Danielle Steel: The Promise

“Marion, are you all right?” He knew more about her health than anyone did. She had confided in him years before. Someone had to know, for the business. She had appallingly high blood pressure, and a serious problem with her heart.

For a moment there was no answer, and then she pulled her eyes away from her son to look at her longtime associate and friend. “Yes … yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry. Good evening, George. Come in.”

“I think I've come at a bad time.”

“Not at all, George, I was just leaving.” Michael turned to look at him and couldn't even pretend to smile. Then he looked at his mother again, but made no move to approach her. “Good night, Mother.”

“I'll call you tomorrow, Michael. We can discuss this over the phone.”

He wanted to say something hateful to her, to frighten her, but he couldn't, he didn't know how. And what was the point?

“Michael…”

He didn't answer her; he merely shook hands solemnly with George and walked out of the library without looking back. He never saw the look in his mother's eyes, or the concern in George's as she sank slowly back into her chair and brought her trembling hands to her face. There were tears in her eyes which she hid even from George.

“What on earth happened?”

“He's going to do something insane.”

“Maybe not. We all threaten mad things now and then.”

“At our age we threaten, at his age they do.” All her efforts for nothing. The investigators' reports, the phone calls, the … She sighed and slowly sat back against the delicate chair.

“Have you taken your medicine today?” She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Where is it?”

“In my bag. Behind the desk.” He walked to the desk, saying nothing of the pages of die report scattered there and on the floor, and found the black alligator handbag with the eighteen-karat-gold clasp. He knew it well; he had given it to her three Christmases before. He found the medicine and returned to her side, holding the two white pills in his hand. She heard the rattle of the demitasse cup and opened her eyes. This time she smiled at him. “What would I do without you, George?”

“What would I do without you?” He couldn't even bear the thought “Shall I leave now? You should get some rest.”

“I'd just get upset thinking about Michael.”

“Is he still coming to work for the firm?”

“Yes, it was something else.”

The girl then. George knew about that too, but he didn't want to press Marion now. She was distressed enough, but at least the color was coming back to her face, and after swallowing the pills she took a cigarette out of her case. He lit it for her as he watched her face. She was a beautiful woman. He had always thought so. Even now, as she grew tired and increasingly ill. He wondered if Michael knew how ill. He couldn't possibly or he wouldn't upset her like this.

What George did not know was that Michael was equally distressed at that moment. Hot tears burned his eyes as he sat in the back of a cab on his way to the airport.

He called Nancy as soon as he got to the terminal. His flight would leave in twenty minutes.

“How did it go?” She couldn't tell much from his voice when he said hello.

“Fine. Now I want you to get busy. I want you to pack a bag, get dressed, and be ready in an hour and a half when I get there.”

“Ready for what?” She was puzzled as she sat curled up on the couch, holding the phone.

He paused for a moment and then smiled. It was his first smile in two hours. “An adventure, my love. You'll see.”

“You're crazy.” She was laughing her wonderful soft laugh.

“Yeah, crazy about you.” He felt like himself again. Once more it was all beginning to make sense: he was back with Nancy. No one could ever take that away from him, not his mother, not a report, no one and nothing. He had vowed that day, on the beach where they had buried the beads, never to say good-bye to her, and he had meant it. “Okay, Nancy Fancypants, get moving. Oh, and wear something old, something new …” He wasn't just smiling now, he was grinning.

“You mean …” Her voice trailed off in astonishment.

“I mean we're getting married tonight Okay with you?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing, lady. Get your ass in gear and make like a bride.”

“But why tonight?”

“Instinct. Trust me. Besides, it's a full moon.”

“It must be.” She was smiling now, too. She was going to be married. She and Michael were going to be married!

“I'll see you in an hour, babe. And … Nancy?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He hung up the phone and ran toward the gate. He was the last passenger to board the plane to Boston. Nothing could stop him now.

Chapter 3

He had been pounding on the door for almost ten minutes, but he wasn't going to give up. He knew Ben was in there.

“Ben! Come on, you … Ben! I … For Chrissake, man …” Another rash of pounding and then at last the sound of footsteps and a sudden crash. The door opened to reveal a sleepy Ben, standing confusedly in his underwear and rubbing his shin. “Christ, it's only eleven o'clock. What are you doing asleep at this hour?” But the grin on Ben's face told him with a second glance. “Jesus. You're smashed.”

“To the very tips of my toes.” Ben looked down at his feet with an elfin smile and an unsteady wobbling of the legs.

“Well, you're going to sober up real quick, podner. I need you.”

“The hell you do. Six Beefeaters and tonic and you think I'm gonna waste it? Bullsh—”

“Never mind that Get dressed.”

“I am dressed.” He squinted unhappily as Mike turned on the lights. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” But Mike only smiled as he headed toward the tiny, disheveled kitchen.

“What'd you do in here? Detonate a hand grenade?”

“Yeah. And I'm gonna shove one up your—”

“Now, now, this is a special occasion.” Mike turned to smile at him from the kitchen doorway, and for a moment there was hope in Ben's eyes.

“Can we drink to it?”

“All you want But later.”

“Crap.” He let himself fall into a chair, and let his head loll back against the soft cushions.

“Don't you want to know what the occasion is?”

“Not if I can't drink to it I'm graduating from graduate school. That I can drink to.”

“And I'm getting married.”

“That's nice.” And then he sat up straight, and the eyes came open. “You're what?”

“You heard me. Nancy and I are getting married.” Mike said it with the quiet pride of a man who knows his mind.

“This is an engagement party?” Ben sat up with a look of delight. Hell, that was worth at least another six Beefeaters. Maybe even seven or eight.

“Not an engagement party, Avery. I told you. It's a wedding.”

“Now?” Confusion again. Hillyard was a real pain in the ass. “Why now?”

“Because we want to. Besides, you're too loaded to understand anyway. Can you get it together enough to be our best man?”

“Sure. Son of a bitch, you're actually going to—”

He leapt out of his chair, lurched horribly and stubbed his toe on the coffee table. “Goddamn—”

“Go put some clothes on without killing yourself. I'll make you some coffee.”

“Yeah …” He was still muttering to himself when he disappeared into the bedroom, but he looked slightly more composed when he returned. He was even wearing a tie, with a blue and red striped T-shirt. Mike looked at him and shook his head with a grin.

“You could've at least picked a tie that went with the shirt.” The tie was a dark maroon with a beige and black design.

“Do I need a tie?” He suddenly looked worried. “I couldn't find one that matched.”