Contradictorily, the voice on the phone that sent chills down her spine and sent her running to the bathroom. That Tony she didn’t miss. Besides, Silicon Valley was beautiful in April with flowers at every turn. They didn’t need flowers indoors too.
Claire spent her favorite part of each day walking outside. True, the Palo Alto streets weren’t like hiking in the Iowa woods. But, it was outside, and as much as she tried, Claire couldn’t shake the memories of her incarceration. Yet, when the breeze blew her hair and the sun warmed her face, the chains of her imprisonment melted away and her wounded spirit began to heal. With each step in any directions she chose, her lungs filled with fresh air, and she felt her strength grow beyond that of pre-prison, to a place -- pre-Tony.
*****
Unbeknownst to Claire, her outings were diligently photographed and submitted to Mr. Rawlings along with her daily activities. Phillip Roach had never been paid so well for so little. Claire’s predictable routine, as well as traceable internet usage, made for detailed reports and photos. He would often sit within the same coffee shop or cafe while Ms. Nichols lived in her own world. A few times Phil worried she saw his camera, but with the paparazzi vying for her image, he blended into the crowd.
Mr. Rawlings seemed pleased with his reports, although not always with their content. The disclosure regarding the source of Ms. Nichols’ new found fortune (the sale of her jewelry) was met vehemently. Following Mr. Rawlings’ directives, Phil returned to Mr. Pulvara’s office. And although the price seemed extreme, Phil followed orders and retrieved the rings at any cost. Not trusting couriers, Phil personally delivered the rings to Rawlings Industry corporate offices, in Iowa City.
While he’d seen the tycoon’s picture and talked with him on the phone, it was their first face-to-face meeting. Admittedly, within seconds of entering the CEO’s regal office, Phil sensed Mr. Rawlings’ commanding dominance. The expression Phil witnessed as Mr. Rawlings opened the velvet box was contrary to the millions of photos he’d seen. Obviously, the sale of his ex-wife’s rings upset him. Thankfully the sparkling diamonds satisfied Mr. Rawlings and verified Phil’s willingness to complete directives.
For a split second, Phil worried about the sweet looking woman who’d become his new dedication. He wondered how she could end up with someone like the man before him. Although he’d read every bit of published information, she seemed no match for Mr. Rawlings’ power.
Phillip Roach learned years ago, not to include emotions in his line of work. This was emphasized during military training, reinforced in special ops, and ingrained as he covertly monitored person after person. Expectantly, his targets during military and special op usually ceased to exist following their discovery. Phillip even followed orders and aided in their demise. This training and dedication earned him the kind of money he currently demanded. On more than one occasion his work required his own disappearance. With no personal connections, that wasn’t a problem. If he relocated or moved for a year or two, it was just part of the game. His alliances could fulfill any necessary relocation -- for a price.
This assignment was different. He’d located his assignment, yet his orders remained reconnaissance. As opposed to setting the sights of a high powered rifle on the enemy of a high rolling gambler or a threatening politician, this was well paid babysitting.
*****
Claire made her way through the crowd and settled at a small round table near the bar of a local Palo Alto restaurant. Although Harry and Amber weren’t due for another fifteen minutes, Claire was ready. Tony made it clear early on, he had no patience for tardiness. Now, punctuality was her mantra. She really didn’t think about it, it just was.
While waiting for her friends she ordered a martini and thought about her ensemble: a pair of slacks and blouse from Neiman Marcus and a pair of Dior pumps from Saks. Truly, she was allowing the press to get to her. She wanted to look like Mrs. Rawlings… to quiet their attack. Suddenly, she worried she was being photographed from every side.
Last night, when they talked about getting together before Claire left on her trip, Claire suggested eating at home. She even offered to cook. She liked cooking and contributing to the household duties. Her life in Palo Alto was a beautiful meeting of her previous two, not as tedious as her day to day survival in Atlanta, nor as opulent as her life in Iowa. It was real and comfortable – a perfect restart.
However, her friends insisted on going out to celebrate her impending vacation. They knew the press thing bothered Claire but argued she needed to be free to live her life, without worrying about other’s perception. After a deep sigh, Claire agreed.
Lost in her thoughts, Claire didn’t see Harry until he was right before her with his hand on her shoulder. Looking up to acknowledge him, she noticed how nice he looked, wearing a sports coat and button down shirt. His hair was even gelled and combed back in an attempted style. Before she could speak, he bent down and kissed her cheek. She felt warmth flow from her face to her insides as he took a seat across the small table.
“Well, hello. That was an interesting greeting.” She mused.
Harry’s blue eyes sparkled, illuminated in the low light of the restaurant. “I noticed how nice you look. Is that a new outfit?” Then he leaned a little closer, “And, that you’re being watched from a table to your left.” He reached for her. “Don’t look, it’d be too obvious. I thought I would give them something to write.”
“Maybe we should go somewhere else.” Claire really wanted to say, I want to go home.
“This won’t last long. We can leave, if you want, but I think your plan to make yourself visible is working. You shouldn’t run from it now.” He squeezed her trembling hand.
Claire looked at his serene expression and took comfort in his calmness. She exhaled, “Thank you, for being such a great sport about this.”
“Well, like I said, I’ve never been a celebrity before.”
“And, how do you like it?” She couldn’t help notice the twinkle in his intensely blue eyes.
“I’m getting used to it. Just this morning, the barista at Starbucks recognized me and gave me free coffee.”
Claire giggled, “Are you serious? I’m supposed to be the penny-less person. Why don’t I get free coffee?”
“Well, I’m not exactly destitute. But,” he mused, “I won’t turn down free java.”
The waiter came and took Harry’s drink order. When he asked if they were ready to order, Harry turned to Claire, “Do you know what you want? Or, do we need some more time?”
Claire turned to the waiter, “I believe I’d like a little more time, please.” She slowly picked up her martini and took a long sip, suddenly unable to make eye-contact.
Harry saw her sudden change in mood, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s really stupid.” She said as she sat her drink back on the linen tablecloth. Peering above the flickering candle she saw his concerned expression and gained strength to continue, “I know I don’t talk about my life with Tony very much. Maybe I’m not sure how I feel. But, from very early on, actually the first time we ever went out, he ordered my meal. He ordered my drinks, everything.”