“That isn’t true. You never would’ve survived if he didn’t consider you a challenge. He truly thought you’d take the insanity plea.”
“Well, the fact I didn’t, probably confirms, I am insane.”
Brent laughed. “That’s why you and Courtney get along so well.”
He went on to tell her about Phillip Roach, the private detective who’s been watching her for the last month, sending photos and information to Tony. Brent wasn’t privy to all the information, but Tony’s attitude regarding Claire seemed to be changing. Brent assessed, he’s no longer upset; obsessed would be a better word.
Brent assured Claire she’d successfully lost the private detective during the last week. “If Tony knew you and Cort were together I would have heard. I even called Mr. Roach once to confirm my theory. He was rather allusive about the past four days and promised more information in the future.” Claire heard the smile in Brent’s voice, “It’s all making Tony a little crazy.”
“Have you met this Phillip Roach? What does he look like?” Claire asked.
The clock read 7:23 PM. Originally, Claire planned a quiet evening with room service. Her TV had an attached gaming system, and she’d contemplated practicing her skills in anticipation of another gaming session with Harry. However, finishing her make-up, stepping into the Marc Jacobs white silk sundress, and fastening her Prada sandals, she mentally reviewed her new plan.
'Charm' - which means the power to affect work without employing brute force,
is indispensable to women. Charm is a woman's strength
just as strength is a man's charm.
- Henry Ellis
Chapter 13
The final slam of the cottage door muffled Sophia’s sigh. On the other side of the wooden barrier was their home, life, and private haven. With a turn of the bolt and the closing of heavy shutters on creaky hinges, she’d successfully closed it tight --storing everything away for a season.
Sophia’s mind swirled with memories of their first home: late nights slipping out of bed, making her way upstairs to her studio, while Derek slept -- light brown hair disheveled, mouth slightly open. She relished the security of knowing when sleepiness overtook her creativity; she could crawl back into their bed and be enveloped by his warmth. Leaning against the door, she remembered the first time Derek made a fire in their fireplace but forgot to open the flue. Once the smoke cleared, they laughed until they cried. And the way the golden sunshine streamed into her studio in the late morning. It was her favorite time to paint; the colors looked so real. These recollections made her smile despite her heavy heart.
Begrudgingly, she allowed herself a window of self-pity. That being said, as soon as she was once again face-to-face with her husband, she vowed to keep her true feelings hidden. After all, this was Derek’s big break. Sophia wanted to be the supportive wife. She kept telling herself, if the roles were reversed, he’d support me.
Undoubtedly, the uncertainty added to her unease. They didn’t know when they’d be back to Provincetown or who’d be returning. It could be both of them or only Sophia. It all depended on Shedis-tics.
Since graduating high school, Sophia controlled her life. Having the people of Shedis-tics dictate her living arrangements, travel plans, and everything else, made her anxious. Yes, she’d submitted to the occasional investor, agreed to show her work, or attended a private wine-and-dine session; but, all at her discretion. She’d always had the option to say no.
Sophia knew marriage meant collaboration, a partnership. She’d watched her parents successfully share a similar arrangement her entire life. When she said I do, Sophia willingly accepted her role as half of a whole. However, now she questioned her percentage. Was she in fact half? Or was she less? Was Derek still half? Or was he more? Perhaps Shedis-tics was now part of the equation?
Originally his new job was scheduled to begin May 1st. Nevertheless, they called him out to Santa Clara only two days after her father’s accident, over four weeks early.
Little did Sophia realize, when Derek said he couldn’t take more than two nights in her childhood bedroom, he’d meant it literally. Truthfully, Derek hadn’t known either. As he explained, when the company president calls and invites you to meet with parent company executives, you don’t say, No Thank you.
Lingering on the stoop of their cottage, she looked toward the Harbor, inhaled the salt air, and listened to the soft din of the sea. The sound of the surf created a continual soundtrack for life in Provincetown. While something she rarely thought about, she knew she’d miss it terribly.
Yesterday, she closed her studio on Commercial Street. The sign in the window read: Closed for an Undetermined Amount of Time. The neighboring businesses promised to keep a watchful eye on everything. Sophia knew nothing would physically happen to her personal slice of cramped heaven. It was the emotional toll that concerned her.
On her way to the airport, Sophia took a detour and found herself at the shore enjoying the calm water rippling beneath the crystal clear blue sky. Tears streaked her cheeks as she bid ado to Provincetown Harbor. Through her blurred vision she saw the Cape across the sea. Sophia absorbed the scene, savoring it -- preserving it. If she kept it safely sealed within the recesses of her mind, it would never completely be gone. In times of need, she’d will it forward, out of the depths of her memories, and into her thoughts.
Recognizing the inevitable, she made her way to the small Provincetown airport. From there she’d fly to Boston. In Boston she had tickets for a first class flight to San Jose, the closest airport to Santa Clara.
Even with a short layover in Denver, she anticipated feeling Derek’s strong arms by four o’clock, Pacific Time. When she did, she planned to melt into his embrace and show him why they should never be apart again. Then, she reasoned, the world would once again be right.
*****
When the elevator doors opened Phillip just about lost it! She entered almost sixty seconds earlier and should have been to her floor, not still within the golden mirrored cubical. Practicing his covert skills, Phil Roach assumed a calm passive persona and spoke casually to his number one assignment, Claire Nichols. This hadn’t been his plan. Nevertheless, now that they’d conversed and she hadn’t recognized him, she might be his lifesaver.
Anthony Rawlings was suspicious and becoming increasingly untrusting. Phil did a good job for a few days giving generic reports and letting Mr. Rawlings assume his ex-wife was vacationing alone in San Antonio. However, the lack of specifics and pictures were beginning to spark too many questions.
The per diem and generous expense account made it difficult for Phillip Roach to confess he’d lost his assignment. Claire Nichols flew to San Antonio with Phil on the same flight. He knew of her hotel reservation and followed her to the Hotel Valencia. It was late; he assumed she was sleeping safely within her room until the next day. However, when he returned to the Riverwalk later the same night, Ms. Nichols was AWOL. Her car was gone, she was gone, and her cell phone continued to send signals from her suite. Phil panicked knowing he’d been duped!
He also knew Claire’s reservations at the Hotel Valencia extended until Sunday morning. Having no idea where to look, he continued his surveillance of the hotel on the famous Riverwalk. When he saw Ms. Nichols enter the lobby Saturday afternoon, it took all of his self-control to not hug her. Thank God she was alive and safe – if something had happened to her in a place he hadn’t reported her being. Phil didn’t even want to consider the consequences. It didn’t matter; she was all right.