Their condominium building was secure. In order to enter, one had to pass a security guard in the garage or one in the lobby. If you weren’t a resident, an ID and signature were required for entrance. This could be perceived as inconvenient, but for inhabitants it was reassuring.
Opening the front door Claire could only see a stack of boxes labeled Neiman Marcus. With a sudden overwhelming dread, she realized the boxes obscured the delivery person’s face. However, before she could shut the door, she heard a young man’s voice and noticed inexpensive scuffed shoes.
“Ms. Nichols?”
She remembered to inhale. “Yes.”
The young sandy haired man moved the boxes to the side and peered around the bounty. “These are for you. Could you please sign the delivery confirmation?”
Relief lowered her defenses. “I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake. I didn’t order any merchandise.”
The young man struggled to balance the boxes and his electronic pad. He surveyed the information and confirmed her name and address. Pity overtook her, she finally responded, “All right. Bring them in and place them in the foyer.”
Claire signed the electronic clipboard and accepted the unknown merchandise. She shut the door and moved the boxes to the dining room table. An envelope was attached to the top box. Claire debated: open the envelope or the boxes? Choosing the envelope she read:
I’ll be in town after you return from Texas. Shall we dine? Perhaps you would enjoy wearing something more appropriate for our reservations? Since you seem unable to answer your phone, I’ll send a car to your condominium, Wednesday 7PM. I look forward to our reunion.
Her fingers forgot to grip; the card floated to the floor.
A revolt erupted within Claire’s stomach. The contents of the boxes were still undetermined; however, the meaning of his words came through loud and clear. Translation… I know everything about you. I know about your trip. We’re going to dine on Wednesday. It wasn’t a request -- his customary mandate.
She contemplated leaving the boxes sealed and throwing away the merchandise. However, curiosity won. Reluctantly, she opened each one. The small top one contained shoes; beautiful, high-heeled, Sergio Rossi, black sandals. The next box was larger; tentatively, she opened the lid. The black and white, Christian Dior, off-the-shoulder dress took her breath away. The final box contained a Chado Ralph Rucci trim coat, crepe with sheer chiffon at cuffs and hem. As Claire’s fingers caressed the chiffon, she fought the desire to try it all on with the need to send it all back. Settling for somewhere in between, she stacked the boxes in her closet, and compartmentalized any thoughts related to them away for another day.
It was a lesson learned from Scarlet O’Hara, Fiddle de de, I’ll think about that tomorrow. Today she wanted to concentrate on her impending vacation. Her ex-husband’s invitation and clothes could wait. She’d deal with those later.
Things do not pass for what they are, but for what they seem.
Most things are judged by their jackets.
-Baltasar Gracian
Chapter 11
1983...
“Yes, Anton, we’ll be at Blair by the time of the ceremony.” Amanda’s voice came through the telephone receiver.
“It starts at two,” he reminded his mother.
“We know that. You know Nathaniel would never be late.”
That went without saying; Anton’s family was punctual. “Mother,” Anton hesitated, “is Grandmother coming?” He debated voicing the question but needed to know. After all, his relatives portrayed the perfect family. That image was becoming increasingly difficult to depict with Sharron Rawls’ erratic behavior. Besides, he had enough issues with his classmates. He didn’t need a crazy grandmother added to the mix.
“She is. It will be fine. I promise.” Anton didn’t answer. Amanda continued. “Nathaniel hired Sharron a private assistant. She accompanies your grandmother everywhere. With her assistance, Sharron is doing much better. It keeps her organized and focused.”
Anton liked the sound of that. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”
Two days later, dressed in his cap and gown, Anton peered out into the auditorium searching for his family. Bright lights shone directly onto the stage, limiting his ability to see the audience. However, he knew they were there. The Rawls may be many things, but undependable or unreliable, were not among their list of inadequacies. If a commitment were made, it was completed.
Following the ceremony, Anton met his family in the grand hall of the Center for the Arts. It was the perfect location for graduation from this prestigious private academy. Scanning the crowd, he found his parents and grandparents, and an unfamiliar face. Walking toward the group he waited for accolades that would never come. How could Anton ever imagine he’d receive praises for graduating third in his class? Third, what a disgrace! That his GPA was above the perfect 4.0 and he’d been accepted by every university to which he’d applied were not important. He wasn’t number one.
Feeling the slap on his shoulder, he turned to see his father’s reserved, yet kind eyes. “Congratulations, Son, we’d like to take you out to dinner. This is the end of a very important phase of your life.”
Anton nodded in his direction; it was a form of acceptance. He looked toward his grandparents. Nathaniel’s expression revealed nothing. If he were proud, if he were disappointed, Anton wouldn’t know, until later. Sharron on the other hand appeared quite content. The young woman on her arm whispered in her ear as Sharron smiled and nodded.
The only positive aspect of the day, Anton could salvage, was his grandmother’s new sense of calm. His mother gently touched his elbow, “Anton, this is Marie. She’s Sharron’s personal assistant.”
Anton presented his hand, “Hello, Marie, nice to meet you.”
The young woman smiled bashfully and presented her hand, “Hello, Mr. Rawls.”
He noticed Marie’s sweet smile and soft eyes, contrasting the dark in the members of his family. He wondered her age and guessed not much older than himself.
What credentials did one need to be a personal assistant? She must have some education beyond high school, mustn’t she?
During dinner Marie impressively kept Sharron in line. Anton’s grandmother didn’t yell, complain, or argue. This even affected Nathaniel’s demeanor. He was more relaxed than Anton had seen in years. Anton even saw his grandfather occasionally smile at his wife, who smiled lovingly in return. The look in her eyes, as she focused on her husband was like one peering upon a Roman god. It wasn’t that Nathaniel didn’t deserve the reverend gazes. Anton presumed he did. After all, his patience with Sharron was more than Anton or anyone else witnessed in any other facet of Nathaniel’s life. Nonetheless, Sharon’s praises for her husband were lessened by her ability to remember anyone other than him. Her memory seemed to concentrate on their life, pre-child, before Samuel, before Amanda, and before Anton.
Being Anton’s graduation, he thought it would be nice if he were the subject of someone’s compliments. But of course, the weather was a more important subject.
On multiple occasions, Marie reminded Sharron of her duties at hand, and the elderly woman immediately refocused. It was obvious, Sharron wanted more than anything to make her husband proud. She could in fact do as she was told, with some assistance. Sharron could follow the rules.
Samuel gripped the edge of the table. His mother was no child. She didn’t need a damn nurse, and she sure as hell didn’t need to worry about his narcissistic father’s concerns. Sharron Rawls should be concerned about herself, not anyone else!
Of course, each time Samuel tried to discuss this with her, she’d smile serenely and ask about Nathaniel; where was he? When would he be back? And oh, yes, what was your name?
Between his father’s business deals and his mother’s declining mental health, there were days Samuel thought he should be the one to go completely insane. Thank god he had Amanda to keep him stable and Anton.
It went without saying, they were
very proud of their son. Anton graduated third in his class from a prestigious private academy and would attend Columbia University in the fall, majoring in business and computer technology. It was no secret his son inherited a prowess for business. Samuel only hoped Nathaniel wouldn’t ruin Rawls Corporation before Anton could get his feet wet. There were so many wrong decisions being made.
Seeing his mother’s sudden agitation he started to help. However, Marie immediately assisted. It surprised Samuel to witness his mother’s sudden composure. Perhaps having a non-emotionally involved assistant wasn’t a bad idea. Although young, the girl seemed to possess a sense of calm the Rawls admittedly lacked. In some ways it reminded Samuel of his mother, before this terrible illness took hold.
In the face of the storm, otherwise known as Nathaniel, Sharron calmed the winds, rains, and rough waters. His entire life, Samuel wondered how she did it. Rarely, did he ever witness a disagreement between them. Superficially, she appeared to submit to his every demand. Yet, there were times when they looked at one another and Samuel knew, without confrontation, Sharron had made her feelings and desires known.
Samuel failed miserably in that category. He didn’t have the ability to communicate nonverbally with his egotistical father. Their confrontations were predictably loud and boisterous. Perhaps, it was a two way street. Nathaniel needed to want that communication. He accepted the glances and body language from his wife, but not from anyone else, even his only son.
Samuel believed his parent’s union had a history of rough patches, yet Sharron never complained. And now, as her mental facilities slowed, hell – derailed -- the reality in which she chose to dwell was not that of a mother, or grandmother, or even a wealthy businessman’s wife. She saw the world as it had been when she and Nathaniel were first married. She looked at her handsome, yet aging husband and saw the twenty year old soldier she loved.
Samuel supposed on some level, he resented Anton for looking so much like his father. It wasn’t as though Anton could control his genetics. That would be Samuel’s doing as well. It was only that when Sharron looked at Anton, she smiled so sweetly and her eyes melted into the liquid calm reserved for her true love. Yes, it was Nathaniel she saw. Nonetheless, she never asked Anton his name; she only called him Nathaniel.
How in the world Samuel found Amanda, and had forged out some semblance of normalcy was beyond him. Talk about nature verses nurture -- shit, he was screwed either way. Peering at his son, Samuel prayed Amanda’s influence would overpower the messed up Rawls blood flowing through Anton’s veins.
Yes, although the mother he once knew was rarely visible, Samuel knew Sharron’s influence was his saving grace. Therefore, if this young girl helped Sharron transition from her world of make-believe to the present, maybe Samuel could learn to accept her.
A friend is someone who understands your past,
believes in your future, and accepts you
for who you are today.
--Unknown
Chapter 12
The warm gulf water lapped the shore, as the soft, moist sand enveloped their bare feet, and the sun bathed their tanned skin. Clad in swim suits, Claire and Courtney picked up the occasional shell as they walked along the beach. Although the third morning of their secret get-a-way, neither friend had run out of things to share.
Their reunion was everything Claire imagined and more. When Claire arrived late Tuesday night, or early Wednesday morning, to their rendezvous suite, Courtney was anxiously waiting.
Courtney hadn’t changed. Her bright blue eyes and brown hair were exactly as Claire remembered. Courtney jokingly said, “Honey, my hair is only the same because my beautician hasn’t decided to change colors!”
Claire’s commercial flight to San Antonio took almost four hours. Flying first class, she reasoned was a gradual downgrade from private jets. She also knew some reporter could take her picture, and the penniless thing was getting on her nerves. After landing in San Antonio, she secured a rental car, drove to the Hotel Valencia Riverwalk, and checked into her suite. It was truly beautiful, complete with a balcony overlooking the famous San Antonio Riverwalk. While there, she messed up the bed and threw some towels into the whirlpool tub. It kind of looks lived in. She thought, as she made her way back to her rental car.
Next, she drove two and a half hours to Corpus Christi. Along the way she stopped for a healthy McDonald’s salad, anything fast to get her to Courtney. Thankfully the rental car’s built-in GPS directed her around an accident on I-37, south around Mathis. The voice knew about the back-up. And although rerouting added about thirty minutes, it was better than sitting in stand still traffic. By the time Claire reached their hotel, it was almost two in the morning, local time.
Just like her suite in San Antonio, the floor of their suite was only accessible with a key. Claire’s key was waiting for her at the front desk, under the name Julia. (Courtney’s future daughter-in-law)
When Claire opened the door and stepped onto the tiled entry, she heard the familiar scream resonating from one of the two bedrooms. She barely had time to see the lovely white living area and brightly colored furniture before her entire body was encased in Courtney’s full embrace. In no time, their joyous reunion became tearful. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation; more than likely, it was their eighteen month separation and the circumstances surrounding it.
Leaving her unpacking until morning, the two sat on the sofa, knee to knee and talked until dawn. Their conversation focused more on the future than the past. There would be plenty of time for that as the week progressed.
Courtney told Claire all about the preparations for Caleb and Julia’s upcoming nuptials. She desperately wanted to have Claire attend the event; however, as long as their relationship remained secret, they both knew it wouldn’t happen. Courtney also told Claire about Caleb’s recent entrepreneur endeavor. “He’s doing very well in Chicago. It’s an investment firm and he already has some great clients.”
Claire couldn’t hide her surprise, “I’m shocked he’d want to leave Rawlings. I mean with Brent and Tony’s friendship, I’d think Caleb’s future would be set. Tony always liked your children.”
“Tony was very supportive. Being an entrepreneur himself, I think he admired Caleb’s desire to succeed on his own.”
Somewhere deep inside, Claire thought: Yes, I’m glad he can be understanding... I know it’s possible, just not usual! “I’m glad it’s working out.”
Claire told Courtney all about California, Amber, and Harry. Of course, they’d discussed much of this on the phone, but face-to-face was so much nicer. The subject of Claire’s financial backing slipped into the conversation as they talked about some of the recent reports of Claire’s life. She assured Courtney she wasn’t living with Harry, and she wasn’t penniless. She even divulged the information about the mysterious $100,000.
“Where do you think it came from?” Courtney asked as she sipped her wine. It was their second bottle of Cabernet, something which likely added to their honesty and freedom of dialogue.
“I really don’t know. It’s weird. At first, both Jane and I feared it was from Tony.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Well, who else has that kind of money to throw away?”
“Good point, but maybe the donor didn’t feel they were throwing it away?”
Claire smiled, “I hope not. Whoever it was, I can never thank them enough. They gave me my life back.” She continued thoughtfully, “Prison wasn’t as bad as it could have been – I guess. I kept to myself a lot.” Claire fell silent as she gazed out the dark balcony doors to the still black sky.
Courtney put her hand on Claire’s knee, “You can talk to me.”
Claire fought the tears, “I know. It’s just -- I haven’t spoken to anyone about this. I mean, I like Amber and Harry, I really do. They’ve been wonderful, especially considering we hardly knew one another when Amber went out on a limb and sent a jet to get me. I want to open up to them, but I’m so con
fused about so many things. I just don’t know.”
“Did you have anyone to talk to in prison?”
“There was a counselor, actually a psychiatrist. Her name was Dr. Warner. She took an interest in me. We met three times a week. At first I didn’t say much. It’s just hard to know who you can trust. But, over time I said a lot.”
“But, no other prisoners?”
Claire shook her head, “No. Once people found out who I was married to... well they’d be... not nice.” Looking down into her lap, she explained, “I never felt like I acted better than anyone else. I mean, I was a prisoner there just like everyone else. But, apparently they thought I did.” Claire inhaled deeply, “It was just easier to stay by myself.”
Talking to Courtney was so easy; it had always been.
Courtney scooted closer and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you while you were there,” then in a quieter voice, “or, to keep you out of there.”
“I really understand.” Claire smiled at Courtney’s sad blue eyes, “But you did do something. When your letters started to arrive, I can’t tell you how much they meant to me!”
“I’m so glad. And I’m sure our entire correspondence went under the radar. Believe me, if Tony knew, Brent would’ve heard.”
Fighting her emotions, Claire said, “I know it was a big risk. Thank you.”
“So, you’re convinced it wasn’t Tony, the money, I mean?”
“Yes. Well, you helped convince me. You sent me a text saying how upset he was when he learned about my release. I mean, if he’d sent the money and letter to Jane, he’d have already known. I know it wasn’t in the papers, which is just another of the amazing miracles, but I know Tony. If he’d spent $100,000, he would’ve followed up to learn if it paid off.”
Truth Page 13
