ballroom. When we
stepped through the darkened main entrance, the first thing our
eyes beheld was a disc jockey on a brightly lit stage, set up in
the center of the ballroom. In front of the stage, dozens of
couples were dancing, as a popular hit song pounded from four
speakers set up around the dance floor.

The hostess of the party,
BeBe Comeaux, greeted us just after we made our way inside. BeBe
was a beautiful, curvaceous woman, with curly black hair and dark
black eyes. Renowned for her old family money, and an affinity for
shady boyfriends, BeBe was as an esteemed member of the old
guard.

After introducing Michael
to BeBe, and exchanging the customary pleasantries, we made our way
into the throng of guests. I guided Michael to a bar in the corner
of the ballroom, and asked the bartender for two glasses of
champagne. After the bartender placed the two crystal flutes in
front of us, I picked up my glass and drained it in two gulps. I
put the empty flute down on the bar and signaled to the bartender
that I wanted another. Michael cleared his throat and gave me a
dissatisfied scowl.

“
I just love champagne,” I
explained.

“
Yes, I noticed,” he
huffed. “But don’t overdo it. There are a lot of important people
here tonight. I don’t need you getting drunk and doing something
embarrassing.” The bartender arrived with my champagne. I reached
for the glass, but Michael took it away from me and placed it back
down on the bar. “We had better get you some food to go with that
champagne,” he suggested.

He took my hand and urged
me toward the long buffet tables on the far side of the ballroom. I
took the plate he handed me and started to make my way down the
line of chafing dishes overflowing with jambalaya, crawfish pie,
and selections of pasta and seafood. Our plates loaded down with
the various Cajun culinary delights, we headed for an empty table.
Along the way, I made one more stop at the bar for another glass of
champagne.

“
Any particular reason you
have an unquenchable thirst for champagne tonight?” Michael
situated his chair next to mine. “I’ve got all night, you know. The
champagne won’t help; whatever it is, you will still have to deal
with it…and a hangover in the morning.” He picked some shrimp off
my plate.

“
Are you always a shrink,
or do you ever let your hair down and become mortal?” I queried,
lifting my glass of champagne to my lips.

“
I prefer the term
psychiatrist, not a shrink. And I would have to be blind not to see
that being here bothers you. Is it what I said about
Sammy?”

“
No, it’s not that. It’s
just being here, around these people. I suddenly feel like I don’t
belong.”

Someone else had told me
that once. Perhaps he was the reason I felt so uncomfortable. I
didn’t belong, though I had never really noticed how much until
that moment.