“That isn’t a problem.” It wasn’t a problem at all. Tony imagined the electronic lock that could so easily be reactivated on the door of her suite.
Perhaps sensing his thoughts, she qualified, “It needs to be a lock that operates from the inside. Also, I will keep my phone at all times and have access to your Wi-Fi.”
“You drive a hard bargain. I’ve told you before that you should go into business. You’re a master negotiator.” Hell, he’d have promised the moon and the stars if it meant she would once again be under his roof—their roof.
Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Ten
Honesty—June 2013
(Truth—Chapter 42 thru 44)
The first condition of progress is the removal of censorship.
—George Bernard Shaw
Everything happened in slow motion, from Eric’s driving, to the opening of the large iron gates. If Tony didn’t get into his house soon, he might combust. It didn’t help that his recent conversations with Mr. George and Danielle grated on his already frayed nerves. With Sophia in New Jersey, it was the perfect opportunity for Danielle to convince Derek Burke that he could find comfort elsewhere. Why the stupid girl hadn’t gone to China with Burke in the first place was beyond Tony. Did all of these people need him to micromanage their lives? He had much more pressing matters with his own life.
Eric had barely put the car in park on the brickyard in front of Tony’s estate before Tony had his door open and was halfway up the steps. From his peripheral vision, he saw Eric’s head shake. That man knew Tony better than anyone else, probably even better than Catherine knew him. It wasn’t that Eric pried, like she did. No, Eric was observant and omnipresent. He didn’t comment or judge; he just was. Tony appreciated his objectivity, such as how he concisely described picking Claire up at the airport and taking her to the estate. In every situation, Eric was calm, ready, and loyal. Tony couldn’t ask for more.
The grand foyer of his home shone with a welcoming glow that he hadn’t noticed in over a year. As Tony entered the grand doors, Catherine turned the corner. “Oh, my, Mr. Rawlings, you seem to be in a hurry.”
“Come to my office.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before his quick step and long legs had him safely within the confines of his private domain.
Following closely behind, Catherine entered and closed the door behind her. “Yes?” she asked, the word elongated and her brow lifted.
“Where is she? What was she like when she arrived? Eric said that she was upset. Why?”
Catherine chuckled as she settled on a nearby chair. “She’s in her old suite.”
Tony’s eyes opened wide before he narrowed them questioningly. “You did tell her that she could stay in any of the rooms, didn’t you?”
“I did. She was the one who asked about her old suite.”
He exhaled, as some of the pent-up tension eased from his taut shoulders. That was a good sign, he hoped. He’d left her a note in her suite, as well as in two other rooms, but he was happy with her choice. Catherine went on. “She was upset when she arrived, not about anything in particular. I believe that returning was emotionally overwhelming.”
“And you?” he prompted.
“Did what I do.” Catherine’s gray eyes dulled. “You know me—the kind housekeeper.”
Tony shook his head. “Stop it. She doesn’t think of you that way. I believe she came here as much for you as she did me.” Suddenly, that truth bothered Tony. He didn’t want to share.
Catherine shrugged. “We spoke for a little while, she ate, and now she’s resting. It was a long trip.”
Tony inhaled deeply. “Ate? We’re eating at the Bronsons.”
“It was just a snack and she seemed… shaky.”
“Shaky? Is that why she’s resting? I want to see her.”
“I can get her, but I suggest that you let her rest. Traveling can be tiring. You don’t need to be to your dinner for almost two hours.” Catherine’s head cocked to the side. “You know, if you hadn’t turned off the cameras, we’d know for sure if she were sleeping.”
“I know. I also know that she hated those cameras. This is better.” He turned on his computer and began to search the end of day stock-market analysis.
“She asked about the delivery.” Catherine’s statement caused the business at hand to disappear.
“Did you tell her?”
“No,” she answered indignantly. “You said you didn’t want her to know.”
“I said that if you tell her, you’re opening yourself up to her questions and suspicions. If you tell her, you might as well be willing to lay it all out. If you’re not willing to do that—don’t tell her.” He lowered his tone. “At least I’m giving you the option.”
Catherine looked away.
When she didn’t look back, Tony asked, “What else happened? Is she all right?”
“Yes, of course. Why?”
“I get the feeling you’re holding something back.”
Her lips smiled. “I think you’re looking for any excuse to get you upstairs to do what you want to do.”
“I want her to be comfortable. If that means resting, then she can rest.”
Catherine stood. “Very well, however, since you’re not eating here this evening, I’ll be leaving the estate in a short time. If she’s not awake, you’ll need to wake her.”
“Where are you going?”
“Some things are none of your business.”
He shrugged. “Where’s Cindy?”
“An-thon-y,” she said, each syllable enunciated. “Go to her suite. You’ll do the right thing.”
Catherine slipped from the office leaving Tony alone with his thoughts. All day long he’d anticipated this evening—coming home, not to an empty house, but to the place where Claire belonged. He reached into the drawer and found his new reminder below his old key ring; Tony pulled out the envelope. It wasn’t special in any way; to the casual onlooker, or even the curious snoop, it was only an envelope, but it was so much more. When Tony’s thoughts would begin to blur and red would slip inconspicuously into his vision, he’d remember this envelope.
Turning it in his hands, Tony heard Nathaniel’s words from his dream. Although he’d only had the dream once, every second of it had replayed in his mind so many times that he’d sometimes forget that it hadn’t really happened. Peering into the depths of the envelope, for the millionth time, Tony vowed to fill it. He wouldn’t allow it to stay empty, not because Nathaniel had said he failed, but because he’d succeeded. Tony had fulfilled his obligation: the Nichols family had suffered. Now, he wanted to exceed Nathaniel’s wishes just as he’d done financially. His grandfather had told him that he would survive. Tony had done more than survive: for a short time, he’d had everything.
A memory resurfaced, not of a nightmare, but a memory of one of Tony’s last visits to Camp Gabriels, the prison where Nathaniel died. There were times when his grandfather would repeat the same thought over and over; however, on occasion he’d share a nugget of truth. That happened on the day in Tony’s memory, yet Tony didn’t realize the treasure until almost twenty-five years later: