[English] Consequences

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Jan poured the ladies coffee and cleared the table. Claire and Emily sat at the table, drank coffee, and tried to catch up. Once they were alone, Claire knew the conversation would be more difficult to dodge.

Emily was full of questions. How was her little sister, a meteorologist in Atlanta, suddenly engaged to one of the wealthiest men in the country? How did they meet? Where has she been living? Why hasn’t she been in contact? Why is she so thin? Why is her hair blonde? Did she really like living this way, being waited on and having house staff do everything? She always liked cooking. Now she says she hasn’t cooked, why? What is Anthony like? Why were they marrying so fast? Is she pregnant? Isn’t he much older than her? Did she love him?

Claire did her best to be evasive with some answers and more detailed with others. Above all, she told Emily she did love him. It didn’t start that way. It was strictly a working relationship. Tony could be a wonderful, kind, romantic, and gentle man. She also told Emily that Tony was very private and begged her to not repeat anything about their relationship to the media or anyone else. Claire didn’t understand at first how tenacious the media could be, but the longer she’d been with Tony, the more apparent it had become.

Claire asked again, “Please, Emily, not for Tony, but for me—please don’t share private information with anyone else.”

Emily said she understood. She was very happy to hear Claire sound so happy and excited about Anthony and their wedding; however, what about her weight? She was too thin, and what about meteorology? Did she plan to ever work again in her chosen field?

Claire was tired of all the questions. Formulating answers made her head hurt. She wanted to hear about Emily and John.

Emily proceeded to tell her stories about John and the law firm and about her class and teaching. She also talked about some of their friends in Troy and Albany—people Claire knew when she lived with them. Emily even talked about some friends back in Indiana. Claire laughed as they remembered stories from childhood. The names were people Claire hadn’t thought about in some time. Her mind wandered, thinking about the guest list for the wedding. She wondered if she had anyone to invite—other than Emily and John. When she thought about college friends it reminded her of Mere***h. Claire knew Mere***h hadn’t intended for her sneak interview to produce such drastic consequences—nevertheless—it did. Perhaps college friends were better not invited.

The ladies joined the men when they thought the game was nearing its end; however, it was far from over—it was getting interesting. Both men seemed to be cheering for the Saints. Claire had wondered how John and Tony would get along. They were both incredibly strong willed. Tony was not accustomed to being anything less than the alpha male. Thankfully, John seemed to respect Tony, after all he was Anthony Rawlings.

Claire loved and respected John. Ever since the death of her father and her grandfather, John was the man of their family, an omnipresent influential part of her life. Now, seeing him next to Tony, she reconsidered her assessment. Tony dominated in structure—probably four inches taller—and in demeanor—more self-assured.

They both shouted at the screen as the Saints regained the lead with less than two minutes to go. Then, the room fell silent when it appeared the game would be tied with a field goal. The Dallas kicker missed the field goal—wide left—and the men simultaneously stood and cheered. Seeing these two men united in a common goal, Claire felt her chest swell with delight. After the game they sat in front of a warm fire and enjoyed the lovely view of the city and delicious dessert. As Claire sipped coffee, forgoing dessert, Emily told Tony all about the pies Claire used to bake. She explained what a great cook and baker Claire was. Tony seemed very interested in this new information.

They discussed the plans for the next day. Tony needed to work, and John graciously agreed to stay at the hotel and do some work also. Tony explained that Eric, their chauffeur, would bring Claire to the Vandersol’s hotel and pick Emily up for the bridal boutique. Emily offered to take a taxi—it was no problem—but Claire and Tony insisted. It was settled. Claire would be at the Hyatt Regency at 9:00 AM to pick her up. Their appointment was for 10:00 AM.

Tony then asked if he and Claire could join them for dinner Friday night since they planned to go back to Iowa Saturday morning. Claire now understood why Tony was so vague about their travel plans. John and Emily agreed.

Before they left, Emily hugged Claire like she didn’t want to let go. “I’ve missed you so much. We’re all we have left. Let’s not stay out of touch again.” Her green eyes shone with sincerity.

Claire’s began to tear. She wanted to say so much, but knew she was supposed to be elusive. Before she could speak, Tony injected, “Emily, we have a wedding in three weeks. I bet you’ll be tired of hearing from Claire after that!” He laughed.

They all laughed.

Tony offered John and Emily, Eric for the ride back to their hotel, and John politely declined. After Jan retrieved their coats, John and Emily left. When the door shut, Claire turned to Tony. “Thank you! Thank you so much. This was absolutely the best Thanksgiving ever. I can’t believe you surprised me like this.”

He smiled, but she saw the message in his eyes. “Your sister is extremely inquisitive.”

Claire agreed, “I know, my head hurts from working so diligently on appropriate answers.”

Kissing her cheek, Tony suggested, “My dear, you should take an aspirin and retire to our room. I’ll be up shortly. I have some pressing matters in my office that I must attend.”

“I will,” she replied obediently, however, first, Claire went to the kitchen to thank Jan for her hard work. She told her that she really appreciated all Jan did to make their Thanksgiving special. Jan seemed genuinely touched and surprised by Claire’s appreciation. While walking up the stairs, Claire thought about the estate and the top-notch surveillance. Her stomach twisted as she wondered if Tony’s pressing work was to review video footage of her conversation with Emily in the dining room. Claire told herself if it was—it would be all right—she’d followed all his rules.

A sister shares childhood memories and grown-up dreams.

—Author unknown

Chapter Twenty-Six

‡

Friday morning, Tony left the apartment early, so Eric could drive Claire and Emily to the boutique. On her way to Emily’s hotel, Claire contemplated her fiancé. By the time he came to bed the night before, she was sleeping. She faintly remembered him kissing her and turning out the lights. Maybe he hadn’t been reviewing surveillance. Maybe he was doing actual work—on Thanksgiving night? No matter, she was relieved that when he came to bed, he wasn’t upset. This morning, before leaving, he hugged her tight and told her to have fun with her sister choosing her wedding gown. Claire wanted to believe her life was as it appeared.

Traffic to the hotel was crazy. Until Claire saw the multitude of people, she’d forgotten all about Black Friday. The department stores were inundated with hoards of shoppers. Seeing the mayhem around her, made their destination of a private boutique all that more appealing.

The associates at the boutique would be totally devoted to them. None of this mad rush she witnessed from the windows of the limousine. Smiling faintly, she fondly remembered Black Friday shopping with her mom and Emily when she was young. To save twenty-five, fifty, or a hundred-dollars, they would wake at three in the morning and stand in multiple lines. Although it sounded unpleasant—the memories were warm.

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Eric approached the Hyatt Regency a few minutes before 9:00 AM. Emily wasn’t waiting. “Miss, would you like me to go to the front desk and inquire of Mrs. Vandersol?”

Claire thought a moment. “No, we’ll give her a few minutes, and then I’ll go in.” Emily hadn’t read the Anthony Rawlings’s rules of punctuality memo. Claire decided she deserved some slack. Five minutes after 9:00 AM, Emily emerged from the lobby. Eric quickly got out of the car and opened the door. Emily entered the limousine and hugged Claire. She looked around at the leather seats and splendor.

“Seriously, this is how you get around New York City?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t feel ostentatious? Perhaps you haven’t heard but our country is in the midst of an economic downturn.”

Eric pulled away from the curb, and they entered the magnitude of cars. It wasn’t the stop-and-go traffic causing Claire’s neck muscles to tighten—more the sudden onset of defensiveness. “Emily, please don’t judge me or Tony. I want you to be part of our wedding. Let’s have fun looking for dresses.”

Emily exhaled and sat back on the seat. “Claire, I want to. I really do.”

Claire could tell there was a but coming—

*

Emily continued, “But, John and I sat up for hours discussing you and Anthony.”

Sitting straighter, Claire asked, “What did the two of you decide?”

“We decided we love you. We’re so happy Anthony invited us to get to see you, but there is one of our concerns.” Claire raised her eyebrows, Emily inquired, “Why did Anthony need to invite us? Why couldn’t you?”

Claire’s head almost touched the ceiling, she sat so straight. Looking Emily directly in the eye, she replied, “Emily, that’s ridiculous. I could. I told you things have just been busy. With his schedule, we’re all over the place, as I’m sure you’ve read about in the media. I didn’t even know until last week Tony was needed in New York”—then to clarify, she added—“He didn’t know until last week. He has a lot on his plate.”

“Uh…hmmm, please know we’re just concerned. It seems like you’re a different person.” The conversation paused and Emily continued, “That isn’t necessarily bad, but it makes us uncomfortable.” Claire was still Emily’s little sister; however, she was now polished and refined. The stylish, elegant, and worldly woman commuting in limousines didn’t seem like the woman of months before. Emily continued to explain her concern, “I’ve tried to learn about Anthony Rawlings. Everything I found about him on Google is business related. He has an impressive reputation as a businessman, but I can’t find anything about him personally.”

“Emily, he’s an impressive private man, too. I must emphasize private. He asked me to join him in his private—personal life. I want you and John there. You must respect the importance of his confidentiality.”

They sat in standstill traffic. “Okay, we can do that. We still worry about you. Don’t you get to have a life too?”

*

Claire felt her blood pressure rise. She needed to defend the life she’d despised for months. It was time to utilize the compartmentalization—bring out the good stuff. “Just because I haven’t contacted you, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life. I do. I have a very full and rewarding life. I live in a beautiful home. We attend a number of events and functions. I’ve met wonderful friends in the Quad Cities area.” She surveyed Emily’s reaction. “I’m not doing meteorology—currently—but I’m working with Tony. As I said, he’s a very busy man, with a busy schedule.” She didn’t need to offer more explanation.

The car moved again. Emily stared incredulously, “Are you living with Anthony? How long have you been living with him?”

Claire exhaled; as much as it killed her, she knew she couldn’t spend her day like this. It was too much work, and although it was early, her head pounded. “Okay, Emily. I’m sorry this didn’t work.” Claire pushed the button and opened the window to the front of the car. “Eric, we have a change of plans. You may drop me off at the boutique, but Mrs. Vandersol will be going back to the Hyatt.”

Emily stared at Claire in disbelief.

Eric answered, “Yes, miss.”

Claire shut the window, sat back against the seat, and didn’t speak or look at Emily. She should be sad, but truly she was mad. Claire realized she’d behaved like Tony. Perhaps she was being too cautious about his rules, but she knew too well—behaviors had consequences. Given the choice, she’d choose to err on the side of Tony.

“Claire, I’m sorry. You’re obviously a strong independent woman. I think of you as—my kid sister—someone who needs us to look out for her. Anthony Rawlings is lucky to have you in his life. I still don’t understand how it all happened, and I don’t care how wonderful he is. He’s the fortunate one in this relationship. I love you and want to be a part of your wedding. If this is what you want, we’ll support you 100 percent.”

Claire was too emotional to be completely like Tony. Overwhelmed with a sense of relief, she reached over, hugged Emily, and smiled. “Good! Let’s put this behind us and have fun looking at dresses!” Pushing the button again, she said, “Eric, we’re both going to the bridal boutique.” She closed the window.

“One more thing though.” Concern showed in Emily’s green eyes. Claire exhaled; she didn’t want to hear one more thing. “John is planning to speak to you tonight about your prenuptial agreement.”

“What? I don’t know anything about that—he should talk to Tony”—Claire thought about that scenario—“On second thought—no—tell him not to worry about it. I totally trust Tony, and I honestly could care less about his money. It’s really not an issue; just tell John to forget it.”

Emily said, “I will, but I can’t make any promises. John’s an attorney and he thinks of you as his kid sister. He only wants what’s best for you.”

The entrance to the boutique was a grand ten foot high door surrounded by limestone. Above the door was a street number, but no visible store name. There were no gowns in the window or advertisements evident. It was a completely different experience from when they’d shopped for Emily’s dress. Claire knew from past boutique shopping to enter the boutique you needed to ring the bell; however, Eric had called ahead and as he parked the car at the curb and opened the door for Claire and Emily, the door of the boutique opened.

A woman in her fifties or sixties dressed in posh business attire rushed out to welcome Ms. Nichols to their modest boutique. She introduced herself, Sharon Springhill. As she ushered the women into the shop, she gushed, “Ms. Nichols, we’re so happy to receive Mr. Rawlings’s call, yesterday. Since that moment we have worked diligently to create a collection especially for you. We truly hope that you, the future Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, will find the dress of your dreams today.”

Claire did her best to play the person she’d become. Looking at Emily and sensing her sister’s uneasiness, Claire decided this was an opportunity to educate her. “Ms. Springhill, I’m very excited to be here today. Mr. Rawlings told me the wonderful reputation of your boutique. I appreciate you taking the time to personally assist me on this holiday weekend.”

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Ms. Springhill thanked Claire for the kind words. (Emily witnessed Claire’s ease with the situation.)

“Now, Ms. Springhill, this is my sister, Mrs. Vandersol. She will be my matron-of-honor. Perhaps Mr. Rawlings informed you that our wedding will be on December 18. I’m hopeful you’ll not only be able to assist me with my dress, but also one for my sister.” (Emily would experience the treatment Claire endured.)

Emily was immediately met with her own entourage of associates. Claire smiled at her sister as their eyes met and Emily shook her head. Mrs. Springfield offered the women coffee, water, tea, and champagne. Next, they were escorted to seats in front of an open area that reminded Claire of a dance floor in a hotel reception hall.

Ms. Springhill explained that she put together a collection especially for Mrs. Rawlings. It included many of the top wedding gown designers: Vera Wang, Oscar de la Renta, Manuel Mota, Monique Lhuiller, Maggie Sultero, Winnie Couture, and Mieko, as well as others. “Please sit back and relax while models display the most extravagant and stunning wedding gowns you’ve ever seen. Feel free to make any requests. If you choose, you may see any gowns again, and please touch the magnificent fabrics”—her enthusiasm flowed through her words—“Ms. Nichols, once you narrow the selection, you may try on those gowns. We’ll then take your measurements so that the gown of your dreams will be tailored specifically for you. Also, if you desire a certain gown but would like something changed, the designer can be contacted and every effort will be made to accommodate your desire.”

Mrs. Springhill continued, “After the wedding gowns—we’ll gladly repeat the process for Mrs. Vandersol. Is there anything we can get you to make you ladies more comfortable?”

“No, Mrs. Springhill; we’re very excited to see the gowns.”

The decision proved incredibly difficult. Most of the gowns were exquisite. Actually, some were a little strange, Claire and Emily exchanged glances; however, most were elegant. There were glamorous gowns with bold contrasts in volume, rich fabrics such as lace, organza, or heron, and the finest accessories. Some were covered with drapes bound with precious-stone details, natural folds, pleats, ruffles, or tulle.

There were fashionable gowns with very thin and light materials in fluid, sheer, and mermaid-cut styles. These were made with soft fabrics like chiffon, pleated chiffon, or morbid tulle. They accentuated curves, had impeccable details such as asymmetrical necklines, floral appliqué, feathers, or rich gemstone embroideries.

The Oscar de la Renta and Monique Lhuiller gowns were created in an attempt to recreate a world of dreams and pure fantasy. These wedding dresses had flattering strapless necklines, meticulously enhancing the waist, and skirts with spectacular volume. They included stunning A-line and mermaid styles, lined with thousands of feathers, cascading ruffles, and magical applications. Claire thought they would make Cinderella or Belle proud.

The sisters watched models for two hours, and Claire felt overwhelmed. She created a short list of over ten dresses. Ms. Springhill suggested Ms. Nichols and Mrs. Vandersol enjoy a light lunch while they view the ten dresses again.

While dining on chicken salad on a bed of lettuce with a side of fruit and iced tea, Claire narrowed the race to four gowns which varied significantly in style and were created by top designers. Before Claire would try on the four dresses, they needed to see the matron-of-honor dresses. The dresses they viewed were mostly black or silver, but Ms. Springhill promised any color that Claire desired.

Claire smiled and turned to Emily. “That’s wonderful! We’ll be able to get pink!” Ms. Springhill didn’t know she was teasing. The two sisters snickered.

They narrowed it to a satin Oscar de la Renta gown with a tighter skirt, a Valentino gown with a lace overlay, and a Monique Lhuiller gown that would be perfect with Claire’s second choice. They realized Claire must choose her wedding gown first and then the matron-of-honor’s dress would be chosen to complement.

At 2:30 PM they began trying on gowns. When Claire looked at her watch, she had a sickening feeling the process was taking too long. She worried Tony would wonder where they were, or perhaps think they went somewhere else. Hoping to avoid suspicion, Claire decided to check in with Eric and let him know it would be a while before they needed to be picked up. She used the shop’s telephone to call. Emily offered her phone, since Claire left hers at the apartment, but Claire decided the shop’s phone would be better. The boutique’s number would appear on Eric’s caller ID. She worried if she called Eric on Emily’s phone her location maybe questioned, and if she used Emily’s phone, Tony might assume she used it for other calls. It bothered her that every move needed to be scrutinized for possible misinterpretations. She told herself perhaps they didn’t, but better safe than sorry.

“Hello, Eric, this is Claire.”

“Yes, Ms. Claire, are you ready to be picked up?”

“No, that’s why I’m calling. This has been a very difficult process. I assume we’ll be here another hour or perhaps two. I’ll call you when we’re done.”

“Yes, Ms. Claire, I will be there when you’re ready.”

Emily could overhear her every word. Claire wanted to ask Eric to call Tony, to let him know they were still at the boutique; however, she worried it might raise Emily’s suspicions. So, instead, she said, “Thank you, Eric.”

Claire found herself in an uncomfortable situation regarding the measuring for her gown. She had so many things to think about—the lack of undergarments slipped her mind. Claire asked Ms. Springhill what undergarments were usually worn with these dresses and told her she would like to purchase some now so the dress would fit as close as possible to how it would on her wedding day. Apparently, this wasn’t an unusual request. Ms. Springhill brought her a strapless body-shaper. Once that was on, Claire allowed the attendants to take her measurements. The entire conversation went unnoticed by Emily. She was occupied with attendants measuring and catering to her every need.

Claire tried on each gown, entered a large mirrored room, and stood on a platform. She could see herself from all directions. More than anything Claire wanted Tony’s opinion. He once said Catherine knew what he liked. Claire wished Catherine was there now, but she wasn’t. Instead, Claire had Emily, who repeatedly told her how beautiful she looked in each dress—which wasn’t helping. Claire told herself repeatedly, My wedding will happen in three weeks—I need to make a decision.

The service and choices were fantastic. Spending time with her sister was wonderful. The stress; however, caused her head to ache.

Claire narrowed the list to two—the chiffon Oscar de la Renta gown—and the Vera Wang gown. Perhaps it was the issue of a December wedding in the Midwest; however the Vera Wang gown had a beautiful lace overlay that provide long lace sleeves as well as a long delicate train. Sleeves for a winter wedding in Iowa appealed to Claire.

Ms. Springfield knew Claire’s measurements and promised she could produce either gown in time. Nevertheless, with such an accelerated timetable, she ever so politely, emphasized the importance of a quick decision and informed Claire that she’d need to return for ad***ional fittings. Claire replied that would be fine, but secretly wondered if Tony had anticipated that.

Next, they concentrated on Emily’s dress. Claire decided she really liked the Valentino dress with the lace overlay. It would complement either bridal gown. The next hurdle was color. There was a sudden realization that color had multiple implications—the decorations—the flowers—and the invitations usually all contained the same color scheme. Claire took color swatches and promised Ms. Springhill the color decision by Monday. Claire felt the impending tears—she had so many things to consider.

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At almost 4:00 PM, Eric arrived to retrieve them from the boutique. Claire was exhausted and overwhelmed. She hadn’t spent that much time out and away from home since her accident. Her head pounded violently to the point of nausea and she wanted a nap. True to her new persona, Claire didn’t show Emily or anyone the way she felt.

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t notice, as Claire tipped the staff at the boutique. After models, the tailor’s assistants, and of course Ms. Springfield, the total was over a thousand dollars. This didn’t include the cost of a dress. Once in the car Emily genuinely expressed her elation at their shopping experience. “Claire, that was amazing! I’ve never been treated like that before.” Emily seized Claire’s hand. “Can you imagine if some of those girls from high school could see you now?”

Claire feigned a smile. Things like that no longer seemed important. “It really isn’t that big of deal.”

“Oh, my God, Claire, you just tipped half my house payment!”

“Really, Emily, please, it isn’t that important.” Emily’s reaction made her uncomfortable.

“You know, Claire, the only people who say money isn’t important are people who have it.” She then asked Claire about her dress, “I want to wear the dress you like, but I’ll be honest, with flying to Iowa, staying there for I don’t know how long, and other expenses, I don’t know if we can afford a dress from there. I noticed there were no price tags. That’s never a good sign.”

The pounding in Claire’s head demanded her attention; she wasn’t thinking as she answered. Looking into the car’s refrigerator for something to drink and eat, Claire casually replied, “Emily, I don’t want you to worry about it. Tony will pay for the dresses. I can talk to him about flying you to Iowa and a place to stay too.”

She didn’t mean to, but she’d offended Emily. “Thank you, Claire, but my husband and I can afford to pay for ourselves.”

“Oh, please, Emily, I’m not trying to upset you. I know you can, but we’re springing this on you without warning. You can do whatever you want regarding the flight and stay, but please let Tony take care of the dress. He said he wants me to have my dream wedding—so please let him take care of the dress”—then she added with her smiling mask secured—“And, as I remember, you and John paid for my beautiful green dress some years ago.”

Emily grinned. “You’re right, we did. Of course, it was about a hundred and fifty dollars. You tipped almost ten times that today”—she exhaled—“I’m just not used to this new Claire—Give me a little time.”

Claire handed Emily a bottle of water and offered her some blueberries as she silently prayed, Please, let some food and water help my head. The water tasted cool and refreshing. Her mind drifted to coffee. She fantasized about the amazing fragrance and knew immediately it would make her feel better. She decided she would ask Jan for some coffee when she got back to the apartment.

The traffic flowed much better than it had early in the morning. Before they reached the Hyatt, Emily received a call from John. He asked Emily when she’d be back. She told him they were close, and it had been a long day. John reminded her they were supposed to have dinner with Claire and Anthony, and asked if she knew any of the details? Emily said she didn’t, but Claire promised to call them as soon as she got back to the apartment.

Emily gave Claire her cell number as she got out of the limousine and told Claire it was a great day, and she looked forward to their dinner tonight. They hugged and Emily went into the hotel. As Eric pulled away, Claire laid her head against the seat and tears leaked from her eyes as they closed. Her head throbbed and she felt utterly spent. Somewhere between the Hyatt and Tony’s apartment building Claire fell into a sound sleep.

“Ms. Claire, we have reached Mr. Rawlings’ apartment.” She heard Eric’s voice. Claire opened her eyes but was immediately disoriented. Trying to familiarize herself with her surroundings, she soon realized she was in the limousine, outside Tony’s apartment building. The cool November air from the open door helped Claire focus. She entered the building and went up to the seventy-sixth floor. As the elevator opened, Claire’s face suddenly flushed and her heart rate increased. Standing at the open door to his apartment was Tony.

I think I’ve discovered the secret of life—you just hang around until you get used to it.

—Charles M. Shulz

Chapter Twenty-Seven

‡

Seeing your fiancé across the room should make your heart race. Seeing her fiancé standing in the doorway did that to Claire; however, instead of accelerated by love though—she presumed it was anxiety. Upon entering the building, her watch read 5:30 PM. Her thoughts churned slowly through her aching head. Obviously, he finished his work. She wanted to get home first—she had Eric. How did he get home?

“Good evening, Claire.” His expression indifferent, she couldn’t read him.

Her mask was secure. The nap had helped her headache, no longer did it pound—now it only gently ached. “Good evening, Tony.” She reached up to kiss him and he bent down to accommodate her.

“You look beat. Did you find a gown?” He led her into the apartment. Claire exhaled and tried to explain the complexity of the day. The boutique was wonderful—too wonderful—with a selection that was too large. He helped her with her coat, gave it to Jan, and escorted her up the stairs to the bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, Claire remembered coffee.

“Oh, just a minute”—she said to Tony. Then she called down the stairs—“Jan?” Claire stopped and went back down the stairs. Again she called, “Jan?”

The housekeeper returned to the foyer. “Yes, Ms. Claire?”

“I need something from my coat pocket, please.” Still holding her coat, Jan handed it back. Claire removed a small piece of paper from one of the pockets. “Thank you, could you please bring coffee upstairs?”

Jan replied affirmatively and disappeared with Claire’s coat.

Claire proceeded up the stairs to Tony where he waited patiently—silently watching her. She handed him the piece of paper. He took it, unfolded it, and asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s Emily’s cell number. She gave it to me so I could call her with details of tonight’s plans.” Tony’s expression didn’t change as he wadded the paper, put it in the pocket of his slacks, and continued to escort Claire up the stairs. She wasn’t sure what his actions meant; however, his lack of response probably meant the end of that conversation. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I had no idea this would be such a long day.”

Tony said that it was all worth it if she found her wedding gown. She told him she had it narrowed to two. The boutique had her measurements, and all they needed was a call to let them know her decision; however, Ms. Springhill emphasized she must do it soon. Claire told Tony she would appreciate his opinion. He told her he trusted her judgment.

She sat on the edge of the bed, exhaled, and lay back. The coolness of the room combined with the firmness of the bed helped Claire relax. She closed her eyes and hoped the coffee would help her head.

“Eric told me you fell asleep after Emily left the car.” He sat next to her on the bed, stroking her hair.

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Claire breathed a sigh of relief—he didn’t seem upset. The tension in her head began *****bside. “I’m sorry if that was wrong, but my head hurt so badly, I could hardly focus on Emily.”

“Of course, it’s fine. You’re alone and exhausted. I told you, I don’t want you overdoing. You aren’t 100 percent yet”—he kissed her head—“I spoke to your brother-in-law and moved our reservations back to 8:00 PM. Maybe you should continue your nap for a little while. We don’t need to leave until 7:30 PM.”

Claire thought about it. Dinner wasn’t for another two hours, but she decided a shower would be more beneficial; she’d already had a nap. They talked as Jan knocked on their door and entered with a coffee carafe, cream, and two mugs. She sat them on a table near the windows and inquired if they needed anything else. Learning they didn’t, Jan left.

The open drapes exposed a spectacular view filled with darkness, even though it wasn’t even 6:00 PM. The New York City lights glittered below, evidence of inhabitants racing from place to place. Claire held her mug of coffee, inhaled the rich aroma, and fell silent, mesmerized by the sight. This time of year, with shorter dreary days, had always been a difficult time for her. She loved sunshine; it made her joyful. This year she’d missed most of the autumn sun and now the bleakness of winter was rapidly descending.

To her, dark was contrary to light. Therefore, instead of joy, it brought sorrow. That’s why she liked Atlanta. Standing at the window, looking at a magnificent skyline, and sipping her warm mug of coffee, Claire thought about being sad. Immediately, she began to chastise herself. She should be happy about her wedding and her reunion with Emily; however, what she really wanted was to be back in Iowa. She didn’t want the pressure of choosing a dress and dealing with Emily’s constant questions. She no longer yearned for the warmth of Atlanta, but she longed for the warmth of her fireplace and lack of pretense.

In the reflection of the tall window, Claire saw Tony approaching. He stood close behind her and put his arms around her waist; she rested her head against his sturdy chest. Tony’s voice sounded soft and affectionate, “What are you thinking about? You seem far away.”

“I don’t want to say. You’ll think I’m ungrateful.” She put her mug down on the table and turned to face him. Tony lifted her eyes to his. “I appreciate honesty above all.” He wasn’t being authoritative—only candid. Looking into her tired eyes he lightly kissed her lips. “And let me decide what I think.”

She continued to hold his gaze. The brown of his eyes that matched the color of her coffee—lightened by cream—gave her strength to be honest. “I want to go home.” His expression changed slightly. She knew he was contemplating her definition of home. “Tony, I want to go back to your home—I want to be back in Iowa.”

He smiled and hugged her. “Why would that make you ungrateful?”

“I loved your surprise—seeing Emily and John has been great, but, things have changed. Emily asks so many questions and seems so dismayed by my life—it feels as though we’re no longer connected. She said I’ve changed—I don’t know—I just know I’d rather be home.”

Tony had released her chin and Claire’s face rested—buried in his chest. The thumping of his heart filled her with security. As she closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat, she couldn’t see his face or his satisfied smile.

She continued, “If we could, I’d cancel our dinner plans for tonight.”

He lifted her chin again and said, “You know that isn’t an option. We’ve made a commitment and we’ll honor it, but, I’m happy to know you want to be home with me—to our home. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Claire nodded her head and said that yes—she knew. After a few moments, she picked up her mug of coffee and went to the bathroom for a shower.

Once there, she noticed the large garden tub. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen it before—it had been there all along—but it looked very inviting. Starting the warm water she decided to find out where they are going. When she opened the door to ask, Tony was sitting on the bed with his back to her. He had her purse open, the contents strewn on the bed, searching for something—perhaps something Claire had that she shouldn’t have had—maybe evidence of her being somewhere with Emily, instead of the bridal boutique. There was nothing—she’d followed his rules. Claire considered saying something—confronting him about privacy—instead she quietly closed the door and thanked God she’d given him the paper with the telephone number.

Eric pulled up to the restaurant on the Upper East Side at approximately 7:45 PM. Claire was very pleased with Tony’s plans for the evening. First, the quaint, casual seafood restaurant was away from the hustle and bustle of the busy streets, and second, it wasn’t as elegant as their normal dining establishments. Claire also approved of Tony’s choice of attire, they both wore jeans. When they left the bedroom, Claire told Tony again how much she liked him in jeans. He reminded her how much he liked her out of them. Their eyes sparkled.

Although their reservation had been moved to 8:00 PM, and although the Hyatt wasn’t far, Emily and John weren’t there yet. Since their table wasn’t ready, Tony and Claire went to the bar to wait. Tony directed Claire to one unoccupied stool at the end of the bar. She sat while he stood beside her, ordered himself a designer beer and Claire a glass of Zinfandel.

Sitting at the bar reminded Claire of the Red Wing. Compartmentalize. Truly, she felt much better than she had earlier; perhaps it was the nap, the bath, the coffee, Tony’s understanding—regarding her long day, or just some time to relax away from questions. Whatever the cause, her spirit felt revived and ready for the evening. They chatted about the different bottles of liquor lining the bar. While Claire recalled some of her bartending knowledge, she talked about most of the liquors from the first-person. She commented on drinks she liked, ones she didn’t, and why. Tony seemed amused that she’d tried so many. After all, he said, “You’ve only been legally drinking for six years.”

Claire smiled and repeated the word legally. They were chatting and laughing when John and Emily approached.

Proceeding with the customary round of hellos and handshakes, Emily and John ordered drinks, stood conversing about nothing in particular, and before long their table was ready. John, Emily, and Claire went to the table while Tony stayed back to pay the bar tab.

Once the hostess took them to their table, Claire excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. As she exited the bathroom—which was located down a narrow hall—she was surprised to find John waiting for her. “Well, hi—did you think I was lost?” Claire started to pass him, thinking they were going back to the table, when John reached for her arm and stopped her.

“Claire, I really need to talk to you without Anthony present.”

Her stomach twisted. “No, John, you don’t.”

He spoke soft and fast. “Yes, I do. Tell me you haven’t yet signed a prenuptial agreement.”

“I haven’t.”

“Good, I want to review it first. Emily said you don’t think it’s necessary, and I should drop it, but I’m your brother. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. Let someone who has your best interests at heart make sure you’re represented.”

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“Thank you, John. I believe Tony has my best interests at heart. I don’t care about his money, I trust him, and I—” Claire saw the change in John’s expression. Oh God! She knew by the increased twisting in her stomach Tony was behind her. When she turned, she looked directly at his chest—he was right behind her.

Continuing Claire’s sentence, Tony said, “And I believe this conversation would be better held in a private setting.” His voice exuded displeasure; however, they were standing in the hallway of a public restaurant. Claire knew that in this setting he wouldn’t be loud, rude, or aggressive.

She looked up to see his face and watched the brown disappear behind the expanding blackness. “Tony—” Claire started to speak—saw his warning expression—and immediately stopped.

Tony continued, “Shall we all go to our table? I believe our waitress would like to introduce herself. John, you and Emily are welcome to join us in our car. We’ll be glad to drive you back to your hotel following dinner. At that time, if you choose, you may continue your legal counsel.”

Claire prayed he would not choose to continue. She knew from experience, there were some things not worth pursuing.

John looked from Tony—to Claire—and back to Tony. Sounding strong and defiant, he replied, “That would be fine, Anthony. I appreciate the offer. We’ll be glad to join you.” He then lightened his tone. “Emily told me you have a very nice car.” They all walked toward the table.

“Thank you, it isn’t mine. I lease cars in the city. Too many accidents with all the traffic…” And the conversation continued benignly to the table and throughout dinner.

Claire knew Tony, and she knew he was angry. To the casual onlooker, he appeared fine. He excelled at the art of maintaining appearances. He chatted, listened, laughed, and watched. Every now and then, his and Claire’s eyes would connect. She wanted to tell him she was sorry—she hadn’t asked for the counsel—but of course, she maintained her mask and didn’t approach the subject. Emily didn’t know about the hallway conversation and innocently conversed.

By the end of dinner Emily and Claire decided Claire would wear the Vera Wang dress. She liked the lace sleeves, and they agreed it would be best for a winter wedding. They also decided on the dress for Emily. Tony had printed off all the contact information for the boutique, and Claire gave it to Emily. She explained that unfortunately Emily would need to return to the city one or two more times for fittings. Emily said it would be all right.

John asked what time in the morning their flight was back to Iowa. Claire looked at Tony. She didn’t want to say, “Oh, we can go anytime. It’s Tony’s jet.” He answered, “We plan to leave early. This wedding is coming together very fast. Our wedding planner will be at the house tomorrow at 2:00 PM. Luckily, we gain an hour on our way back.” Claire sighed—he was good. She also decided he either genuinely started to relax or he could fool her too; regardless, he appeared very accommodating.

After their appetizers, salads, and main entrée, they all had coffee. Surprisingly, after the uncomfortable hallway confrontation, the dinner went well. Earlier, back at the apartment, Claire had shared Emily’s comments regarding the cost of the wedding with Tony. He hadn’t said much other than to acknowledge her concerns, but apparently he’d developed a plan. “John and Emily, I want to thank you for joining us this Thanksgiving. It means so much to Claire. She’s told me about the loss of your family—the two of you are important to her”—Claire listened intently, as did the two of them—“I can be impulsive. I must admit after so many years of bachelorhood, I’m delighted to have met the one woman I want to spend my life beside”—he looked at Claire and smiled. She smiled in return—“That’s why Claire agreed *****ch a fast wedding. That can be difficult on those people closest to us. You may have had plans for that weekend, and I doubt you were planning a trip to Iowa”—he had everyone’s attention—“Therefore, I would be honored if you’d allow me to take care of your travel plans to and from Iowa. I’m speaking for Claire, but I believe she’d like you to be there a few days before the ceremony. Our home isn’t near hotels. Please know you’re invited to stay with us. We have room.” He sounded gallant and magnanimous.

Claire reached for his hand under the table and squeezed. He squeezed back and held her hand. She didn’t know how John would respond, but she was exceedingly pleased with her fiancé. Tony added, “And while I have your attention, I want to give Claire her dream wedding. Please allow me to take care of any wedding apparel and accessories.”

At first, Emily and John said nothing. Claire knew it was killing John. He was a successful attorney, but they had education loans they were still paying. They had a mortgage, car loans, probably cre*** cards. Tony had more money than he could spend in a lifetime. She prayed they would accept.

Finally, John spoke, “Anthony, thank you very much. It’s difficult for me to accept your generosity.”

Tony had one more ploy. “John, haven’t I heard stories about Claire living with the two of you for a year after college?”

John said, “Yes.”

“Perhaps you could justify this as an overdue rent payment?” Tony smiled. Claire wanted to cry; instead, she beamed at John and Emily. They had to see how wonderful Tony could be.

John and Emily exchanged glances. Finally, it was Emily who accepted. “Thank you. You have our numbers. Please let us know the details.” The conversation was done. As they all stood to leave, Claire thought about the bill; apparently, it was taken care of without anyone realizing—one less confrontation.

Since Tony had contacted Eric, he had the car waiting outside. Claire hoped the polite attitude of the dinner would continue into the car. The women got in first, followed by John, who sat by Emily, and Tony, who sat by Claire. As soon as Eric pulled away from the curb John began speaking. His voice was strong and direct, as if he were addressing a jury or judge, “Anthony, I apologize for ambushing Claire in the hallway, and Claire, I apologize for making you uncomfortable”—Emily completely unaware, looked at John with horror in her eyes. Claire exhaled and sat back, thinking only, oh God, he is going to pursue this. She deferred to Tony—“But I’ve known Claire since she was a small girl. I’ve done my best to look out for Emily and Claire, especially since the death of their parents. I love her like a sister”—he smiled at Claire, then looked back to Tony with all seriousness—“I’m an attorney, and I believe Claire deserves rightful representation regarding the legal ramifications of your marriage.”

Claire remained silent. Tony spoke, “John, I definitely appreciate the fact that Claire has someone else who cares about her well-being. I must emphasize—she will be my wife and I will look out for her. I can assure you, we have an entire team of attorneys who will represent her in any necessary legal circumstance.”

John continued undeterred, “With all due respect, your legal team will look out for your best interests—as they should. Claire is obviously in love with you and trusts your decisions.”

“Are you implying you do not trust my decisions?”

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“No, I’m not implying. I’m saying as Claire’s brother-in-law and attorney I should review the prenuptial agreement prior to her signature.”

Claire didn’t feel good about this discussion—maybe she could help. “Thank you, John, for your concern. I do trust Tony—” She immediately knew she shouldn’t have spoken.

Tony continued, “Your concern is admirable, and your persistence is commendable. As Claire’s attorney—not her brother-in-law—I’ll inform you that we do not plan on having a prenuptial agreement. I want Claire to have half of everything. I don’t plan on divorcing her, leaving her, or her leaving me. I believe she should be my partner in every way with everything. As of December 18 she will have half of everything I possess.”

John sat in silence and stared at Tony. He obviously hadn’t expected that information. Finally, he spoke, “Have you consulted your team of legal counsel?”

“Excuse me? Are you asking as Claire’s attorney?”

“No, I’m asking as your future brother-in-law. I know Claire. I know she’s a wonderful woman who’s in love, but as an attorney, a man of your wealth should not enter a business deal without a contract, and you should not enter a marriage without a prenuptial agreement.”

Tony smiled, amused. Claire knew—amusement did not necessarily imply a good thing. Maybe it was all a figment of her imagination—perhaps she would wake and this would all have been a nightmare. Emily sat in awe, dumbfounded by the verbal debate transpiring before her.

Tony decided the conversation was over. “John, thank you for your advice—thank you for your legal consultation. Your care and concern for Claire is duly noted and welcomed. I look forward to more lively debates with you in the future. May I make one suggestion?”

John said yes; however, his answer was inconsequential. The statement formed as a question was purely rhetorical. Tony would offer his suggestion either way.

“These conversations should and will take place in private.”

John agreed.

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, Emily broke the uneasy stillness. “Claire, it’s been so nice to see you. I’m going to miss you.” She reached out for Claire’s hand and squeezed. “I can’t wait until we’re together again for the wedding”—she turned to Tony—“If we’re still welcome?”

He smiled. Claire didn’t need to see, to know his eyes didn’t. “Of course, we look forward to your visit.”

Once the Eric reached their hotel, he opened the door and Tony got out. Emily and John both hugged Claire on their way out and Emily whispered, “Please call more.”

Claire feigned a smile and nodded. She wasn’t sure she could speak without emotion. Both John and Emily shook Tony’s hand as they went into the hotel.

After Tony got back in the car and Eric shut the door, Tony laid his head back on the seat. Claire knew she should remain quiet; however, she wanted to tell him how pleased she was with all he’d said—she did trust his decisions—and she didn’t care about the money. Nevertheless, one glance toward her fiancé reaffirmed her silence. Tony was obviously not happy.

As the car pulled away, Tony squeezed Claire’s hand and spoke, his tone was neither warm nor playful, “I believe it’s good you took a nap this afternoon.”

Eric drove them to the apartment.

Prolonged endurance tames the bold.

—Lord Byron

Chapter Twenty-Eight

‡

During the eight months Claire had lived on Tony’s estate, she never saw visitors—business or personal. The house remained busy with staff and employees—people who clean, cook, and fulfill other responsibilities filled the house. The grounds often bustled with gardeners and maintenance workers, but there were never guests. That was why, as they approached the house, winding up the drive, it seemed strange to see multiple cars parked on the brickyard in front of the main steps.

On the plane and again in the car, Claire received the rules speech. It seemed incredibly redundant. She’d heard it hundreds of times—literally. She knew the words by heart—follow my rules—do as you’re told—do not divulge personal information—actions have consequences—appearances are of vital importance—and public failure is not an option. Apparently, being Tony’s fiancée didn’t exempt her from the rules—it made them all that more critical.

Shelly, Tony’s publicist, released the prepared statement to the press. It simply read:

Anthony Rawlings, entrepreneur and world-renowned businessman happily announces his engagement to Claire Nichols, originally from Indiana. The two plan a December wedding. Details are not available at this time.

The press release made the engagement public—Claire now directly represented him. Changing her mind at this point would be unacceptable and a public failure. She didn’t plan on changing her mind; however, if she needed a reason for changing her mind—last night would have been it. Apparently, Tony’s newfound gentleness and affection evaporated during his discussion with John. Claire told herself that it was a momentary setback. The discussion upset Tony—John’s behavior had consequences. Claire willingly accepted her brother-in-law’s consequences—in his stead. She knew how to compartmentalize, and even believed she was getting good at it. From experience, she believed with the morning, the new caring Tony would return. She was mostly right.

When they entered their home, Catherine met them at the door. Her smile beamed from ear to ear, and she hugged them both. Claire truly loved her. She was the heart of their home. Tony obviously respected her opinion, and she his. Catherine’s approval pleased Claire. It was probably the one that mattered to her the most, other than Tony’s.

“Ms. Claire, I’m so happy. I’ve known for a long time that you’re exactly what Mr. Rawlings needed in his life.” She beamed at Claire as Tony listened.

“Umm, am I what anyone needs?” His tone and face smiled. Catherine hugged him and told him that many people need him. Then she informed him he had guests in his office. Claire suddenly thought about her restrictions regarding his office. Why could others be in there without him, but she couldn’t? Walking toward his home office, she debated. The answer was painfully obvious. Everyone else in the world had access to telephones, computers, and the Internet—except her.

The double doors to Tony’s office stood ajar and his conference table was cluttered with books resembling photo albums and an open laptop computer. Two women and a man were arranging the materials and speaking to one another. Claire and Tony stood silently hand in hand in the doorway and observed.

Finally, one of the women looked up and acknowledged Tony. “Mr. Rawlings, hello. Let me introduce you to your wedding planner and consultant.”

Tony stepped toward the attractive, tall, professional-looking brunette. She looked about the same age as Claire. As she stepped forward, Tony turned toward Claire. “Patricia, let me finally introduce you to my fiancée, Claire Nichols. Claire, this is my number one assistant—secretary—and right-hand man/woman, Patricia.” His introduction revealed his admiration for her abilities.

They both extended their hands. Claire spoke first, “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

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Patricia’s greeting sounded less gregarious. “Hello, Ms. Nichols, I’ve heard about you.” Claire definitely detected animosity, but chose to wait and let the chips fall. Patricia continued with the introductions. “Brad Clark and Monica Thompson, may I introduce Mr. Anthony Rawlings and his fiancée, Claire Nichols. Mr. Rawlings, Brad is your wedding consultant, and Monica is your wedding planner. They come highly recommended and have some wonderful ideas to share.”

Claire and Tony shook their hands and told them how happy they were to meet them. Tony looked at his watch, 12:30 PM. They were due to arrive at 2:00 PM. In Tony’s book, they had made bonus points. Claire, on the other hand, had anticipated lunch. She was less pleased, but smiled and preceded with their meeting. Brad and Monica showed Tony and Claire to Tony’s conference table.

Brad and Monica began by explaining how honored they were to be chosen to assist with their wedding. Then they presented a very informative Power Point presentation with endless available options. They also displayed photos of their previous work—examples of decorations, cakes, receptions, etc. They asked questions, both of Tony and of Claire. What did they want their wedding to say? How many guests did they anticipate? Where on the estate would the wedding and reception be held? What would be the time of the ceremony? What colors did they want? What type of food? What type of music?

While the questions were tedious, Claire couldn’t help notice Patricia’s stares. She was excessively attentive to Tony. “Yes, Mr. Rawlings.” “I can get that for you, Mr. Rawlings.” “Let me take care of that, Mr. Rawlings.” For the first time since John’s consequences and the multiple rules discussions, Claire was happy to be the future Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. It even amused her that as an adult, the cattiness of another woman could readjust her attitude. Claire found herself holding Tony’s arm, looking at pictures of cakes, lights, tables, and flowers and saying all the right things. While he smiled affectionately and she radiated happiness, Patricia sat on the sidelines taking notes.

Tony then asked Claire to show Brad and Monica around the main level of their home so they could brainstorm. Brad and Monica promised they would get back to them on Monday with possibilities for the ceremony and reception. As Claire walked them from room to room, she saw the mansion from a new perspective—through their eyes. She saw it as an exquisite home with magnificent architecture. It hadn’t been that to her—it had been a prison, but things had changed. Last night and again today, Tony referred to it as their home. Claire smiled at the thought this is my home.

Tony and Claire promised to get a guest list together very soon. They, with the help of Brad and Monica, decided that being a Christmas wedding—red, green, and black would be the colors. The question still remained which of those colors would they chose for Emily’s dress. There would be Christmas lights, lots of lights, starting from the gates and going up the drive to the house. The house would be decorated very chic Christmas. The number of guests would determine the setup of the wedding and reception. The music during the wedding would be provided by a string quartet and a harpist. Brad and Monica promised to put together some demo CDs and Tony and Claire could choose the music.

When they suggested that the reception could be on the grounds—perhaps in the backyard—Claire thought it sounded cold, but Brad promised a tent—decorated and heated. He even had pictures of previous tent receptions. With the decorations, tables, and people, it didn’t appear like a tent—only a reception hall. The next question was the cake. They must have looked at fifty different pictures of cakes. Regarding flavors, Tony said he liked tra***ional white. Claire went out on a limb and said she liked chocolate—she hoped for some taste testing. Monica smiled and explained they had many other options such as carrot, red velvet, caramel, chocolate raspberry, and more. Claire felt once again overwhelmed by too many choices.

The next debate involved the menu for the reception. Since Claire had only chosen two of her own meals in the last eight months, she asked Tony if she could take a break and get something to eat. She didn’t feel well-possibly low blood sugar. He kissed her cheek and said she should rest; he’d take care of anything else. Patricia added, “I’ll be here to help.”

“I’m sure you will.” Claire replied as she kissed Tony and went to the kitchen to find Catherine and some lunch. They were about done for today. Brad and Monica would return Monday late afternoon when Tony returned home from work. At that time, more definitive plans would be made and others finalized. It was fun talking possibilities without considering the financial ramifications. Tony was right—the wedding would be planned and accomplished by December 18. Money could make anything happen.

Their kitchen was more industrial than cozy. Claire had never eaten in there before, but with people everywhere, it seemed like a safe, isolated location. Sitting at a small table near the windows, Claire looked out over the backyard and garages. She was there eating a sandwich when Tony found her.

“What do you think about the plans?” His voice sounded light and brought her back to reality. She’d been letting her mind wander. It hadn’t been any place in particular—just a happy place. She was thinking about lights, Christmas trees, her wedding dress, Tony in a tuxedo, and a warm feeling. She remembered the warmth of her visions while she was ill, and her current thoughts were giving her that same feeling. It was a nice change to have reality be her warm place.

Claire smiled as he approached. “I think they sound wonderful. I can’t believe they aren’t freaking out about the deadline.”

“What did I tell you?”

She smiled. “We don’t have enough time to discuss all the things you’ve told me.”

“You seem happy”—grinning, he stole the other half of her sandwich—“I meant about what money could do to help our wedding proceed as you want.” He took a bite of the sandwich.

“You said it would and it obviously does. I’m still slightly in shock.” Claire took a drink of water and caressed Tony’s arm. Looking into his brown eyes, she said, “It’s a good shock.” He took her water and started to kiss her neck. Claire asked, “Do you realize you have taken my sandwich and now my water?”

Tony cooed, “I think maybe you have taken something of mine.”

He was standing near her chair as she put her arms around his waist and looked up at his face. “I did? What did I take?”

As he bent down to kiss her, she stood to meet him halfway. He softly kissed her lips and her neck as his hands became tangled in her hair. “I believe it was my heart.”

Claire’s body forgot the demands of the previous night. Actually, it began to make demands of its own as he tugged her hair with his fingers, causing her face to look upward. For a brief moment she considered asking about Patricia; however, it was a fleeting thought. There was a more pressing issue at hand; still she enquired, “Is everyone still here?” as she pressed back.

“Brad and Monica left, they’ll return Monday to give us more information. We can make more definite decisions then.” She kissed his neck as he spoke. A low growl resonated from his throat, and his voice took on a gravely quality, “And Patricia is collecting names for our guest list. She’s still in my office. I told her I needed to check on you to make sure you were feeling all right.” His chocolate eyes hid behind closed lids.

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Claire couldn’t resist. “I’m feeling very good, how do you think I’m feeling?” He murmured agreement as she spoke between kisses. “So explain” “why I can’t be in your office alone” “and she can?”

He pulled her closer. “Because, I said so.” His hands caressed the soft skin under her sweater.

“I hated that answer when it came from my parents, I don’t think I like it from you either.” She wasn’t arguing or complaining. On the contrary, she was agreeing with everything.

“Okay, how about because you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything in there? The telephones, Internet, computers…all you need to worry about is me.”

“Oh, and I do! I worry about you constantly.” She nuzzled his chin and listened to his heart pound rapidly in his wide chest. “So you don’t worry about Patricia’s pretty head?”

His voice sounded far away. “Does she have a pretty head? I haven’t noticed.” He couldn’t have said anything that would have pleased Claire more at that moment. She suggested going to his room or her room, he mentioned the attributes of the kitchen floor, when Catherine made a loud coughing sound.

“Excuse me, Mr. Rawlings, Ms. Claire. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons are here to see you both.” Claire looked at Tony with desperation. “What happened to never having visitors?” She smiled and tried to straighten her hair and sweater. Tony suddenly turned away from Catherine and looked out the back window, breathed deeply, and tried to adjust his appearance. Claire decided she should address Catherine, Tony was having difficulty speaking. “Thank you, Catherine. Can you please tell them, Mr. Rawlings and I’ll be there in a few minutes?”

“Yes, miss, I’ll show them to the sitting room.”

Claire went to Tony and whispered in his ear, “Sorry.”

He turned to her—grinning—his voice adoring and playful, “You aren’t, yet—but give me some time.” There was a time when those words would have terrified her. Today wasn’t one of them—the wedding planning—being home—and the fanciful foreplay set a stage. The stage felt warm—like her visions.

“I look forward to that promise.” She leaned against a counter and waited for him to contain himself. She tried, but couldn’t remember one time in the past eight months when he’d been in this predicament. Trying to contain her grin—she found it amusing.

They walked hand in hand to the sitting room. When they reached the archway Brent and Courtney stood to greet them. Courtney ran to Claire and hugged her. Next to Catherine, it was the best response she received from anyone regarding their engagement. She really felt like she was being hugged by a friend. Claire couldn’t help feeling happy. It was a real happy—one that suddenly seemed to be recurring. She liked it. Courtney pulled Claire’s left hand to see her ring, and led her to one of the sofas. She wanted to hear all about New York, the proposal, and everything! Claire looked to Tony, but he and Brent were involved in a discussion which led them toward Tony’s office.

Claire curled up on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her knees and chatted with her friend. It wasn’t uncomfortable or difficult. She didn’t feel threatened by Courtney’s questions or the pressured to feign her answers. She didn’t feel the need to minimize Tony’s extravagant proposal. She felt warm and accepted. Catherine brought them coffee, and Courtney listened as Claire told her about New York City—from shopping for the perfect outfit—to the cool crisp evening in Central Park, she retold the entire day. It all was so romantic! She wouldn’t repeat his proposal, but it was wonderful. She couldn’t believe he really proposed.

Courtney could hardly contain her excitement. “We’ve been friends with Tony for a long time, and both Brent and I have noticed something different with Tony lately. The way he looks at you—we’ve never seen that look in his eyes before. It’s wonderful to see him in love.”

The simplicity of chatting, giggling, and sharing, delighted Claire. Sometime during their conversation she thought she heard voices—loud voices coming from the direction of Tony’s office. Courtney heard them too. They shrugged and went on with their chat. Courtney told Claire she’d be willing to help her in any way. She would be glad to taste-test food or desserts, listen to music, tie bows for chairs, address invitations, whatever Claire needed. She was officially at her disposal.

The men returned to the sitting room. Their disposition wasn’t as jovial as the ladies; however, they acted affable. Courtney finally asked, “Is everything all right?” Tony said it was and Brent agreed. The ladies were having too much fun to let the men change that. Courtney continued to ask about the wedding. Would it really be in three weeks? Did they like the coordinator and planner? When Tony wasn’t around she wanted the scoop on Claire’s dress. Then she told Tony about her offer to help Claire. She was so excited. They left about two hours after they arrived.

Claire started to go upstairs to her suite when she remembered Patricia. Had she left? Tony said she had, when Brent arrived. Patricia took information home and would bring him a guest list to evaluate Monday at the office.

“Can we please eat in my suite?” Claire asked. “It’s been a great day and I’m tired.”

During dinner Tony told Claire he and Brent exchanged words during the afternoon. Brent was Tony’s head legal counsel as well as his best friend—Claire was surprised. “What happened?”

Tony explained, “Brent borrowed a page from your brother-in-law’s advice book.”

Claire sighed, “The prenuptial agreement again.”

“Yes, Brent also insisted we have one.”

“I don’t presume to know anything about your belongings, but if everyone thinks we should have one, let’s just do it.”

She didn’t realize the conversation had become intense, but before she could blink he grasped her shoulders and lifted her from her chair. With his proximity too close, his harsh words came in warm breaths against her cheeks, “I am sick and tired of everyone telling me what to do. I’ve made my decision. That’s what I told Brent and what I’m telling you. There will not be a prenuptial agreement and do you know why?”

Claire met his gaze. “Tony, please—you said you wouldn’t hurt me again.” He released her arms and she fell back to her chair.

“And you promised to not give me cause.”

She thought about his question, she hadn’t answered—not answering could be considered cause. “I don’t know why we shouldn’t have a prenuptial agreement—other than you don’t want one.”

“That is part of it”—he paced—“The other part is…”—he knelt by Claire, his face once again too close to hers, his eyes shining black, and stared right at her. She didn’t look away, as he continued, slow and malevolent—“I know I won’t leave you, and I know you won’t leave me. Will you?”

She was faced with one of those junctures—be frightened by his tone, proximity, and allow his sudden unpredicted change in disposition to ruin a day that she truly enjoyed—or attempt to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. She chose the second. She answered his question with a voice which sounded both calm and composed. “I agreed to be Mrs. Anthony Rawlings just three days ago. It has been a whirlwind since then, and my wedding is in three weeks. We’re both overwhelmed. Tony, I would never think of leaving you.”

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His eyes still flashed, blackness intensified. “Do you have any idea of the consequences if you did decide to leave me?”

With continued eye contact and composure, she replied, “I would rather think about the consequences of staying with you and learning what makes you happy”—she smiled—“and learning what you want of me, and when you want it”—his eyes lightened and flickered brown—“Perhaps you could give me some hints?”

He was calming. She watched the tension and fury leave his face. Continuing with the composed but now playful tone, she added, “As a matter of fact, I think you promised me something this afternoon in the kitchen.”

It worked. He mellowed. She didn’t make the first move, wanting him to believe he was in control. When he didn’t speak and stood, she thought perhaps he was leaving her suite and this conversation was done. Instead, he scooped her out of the chair and carried her to the bed.

He wasn’t his old self and he wasn’t his new gentle self. He was somewhere in between, but closer to gentle than the night before. Claire felt satisfied, she’d done it—she mellowed him. Her response resulted in the consequence she hoped—she was determined—she’d figure him out. In the meantime, this was a little thunder—no storm.

Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.

—Aristotle

Chapter Twenty-Nine

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The next two and a half weeks flew by in a flash.

Sometime during their first night home, Claire awoke and heard Tony’s breathing in her bed. The drapes were open, and the moonlight illuminated her suite. She looked around and snuggled into the soft covers. She was in her suite in her home—not in New York. In three weeks, it would actually be half hers. The monetary value wasn’t what enamored her. It was the fact that he wanted it to belong to her. She possessed memories she refused to revisit. She also possessed a promise of a future. As she cuddled under the fluffy down comforter next to her warm sleeping fiancé, she knew she would hold tight to that promise.

They met with Brad and Monica on the Monday following Thanksgiving. Claire knew they were definitely worth the expense, whatever that may be. Tony told Claire not to worry about it. Their ideas were amazing. The wedding would take place in the grand entry, with Claire descending the staircase. It would be decorated with lights and sheer tapestries. The reception would be in the backyard, in a large floored, heated tent accessible to guests from the sun porch. There would be many Christmas trees and millions of clear lights. There would be evergreens and red flowers. Emily would wear black and carry a red bouquet. There would be an open bar and hors d’oeuvres and then a full sit-down meal of multiple courses. The cake was chic and decorated with real flowers. The flavors would include white, chocolate, raspberry, and carrot. Claire was especially excited about the string quartet from the Quad City Symphony, the place of her and Tony’s first night out.

Tony gave them the list of guests Patricia had compiled. He asked Claire about guests over and over. She repeated, she only cared about Emily and John and Tony’s close friends. She saw the difficulty Emily had with Claire’s new lifestyle and feared her old friends wouldn’t feel comfortable. She mentioned Mere***h as an example of why her friends from before should not attend; Tony couldn’t argue her logic. The guest list consisted of the few people who called Tony—Tony and 150 of his not so close business and political allies. People, he explained, who should be invited whom he liked, needed, or who needed him.

Brad and Monica had a draft of the wedding invitation:

You are cordially invited to the private wedding ceremony of:

Ms. Claire Nichols and Mr. Anthony Rawlings.

The ceremony will take place at the Iowa City estate of

Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings

on December the eighteenth two thousand and ten,

at precisely five thirty in the evening.

A dinner and dance reception will immediately follow at the estate.

Patricia volunteered to receive and compile the RSVPs. It would all be handled at Tony’s Iowa City office.

The string quartet would begin playing at 5:00 PM with the ceremony at 5:30 PM. There would be valet parking and a coat check since winter coats were predictable. The reception would include a live jazz band and dancing. There would not be a DJ, but there would be an MC to make announcements and talk to the guests. Each guest or couple would receive a gift basket in appreciation of their attendance from Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings. The baskets would include a bottle of fine wine, two crystal wine glasses, some fine chocolates wrapped in red and green foil, and a note thanking them for their attendance.

When Brad asked Claire if her father would be giving her away, she told him her father was deceased. He asked if she had anyone else to give her away or did she plan to walk down the stairs and aisle alone. The question prompted Claire to think of John. She didn’t ask; she just looked at Tony.

Tony sighed and responded, “She’d like to have her brother-in-law give her away.” Later Tony told Claire he liked the idea. Perhaps if John gave her away, he’d accept that she was his wife first and foremost. Tony, Brent—his best man—and John would all need matching tuxedos. Tony liked Armani and said he’d contact the men to have the tuxedos tailored. It didn’t take Tony and Brent long to reach a mutual understanding regarding the prenuptial agreement—Tony agreed not to have one—Brent agreed to accept Tony’s decision.

Once Tony and Claire approved Brad and Monica’s designs and blueprints, the work began. First thing Tuesday morning, crews of workers descended upon the estate. There were trucks with cherry pickers putting lights in trees, and electricians connecting wires to ensure illumination. A construction crew worked in the backyard constructing the large tent, with more electricians for lighting and heating.

There were people in the house putting up decorations. Catherine was uneasy with the multitude of people. She made sure everyone knew she was in charge of the house and everyone answered to her.

Claire did her best to stay out of the way. Tony left each morning for work. He had a wedding in less than three weeks and the pesky challenge of a multibillion-dollar industry which needed his attention. He even needed to make some day trips to places as far away as Dallas, Los Angeles, and New England.

Claire also needed to make a few more trips to New York for dress fittings. Tony hadn’t planned for that. It was Courtney’s offer of help in any way that reduced his anxiety. He required Claire to be the one to call Courtney and inquire. Courtney sounded thrilled. They’d use Tony’s jet as long as he wasn’t using it. If he needed to travel there would be Rawlings Industries jets available. Eric would accompany them.

Tony also allowed Claire to contact Emily and John after the meeting with Brad and Monica. She let Emily know that her dress would be black. Emily sounded elated to learn it wasn’t pink. Claire also asked John if he would do her the honor of walking her down the aisle and giving her away. He responded, “Claire, I’d be honored to walk you down the aisle, but know I’ll never give you away.”

Of course, Tony was listening as she spoke and rolled his black eyes. She didn’t let her voice falter and thanked John for his constant devotion. Claire also reminded Emily to contact the boutique regarding her fittings and told them that Tony or his secretary, Patricia, would be contacting them about their travel plans as well as John’s tuxedo.