“I’ve taken you to my friends. If that is truly your definition of Amber and her brother, what is the problem?”
There were so many things wrong. First his friends reminded Claire of Brent and Courtney, people whom, just this morning, she’d spent over a half hour talking with on the phone. Next, she thought of Tony with Simon’s fiancée. And lastly, Harry. At this moment she wasn’t sure how to define him. But having Harry and Tony together wouldn’t be good, no matter his definition.
“Are we done?” Claire asked.
“There are a few more things to discuss. How do you feel?”
“Better, the fresh air helps.”
“I saw a park not far away. Would you like to walk?”
Claire nodded. Truthfully she wanted to go home, but walking was better than staying in that cafe. Tony gently grasped her hand. Conceding the loss of her appendage, their fingers intertwined. The casual contact radiated familiar warmth through her body. They began walking toward Bridge Parkway. Across the small inlet they entered a haven of nature. Trees surrounded a large grassy plane with picnic tables and benches overlooking a lagoon. Scattered about were signs indicating a summer concert season. Everything pointed to warmer weather and blue skies for the future.
While they talked about their agreement, they also chatted -- not about anything in particular, just things. Surprisingly, it felt good and easy. As long as the conversation avoided Harry, Amber, and her incarceration, Claire found herself speaking without weighing each word. They laughed at children on the playground equipment and watched a man set-up a camp to fish in the lagoon.
Claire tried to remember the last time she’d spent such a normal day with her ex-husband. It had been a long time. When Tony looked at his watch and saw that it was after two, he asked Claire if she were up to eating lunch.
“I think I can handle it, as long as there’s no bacon,” she said with a smile.
They walked back to Tony’s car and drove to a small diner with outside seating. When the waiter brought the menus, Claire perfunctorily left hers lying on the table. She couldn’t contain her surprise when Tony glanced her way and said, “Since you haven’t been feeling well, you’d better look and see what sounds appetizing.” It was the first time she’d ever ordered her own meal while with him. Maybe things do change?
By the time he took her back to her car, they’d made some compromises and found some common ground. In two weeks she would join him in Chicago for meetings and dinners with investors.
Standing next to Claire’s car, Tony asked, “May I kiss you good-bye?”
“Is it a requirement of the news release and mandatory to keep my friends safe?”
“No,” he leaned nearer, “it is because I would really like to kiss you.”
She found herself on the precipice of a very slippery slope. Her figurative footing was difficult to maintain. While her mind debated, her body leaned into his chest, and her face tipped upward. His strong arms encased her, his hands found their way to the nape of her neck, and his fingers entangled her hair. They may have been in a parking lot, or perhaps the moon. At that moment, neither one knew. The rest of the world disappeared.
Driving toward Palo Alto, she couldn’t remember who finally pulled away from the embrace. Whoever it was, the other conceded. She did remember the sensual allure emanating from his eyes. Even in the car, the image reddened her cheeks.
Oh shit! What have I done? Claire asked herself as she contemplated her next assignment.
Perseverance is not a long race;
it is many short races one after another.
- Walter Elliott
Chapter 39
Text message sent: May 25: 4:41PM – To: Anthony Rawlings
MS NICHOLS RETURNED SAFTLY TO HER PARKING GARAGE. MS MCCOY NOT HOME. NO SIGN OF ANYONE ELSE
Phil waited for a response. Either he would spend the evening monitoring Claire Nichols, watching the front door and parking garage, or he’d be done for the night. After the late night, last night, watching Harrison Baldwin drive the 101 toward San Francisco and turn around and go back to Palo Alto, he hoped this night was done. After so much time on Mr. Rawlings’ payroll, could Phillip Roach be getting soft?
*****
After her afternoon with Tony, Claire returned to a quiet condominium. She wandered from room to room looking for Amber; instead she found a note on the kitchen counter:
I’m running errands – will be back soon.
I’m having dinner with Keaton. Maybe we can talk
tomorrow? Hope you’re feeling better. There is a
message on the house voice mail for you – Amber
It gave Claire hope. Optimistically they would all work this out. She still didn’t know what to think about Harry. While out with Tony, Claire checked her phone a couple of times -- not one call or text message from Harry. Of course, he knew where she was and who she was with.
Thinking about Amber on a date with Keaton made Claire happy. Amber may argue the term date, but Claire recently listened to the Rawlings Dictionary. According to that very reliable source, a date was the term used to define the act of two people going out into public together. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. It was so ridiculous. Somehow she would need to modify his definition.
Claire picked up the telephone receiver in the kitchen. With cellphones, they rarely used this telephone. Yet, Amber maintained SiJo needed a way to reach her, if something happened to her cellphone. Pushing the appropriate buttons Claire waited for the message. Who would call me on this number? Claire wondered.
The voice came through the receiver: “You have one saved message -- saved message.”
“Claire Nichols. Do I have the right number? I remembered something else. Call me back: 442-555-7732.”
Claire listened to the message a second time. The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t sure who or why? It was probably a reporter. Heaven knows she’d been making the news lately. Whoever it was would call back, if whatever he remembered was truly that important.
It was only a little after five, but with her stomach full of what she ordered (Claire smiled while adding that last part to her thought), she was tired. These past had two days worn her out and down. The idea of a warm bath and an early night sounded heavenly. Honestly, she thought about calling, texting, or going over to Harry’s, but she didn’t have the strength for another confrontation.
Walking toward her room, Claire thought about her afternoon with Tony. She was incredibly thankful it didn’t include overt arguing. Her emotions have been working overtime and despite their blackmailing topic of conversation, the calm afternoon was surprisingly therapeutic.
As she opened the door and tapped the switch illuminating her bedroom, Claire stared in shock. The sweet aroma permeated her senses. On her dresser, desk, and bedside stand were large bouquets of long stemmed red roses. Tears fill her eyes as she made her way to a card propped against one of the glittering vases with Claire penned on the outside of the small envelope.
Gingerly opening the flap, Claire removed the small rectangle piece of card stock. Relief filled her consciousness and her tired muscles relaxed as she read the words: