Free Tell Me Your Dreams by Sidney Sheldon

excuse can I give? You’re a murderer. I don’t want to see you?
    And each day Christmas was coming closer.
    “I would like to show you my jewelry store,” Jean Claude told Toni. “Would you care to see it?”
    Toni nodded. “Love to.”
    Parent Jewelers was located in the heart of Quebec City, on rue Notre-Dame. When she walked in the door, Toni was stunned. On the Internet, Jean Claude had said, “I have a little jewelry store.” It was a very large store, tastefully done. Half a dozen clerks were busy with customers.
    Toni looked around and said, “It’s—it’s smashing.”
    He smiled. “Merci. I would like to give you a cadeau —a gift, for Christmas.”
    “No. That isn’t necessary. I—”
    “Please do not deprive me of the pleasure.” Jean Claude led Toni to a showcase filled with rings. “Tell me what you like.”
    Toni shook her head. “Those are much too expensive. I couldn’t—”
    “Please.”
    Toni studied him a moment, then nodded. “All right.” She examined the showcase again. In the center was a large emerald ring set with diamonds.
    Jean Claude saw her looking at it. “Do you like the emerald ring?”
    “It’s lovely, but it’s much too—”
    “It is yours.” Jean Claude took out a small key, unlocked the case and pulled out the ring.
    “No, Jean Claude—”
    “Pour moi.” He slipped it on Toni’s finger. It was a perfect fit.
    “Voilà! It is a sign.”
    Toni squeezed his hand. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
    “I cannot tell you how much pleasure this gives me. There is a wonderful restaurant here called Pavilion. Would you like to have dinner there tonight?”
    “Anywhere you say.”
    “I will call for you at eight o’clock.”
    At six o’clock that night, Ashley’s father telephoned. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you, Ashley. I won’t be able to be there for Christmas. An important patient of mine in South America has had a stroke. I’m flying to Argentina tonight.”
    “I’m—I’m sorry, Father,” Ashley said. She tried to sound convincing.
    “We’ll make up for it, won’t we, darling?”
    “Yes, Father. Have a good flight.”
    Toni was looking forward to dinner with Jean Claude. It was going to be a lovely evening. As she dressed, she sang softly to herself.
“Up and down the city road,
    In and out of the Eagle,
    That’s the way the money goes,
    Pop! goes the weasel.”
    I think Jean Claude is in love with me, Mother.
    Pavilion is located in the cavernous Gare du Palais, Quebec City’s old railroad station. It is a large restaurant with a long barat the entrance and rows of tables spreading toward the back. At eleven o’clock each night, a dozen tables are moved to the side to create a dance floor, and a disc jockey takes over with a variety of tapes ranging from reggae to jazz to blues.
    Toni and Jean Claude arrived at nine, and they were warmly greeted at the door by the owner.
    “Monsieur Parent. How nice to see you.”
    “Thank you, Andre. This is Miss Toni Prescott. Mr. Nicholas.”
    “A pleasure, Miss Prescott. Your table is ready.”
    “The food is excellent here,” Jean Claude assured Toni, when they were seated. “Let us start with champagne.”
    They ordered paillard de veau and torpille and salad and a bottle of Valpolicella.
    Toni kept studying the emerald ring Jean Claude had given her. “It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed.
    Jean Claude leaned across the table. “Tu aussi. I cannot tell you how happy I am that we have finally met.”
    “I am, too,” Toni said softly.
    The music began. Jean Claude looked at Toni. “Would you like to dance?”
    “I’d love to.”
    Dancing was one of Toni’s passions, and when she got out on the dance floor, she forgot everything else. She was a little girl dancing with her father, and her mother said, “The child is clumsy.”
    Jean Claude was holding her close. “You’re a wonderful dancer.”
    “Thank you.” Do you hear that, Mother?
    Toni thought, I