Danielle Steel: The Promise

“Oh, maybe half as much as I love you, Mr. Hillyard?”

“That shows what you know, Miss Nancy Fancypants.” She laughed, as always, at the nickname. Michael always made her happy. He did wonderful things. She had thought so from the first moment he walked into the gallery and threatened to take off all his clothes if she didn't sell him all her paintings. “I happen to love you at least seven times as much as you love me.”

“Nope.” She grinned at him again, put her nose in the air, and sped ahead again. “I love you more, Michael.”

“How do you know?” He was pressing to catch up.

“Santa Claus told me.” And with that she sped ahead again, and this time he let her move out on the narrow path. They were in a festive mood and he liked watching her. The slim shape of her hips in jeans, the narrow waist, the trim shoulders with the red sweater loosely tied about them, and that wonderful swing of dark hair. He could watch her for years. In fact, he was planning to do just that. Which reminded him … he had been meaning to talk to her about that all morning. He narrowed the gap between them again, and tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Hillyard.” She jumped a little at the words, and then smiled shyly at him as the sun shone across her face. He could see tiny freckles there, almost like gold dust left by elves on the creamy surface of her skin. “I said … Mrs. Hillyard…” He mouthed the words with infinite pleasure. He had waited for two years.

“Aren't you rushing things a little, Michael?” She sounded hesitant, almost afraid. He hadn't spoken to Marion yet. No matter what he and Nancy had agreed to between themselves.

“I don't think I'm rushing anything. And I was thinking about doing it two weeks from now. Right after graduation.” They had long since agreed on a small, intimate wedding. Nancy had no family, and Michael wanted to share the moment with Nancy, not a cast of thousands or an army of society photographers. “In fact, I was planning to go down to New York to talk to Marion about it tonight.”

“Tonight?” There was an echo of fear in the word, and she let the bicycle come to a slow stop. He nodded in answer, and she grew pensive as she looked out at the lush hills around them. “What do you think she'll say?” She was afraid to look at him. Afraid to hear.

“Yes , of course. Are you really worried about it?” But it was a stupid question and they both knew it. They had plenty to worry about. Marion was no flower girl. She was Michael's mother, and she had all the tenderness of the Titanic . She was a woman of power, of determination, of concrete and steel. She had carried on the family business after her father died and again with renewed determination after her husband's death. Nothing stopped Marion Hillyard. Nothing. Certainly not a chit of a girl, or her only son. If she didn't want them to get married, nothing would make her grant that “yes” Michael pretended to be so sure of. And Nancy knew exactly what Marion Hillyard thought of her.

Marion had never made any secret of her feelings, or at least, not from the moment she decided that Michael's “fling” with “that artist” might be for real. She had called Michael down to New York and cooed, soothed, and charmed, after which she had stormed, threatened, and baited. And then she had resigned herself or seemed to. Michael had taken it as an encouraging sign, but Nancy wasn't so sure. She had a feeling that Marion knew what she was doing; for the present she had clearly decided to ignore “the situation.” Invitations were not extended, accusations were not made, apologies for things said to Michael in the past were never forthcoming, but no fresh problems had sprung up either. For her, Nancy simply did not exist And oddly, Nancy was always surprised to find just how much that hurt. Having no family of her own, she had always had odd dreams about Marion. That they might be friends, that Marion would like her, that she and Marion would go shopping for Michael …, that Marion would be … the mother she had never had or known. But Marion was not easily cast in that role. In two years, Nancy had had ample opportunity to understand that. Only Michael obstinately held to the position that his mother would come around, that once she had accepted the inevitable, they would be great friends. But Nancy was never that sure. She had even forced Michael to discuss the possibility of Marion's never accepting her, never agreeing to the marriage. Then what?… “Then we hop in the car and head for the nearest justice of the peace. We're both of age now, you know.” Nancy had smiled at the simplicity of his solution. She knew it would never be as easy as that. But what did it matter? After two years together, they felt married anyway.

They stood in silence for a long moment, looking at the view, and then Michael took Nancy's hand. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too.” She looked at him worriedly and he silenced her eyes with a kiss. But nothing could still the questions that either of them had. Nothing except the interview with Marion. Nancy let her bike fall, and with a sigh, slipped slowly into Michael's arms. “I wish it were easier, Michael.”

“It will be. You'll see. Now come on. Are we going to ride, or just stand here all day?” He swatted her behind again and she smiled as he picked up her bike for her. And in a moment they were off again, laughing and playing and singing, pretending that Marion didn't exist. But she did. She always would. Marion was more an institution than a woman. Marion was forever. In Michael's life anyway. And now in Nanc's.

The sun rose higher in the sky as they pedaled through the countryside, alternately riding ahead of each other or side by side, at one moment raucously teasing, at the next growing silent and thoughtful. It was almost noon when they reached Revere Beach and saw the familiar face riding toward them. It was Ben Avery, with a new girl at his side. Another leggy blonde. They all looked like homecoming queens, and most of them were.

“Hi, you two. Going to the fair?” Ben grinned at them, and then with a vague wave of his hand introduced Jeannette. They all exchanged a round of hellos, and Nancy shielded her eyes to glance ahead at the fair. It was still several blocks away.

“Is it worth stopping for?”

“Hell, yes. We won a pink dog”—he pointed at the ugly little creature in Jeannette's basket—“a green turtle, which somehow got lost; and two cans of beer. Besides, they have corn on the cob and it's terrific.”

“You just sold me.” Michael looked over at Nancy and smiled. “Shall we?”

“Sure. You guys going back already?” But she could see that they were. Ben had a recognizable gleam in his eyes , and Jeannette seemed to be in agreement. Nancy smiled to herself as she watched them.

“Yeah, we've been out since about six this morning. I'm beat. What are you two doing for dinner tonight, by the way? Want to stop in for a pizza?” Ben's room was only a few doors down from Mike's.

“What are we doing for dinner, señor?” Nancy looked at Michael with a broad smile, but he was shaking his head.

“I have some business to attend to tonight. Maybe another time.” It was a rapid reminder of the meeting with Marion.

“Okay. See ya.” Ben and Jeannette waved and were off, as Nancy stared at Michael.

“You're really going down to see her tonight?”

“Yes. And stop worrying about it. Everything is going to be just fine. By the way, Mother says he's got the Job.”

“Ben?” Nancy looked up questioningly as they started pedaling toward the fair.

“Yes, We start at the same time. Different areas, but we start the same day.” Mike looked pleased. He had known Ben since prep school, and they were like brothers.