Danielle Steel - The Promise

“Mrs. Calloway?” It was Michael offering her his arm to the buffet as she laughed girlishly at the new name and then smiled at George. “Celebrate it,” as Nancy had said, and that was what they had done. Michael was pleased for them both. They deserved it. And they were spending two months in Europe to relax. He couldn't get over how sensible she had been about stepping out of the business. Maybe she had been ready to retire after all, or maybe her heart was finally frightening her after all this time, but she and George had been wonderful to work with as they transferred the power from their hands to his. He was the president of Cotter-Hillyard now, and he had to admit that he didn't mind the way it felt President … at twenty-seven. He had made the cover of Time . And that had felt good, too. He supposed his mother and George would make People with the wedding.

“You look very elegant, darling.” His mother beamed at him as they swept into the library. It was filled with flower trees and tables laden with food. And the walls seemed to be lined with additional servants.

“You look pretty snazzy yourself. And the house doesn't look bad either.”

“It's pretty, isn't it?” She seemed amazingly young as she flitted away from him to talk to some of the guests and give last-minute instructions to the servants. She was totally in her element, and as excited as a girl. His mother, the bride. He smiled to himself again at the thought.

“You're looking very pleased with yourself, Mr. Hillyard.” The voice was soft and familiar, and when he turned to find Wendy right at his elbow, he was no longer embarrassed to see her. She was wearing the diamond solitaire Ben had given her for Valentine's Day when they got engaged. They were getting married the following summer. And he was to be best man.

“She looks lovely, doesn't she?”

Wendy nodded and smiled at him again. For once he looked happy, too. She had never really figured him out; but at least it didn't bother her anymore, now that she had Ben. Ben made her happier than any other man ever had.

“But I'm sure you'll look lovely next summer too. I have a weakness for brides.” It seemed very unlike him and Wendy smiled again. She liked him much better, now that she shared his friendship with Ben.

“Trying to chase after my fiancée, old man?” It was Ben at their elbow, juggling three glasses of champagne. “Here, these are for you two. And by the way, Mike, I'm in love with your mother.”

“Too late. I gave her away this morning.” Ben snapped his fingers as though at a loss and all three laughed as the music began in the dining room. “Oops, I think that means me. The son gets the first dance, and then George cuts in on me. Emily Post says …” Ben laughed at him and gave him a shove as he disappeared toward the door to do his duties.

“He looks happy today,” Wendy said softly after Mike had left.

“I think he is, for once.” Pensively, he sipped his champagne, and a moment later smiled at Wendy again. “You look happy today, too.”

“I'm always happy, thanks to you. By the way, did you follow up on that girl in San Francisco, the photographer? I keep meaning to ask you, and I never have time.”

But Ben was shaking his head “No, Mike said he'd take care of it.”

“Does he have time?” Wendy looked surprised.

“No. But he'll probably manage anyway. You know Mike. He's going out there next week, for that and four thousand other reasons.”

No, Wendy thought to herself, I don't know Mike. No one does. Except maybe Ben. But sometimes she even wondered if Ben knew him as well as he liked to think he did. Used to maybe. But did he still?

“Care to dance, lady?” He set down his glass and put an arm around her to guide her to the next room.

“Love to.”

But they'd only been dancing for a moment, it seemed, when Michael cut in on them. “My turn.”

“The hell it is. We just got started. I thought you were dancing with your mother.”

“She ditched me for George.”

“Sensible of her.” The three of them had been shuffling around together on the dance floor and Wendy was starting to laugh. Seeing the two of them together this way was like getting a glimpse of the Ben and Michael of years gone by. This was the kind of occasion they had once thrived on. A good healthy dose of champagne, an occasion worth celebrating, and they were off.

“Listen, Avery, are you going to get lost, or aren't you? I want to dance with your fiancé.”

“And what if I don't want you to?”

“Then I dance with both of you, and my mother throws us out?” Wendy was grinning again. They were like two kids, dying to raise hell at a birthday party. They were just breaking into a song about “a girl in Rhode Island” that was beginning to worry her.

“Listen you two, this is supposed to be twice as much fun. Instead, I'm getting both my feet walked on at once . Why don't we all go have some wedding cake?”

“Shall we?” Ben and Michael eyed each other, nodded in unison, and each obligingly took one of Wendy's arms and led her off the floor, as Michael looked over her head and winked at Ben.

“Cute, but I think she's crocked. Did you notice the way she danced? My shoes are practically ruined.”

“You should see mine.” Ben spoke in a stage whisper, over her left shoulder, and Wendy sharply elbowed them both.

“Listen, you creeps, has anyone seen my shoes? Not to mention my poor aching feet, dancing with you two drunken louts.”

“Louts?” Ben looked at her, horrified, and Michael started to laugh as he accepted three plates of wedding cake from a uniformed maid, and then proceeded to juggle the plates, almost dropping two.

“Never mind her. The cake looks terrific. Here.” Michael handed a plate to each of the other two, and the three leaned against a convenient column and watched the action as they ate, eyeing dowagers in gray lace, young girls in pink chiffon, cascades of pearls, and a river of assorted gems.

“Jesus, just think what we could make if we held them up.” Michael looked enchanted with his idea.

“I never thought of that. We should have done it years ago. Up at school, when we were broke.” They nodded sagely at each other, as Wendy looked at them with a suspicious grin.

“I'm not sure I should trust you two alone while I go to powder my nose.”

“Not to worry. I'll keep an eye on him, Wendy.” Michael winked broadly and polished off another glass of champagne. Wendy had never seen him like this, but he amused her. Ben had been right. He was human after all. Seeing him that way, giddy and silly, was like meeting him five years before, or even two.

“I don't think either of you could uncross your eyes long enough to keep an eye on anything, let alone each other.”

“Bull… I mean… oh, go to the can, Wendy, we're in great shape.” He accepted two more glasses of champagne, handed one to Michael, and waved his fiancée off in the direction of the ladies' room. “She's a hell of a girl, Mike. I'm glad you didn't get mad when I told you about … about us.”

“How could I get mad? She's just right for you. Besides, I'm too busy for that stuff.”

“One of these days you won't be.”

“Maybe so. In the meantime, the rest of you can run off and get married. Me, I have a business to run.” But for once he didn't look grim when he said it. He looked over his glass of champagne with a grin, and toasted his friend. “To us.”

Chapter 25

The plane set down gently in San Francisco as Michael snapped shut his briefcase. He had a thousand things to do in the week to come. Doctors to see, meetings to attend, building sites to visit, architects to organize, and people, and plans and demands and conferences, and … damn … that photographer, too. He wondered how he'd find time for it all. But he would. He always did. He'd give up sleeping or eating or something. He took his raincoat out of the overhead rack where he had folded it, put it over his arm, and followed the other passengers out of first class. He felt the stewardesses eyes on him. He always did. He ignored them. They didn't interest him. Besides, he didn't have time. He looked at his watch. He knew there would be a car waiting for him at the terminal. It was two twenty in the afternoon. He had done a full day's work in half a day at the office in New York, and now he had time for at least four or five hours of meetings here. Tomorrow morning he had a breakfast conference scheduled for seven. That was the way he ran his life. That was the way he liked it. All he cared about was his work. That and a handful of people. Two of whom were happily off in Majorca by now, at the house of friends, and the other of whom was in Wendy's good hands in New York. They were all taken care of. And so was he. He had the medical center to pull together. And it was coming along beautifully. He smiled to himself as he walked into the terminal. This baby was his.