Within days, customary staff – lady of the house, protocol was forgotten. Claire spent hours with Madeline in the state of the art kitchen, learning to cook foods she’d never previously tried. She also spent time with Francis, caring for the tropical gardens and fruit trees. The three would sit down together and eat. To Madeline’s insistence, each meal began with a prayer. It was a ritual Claire hadn’t practiced since she was young. After so much change and discord in her life, she’s found it comforting.
Of course, as is always true, things change. Claire was no longer alone. It took some time for her husband to make his way to their paradise. Too many disappearances at once would add to the speculations of critics. Since his arrival, Madeline and Francis stepped back -- some. Claire refused to allow them to be lost to archaic protocol. They may be her employees, but they were also her friends. With Claire’s insistence, all four of them sit together for midday meal. Although breakfast remained a relaxed time for Claire, it was usually a rush for Francis and Madeline; they had things to do. Claire’s husband’s schedule varied, sometimes he joined her for coffee and breakfast, and sometimes he went out and about. He liked exploring the area, reading the internet news, or taking the boat to the local village center. Evening meals were reserved for the two of them. After all, they were officially newlyweds and as such, needed time alone.
“No, madame el, you must eat. I’ll bring you muffins and fresh fruit.”
Claire shook her head. Arguing would be pointless.
At the early hour, the lush vegetation entwined above the lanai shaded the lounge chairs near the pool. Claire settled into the cushioned seat, elevated her feet, turned on her iPad, and waited for the daily news to load. She may be thousands and thousands of miles away, but technology made the world a smaller place. Events across the globe would soon be as visible, as if she were on the same continent.
It wasn’t the first story to appear on her homepage, but her own picture immediately caught Claire’s attention. She clicked and read the title:
Family Files Charges against Iowa City Police Department, Prosecutor, and Anthony Rawlings.
Shaking her head, Claire read: Associated Press. John and Emily Vandersol have filed formal charges against the Iowa City Police Department, Marcus Evergreen, I.C. Prosecutor, and Anthony Rawlings(in absentia).
Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have requested a hearing based on evidence discovered at the home of Anthony Rawlings. The request states the evidence, currently undisclosed, is sufficient to establish probable cause against Anthony Rawlings. The Vandersols also charge Mr. Rawlings with extortion. “Anyone else would be sitting in jail. It’s only because of his wealth and influence that ICPD and Mr. Evergreen have not filed charges. Their delay is corruption.” (Another of the many charges listed). The Vandersols claim the prosecutor and police department worked together to protect Anthony Rawlings. In doing so, the ICPD jeopardized the investigation of Ms. Claire Nichols’ disappearance. Mrs. Vandersol also charged Mr. Rawlings (in absentia) with the disappearance and possible death of her unborn niece or nephew.
Claire’s hand rubbed her very large midsection. Now in her thirty-fifth week, she smiled knowing no harm had come to her unborn child. She honestly didn’t believe that would be the case if she’d remained at Catherine’s disposal. She continued reading:
Ms. Nichols was last seen September 4, 2013. Mr. Anthony Rawlings disappeared after his private plane made an emergency landing in the Appalachian Mountains, September 21, 2013. The FBI will not confirm or deny the survival of Mr. Rawlings following this incident. The FBI refused additional comments claiming an ongoing investigation. Currently, no charges have been filed.
Rawlings Industries is currently operating with a temporary CEO and the same Board of Directors. It has been speculated that the pending charges will force the SEC to investigate Rawlings Industries. Since September the share price has dropped from $142.37 to $86.84 at last call.
Despite her reading material, when Claire realized she’d eaten all of Madeline’s food, a smile appeared on her face.
Madeline’s voice came above the sound of surf. “Madame el, may I get you more tea or perhaps some water?”
“Madeline, I would love some water. It’s getting hotter by the minute.”
“Then perhaps you should be in the water?” The rich, husky voice came from behind. She couldn’t see the handsome source. Yet, instantaneously her neck tensed and goose bumps appeared on her arms and legs. It amazed Claire how something as benign as a voice could continue to incite such a visceral response.
Madeline saw Claire’s reaction and laughed. Francis and Madeline wanted Claire to be happy. It didn’t take them long to realize this man was exactly what their employer needed. Madeline’s laugh made Claire giggle.
Claire loved Madeline’s laugh, so deep and rich, just like her voice, “Madame el, I will bring you some water, and Monsieur?”
“I would like some coffee please, Madeline?” He bowed toward the woman.
She laughed at his gesture, “Why, of course. I will bring it out soon.” With that, she disappeared, leaving the lady and gentleman of the house alone.
Her husband reached for Claire’s shoulder and gently massaged. While the sound of his voice instigated chills, the touch of his hand sent her body into mayhem. It hadn’t changed; she hoped it never would.
*****
Catherine sat at Tony’s grand desk. It wasn’t like he’d be sitting there anytime soon. Thanks to his kind provisions in his absence, Catherine Marie London was listed as executor of Anthony Rawlings’ estate and anything related to it. The title came with a nice trust fund. That money plus the large sum she’d accumulated over the years left her more than financially solvent.
It took almost twenty-five years, but Marie had finally fulfilled Nathaniel’s desire. She was finally the lady of the manor. Maybe her name wasn’t Rawls, but that didn’t matter. Nathaniel told her many times how he wanted her to live, and it wasn’t as Anton’s housekeeper. Catherine Marie leaned back against the plush leather and scanned the grand office. There was no doubt; the room was much more regal from this perspective.
Catherine opened the drawer on the lower right, to inspect Anton’s private files. She fingered the tabs... in this paperless world it surprised her he’d kept these printed documents. Thankfully, the ICPD hadn’t felt the need to confiscate them as evidence.
She eyed the scribed names. There were so many. How could she figure out which one was her daughter? Catherine saw her own name. Maybe there was a clue in there. When she opened the file, she feared her heart would stop pumping. The writing wasn’t Anton’s. Catherine knew his writing well enough to duplicate it easily. This writing was Nathaniel’s.
Scribbled in the margin of a contract was the name Sophia Rossi. Catherine went through the drawer again. The only Sophia was Sophia Burke. Suddenly she no longer remembered her husband’s love, she remembered his vendetta. Burke? Burke? There was no way her daughter could be connected to Jonathon Burke.
Catherine removed the Sophia Burke file and opened the folder. Above the typed name Sophia Rossi, was the scribbled name Sophia Rossi Burke... Catherine searched the pages. There was a plethora of outdated information. Nonetheless, written above the text on the second page was a telephone number. Catherine couldn’t resist. She used the blocked house phone.