Truth (76 page)

That was why Tony wanted Claire at the
estate, safe, with Catherine to watch over her. With Rawlings
Industries, Sophia, and John Vandersol, Tony didn’t need to be
concerned about Claire, too. Her role as Mrs. Rawlings had just
begun. And admittedly, in most situations, she’d done well.
However, there were a few occasions she’d forgotten the
significance of her new title. He didn’t want to spend his days
worrying how her actions reflected upon him.

Claire said she wasn’t a spouse or a
partner. That wasn’t true. He wanted her as both... however;
Anthony Rawlings never shared control. His percentage always held
more weight... therefore; it didn’t matter if she was bored: if he
wanted her at the estate -- that was where she would be.

All changes, even the most
longed for, have their melancholy;
for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves;
we must die to one life before we can enter another.
– Anatole France

Chapter
51

“
Ms. Nichols, we’re almost
to Palo Alto.” Grace’s voice penetrated Claire’s dream, resounding
through the hum of engines. “Ms. Nichols, please return your seat
to its upright position.”

Claire opened her eyes, seeing the luxurious
interior of Tony’s private plane and the nice copilot standing
before her. Recognizing she’d slept the entire flight, Claire
slowly obeyed. She nodded at Grace as she pushed the appropriate
buttons and returned her lounge to its chair position. It was true;
no commercial seat, even in first class, could provide the comfort
and serenity Claire had just enjoyed for over four hours.

As wakefulness came, so did hunger. Earlier
in the afternoon she enjoyed one of her favorite meals: grilled
salmon, asparagus, salad, and red potatoes. And since Tony claimed
not to have requested the delicious menu, they both suspected
Catherine. Nevertheless, as Claire adjusted her watch to Pacific
Time, she realized dinner was over five hours ago. Contemplating
her future, she wondered if the twisting in her stomach was hunger
or the thought of her impending discussion with Harry and her
future travel plans next Friday morning.

Claire wanted to talk with Harry, be honest,
and explain her thoughts. The problem with her plan -- Claire
didn’t know her own thoughts. Harry deserved honesty; she wasn’t
completely sure what that entailed. She truly never meant to lead
him on – she liked him. Perhaps no one would believe her, but up
until recently, she never expected to even consider allowing Tony
back into her life. Even now she didn’t know if their charade was
an act or if real feelings were emerging.

From the moment Tony left
her in the jail in Iowa, she thought
they
were ancient history. If she
didn’t, would she have spent hours upon hours sitting with Meredith
Banks recounting some of the most horrific times of her life? Would
she have spent day after day researching Tony’s family history? No
-- no, she wouldn’t.

And when he blackmailed her at the gala, she
had no intentions to truly reconcile. It was all a sham. But ...
Claire had to admit, there were moments... flashes of feelings. She
tried to ignore them. Unfortunately, the press didn’t. Harry was
right about some of the pictures; Claire wasn’t that good of an
actress. The look in her eyes couldn’t be feigned. Nonetheless,
that didn’t mean she wanted reconciliation. Well, not until... the
little blue plus and pulsating black dot appeared.

If Claire allowed herself to somehow look
past Tony’s faults and peer into the man who claimed never ending
love, she could see his good. She could see what Catherine wanted
her to see; he was trying.

As the plane descended,
Claire struggled with her wedding portrait. Tony left her alone at
the jail and stared at her every night above his fireplace. It
didn’t make sense. And when she noticed it, he seemed surprised,
obviously accustomed to its presence. She attempted to understand
what he and Catherine tried to explain. Tony said he did what he
did to save
her
-- from
him
. Catherine explained Tony made two promises; he tried to
keep one in a way as to also keep the other. Was that the
loop-hole
he mentioned?
In San Francisco, after the gala, Tony reminded Claire of his
promise to love her forever, made in front of family and friends.
Claire needed to know the specifics of his
other
promise and confirm to whom it
was made. Was it his grandfather, as she’d suspected, or the woman
in the blue Honda?

Claire closed her eyes and contemplated
Brent’s recent information: Burke, the same name as the securities
officer. Could Tony possibly be doing the same thing to someone
else – like he did to her? Claire knew one thing for sure; no one
else was in her suite.

Didn’t she owe it to herself and to their
child to give this reconciliation a try? How could she possibly
explain all of that to Harry? He knew the truth about Tony’s past
behaviors. The night of the gala Harry was upset and said hurtful
things. Nevertheless, Claire doubted he could ever treat someone
the way he treated her in the beginning. How could she make anyone
understand she would willingly choose Tony over Harry?

As the plane came to a stop on the tarmac,
Claire stood. Her stomach knotted in anticipation of their
conversation. Suddenly, she remembered the second part of her week
-- John and Emily’s arrival tomorrow. If her impending conversation
with Harry would be difficult, talking to her family would be
impossible. Feeling light headed, Claire sat down against the plush
seat and closed her eyes.

“
Ms. Nichols, are you
well? You’re very pale.”

Claire peered toward Grace’s concerned
expression, “I think I just stood too fast.”

“
Yes, ma’am. We’ll have
your luggage out to you in a few minutes.”

“
Thank you,” Claire said
as the door began to open. Remaining seated she inhaled the fresh
air and returned her iPhone to normal. There were three text
messages. The first one was from Tony, sent just as she left
Iowa:
OH, BUT HOW I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO
ELABORATE!
The color quickly returned to
her cheeks.

The second was received
only a few minutes ago.
I’M HERE,
from Harry.

The third came immediately
after Harry’s.
YOU SHOULD BE LANDING,
PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOU HAVE ARRIVED SAFELY,
from Tony.

With the fresh air filling
the cabin, Claire quickly replied to the third text:
JUST LANDED. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR EVERYTHING. I
SLEPT THE ENTIRE FLIGHT... VERY COMFORTABLE WITHOUT ALL THAT
RECYCLED AIR!
Smiling she hit
send
.

The comfortable California breeze refreshed
Claire as she stood at the door atop the steps. Looking around she
saw Harry standing casually near one of the hangers. Immediately,
she recognized his blonde hair moving slightly in the breeze. Her
eyes moved from there to his well-fitted black t-shirt tucked
casually into the slim waist of his faded jeans. Claire remembered
telling Courtney about Harry, describing him as the anti-Tony. That
was so true and yet not. Both were incredibly accomplished, strong
men. Tonight’s conversation would be much easier if Claire could in
some way blame Harry. However, she knew none of this was Harry’s
fault.

She smiled his direction and he nodded,
stepping toward her as she descended the stairs.

*****

Sitting behind his large
mahogany desk, Tony tried in vain to read the documents on his
computer. The words entered his mind and disappeared before he
could digest their meaning. He watched the clock in the corner of
his monitor. Finally the iPhone to his right sounded and vibrated
upon the smooth glossy surface. Hastily he swiped the screen. 1
Text Message:
JUST LANDED. THANK YOU AGAIN
FOR EVERYTHING. I SLEPT THE ENTIRE FLIGHT... VERY COMFORTABLE
WITHOUT ALL THAT RECYCLED AIR!
He smiled
at her cheekiness. Maybe the recycled air was a stretch, but he
would undoubtedly prefer her in Iowa to California. Nevertheless,
they made progress this weekend. They both knew it. His phone
sounded and vibrated again. 1 Text Message:
MS. NICHOLS PLANE JUST LANDED. MR. BALDWIN WAITING AND
LUGGAGE BEING PUT INTO HIS CAR. I WILL FOLLOW.

Tony’s neck muscles tightened. Does picking
her up at the airport constitute a date? Tony tried to tell himself
it didn’t. Besides, would he rather have her in a taxi with some
stranger? They spent four days together, made love on three
different occasions, and have a baby coming. While reasoning words
went through his thoughts, the clenched jaws and tightened
shoulders revealed the jealousy cursing through his veins.

Tony replied to Phillip
Roach:
KEEP HER IN SIGHT. LET ME KNOW IF
THERE ARE ANY STOPS ON THE WAY TO THE CONDO. WHERE IS THAT
PICTURE?
He hit
send
. Text message number two, to
Claire:
OUR AGREEMENT FORBIDS PUBLIC
EXPOSURE WITH ANYONE ELSE! I THOUGHT I’D MADE THAT CLEAR! WE HAVE
AN UNDERSTANDING!
(Exclamation marks were
so often overused in text messages.) Tony hesitated. He repeatedly
hit the backspace key.

He typed once
again:
IM GLAD THE AIR WAS TO YOUR LIKING.
REMEMBER OUR AGREEMENT. CALL WHEN YOU’RE SETTLED.
The restraint was difficult, but he knew he
wasn’t going to win her back without effort. The damn press would
have a field day if they saw her with Mr. Baldwin, but Tony
reminded himself to do what he’d told her to do -- trust. Exhaling
he tried. It was especially difficult if you’d never done it
before.

The sound and vibration
announced another arriving text message:
THE PICTURE WAS SENT TO YOUR EMAIL. LET ME KNOW IF YOU DON’T
HAVE IT.

Shit, Tony had been trying to read the
acquisition documents and forgot to check his email. He switched
screens. There was the email from Phillip Roach with attachment. He
opened the attachment. The photo quality was poor, obviously
enlarged too many times, creating a very grainy image. Tony pushed
the plush carpet with his feet, as his leather chair moved away
from the screen hoping for a clearer picture. He saw a man with
little to no hair. Was he older and balding or younger with his
head shaved? Looking closer Tony guessed the man was older.
Normally, Tony was excellent with names and faces. He saw a hint of
familiarity, but Tony couldn’t remember why. Perhaps it had been a
long time since he’d seen him, or maybe he’d been on television or
in the news. Regardless, the twinge of recognition made Tony
uncomfortable. Why would someone he recognized be stealing Claire’s
laptop?

Two more text messages
came through his iPhone. The first one, from Claire:
I DO. I WILL LATER.
Tony
exhaled. It took every fiber of self-restraint to not get on
another plane and go get her. Second message, from Phillip
Roach:
DID YOU GET THE EMAIL? I CAN
RESEND.

*****

On a Sunday night the light traffic around
Palo Alto flowed well. Nevertheless, within Harry’s Mustang their
polite conversation was strained through the dense unspoken
tension. Harry asked, “How was the wedding?”

Claire told him about Caleb, Julia,
Courtney, and Brent and how nice it was to talk openly. She rambled
about one thing and another, avoiding their impending
discussion.

As the tension began to wane, Harry asked,
“Would you like to get something to eat?”

Claire thought about it.
She was hungry. Yet, Tony’s reminder about their
agreement
came to mind.
Even more deterring was the thought of her and Harry’s future talk.
“I think I’d like to order something to the condo,” she said, as
they neared the four story building. “It will be more private, and
we need to talk.”

Harry eyed her suspiciously, “Talk?”

Claire exhaled. “Oh, come on. You have more
questions than you’re politely asking. I think we need to be honest
about what’s going on.”

“
I thought we
were.”

Claire exhaled. “Please, I need to tell you
a few things.”

“
Maybe I don’t want to
hear them.” Harry waved at the security guard as he pulled the
Mustang into the underground parking garage. “Hey, there’s a van in
your spot.” Harry noticed as they wove around to his assigned
parking spot. “I don’t remember seeing that before. I could
call...” He hesitated, “or maybe you should call security and have
it moved.”

Claire didn’t care about the stupid van. She
wouldn’t have her car back from the airport until tomorrow. “If
it’s here in the morning I will. It’s probably someone’s guest who
doesn’t know about the assigned spots.” She looked at his light
blue eyes, “Please, can we order some delivery and talk?”

“
Yeah, fine.” He got out
of the car and began removing her bags from his trunk. “My place or
yours?”

Claire pulled the smaller bag, while Harry
pulled the larger. Stepping into the elevator she replied, “How
about yours?” She reasoned it would be easier for her to leave if
things got too uncomfortable. “I’ll take my bags in and freshen up.
Then I’ll be over.”

“
Don’t forget, your room’s
a mess.”