[English] Consequences

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This history was stapled together. Claire’s eyes were wet by the time she finished Emily’s last or first e-mail. She looked up at Tony. He still didn’t speak; his dark eyes glared. Claire wondered what she was supposed to do with this information. Perhaps it was her head, but she truly didn’t know how to respond, so she asked, “Thank you for giving me my invitations, now what am I supposed to do with this knowledge?”

“Tell me what you want to do.” His tone was hard.

Claire rose and approached his desk. “I want to call her.” She saw the deliberation on his face. She remembered a time when she was unable to read his expression—her ability wasn’t comforting. Claire tried desperately to modulate her voice. “I’ll do it here on the speaker phone. I don’t care if you listen to every word and tell me what to say—I just want to call her.” He still didn’t speak; nevertheless, the intensity in his eyes multiplied. “Tony, may I please call her?”

“It’s almost 3:00 PM, which would be 4:00 PM in Troy. Would she be home?”

It wasn’t an answer, but it wasn’t a denial.

Claire thought about it. School finished at 3:15 PM, at least it used to. “She might.” As if thinking out loud, she added, “And as a plus John won’t be.”

He didn’t respond to her last statement, instead he began to talk about her e-mails. She sat as he explained that the folder included multiple e-mails from people she didn’t know. Since their marriage, many people have attempted to contact her for various reasons. Patricia replied to everyone: Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time.

Tony continued, “Your preparation for the Vanity Fair interview and execution today impressed me. I also appreciate you made requests a month ago and have been patient. I believe you deserve to be rewarded. Therefore, regarding your e-mails—from now on—before Patricia replies—you will have the opportunity to review them. We will discuss them. Together we’ll decide responses. Of course, I’ll have the final say—however; I believe you’ve earned a voice.”

Claire realized Tony believed he’d presented her with a freedom. She couldn’t help think it was—instead—only a glimpse of what she was missing. The forbidden opportunities would now be staring her in the face. “Thank you—I understand.”

He turned to his computer screens, and she watched the back of his head for what seemed like hours. He knew what she wanted. She’d made her request. Now he was making her wait. How would she respond? He’d provided a token of his approval. Would she submissively accept or would she pursue the idea of calling her sister?

Claire closed her eyes and tried to stop the pounding in her temples. Perched on the chair’s edge near his desk, she refused to budge. The folder—the gift he’d given her—sat closed on her lap. She didn’t care about people she didn’t know, and her head hurt too much to read anymore. She waited as his fingers flew between the keyboard and mouse. Sitting silently and expressionlessly she remembered Courtney’s kind words: Life isn’t a test you must continually pass. Claire absentmindedly rolled her shoulders and straightened her neck. If her only possibility of calling Emily was passing this test, then by God, she wasn’t moving from this seat. Finally, he turned to face her.

“Why have you not called until now?” He presented his question with harsh overtones.

Thinking out loud, she said, “I’ve been busy—I can tell her about the Red Cross and preparing for our interview.”

What followed were not suggestions—but orders—“You will be apologetic and explain that you have been meaning to call. Seeing her recent e-mail reminded you—you haven’t. Your reasons sound valid. I’d prefer you didn’t discuss the job situation—it’s done, and of course, there are no hard feelings.”

The directives should have been upsetting, but she’d played this game before—they were the means to her goal. “Yes, I promise.”

He dialed the phone, put it on speaker, and didn’t bother to turn away. The phone rang three times. Claire’s hopes began to sink until finally Emily answered.

“Hi, Emily, it’s Claire.” Emily’s voice brimmed with excitement. Claire’s sounded happy and apologetic. They spoke for about ten minutes. On a few occasions, Tony indicated that the subject needed to be changed. Claire attempted to keep the discussion away from the job, but Emily was determined to discuss it, explaining how John was currently very close to being named partner. He didn’t feel right abandoning the firm that had taken a chance on him when he first graduated. He’d worked hard to get to his position and didn’t feel right working for family; however, he was very honored Anthony would consider hiring him. They also discussed Emily’s class, and she asked about the interview Claire mentioned. Before they hung up Claire promised to do a better job responding to Emily’s e-mails.

It amazed Claire how one phone call could make her both happy and sad. Maintaining her happy voice during the call almost reduced her to tears on its completion; her energy was totally depleted. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll take the folder upstairs and look through it. We can discuss the e-mails after dinner.”

“That’s fine, you may go.”

Once upstairs, Claire decided to nap instead of looking through the folder. It’d been a long day. The contrast between the interview and her reality intensified the pounding behind her eyes and more recent nausea. She took some acetaminophen, crawled between the soft cool sheets, and allowed the tears from the phone call to flow. Sleep was a welcome escape.

It wasn’t long after she fell asleep when Tony woke her. He wanted to thank her again for her performance during the interview—he also believed she wanted to thank him.

This only is denied even to God, the power to undo the past.

—Agathon

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‡

On March 15, Tony brought home the final copy of the article approved by Shelly. It was scheduled to be published the end of March, officially the April 2011 issue of Vanity Fair:

Anthony Rawlings Introduces the World to the Love of his Life,

His Wife Claire Rawlings—Let the Rumors Cease and

Learn how She has Changed His Life

By: Anne Robinson Photos by: Shaun Stivert

You don’t marry someone you can live with, you marry the person who you cannot live without—Unknown author

On a beautiful snowy day, in the Midwest, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Rawlings sat down with Vanity Fair and addressed the questions, rumors, and realities of their acquaintance, courtship, engagement, and marriage. The exceedingly private man and his beautiful new bride graciously opened their home to our photographers and interviewer. (Photo of Tony and Claire dressed in casual elegant slacks and sweaters, sitting on a sofa in their gorgeous sitting room.)

The home of Anthony and Claire Rawlings is a stately 6,000 plus acre estate near Iowa City, Iowa.—Their residence is a spacious elegant home secluded within the private gates of this countryside.

Built by Mr. Rawlings approximately sixteen years ago, it resembles a 1940’s Romanesque-style mansion—

The main house is centered upon a round brick drive. Projecting from the main structure are wings of ad***ional corridors and rooms. Upon entry you may feel you have entered a museum; however, the warmth and love radiated by the newlyweds soon help you to realize you have entered a family home; a quality Mr. Rawlings states was missing until recently.

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It was late May of 2010 when Anthony Rawlings first introduced the city of Davenport to the then Claire Nichols. They attended the Quad City Symphony. Mr. Rawlings was asked to attend the event because of a generous donation made to both the Quad City Symphony and the Support the Arts Foundation. Mr. Rawlings has long been known for his generosity and pursuit of philanthropic endeavors. He is a firm believer in the arts and continues *****pport endeavors that promote artistic pursuits. As a local celebrity, Mr. Rawlings is often seen attending functions in and around the Quad Cities (as well as in cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles).

It was his companion on that evening that was unfamiliar. He has been seen on various occasions with different women, some with names we recognize, such as Cynthia Simmons and Julia Owens. Truthfully, throughout his forty-six years he has been seen with many beautiful women; however, it was apparent to those present on that evening in May, that this was different. Many on-lookers reported “glances” and “hand holding” that were not witnessed before.

When discussing their first public “date,” Vanity Fair noted that the new Mrs. Rawlings couldn’t help look at her husband with blushed cheeks and a bashful smile. She stated that she recalled the standing ovation he received and how handsome she thought he looked. But she hastily added that at that time, neither of them was looking for a “long-term” relationship.

Anthony said that he recalls seeing Claire when he picked her up for the symphony. He even recalled her outfit, a black dress with a beaded bodice, and that her hair was up with curls. (Anthony gently played with his wife’s hair as he described the style.) He remembered that she was stunning and he was proud to accompany her to the event.

VF: Now, ladies, ask your husband if he remembers what you were wearing on that first date! I had to think that Mr. Rawlings should have realized at that moment his heart was lost. I wanted to know how the two of them got to that first date. How did they meet?

Anthony told the story of meeting Claire in Atlanta, Georgia—

VF:Was it “love” at first sight?

They smiled at one another. Claire shook her head. “Probably not,” and she added, “Anthony is a complicated, private man. You can love the wrapping paper, but with him it takes some time to find out what is inside. I wouldn’t give my life to someone without knowing what is inside the package.”

“What is love? Love is when one person knows all of your secrets, your deepest, darkest, most dreadful secrets of which no one else in the world knows. And yet in the end, that one person does not think any less of you.”

Mrs. Rawlings added she has seen the inside of the package and loves it more than the wrapping paper.

VF: Mrs. Rawlings, can you share some of your findings with our readers? What have you found under that amazing wrapping paper?

Blushing slightly at the inference, she quickly recovered. “Well, he isn’t exactly how he appears.” Anthony seemed to be interested in what she was about to reveal. Claire continued, “For example, he has been known to hold webinars and web conferences from home in a shirt, tie, suit jacket, gym shorts, and sneakers.” She smiled at her husband, who playfully shook his head. He responded, “Great. Now I’m going to have to stand before each webinar to alleviate the participants’ curiosity.” He smiled broadly. When asked if anything else surprised her about Anthony, after some reflection she answered yes. He is a Vikings fan. They both grinned. Being originally from Indiana, Mrs. Rawlings said she couldn’t imagine she would marry anyone who isn’t a Colts fan. Anthony made a comment about real football teams that play outdoors, and Claire was quick to mention two recent trips to the Super Bowl. Their playful banter was enjoyable to observe.

VF: Have you two had any arguments, disagreements, or fights?

“No!” They answered simultaneously and laughed. Anthony took the lead on this question. “Of course. I can’t imagine spending quality time with someone and always agreeing. That is not what I want in my life. There are multitudes of people in my life that will agree with my every thought. Claire has ‘stood up’ to me in ways that captains of business have not. Her strength and determination are what I fell in love with.” Tenderly wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he added, “As well as her beauty and intelligence.”

After smiling at Anthony, Claire added, “I have been told that some of those qualities can be infuriating.” This reporter enjoyed Anthony’s dismissal of that comment.

VF: Will either of you share the story of the proposal?

Claire volunteered, “Oh, I will. He was amazing. First, it was dinner in Manhattan. He took me to the theater district. We dined at the Crown Plaza Hotel and our table had a view of Times Square. I had no idea what his plans were for the evening, he enjoys surprises. After dinner we went to see ‘The Merchant of Venice’ with Al Pacino, fantastic by the way. Afterward, I was honestly tired and ready to go back to my hotel. But instead we went to Central Park.” Laughing she recalled, “It was very cold that night, the night before Thanksgiving. It hadn’t snowed, but it was very cold; however, he planned for that with mittens and blankets”. After each sentence she looked into his eyes. Even this reporter saw the twinkle in her green eyes as she recounted his proposal. Claire went on to say, “I did not expect a proposal. I was completely shocked. But there he was, in a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park, under the lights, with a diamond ring.”

Vanity Fair will add that her diamond ring is actually a designer original Tiffany Co. 4.3 carat brilliant center stone bordered by a delicate diamond bead set in mil-grain detail in platinum. The matching wedding band is also platinum, with delicate inset diamonds. While actual value would not be released by Mr. Rawlings or Tiffany Co., New York, where he is said to have purchased the set, due to the size, clarity, and unique cut, it is estimated above 400 thousand dollars.

VF: Did you say yes immediately? (Now come on, ladies, think about what you would have done.)

Claire sat back. “No.” At this Anthony smiled and put his hand on his wife’s knee. He goes on with the answer, “No, she didn’t. She made me wait for what seemed like an eternity.” But leaning over to kiss his bride, he added, “She finally relented. And I was elated.”

The worst thing you can do for love is deny it; so when you find that special someone, don’t let anyone or anything get in your way.

VF: Now some people have questioned the quickness of your nuptials. What do you have to say to those critiques?

Anthony answered, “I guess they have never been as in love.” Claire continued, “We didn’t want to wait. We made our decision. We wanted our family and friends to share in our happiness.”

VF: The personal accounts were extremely complimentary. How did you pull off the wedding of the century in less than a month?

Mrs. Rawlings replied, “With the best wedding planner and coordinator in the world! They were amazing. We never worried about a thing.”

According to the press releases the wedding was magnificent. The bride was gorgeous in an exquisite Vera Wang gown, reportedly from an elite Manhattan boutique. The groom was dazzling in a custom Armani tuxedo—(Photo of Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings in wedding attire standing at the base of the grand stairway, decorations can be seen behind them. Note: multiple wedding pictures and decorations can be seen in a collage of pictures at the end of the article.)

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VF: Addressing Claire Rawlings, how has it been to be thrust into the public eye?

Claire blushed and glanced at Anthony. “May I say first I don’t feel that I’m a celebrity? I’ve done nothing to warrant celebrity status. That’s why when you ask your question, the first response I think of is, it’s been unreal. I still find it amazing that anyone would think my clothes, shopping habits, or hairstyle newsworthy. It’s something that I’m learning to handle. Anthony has been superb at buffering the media as much as possible.”

Claire added, “You can be overwhelming at times.” Addressing this reporter, she continued, “You meaning the press,” smiling a lovely smile, “not you; however, if being married to this marvelous man means seeing myself on an occasional magazine,” she leans toward his protection, “it’s more than worth it.” Mr. Rawlings included that he desired to shelter her from too much unwanted exposure. After all, he prefers to remain as private as possible.

As the couple walked hand in hand to share a tour of their home it wasn’t hard to imagine that a splendid wedding ceremony could easily occur within these walls. The grand hall is breathtaking on this February afternoon. The two-story winding staircase ascended to a railed landing which appeared to extend down various hallways. The ceiling, at least another story high, holds a magnificent chandelier that illuminates the foyer.

The intricate marble flooring extends behind the stairs to a window-lined sitting room. These areas were all utilized during the ceremony. Beyond the sitting room, which also contains a magnificent fireplace, is a comfortable sun porch that Mrs. Rawlings says is one of her favorite rooms in their home. She enjoys reading and sunlight very much. Even in the winter months, if it’s not too cold she can enjoy the sun’s rays on the porch; however, it is in the summer with the windows open and the fresh breeze that the room is ideal.

Not far from these exquisite rooms is a grand dining room that the newlyweds claim to utilize regularly. Mr. Rawlings commented that just being with his bride is a special occasion worthy of formal dining. Beyond the sun porch this reporter could see the expanse of their backyard. Apparently, during the wedding it contained a large tent that created the hall for their reception. On this day it was snow covered and pristine. The yard is encased by trees. Currently, the trees are bare and one can see into the depths of the forest, but Anthony explained that within months the green leaves will obstruct the view and the lawn will appear an oasis in itself. He also pointed out the deck, pool area, and patio. He is proud of the house. He offers that he helped design it from memories and ideas from other dwellings. He believes the result is exquisite, and this reporter agrees wholeheartedly.

Mr. Rawlings also showed Vanity Fair his home office. As an entrepreneur who began his fortune with the Internet, it seems only appropriate that his home contained high-tech electronics. Not only does his desk contain multiple computer screens, but behind his desk on the wall was also a collage of screens, second only to the ones this reporter has seen in television studios. His office is decorated in a masculine tone of wood and leather. When asked if he often works from home, Anthony responds that he does when he can. It gives him an excuse to be close to Claire when she is not out and about. (Photo of Mr. Rawlings behind his impressive desk, working on his computer with screens illuminated behind him.)

Mrs. Rawlings took that opportunity to tell Vanity Fair a little about her recent philanthropic endeavor. While working as a meteorologist, Claire saw the damage and devastation that natural disasters can wreak upon our country. She never imagined that she’d be in a position where she could make a difference to people, but now she is. Claire has recently begun to work with the Red Cross of Iowa, the Greater Quad Cities, and of the United States. She’s been diligently working to facilitate their fund-raising efforts. The economy has had a dreadful effect on the Red Cross’s reserves. These are essential for the organization to be able to continue their efforts on a daily basis and especially in case of disaster. The sad reality is that the reserve is dwindling. With Anthony’s connections and her understanding of disasters and the resources needed, she hopes to be of help to the organization. Anthony’s admiration for his wife’s endeavors is evident in his expression as she discusses the work the Red Cross can do, if adequately funded.

The tour continued to the lower level of the main house, where a large welcoming entertainment/ recreation room exists. There’s a pool table, game table, comfortable sofas and chairs, a large flat-screen television with four smaller screens surrounding it, and a handsome handcrafted mahogany bar with intricate tile in the mini kitchen behind the bar. Adjoining this room is a theater room complete with plush seating for six, and a screen large enough for twenty-six. The other direction from the recreation room leads to an exercise gym, with every piece of exercise equipment you would want or need. Mr. Rawlings explained that he likes to workout. He finds himself needing to burn off energy after a day of business dealings, which usually occur while seated. Vanity Fair notes that he appears fit, as does Mrs. Rawlings. She led our crew to her favorite workout, an indoor lap pool complete with spa and sauna. Claire Rawlings said she prefers the outdoor pool, but during the colder months—which are numerous in Iowa—the indoor pool is an ideal alternative.

Back in the sitting room, Vanity Fair tries once again to learn more about this stunning couple. (Photo of the couple with warm coats standing on the front steps of their home and another of them sitting on the floor before a roaring fire in a grand six-foot tall fireplace. Note the portrait of Mrs. Rawlings in her wedding gown above the fireplace.)

VF: Mrs. Rawlings, how do you feel about living in Iowa after living in Atlanta, Georgia?

Rubbing the sleeves of her soft cashmere sweater, Claire responded, “I would gladly live any place with Anthony; however, if he chose some place warmer it would be all right.” They both smile. “Seriously,” she continued, “I grew up in Indiana. Iowa isn’t much different. The Midwest is a beautiful area. I love sunshine and warmth, but the change of seasons and newness of each spring is in my blood. From my short experience with Iowa, I think it is a wonderful state with wonderful people.”

VF: It was rumored that you, Anthony, wanted *****rprise your wife with your honeymoon destination. Is that true?

Smiling with a smirking grin, he answered, “Yes, I tried diligently *****rprise Claire for our honeymoon. And I almost succeeded.” VF had to ask, “Almost?”

Anthony looked at his wife, she continued the story. “He would have succeeded had it not been for the TSA agent in Hawaii.” Mrs. Rawlings was obviously amused by the story. “I wasn’t the least bit upset. I’d sought to learn the destination for some time. No one would betray his confidence, no matter how much I tried. So after arriving in Oahu, Hawaii, all I knew was that we had farther to fly and we were crossing the International Date Line.”

Anthony chimed in, “Actually, she figured that out from a hint,” and he winked at Claire.

She continued, “So when the agent looked at our passports and asked our destination, I wasn’t able to answer.” Smiling, she added, “But Anthony had to. And it was then I learned that we were going to Fiji.” (Photo released by the Rawlings of the two of them dining on a torch-lit deck with a magnificent sunset and the ocean in front of them.)

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VF: Mrs. Rawlings, were you pleased with your husband’s destination choice? Some women would want to be more involved in the planning.

“That may be true, but my husband planned ten days in paradise. It was amazing. I’ve never experienced anything like it. It was a tropical oasis. I know we have pictures for your publication, but honestly photos can’t do it justice. The climate, atmosphere, cuisine, beach,” and leaning close to Anthony, smiling into his big brown eyes, “his company, all made it a dream. I’m not sure heaven can compare.”

VF: So you did not mind not being involved in the planning?

“If all his decisions are as amazing as our honeymoon, I do not mind at all.” He kissed her cheek.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

Anthony added, “I have had many years of living on my own, making my own decisions, and doing everything for my benefit. I have learned that people remember most how you make them feel. I try to work my business with that in mind. When I negotiate with someone, they will forget what I say or what I do, but they will not forget how I make them feel. Do they feel important to the deal? Do they feel central to the transaction? I wanted our honeymoon to be special because it would benefit me.” His smile looked mischievous to this reporter. “; however, I wanted it to be special so that Claire would feel special and know how important she is to me.” He no doubt had her full attention during his statement, and this reporter would guess during their stay in paradise. Mr. Rawlings seems to have the gift of making everyone feel special. Claire agreed he has made her feel special since they first met.

VF: Vanity Fair would like to thank you for taking the time to allow us into your home. Now is it true you have other homes besides this one?

Anthony answered, “Due to my multiple business sites and intensive travel schedule we do own a few apartments here and there. It makes traveling much easier.” (Insert text box of real estate holdings of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Rawlings.)

VF: Mr. Rawlings, your answer about “we” owning brings VF to another more controversial subject. May I ask about the debate regarding the lack of a prenuptial agreement prior to your marriage?

“I would prefer you didn’t; however, the only way to stop the rumors is to address them. First let me say there was no debate. We did not consider a prenuptial agreement, much less debate one.” Taking his wife’s hand in his, he continued, “I’m elated to have the world get to know my wife. Mrs. Claire Rawlings is an amazing woman. She did not know who I was when we met. She has told me exactly what she thinks of me or of my actions and not always in a complimentary manner. She did not anticipate a marriage proposal on that cold,” he smiled at Claire, “night in Central Park. I trust her implicitly. I have worked my entire life to build a business empire. It means nothing without someone with whom to share. I did not feel it was fair to ask her to sign a piece of paper that would restrict her partnership with me in any way. She is my wife and I am her husband. It may not be PC to say this today, but we believe in forever, in trust, and in love. A piece of paper is not going to matter when we are old and gray. We decided together that our commitment to one another is stronger than any legal agreement.” Mrs. Rawlings squeezed his hand. “Like it is said in a movie, she completes me.”

VF: Thank you again for the brief glimpse into your life. Below is a quote that was recited during your wedding ceremony. To our readers, it was meant as a dual statement to both of them, from each of them.

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. —Roy Croft

(Photo collage at the end includes photos of home: grand hall, sitting room, library, office, dining room, recreation room, exercise room, theater room, and indoor pool. Also included are wedding photos: of ceremony, reception, with cake, talking with guests, and dancing. There are a few of Fiji, the private island where the couple stayed, the beach, infinity pool, lounging decks, and outdoor shower.)

*

Claire read the copy and imagined the photos which would be inserted. It truly appeared perfect.

Three days later, on the March 18, Tony surprised Claire with a long weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe. The beautiful snowy mountains filled with skiing, roaring fires, and hot coffee made for a great escape. The ski resort, literally a mile above sea level, had crystal-clear air that permeated deep into their lungs. The mountains provided the most amazing skiing with over a hundred inches of base and freshly fallen powder. The tall majestic evergreens bowed to the weight of the snow which layered each branch. Their small, private chalet held amazing views, warm fires, and no cook. For the first time in a year, despite limited supplies, Claire managed to keep them from starving. With the intensity of their exercise—both indoors and out—she was pleased he liked her cooking. A while ago she’d heard some advice. Eating was important to keep up their strength.

Warm, naked, and covered with a soft blanket, she rested her head against his chest. Claire contemplated the significance of this weekend as they rested in the afterglow of their love and the glow of fireplace. Three hundred and sixty-six days ago she’d been a different person—in a different life. It wasn’t that her life now was bad. It was just that the transition had been unplanned—unwanted—and well—brutal. She needed to hear her husband’s answer to the question lingering in her mind. “Tony, why are we here this weekend?”

*

They both watched the crackling blaze as his strong arms encircled her petite body. He took a deep breath and replied, “I didn’t want you home in your suite this weekend. I wanted you outside in fresh air.” He felt her chest lift, then drop, and heard the soft sniffles. Damn—the crying was what he’d been trying to avoid. Nuzzling his face in her hair, he kissed her head. “If it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here now. There’s a reason for everything.”

He tenderly turned her to face him, and then rolled her over onto her back. Her blonde hair fanned out onto the rug like a halo. He looked down at her angelic face. Even with the moisture, her eyes were stunning. The tears only made the green more intense in the firelight. Tony couldn’t help himself, she was beautiful, sensual, and he wanted her. His bare chest pushed against her supple breasts. He tenderly caressed her pink cheeks and soft shoulders as he looked into her eyes. “I’m not sorry we’re together, but I’m so sorry when I think about…remember the things I—”

Claire stopped him. Shaking her head, she put her fingers to his lips. He stopped talking and kissed her hand, gently sucking the tip of each finger. “Please, Tony. Don’t. I don’t want to remember or think about that.” Her voice sounded amazingly steady despite the tears which now streamed from the corners of her eyes. “I want to think about now.”

“But you should know—”

“All I know is that I love you today—I hated you then—It’s too much of a contrast for my mind to comprehend. I want to concentrate on today.”

“I love you today, too. Tell me what I can do to help. Claire, anything you want—it’s yours.”

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“I want you—I want you to love me and fill me with so many good memories that I don’t have room for the others.” She kissed her husband. “Tony, fill me completely.”

*

Claire wasn’t thinking. Her body was in control; more accurately, out of control, moving in sync with desire. She didn’t think, because she feared that if she did, it would be about the past and not the present. Instead, she surrendered her body and her mind to her husband. There was a time she’d tried to keep her mind, but no longer. He possessed both.

*

His lips found her soft skin and watched as her eyes responded. He wanted to see the spark, to have it be there. Briefly, he thought about the saying the end justifies the means. If that were true, then he wasn’t sorry. In his arms, beneath his body, responding to his touch was the woman he’d watched for so long. He suckled her hard nipples, and she moaned deeply, wanting—no, needing him. At that moment in time, sorry was not his most prominent thought.

Nothing improves memory more than trying to forget.

—Unknown author

Chapter Thirty-Eight

‡

It was happening again. The satin sheets dripped with sweat as Claire gasped for breath. Trembling, she concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, all the while convincing herself she could breathe—this was only a dream—or a nightmare. Once over, she couldn’t remember the scenes, just the terrible feeling of helplessness. She always woke when she heard the beep. It was the same damn beep she’d heard when she first arrived; the sound meaning her suite was locked. When the dreams first started, she could roll over, find her sleeping husband, curl up next to him, and fall back to sleep. Now regulating her breathing, Claire knew that wasn’t possible—like so many times before—she needed to get out of bed and complete her new routine.

The steady breathing from a few feet away told Claire that Tony was sleeping peacefully. Quietly, she lifted the covers and eased out of bed. Her hands shook as she tied her robe and tiptoed to the hallway door. “This is dumb,” she whispered, as her feet crossed the lush carpet; however, it was now her reality. She knew sleep wouldn’t be possible without completing this new drill. Gripping the metal lever, she pulled, and the door opened easily. She closed it and proceeded to the balcony. Moving the draperies aside, the French door opened without hesitation. The rush of fresh air filled the room and her lungs. She walked through the opening and gently closing the door behind her.

Her perspiration-drenched body relished the cool night breeze. Standing at the rail, she inhaled the spring air and lifted her hair to dry the moisture from her neck. It wasn’t that she wanted to remember the feelings of a year ago. Truly she didn’t. When she stepped onto a patio, terrace, or into the backyard and memories would start to resurface, she could stop them. It was at night while she slept that the compartmentalization of her internment would come rushing back. Then in the minutes or hours which followed, she would attempt to calm her lingering fear. It was the one she tried to keep away, the terror that at any moment, without warning, history could repeat itself. The sickening realization that she would be completely helpless to stop it was what robbed her of sleep.

The cool cement under her feet brought her back to present. She shivered, pulled her cashmere robe tight, and wished she’d grabbed slippers, but her trembling wasn’t caused by the cold. She knew it was her dream. Looking up she noticed the clear black velvet sky peppered with stars. Absentmindedly, she thought, that’s why the temperature dropped.

Sighing, she fell into a chair. This knowledge would never matter again. Her job was her name, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings—Meteorology was gone forever. She’d left the suite in such a panic she hadn’t looked at the clock. It really didn’t matter—sleep was out of reach. Pulling her legs into her chest and covering them with her soft robe, she began her mental therapy session. Her still rapid heart rate told her tonight it would last hours instead of minutes.

Self-therapy consisted of a mental list of reasons her nightmares were ridiculous and she had no basis for her fears. Claire believed if she could convince her conscious self, her subconscious self would be forced to agree. When she allowed her mind to go back to the spring of a year ago she could rationalize that now her life was significantly dissimilar. She now had more liberties than she’d experienced since her arrival.

Tony stayed true to his word about her e-mails. He even decided she needed her own address, [email protected] /* */ This made printing easier. He was also correct about the numerous requests for interviews, money, and endorsements she received daily from people she’d never met. Having Patricia respond to those requests was easy. She also received personal e-mails, and now she had a voice in the responses. Overall, when asked, Tony agreed to requests regarding Courtney, Sue, Bev, or MaryAnn. If he had other plans for the day in question, as occurred from time to time, his plans trumped, but the act of requesting was the crucial portion of her negotiations. If she wanted to reply to someone or to go somewhere, as he had said many months ago, she simply needed to ask. She’d become accustomed to this component—it was a daily reminder of Tony’s authority.

Regarding that authority—it hadn’t asserted itself, as it had a year ago. She reasoned, perhaps it was because her behavior didn’t warrant that type of implementation. No matter the cause, life was undeniably better.

Watching the moonlight on the budding trees, Claire recalled the outings she’d recently enjoyed. They included lunches in Iowa City and Cedar Rapids, Red Cross meetings in Davenport, and shopping in Chicago. A few weeks ago MaryAnn suggested a catch-up day in New York, as she and Eli were there for business. Tony reviewed all of the e-mails before Claire, and she didn’t expect permission to spend the day in New York, but she asked. Surprisingly, he acquiesced. Smiling and feeling her pulse slow, she remembered flying off to a beautiful April day in New York City in a Rawlings company jet, with Courtney and Sue. All of the women had a marvelous time, and Claire made it home before 7:00 PM. He was home first, but she was home for dinner. He wasn’t unhappy.

Calming, as the gentle breeze blew her hair, she listened to the voice in her head and remembered a recent unexpected freedom. Secretly coveting the chestnut hair which kept trying to return, she informed Tony she needed an appointment to maintain her blonde. He said they had no overnight plans in the near future, so she should just go. If he had the private plane she could take one of the company jets, just plan to be home before dinner. Shocked, she remembered questioning, “Are you saying I can go by myself?”

“My dear Claire, is there any reason you should not?”

She assured him there wasn’t. He or Patricia arranged the appointment; Claire went to the airport and boarded a company jet—by herself. She landed in Chicago, took a waiting cab to the Trump Tower where she spent the rest of the morning being pampered. Then she ate lunch and shopped for a few hours and came home. Blushing in the cool night air, she thought about being back in her suite before 6:00 PM and how she did her best to show her husband the meaning of a statement she’d made months earlier—coming home to a wife who wants to be home is better than coming home to a wife that has to be home. He caught on pretty quick—the first indication was the spark in her emerald eyes and the next clue involved a black satin robe and a warm waiting tub of water. Truth be told—she couldn’t remember eating dinner at all that night.

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Claire’s heavy eyelids reminded her she should be sleeping. Slipping back into her suite and under the warm blankets, she thought about the man lying next to her. He continued to be a paradox. The man Claire met when she first arrived hadn’t shown his personality since her accident. She knew he was still here, that knowledge alone was motivation to obey his rules. She’d been told too many times his promise to keep that personality away was contingent on her ability to behave appropriately. The stress of that reality and unpredictability loomed omnipresent.

The man who worked to court her, to convince her she was important, desirable, and loved, still existed in a muted form. He was still attentive, present, and always ***ual, but he was busy with work and often preoccupied. That was understandable—he was a successful man with many fires to tend.

It was his need for complete supremacy over every aspect of her life that felt stifling and unbearable. Claire theorized this was the cause of the suffocation which usually accompanied her nightmares. He had companies, peoples’ jobs and livelihoods on his list of responsibilities. The fact he controlled her comings, goings, e-mails, hair, and often attire—seemed ridiculous.

Attempting to stop the rise in blood pressure, she reminded herself that no matter what—she loved him. He could infuriate her one moment and make her feel less than human, and the next, he could make her feel like the world spun only because she mattered to him. It was just that those two contradictory emotions could come too close together and in any order. As Claire reminisced, she recognized that similar to a year ago, her mood, liberties, and sense of self-worth seemed to have a common denominator—Anthony Rawlings.

As that realization struck, he rolled toward her, wrapped her in his arms; and though still sleeping, murmured, “My love, you’re so cold. Come closer.” She melted against his warm chest. At this moment in time, he made her feel safe and loved. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

As the spring blossomed in*****mmer, their biggest source of dissension continued to be her family. Though she loved to hear from Emily, seeing her name on an e-mail made her stomach turn. It almost always came accompanied by dark penetrating eyes.

She would sometimes choose to have Patricia reply instead of herself. There were days and circumstances when the communication wasn’t worth the conflict. It depended on Emily’s words, some motivated Claire’s determination more than others. Her calls with Emily were always monitored. It was a reality she didn’t dispute. If she did, it would result in loss of all communication. He didn’t need to spell that out for her. She knew it as well as she knew that her freedoms lay vulnerable to his whims.

Since the call following the interview, Claire spoke with Emily about every three to four weeks. She heard from Emily at least once a week via e-mail. After Claire had her own e-mail address, Emily’s notes were more informative. Claire would hand-write her response. It was approved or e***ed and then sent by Patricia. If Emily questioned Claire’s ability to do anything, she’d profess her freedoms as Tony evaluated every word.

That same Tony was the one who surprised Claire with the long weekend at Lake Tahoe. And over Memorial Day weekend he arranged for a getaway to San Francisco. While there, they met Eli and MaryAnn for dinner at an exclusive nightclub with a glorious view of the bay and bridge. The next day, after a romantic drive down Highway 1 in a leased convertible, they strolled hand in hand on the beach at Big Sur. The force and spray of the waves pounding the huge rocks along the ocean shore astonished Claire. It wasn’t like the Gulf of Mexico or even the tranquil waters of Fiji. Instead, it reminded her of the beach scenes in movies. During these excursions, he made her feel like a star. Their final day in San Francisco they went sightseeing; no trip to Alcatraz was planned or even discussed.

He also had a two-week business trip to Europe planned for the end of July. This time he wanted her with him. Uncharacteristically, he asked her to help make the sightseeing plans. They would visit Italy, Switzerland, and France. He had meetings but promised free time for his wife. Claire spent hours in their library looking at books on destinations, museums, and points of interest. The Internet would have been easier but she found incredible pictures and information in the resource books.

The work with the Red Cross slowed. Their calendar was planned and their goal set. It was now a matter of implementation. Courtney had other members on her committee. They divided the events: Claire was chairman of a silent auction scheduled for October. She drafted letters requesting donations, and Patricia sent them out to prominent associates of Mr. Rawlings. The letters requested donations from Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. Tony had already brought many positive responses home. Claire secured a ballroom in Bettendorf where the auction would be held simultaneously with a wine-tasting event. She even arranged for the wine and catering to be donated, believing a little wine might help increase bids. Courtney seemed genuinely pleased and appreciative of Claire’s help.

The summer heat created the climate Claire enjoyed the most. She contentedly spent many of her days at home by the pool or at her lake. When summer began Tony hesitated to approve her journeys to the lake. He’d been there. He knew how far it was from the house. What if a real accident occurred? At first, she relented to his decision, but then she decided it was worth the struggle. Her lake had been her refuge—she wanted it back.

Determinedly, one Sunday in early June, Claire pursued the liberty to hike. Tony finally acquiesced, saying he wanted to be mad, but it was the memory of her excitement during their February visit that made him relent. She asked him to join her. He had other plans for their day, but agreed. They brought a blanket, a picnic packed by Catherine, and water. When they reached the shore Tony seemed to understand why she loved the site. It was nothing like it had been in February. The colors of the summer starkly contrasted the whiteness of their last visit. The lake sparkled and glittered with hues of blue created by the reflection of the sapphire sky. The trees surrounding the lake were lush, full, and green.

The ones in the woods had been also, creating a maze Tony hoped Claire could truly navigate. He listened to the sounds of the lake shore. In forty-six years he’d never stopped to listen to waves lap the earth. The consistent beat, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, combined with the gentle breeze of the trees soothed him in a way he couldn’t describe. He laid out the blanket on the shore under the shade of a tree and invited Claire to join him. She unpacked their lunch and they sat in silence.

At first, Claire worried—afraid he might be upset by her impudence. Then she stopped worrying and looked at him, really looked at his face; he was peaceful. She thought about who she saw: Anthony Rawlings, multibillionaire tycoon and entrepreneur, a man in complete control of everyone and everything. Claire hoped perhaps she was witnessing this lofty man seeing himself as part of a grand picture. Maybe for the first time he wasn’t seeing himself as the center. Not wanting to break the spell, she let him sit undisturbed.

Sometime later—Claire had lost track of time—Tony finally spoke, “This is beautiful. This is here on our property and I’ve never seen it—not like this.” The sun sparkled and shone as prisms of light and color danced off the water. Having taken the sandwiches out of the basket, Claire broke off a piece of bread and threw it into the water. Tony laughed as minnows swam to devour their newfound feast. She smiled at her husband. Her smile radiated into her eyes, she could feel it. His milk chocolate eyes looked from the water to her. He leaned toward her. “Thank you.”

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“For what?”

“For showing me what I’ve been missing. I’ve been so goal oriented, so driven, I’ve missed so much.” She scooted closer and offered him his sandwich. “I’m really not hungry, yet—are you?” His hands were exploring her collar bone, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms.

“I think I can wait.”

The soft blanket, soft sand, and gentle breeze created the perfect bed. Their actions weren’t hard and rough, but tender and thorough. Keeping rhythm with the waves Tony took Claire beyond her refuge to a place of ecstasy.

The hours of daylight almost reached their peak. The summer solstice was near. Between exploring the lake, shore, wildlife, and one another, they found themselves still on the shore as the sun began to set. It was all right. Claire knew this time there would be no punishment or accident. This time she was safe. They sat and watched the crimson ball as it bled a cherry glow across the sky, slowly fading behind the line of shadowed trees at the far end of the lake.

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.

—Epictetus

Chapter Thirty-Nine

‡

Claire’s education regarding the responsibilities of Mrs. Anthony Rawlings continued during the summer months. She now had the responsibility of entertaining Tony’s business associates. As a bachelor, these gatherings weren’t expected; however, now with a wife by his side, Shelly felt this personal touch benefited Mr. Rawlings. They hosted multiple dinner engagements. On the Fourth of July, they held a large barbeque/pool party for many of Tony’s associates at the estate in Iowa. Guests included those she’d met briefly at her wedding and those that she’d never met. Tony introduced her to everyone, and she remembered names and faces remarkably well. Her job description remained the same as fourteen months earlier: be perfect. To accomplish her goal, she needed to be beautiful, polite, contented, and appreciative. Now there was another requirement: be a most gracious hostess. Surprisingly, Claire didn’t find these new duties difficult. For most people to pull off a dinner, barbeque, or pool party would require planning, cleaning, cooking, setting up, and tearing down. For Mrs. Rawlings, that wasn’t the case. Everything happened without her input. Invitations went out, RSVPs counted, meals planned, house or apartment cleaned, food prepared, tables and decorations set, the food served, and miraculously everything cleaned by the next day. She needed only to be present, ever attentive to her guests, and most importantly, attentive to her husband.

The first entertaining experience occurred at their New York apartment. They hosted an intimate dinner party for ten. It was true, Claire’s nerves were shaken prior to the hors d’oeuvres. Perhaps it was Tony’s pep talk about appearances, responsibility as his wife, and the unacceptability of public failure; however, wearing the clothes he chose, hair styled as he suggested, and appearing as dutiful as she could muster, the evening progressed surprisingly well. Her talent for remembering names, faces, facts, and the intuition to know when not to interrupt business talk, yet understand when to augment small talk, succeeded in making everyone feel comfortable. After the guests left, Tony gently wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, “You were magnificent.”

It made all the difference. From that point on, when she learned of an impending gathering, she had but one solitary goal—to please her husband. On some occasions they would be at opposite sides of a room and she would look up from a conversation to observe his eyes. The presence of brown rimmed pupils would strengthen her resolve to perform her role to perfection. On those occasions she would discover the black voids, she would excuse herself from her current activity and attempt to learn the source of his unhappiness. Once discovered, it became her responsibility to right the wrong. Assuming this responsibility of Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, familiarized her with many of his associates and made her feel less alone. She met the people Tony dealt with on a daily basis. In reality she may have been a beautiful accessory, but she believed she provided an important asset to his public relations. The added bonus was that she continued to amaze Tony by excelling at any obstacle put before her.

A week before they needed to be in France for Tony’s meetings, he informed Claire they would spend a few nights in New York City before their trip. He could work from the New York City office and it would decrease their travel time to Paris. Claire’s research discovered many sights she anxiously anticipated seeing in France. They would arrive in Paris where he had two days of meetings. She wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Muse’e d’Orsay, Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Arc de Triomple among other places. She told Tony multiple times how excited she was being involved in planning their activities. Next, he promised her two nights in the south of France, one of his favorite destinations. He had special plans for this destination. She read about Cannes, the French Riviera, and Monaco, but willingly trusted his decisions.

Next, they would be off to Italy. His meetings there were in Rome and Florence. They would have the opportunity to visit museums and monuments in both cities. Her two requests were the Vatican and the Galleria dell’ Accademia, the museum which housed Michelangelo’s David. Tony promised that David didn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before.

He wanted her to see the island of Sicily. The water, he said, was beautiful. The blueness rivaled Fiji. He mischievously smiled and let her know how nude sunbathing was acceptable in the Me***erranean.

“I don’t think I like the idea of nude sunbathing among multitudes of people.”

With a naughty smirk Tony agreed. “I believe you’re right my dear.” He slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “Besides, I don’t believe I want others seeing what is mine, and I have the pleasure of seeing whenever I chose.”

His last meetings were in Switzerland. He needed to be in Genève and Interlaken. He explained if she enjoyed the beauty and splendor of the Rocky Mountains at Lake Tahoe, she would marvel at the Swiss Alps. They were magnificent. He knew she would love all the nature had to offer in Switzerland.

As Tony spoke about their trip he expressed his desire to spend more time in Europe. “I want to show you so many places. We aren’t even planning for Venice. A gondola ride is one of the most romantic adventures, and what about London? Don’t you want to see Buckingham Palace?”

“We have forever to visit those places.”

As he spoke about cities and sites, his eyes danced with enthusiasm. His excitement to share something with her meant more than the trip itself.

The Tuesday before their scheduled departure they sat in her suite with Claire reviewing e-mails and Tony working on his laptop. She only needed to discuss e-mails she felt deserved personal follow through of any kind. She read each one and eventually came to one from Emily. She’d expected to see it. The last one had been about a week ago. This one contained new information. It wasn’t just the “I want to see you” text.

To: Claire Rawlings [email protected] /* */

From: Emily Vandersol [email protected] /* */

Date: July 19, 2011

Subject: Hi.

Hi, Claire, How are you and Anthony? We are doing very well. I’m on summer break, which you know. Would be great to see my little sis, but anyway, know how busy you are. How have those dinner parties been going? Still cracks me up. You being the one hosting parties! Would never have guessed it. Anyway, didn’t you say you two were going on vacation? I heard something on the television about you being on another private island. Really? Have you been gone? I never know what to believe. But I wanted to let you know John and his associate just had a big win in court recently. They made a huge impression on the partners. Not to mention some big money for them, too. We’ve been invited to multiple dinners and John has had some “lunches” with a few of the partners recently. It is looking like all his hours and hard work will be paying off soon. Would love to hear from you. Please give Anthony our love. How is Iowa? I have some time, maybe you and I could visit in person? Or are you too busy for your big sister. (I’m trying guilt.)

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Love ya, Em

Claire read it, sighed, and wrote on the top: Patricia, please respond and then moved on to the next. She sensed Tony’s eyes penetrating her consciousness. He’d read it. She didn’t need to discuss the contents, she wasn’t requesting anything. Lifting her gaze she saw his eyes and answered, “I don’t want to deal with it, okay? I’m too excited about our trip.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that’s fine. I just thought you might want to see her and John while we’re in New York before our trip. It sounds to me like a celebratory dinner for your esteemed brother-in-law is in order.”

Claire looked at Tony in disbelief. “Are you suggesting we meet them this weekend before we leave for Europe?” She watched for his reaction—there was none. He continued reading on his laptop and making notes on his iPad. “Please don’t tease me.”

His smile appeared genuine. “I’m not teasing. If it’ll make you happy as we head out on our European adventure, I can suffer through a few hours of Mr. Wonderful.”

She got up from the table and went to him on the sofa. “Really? Can I please call her and see if they’re available?”

“Yes,” his hand touched the hem of her light pink sundress, “however, I can think of something I’d like to do first.”

Claire reached for his laptop and set in on the floor. Climbing on his lap she giggled, “Really? I can’t think of anything—” Her world tilted as he pushed her onto the sofa and followed on top of her. The rest of her sentence—as well as dinner—and the phone call would need to wait.

They arrived in New York on Thursday night and planned to leave Sunday for Paris. Tony thought Claire might need to shop before their trip, but she assured him she’d done enough research to learn she could do plenty of shopping in Paris, Italy, and Switzerland.

Tony laughed. “That even scares me, Mrs. Rawlings. I believe you’re getting too good at this shopping thing.”

They arranged to meet John and Emily Saturday afternoon at a restaurant in Newburgh, a scenic little city on the Hudson River, midway between New York City and Troy. Tony admitted their apartment could lend itself to a longer visit than he wanted. Claire knew this was difficult for him and appreciated his honesty. Besides, she liked the idea of a public setting. Tony would never do or say anything in a public place to jeopardize his image. She knew no matter how the dinner progressed, she would reap the consequences, negative or positive; however, seeing Emily and John for the first time since their wedding was worth Tony’s chosen aftermath. She could endure the night—tomorrow they were leaving for Europe.

When they stepped outside their New York City apartment, the air between the tall buildings hung heavy and moist intensifying the July heat. Automobile exhaust filled their lungs as the motionless air refused to transport the odors away. The summer sun penetrated the dark lenses of her sunglasses, causing Claire to squint after exiting the dim cool lobby. Although, she used to like the city, she now thought pensively about the tranquility of the Iowa countryside.

During the hour and a half drive, Tony worked on his latest project while Claire appreciated the tinted windows and air con***ioning of the limousine and tried to read. She had packed many books for their trip; between flights, drives, and waiting for Tony, she anticipated significant amounts of downtime. Though she tried to read, the words on the page didn’t make sense. She read and reread, but her thoughts were miles ahead at the restaurant. It had been seven months since they had been together. She wanted it to go well; however, she overwhelmingly feared it would not.

Trying desperately to ignore the onset of another headache, she anticipated problems. What if John said something? What about the job topic? What if Emily pursued her earlier concerns? Her mind raced through these situations and more. She contemplated possible solutions. It didn’t always work, but having contingency plans made Claire feel better.

They were an hour out of Newburgh when Tony broke the silence. “Claire, please stop.”

Shocked, she turned to him, “Stop what? I’m reading.”

“No, you’re not. You’re sighing, fidgeting, and stressing about things over which you have no control.”

“I’m sorry. I just want this afternoon to go well.”

“Are you planning to do or say something wrong?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Let me tell you about this current project.”

She really wasn’t interested, but he rarely offered to share. She closed her book. “All right.”

“These are perspectives on a company. Actually, a family owned business in Pennsylvania. At one time it employed over seventy-five people. Today it employs forty-six. I don’t care about this company or the employees, but I am significantly invested in their major competitor.”

Clare definitely didn’t see the connection to their lunch, but she nodded and replied, “Okay.”

“When founded, the original president made wonderful decisions. In the past five years, the reins passed, and the decisions have been less fortuitous. The chairman is now seeking to sell the company, recognizing the economic climate. They need money to continue; banks aren’t lending money. If he doesn’t sell, the doors will probably close in the next two years.” Still lost, she maintained eye contact and nodded. He went on. “I’m considering a very low-ball offer. The benefit to me is to reduce the competition. If my offer is accepted, the doors will close immediately. According to my accountants, the company in which I’m already invested is projected to increase sales by over 18 percent immediately upon the close of this company. This means I reap benefits. They project my venture in this company will be recouped in profits in less than two years. The long-term benefits are increasingly fiscally rewarding. What do you think the employees of the Pennsylvania Company are hoping will happen?”

“They either want their company to go on as it is—or to be sold to someone who’ll keep it running.”

Tony said, “Good, why?”

“So they’ll keep their jobs.”

“The people on the manufacturing floor, custodians, secretaries, and other auxiliary employees played no part in the decisions which now have direct consequences on their lives.”

“Yes, but they have families, debts, and responsibilities.” Claire thought about Tony’s daily decisions and their far-reaching impact. “And I’m sure they’re all worried.”

“Exactly, just as you’re worried about this afternoon. What can the people in that plant do to help their situation?”

Claire thought about it. “Nothing—it isn’t in their hands.” The reality made her sad. Not for her—her situation suddenly seemed trivial, but for those forty-six people.

“Correct again. You’ve done all you can do.” He was now talking about this afternoon. “You’ve done much more than I ever imagined. Continue to behave as you have. If Emily or John do or say anything, it’s their doing, not yours.”

She thought about John’s words in the past and how she’d experienced consequences, just like those people were about to receive. Tony started to read again, but Claire had questions, “Tony?” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, but I have some questions.”

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“Go ahead.”

“So are you saying the actions of the people who don’t have control, have no consequence?”

He closed the screen of his laptop. “Are we talking about Pennsylvania or here?”

“Let’s start with Pennsylvania.”

“No—their actions may have great impact. A lot depends on the goal of the person who has control. Let’s say someone else with capital decides they’re interested in this company. More than likely, they’ll either personally visit, or as I did, send an envoy to investigate the company. If those employees are hardworking, loyal, and if this investor is interested in keeping the doors open, their actions will be an important piece of the equation when decisions are made. Their attitude could actually determine if their company will remain open. On the contrary, if the employees are dissatisfied and disgruntled, investors interested in maintaining the company will shy away.” Momentarily lost in thought, Tony continued. “One of the issues which affect these situations is the knowledge of the employees, or the people seemingly out of control. It’s interesting how many people live their lives completely unaware of decisions unfolding around them.” Claire listened as Tony went on and worried about these forty-six people and their families. “Now if they are aware and proactive, they may try to recruit investment on their own. I have controlling interest in a few such companies, funded by Rawlings Industries yet run and invested in by the employees. They now benefit from not only paychecks, but also dividends. It creates a wonderful incentive for hard work and dedication.”

Thinking out loud, Claire said, “So if I decided I was tired of shopping for clothes and wanted to shop for companies, I could go to Pennsylvania, offer them a little more than your low-ball bid, and keep the company going, assuming the employees are hardworking, loyal, and want to keep the doors open.” She smiled as she spoke.

Smiling in return, he said, “Well, yes, Mrs. Rawlings, I know you have the capital; however, if you use my bid as a baseline, you’ll end up arrested for insider trading. You can’t make an offer based on the offer of a competitor, unless it has been made public. Mine has not.”

With nothing more than concern in her voice, she asked, “How can you make a deal without considering the people and lives it affects?”

“It’s called business. It’s how we have what we have and will have much more.” He wasn’t gloating or harsh, just stating facts. “Closing that business is my concern, the people are not. If my bid is accepted, their presence is no longer needed.”

“So, there are times when innocent people reap the consequences of others due to no fault of their own.” Claire spoke from experience, yet now seeing the principle from a different perspective.

“Yes. It happens all the time.”

“All right, tell me about our situation. You’re comparing the two—you were saying my actions have no effect on the outcome of this afternoon, so not to worry about it?”

“No. I said not to worry about it. Your actions have already had a great effect on this afternoon.”

Claire saw his eyes, brown and genuine. She wanted more information. “Please, Mr. Rawlings, tell me what I’ve done to affect this afternoon.”

He sighed. “Claire, why are we going to Newburgh?”

“To see Emily and John.”

“That isn’t the entire answer.” He waited.

“We’re going because of me?”

“Of course, do you—on any level—believe this is my first choice of a Saturday afternoon activity?”

She knew it was not. “But it was your suggestion. We wouldn’t be going if you hadn’t allowed it.”

“You’re right, but we’re going because you want to. We’re going because you have patiently accepted every challenge—every test—and every ordeal which has come your way, and for the record—not all have been my doing—merely a byproduct of being Mrs. Rawlings. Apparently, it can be a difficult role.” She knew that too and smiled. He continued, “You’ve not just accepted—you’ve conquered.”

She didn’t know what to say. He complimented her regularly but she was never certain of his sincerity. He reached out, squeezed her hand, and continued, “You have exceeded any and every preconceived idea I have ever had about you. The one limitation I’ve placed on you that I recognize has caused you anguish is your sister. Truly, I have no ill feelings toward Emily. She can be excessively inquisitive, but you two share a bond.” He watched her eyes. “I told you months ago I’d try to be a better husband. I’ve spent most of my life only concerned with myself. I’m truly trying—even if it does not always appear so.”

She prayed her smile radiated into her eyes, but she could feel the moisture, too. “Tony, I love you. I know you’re trying. I’m contented with the strides you’ve made. That doesn’t mean I don’t hope for more. That may make me ungrateful, but I do. I think you’re amazing. That’s why I want you, Emily, John, and me to be a family. I want them to know the remarkable man I married.” She kissed him and he kissed her, too.

She still wasn’t confident in the outcome of their family reunion , but her expectations had improved, as had the feeling in her head; the ache had subsided. When they arrived, Emily and John were already seated at a private table with a wonderful view of the Hudson River. They greeted one another with hugs and handshakes. Tony watched as Claire’s eyes sparkled when she talked with her family.

Tony was civil, refined, and mannerly. To the unknowing observer he may have even seemed cordial and friendly. Claire was glad John and Emily qualified as unknowing. Tony was a master at appearances and was even the first to extend his hand and congratulate John on his accomplishments. “We’re still sorry you didn’t decide to join us at Rawlings Industries. I believe that despite what your sister-in-law said, you would’ve been a real asset.”

Claire smiled and shook her head at John. “I didn’t say a word. I was as shocked as you when I learned of the offer. Tony and Tom did their homework. Nevertheless, we definitely respect your decision and are thrilled with your success.”

John respectfully thanked them both. The job offer was a huge compliment and he was honored. He also accepted their congratulations on the result of his trial, but as far as partnership, nothing was currently set. He added with a grin, “The jury’s still out.”

Tony’s comment pleased Claire and cleared the air—allowing her to breathe easier. The four of them had a nice dinner. Claire told her sister and brother-in-law about their upcoming trip to Europe.

Emily said she spent a long weekend in Fishers, Indiana, visiting some old friends. She named a few and told Claire how they all sent her their best. The mention of her past life darkened Tony’s eyes a few shades. Claire didn’t pursue the subject, only smiled and nodded acceptably. Emily also commented on Claire’s hair, did she like it so blonde? Of course, it looked beautiful. Emily actually said that she looked stunning—but so different. Some of their old friends asked if it was really her in the pictures; the name was right, she just didn’t look the same. Claire wondered if that meant she wasn’t stunning before.

Claire asked how they liked the wedding pictures she sent. They both said they liked them very much. Emily even said she bought some new dresses to wear with her wedding shoes. She’s never owned shoes like those and planned to get Anthony’s money’s worth out of them.

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Tony smiled at Claire and commented, “What a great idea. Maybe Claire could decide to wear some of her shoes more than one time.” They all laughed. The mood was jovial. The dinner tasted delicious and catching up was fun.

In the car on their way back to Manhattan Claire told Tony, “Thank you, but I’m glad that’s done. It’s too much stress for me. Besides, I’m too excited about our trip!”

His eyes lightened again.

If that night needed to qualify as a type of consequence, Claire would call it positive. The next day, they flew east across the Atlantic.

Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact.

—William James

Chapter Forty

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In Paris, Tony booked their suite—more like an apartment—in the Second Arrondissement located in the heart of Paris. Many of the major attractions Claire wanted to visit were within walking distance. Tony gave her complete freedom to roam the city while he was in his meetings. At first, she worried about the language barrier; after all, he spoke French like a native; however, unlike the rumors she’d heard, as long as she attempted to speak their language, the French were polite and fluent in English.

She did her best to frequent the shops along Rue de Faubourgs Saint Honoré, but she found the styles too bold for her liking. After his business was complete, they experienced Paris together. They took romantic walks along the Seine and in the Tuileries Gardens. They also dined on amazing cuisine. The cultural differences fascinated her. Dinner didn’t begin until 8:30 PM, but earlier than that they could experience l’apéritif—from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM—where cafés and bistros offered their best ****tails or wine by the glass. Tony’s understanding of the French was not limited to their language. He was also well versed in their wines. Apparently, the French consider wine to be an adjunct to each meal and snack—it reminded Claire of college.

Paris claimed to be capital of romance, but Claire would suggest the Côte d’Azur or the French Riviera seek to take the title. Located in the southeastern corner of France on the Me***erranean coastline, it boggled her mind to think she was actually there in the playground for the wealthy. She didn’t realize Tony planned this portion of their trip with no business obligations, no meetings, commitments, or other recipients of his attention. He was totally devoted to her.

The French Riviera was a major yachting and cruising area. Unbeknownst to Claire, they reserved a private one-hundred-foot luxury sailing yacht, complete with their own captain and first mate. It would be their hotel for two nights. They boarded their yacht in Beau lier-sur Mer, a beautiful Me***erranean resort village.

They spent the next seventy-two hours lounging on the sea decks, enjoying the interior cabins, and cruising up the coast toward Italy. Some of the ports they viewed from their deck, others they stopped and explored. Cruising on a private yacht in the Me***erranean was amazing. Claire’s favorite port was Monaco. The entire experience seemed surreal. Being the second smallest independent state in the world, the entire city-state was less than one square mile. They were able to walk the hilly streets and enjoy many attractions. There were museums and palaces, as well as shopping. Tony relished Claire’s unabashed enthusiasm for Monte Carlo. Claire believed that Le Musée Oceanographic or the palace above the sea was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. She didn’t want to leave; however, their yacht was docked in the scenic harbor and waited to take them north to Italy.

The last port before Italy was Menton. It was nicknamed the Pearl of France and was famous for its gardens. Tony’s zeal at sharing nature with Claire amused her. His research told him that Jardin Serre de la Madone, often known as the Serre de la Madone (Hill of the Madonna), was a garden noted for its design and rare plantings. It wasn’t difficult for Claire to show the enthusiasm Tony expected.

Next, they flew to Sicily for the weekend. Landing at a small airport in Catania, Sicily, Tony arranged to have a Maserati Gran Turismo waiting. Actually, it was the Gran Cabrio, the open-air version of a small dynamic sports car. The rag top allowed them to tour the countryside and see everything as it came into view. Driving around Sicily and driving around Iowa proved dramatically different. Claire learned very quickly speed limits exceeded those found in the United States and didn’t seem to be strongly enforced. The one-lane winding roads always had someone wanting to pass or needing to be passed. Tony loved the challenge. Riding around the island with him that weekend made Claire feel like she truly put her life in his hands as never before.

The desire to drive never occurred to her the entire weekend.

Their hotel was in Taormina, located on a plateau below Mount Tauro on the east side of Sicily, on the coast of the Ionian Sea. Their suite rested high on a cliff with a splendid coastal view from their private glass railed balcony. It was known for its ancient Greek splendor, medieval charm, and unique views of Mount Etna. Tony was right about the water. The shades of blue and green were comparable to the waters in Fiji.

There were beaches nearby which offered the sunbathing Tony mentioned; however, Claire suggested they spend their time seeing other attractions. They spent hours walking the endlessly winding medieval streets and tiny passages. Thankfully, most were inaccessible by car. They discovered garden treasures hidden behind stone walls and terraces overlooking the coast. The Greek Amphitheater built in the third-century BC offered breathtaking views of Mount Etna and the sea. The history and age of the amphitheater had Claire talking about the youth of America.

Tony listened to her enthusiasm and watched her energy as she held his hand and walked through miles of history. The sightseeing was new to him. He traveled for business, not pleasure. Claire’s presence made all of this new and fun for him too. One of his goals for their trip was making her happy. Another was creating good memories.

The evenings in Taormina were enchanting. Together, they strolled the illuminated streets and indulged in delicious cuisine. They watched in awe as lava left a stream of steam and light in its wake as it flowed along the snow covered slopes of Mount Etna.

Hesitantly, granting Tony the pleasure of driving, they drove to Mount Etna, where they hiked. Claire was fascinated to learn ancient Greeks believed the mountain was home to the one-eyed monster known as the Cyclops. Her father loved mythology. He’d read stories of Cyclops to her as a child. It astounded her that she was actually walking around the foothills of a mythological site. With Mount Etna being an active volcano, the height of the summit changed with each eruption. The lava created beautiful solidified structures. These structures were called gorges, and at Alcantara Gorge, Claire and Tony walked around and touched the basalt gorges and columns which were formed after thousands of years of rushing waters. They waded in the Alcantara River and experienced the coolness of the water coming from the snow topped peaks.

On Sunday night they flew to Florence where Tony had more meetings. Not reading any of her books, Claire kept busy with museums and sidewalk cafes. While sitting and enjoying a coffee at a sidewalk café, Claire noticed the signs advertising Wi-Fi. She saw people with their laptops and the wall of available computers. This vacation had allowed her more personal freedom than she’d experienced since originally arriving at Tony’s. He hadn’t mentioned any restrictions, yet he had mentioned restrictions to Internet use thousands of times at home. Claire decided she would spend her time in Italy seeing Italy. She could access the Worldwide Web from Iowa and hoped someday that would be an option. Today, she would enjoy Florence.