Without warning, uneasiness settled in.
It wasn’t that Tony missed Claire while he was in Europe; nevertheless, she continually infiltrated his thoughts. After a day or two, he decided to check the feed from her suite, believing it would satisfy his curiosity and allow him to concentrate on the matters at hand. Since there was a seven-hour time difference between Switzerland and Iowa, the morning that he peered into his iPad, he found Claire peacefully asleep in her bed. Obviously, she wasn’t having the same insomnia issues that had plagued him.
The small peek helped. Although he wasn’t able to keep Claire out of his thoughts, now those thoughts were images of her sleeping. He’d be negotiating or discussing something with someone and the satin strap of her nightgown, which had been barely visible on his small screen, would come to mind. He’d close his eyes and see her relaxed expression. If he concentrated long enough, Tony was sure that he could smell her scent, a fragrant mixture of perfume, hairspray, and sex. He’d imagine what it was like sleeping with her and removing the satin and lace from her soft skin. Although he enjoyed the way the negligees hugged her curves, they were merely for show. When he was home, she rarely spent the night actually sleeping in them.
Then, as his day progressed, his newfound peace faded. Each time he checked the feed from her suite, even late into his evening, he found the room empty. With time-lapsed speed, he saw the cleaning staff, but Claire was absent. The last image he found of her was before 9:00 AM in Iowa.
As he was about to retire, around midnight in Geneva, Claire’s suite was still empty. It didn’t make sense. It was almost 5:00 PM in Iowa City, and she should be there—it was her job! Nevertheless, she wasn’t. Tony checked the library, the theater, the pool, and the gardens. He couldn’t locate her on any monitors.
Then he remembered his note. He’d told Claire that Eric was available to her while he was gone. Assuring himself that she was only out shopping and safely with Eric, Tony tried to go to sleep. Behind his closed eyes, images of her sleeping with her sun-lightened hair fanned over her pillow and that damn satin strap fought for contention with his new worries and concerns regarding her whereabouts. Finally, he gave into his curiosity and called Eric.
“Yes, Mr. Rawlings?”
“I was checking to see where you’ve taken Ms. Claire in my absence, and to learn if you’re nearly back to the estate.”
“Sir?”
Uncharacteristically, Tony’s voice reflected his concerns. “Ms. Claire. I told her that you’d be available if she wanted to leave the estate. You have accompanied her, haven’t you? You know not to let her out by herself.”
“Sir, I do know her limitations. However, she’s not requested to leave the estate. I haven’t taken her anywhere.”
“She wasn’t with you today, for most of the day, and currently?”
“No, sir,” Eric replied. “I can go to the main house and locate her for you, if you’d like?”
Tony decided to go another direction. Dismissing Eric, he disconnected the line. His chest felt tight as he fought to inhale. Ignoring his physical discomfort, he walked down the hall to the small liquor cabinet in the sitting room of his suite. The bottle clinked the crystal as his unsteady hand poured two fingers of bourbon into the tumbler. The smooth amber fluid numbed his throat and calmed his nerves as it disappeared in one swallow. He poured another glass and reached for his phone. With steadier fingers, he retrieved Catherine’s personal number and hit CALL.
Catherine informed him that Claire was spending her days hiking.
Hiking? What the hell? To where? To whom?
Catherine only said that Claire took a lunch and returned each day by 6:00 PM.
That night, he tossed and turned until he had visual confirmation of her return. It was nearly 2:00 AM in Geneva, and Tony wasn’t sure who deserved to be reprimanded for this breach, Claire or Catherine. The next evening, Tony cut a dinner engagement short, claiming an exorbitant amount of work with a deadline quickly approaching, to sit in his suite and review days of video. Upon further investigation, he found what he wanted. Starting on the Monday after he left, and each morning following, at approximately 9:00 AM, Claire would walk along the garden path and quietly step through the perimeter of trees. Something in his chest clutched each time he watched her disappear into the shaded darkness.
On the fifth day he called Catherine again. It was after 11:00 PM in Switzerland, and he may have had more than a few fingers of bourbon. “Is she back?”
“Isn’t your Internet working?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. I’m concerned that you’re becoming lax in your judgment.”
“May I remind you that you were the one to approve the hikes in the first place? She reminded me of that.”
“Walks into the woods—not day-long excursions!”
Catherine’s response was more of a sound than a word.
Tony’s liquored tongue enunciated perfectly, and his words dripped with sarcasm. “I watched the exchange between the two of you on the day I left. Weren’t you just the sweetest?”
“I can be,” Catherine responded. “Would you have rather I did nothing and she went mad?”
This time Tony made the noise. “It wasn’t that bad,” he scoffed.
“It was. She was on the edge of a very dark place. I know the signs. I just helped her see that she could survive.”
“I didn’t think that was your goal.”
Catherine allowed the line to go silent. Finally she replied, “I’ve grown used to her.”
“Used to her? Like a pet?” He knew better than to bring up the motherly comment again.
Catherine murmured under her breath. Apparently, she didn’t see his obvious restraint. He changed his tone. “What if she decides to leave the property?”
“She’s returned every day, with minutes to spare.”
“Hmm.” He assessed. “At least she’s a well-trained pet, but why? Why is she doing this, and where is she going?”
“I can only assume to gain some sense of personal freedom. She knows that her suite is monitored, and she feels she can have some time to herself beyond the perimeter of the grounds.”
Tony thought about Catherine’s response. It made sense, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t want her to have that freedom. He wanted all of her. Perhaps it was the liquor, but his tone softened. “Do you think it’s helped her?”
“I do. She seems different, resigned to her fate, yet I don’t know—stronger.”
“And do you know where she goes? My property goes on for miles.”
“I don’t know. The laundry staff has informed me of bathing suits. Perhaps she’s sunbathing?”
“She can do that at the pool,” Tony answered, as images of Claire, wearing one of her many bathing suits, lying near the pool, paraded through his consciousness.
“Do you want me to tell her that she’s no longer allowed to go on her hikes?”
He contemplated. “You said she’s home every night by 6:00 PM. Why not 5:00 PM?”
“I told her 6:00 PM. You aren’t here. She dines alone.”
He nodded. “All right, no. Don’t stop her as long as she follows your rules. Catherine?”