Mid Life Love: At Last

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  “No, there weren’t.” I sighed. “I never brought any woman near you and you know that.”

  “I didn’t see them, but I found all their panties underneath the couch cushions—the little mementos they left behind so you could remember how amazing the night was. They even left little notes on the inside tags—‘Last night was the best night of my life,’ ‘You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,’ and my personal favorite—Oohhh call me anytime, Jonathan. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing if it means I get to fuck you again.”

  “Get out of my office, Hayley.”

  She laughed. “I looked through the Berkstrom account earlier. I don’t think we should sign with them, but the board thinks differently so make sure you read over everything tonight. There’s also a meeting with the accounting division at three to discuss new ways to track executive spending, and oh yeah—you need to make sure you have that buyout file for your international call in a few hours.”

  “Angela briefed me on all of this hours ago because you weren’t here on time today. For the fourth day in a row. Care to explain why?”

  “I can be late.”

  “You can be unemployed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you this strict with Ashley and Caroline? Do they get the overprotective treatment too?”

  “You’re avoiding my question.”

  “I am.” She smiled and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m also thinking about putting in a complaint to HR about the CEO being excessively hard on me, so watch it.”

  “Can you at least make sure you’re on time for your dress fitting next week? Claire stresses out about anything wedding-related if it’s more than a second late.”

  “I’ll be there early. I still can’t believe she asked me to be a bridesmaid! I am so honored to give you and your craziness away to someone else. Does she even know how crazy you are yet? Have you shown her your true colors or are you saving them for later?”

  “Hayley...”

  “Mr. Statham?” Angela’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “One of your security advisors is here sir. He says it’s urgent. Should I tell him to wait until you’re done meeting with Hayley?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “We’re more than done here. Send him in please. Oh and Angela?”

  “Yes, Mr. Statham?”

  “On little Miss Statham’s way out, could you please hand her the employee policy on tardiness and order her a Cartier watch—with the biggest numbers available please? Have it shipped overnight.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Hayley narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips. “You are the worst.”

  “I love you too.”

  I watched as she rushed out of my office, as she nearly collided with my second highest security chief—Clive.

  “Where’s Greg?” I motioned for him to sit in front of my desk.

  “He’s training a new member today. Would you like me to bring him up instead?”

  “No, that’s okay. What’s going on?”

  He removed a small brown box from the inside of his jacket and handed it to me. “We found this outside of Miss Gracen’s store this morning.”

  “Mail?”

  “No. It was found at six a.m. There’s no return address and mail doesn’t run overnight. We believe the small red initials of “R.H.” belong to Mr. Hayes, the man we’ve been keeping tabs on.”

  “Have you found any new information?”

  “No, but he knows we’re tailing him so he’s giving us the run-around. We do have a reservation at an executive condo building in his firm’s name though. I’ve seen him go inside a few times, but he never spends the night. It’s always in and out. He’s still paying the mortgage on a house in Pittsburgh, so we assume his visit here is temporary.”

  “Thank you, Clive.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Statham. I’ll let you know the moment we find anything else.”

  I nodded and waited until he left my office. I immediately let Angela know that I didn’t want to be bothered for the next thirty minutes.

  I stared at the small brown box that was sitting in front of me, wondering why the fuck Ryan would attempt to give Claire anything, and then I ripped it open: A picture. And a letter.

  The picture was a faded one of Claire, Ryan, and Amanda. It had to have been at least ten years old because they were all dressed in outdated clothing. One of Ryan’s arms was around each of them, and they were all smiling widely and holding their thumbs up.

  At the bottom of the picture he’d written, “Remember this?”

  Irritated, I unfolded the letter and read:

  Dear Claire,

  I’m sorry for showing up to your store unannounced last week, but I knew that if I contacted you in advance you wouldn’t agree to see me. It’s the same reason why I didn’t tell Ashley and Caroline about me moving here six months ago, why I told them we’d have to reschedule our last visit until this winter. (I know that even though they love us both equally, their loyalty lies with you.)

  Like I said before, I really need to talk to you. Alone. One on one. It’s something I’d rather not put in a letter or say over the phone so I would appreciate it if you could just remember how things used to be between us—for just five minutes. If you could just remember how we used to be able to tell each other any and everything...I would really appreciate your time. I know deep down you still have some form of love for me.

  Your first,

  Ryan

  I reread those last lines—“I know deep down you still have some form of love for me,” and “Your first”— and tried my hardest not to pick up the phone and put a hit out on this man’s life. My blood was heating to levels I never knew existed and I was seconds away from exploding.

  I picked up my phone and called Greg.

  “Mr. Statham,” he answered.

  “Please tell me you know exactly where Claire’s ex-husband lives and you’re just keeping it away from me so I won’t murder him.”

  “I do know sir.”

  I thought so... “Do you know why he’s in town?”

  “We’re still trying to figure that out. I will make you aware when I know. Is that all?”

  “No. I want all of Claire’s mail screened from now on. Nothing from Ryan Hayes, R.H., or anything without a return address gets into her mailbox. And I want you to give all of those things to me so I can personally get rid of them.”

  “Mail tampering is a federal crime, Mr. Statham.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. Do it.” I hung up and glanced at Ryan’s letter one last time before stuffing it down my shredder.

  I’m going to kill him...

  My alarm for today’s board meeting started going off, but I was too lost to reach into my pocket and turn it off.

  I sat still at my desk—stunned. Angry. Annoyed. I couldn’t believe her ex-husband’s nerve after all this time, couldn’t believe he would even attempt to contact Claire—my Claire.

  I was about to cancel all my meetings for the day and go down to Corey’s office to do another round of investigating, but the special ringtone I had for Claire began to sound.

  I pulled out my phone and read her text message: “I still can’t believe that you send me flowers EVERY. SINGLE. DAY! You are completely over the top, but I enjoy every second of it. The bouquets you sent today are absolutely amazing and I LOVE them. I love you so much, Jonathan...Your last, Claire. :-)”

  And just like that, my blood temperature began to cool and the ache in my chest slowly gave way.

  I’ll deal with Ryan later...

  “How about this one?” Corey held a mannequin’s hand in front of me, slowly waving it so I could see how the diamonds sparkled in the light.

  We were standing in the only jewelry store I trusted—Valenti’s, and the store owner had shut it down so I could shop for Claire’s wedding band in private.

  I slipped the ring off the plastic finger and held it in front of my face, shaking my
head. “Claire wouldn’t like it.”

  “Any woman would appreciate a band with rare pink diamonds—any woman. Trust me, I’ve been with enough of them to know.” He smiled.

  “Speaking of any woman, didn’t you mention a threesome recently? It was with two actresses, right? You never told me if it worked in your favor or not.”

  “Couldn’t do it...” He shrugged. “Wait a minute. Why are you getting Claire another diamond ring? Her engagement ring is already eighteen carats. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I want to do something special for her since she’s doing something special with mine.”

  “Right.” He rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known that you would end up proposing. You were a goner the minute you told me about her.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Of course it isn’t. You’ve always called me at one o’ clock in the morning to tell me about some random woman you saw at a party, some woman you’ve never even spoken to. And you’ve always made me track her down four hours later.”

  “It was six hours later.”

  “That makes it far less stalkerish doesn’t it?” He pulled out his phone. “When exactly is the wedding? I need to make sure I don’t make any plans that week.”

  “We haven’t set the date yet.” I spotted two diamond bands in the case that spoke to me; separately they were appealing, but together they could be stunning.

  As if he’d read my mind, he picked up the two rings and placed them on another mannequin’s finger. “You’re getting married in less than three months and you haven’t set the date yet? You had the IPO ball planned six months in advance and you didn’t even want to go.”

  “We’re meeting with the wedding planner next week.”

  He raised his eyebrow but he didn’t say anything.

  “Is everything alright, Mr. Statham? Mr. Walters?” The store owner walked over to us. “Have you found something that you like?”

  I slid the plastic hand across the counter. “I want the ring to be a mix of these two designs—not welded together though, it’ll be too thick. And I want the same engravings that we discussed before.”

  “Of course, Mr. Statham. This should be easy.”

  “Shit, I’ve got to go...” Corey’s eyes widened as he looked at his phone and started walking backwards. “Firewall breach for the second time today. I’ll call you later.”

  I watched as the guards let him out of the store before refocusing my attention on the rings.

  “What were you saying, Miss Valenti?”

  “That this should be an easy fix, but it’s going to take me at least two to three weeks to perfect it—That’s a lot of tiny diamonds and they need time to set. But as usual, your engraved messages to Claire make me cry.” She smiled. “She’s very lucky to have you.”

  “Since you’re designing my ring with her, will my band match hers?”

  She raised her eyebrow. “What?”

  “Will my band match hers?”

  She slid her glasses down from her forehead and pulled out her sTablet, scrolling down the screen. “It might match yours, but since she hasn’t asked me to design it...I’m not sure.”

  What? “She didn’t book a session with you?”

  She shook her head and showed me the tablet. “You’re my best customer. I always push your appointments to the top of the list. My staff knows that Miss Gracen is to receive the same treatment. She’s never called me. Ever.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the screen—hoping that her vision was the problem and that Claire had indeed scheduled an appointment like she promised to, but there was nothing there. All the purchases and appointments were things I’d made: the Harry Winston bracelet, the anchor necklace, the vintage charm necklace and matching ring, the engagement ring, various things for Caroline and Ashley, and now this—her wedding band.

  “She may be using someone else, Mr. Statham.” She offered.

  She doesn’t ‘know’ anyone else...

  “Right. Well, thank you very much. It’s a pleasure doing business with you as always. Do I need to pay for this now?”

  “No. I think you’re good for it.” She winked and walked over to my side of the counter, leading me to the door. “I’ll do all the work on this one personally and call you for a follow up appointment to make sure you like it. I’m looking forward to your wedding.”

  I asked her a few questions about her life—how her kids were doing, if any of the colleagues I’d referred had stopped by, and then I shook her hand and promised to personally deliver her an invitation.

  As soon as I stepped outside, the valet brought my car around and I handed him whatever bills were left in my wallet. I was too out of it to count or care.

  I sat behind the wheel and stared straight ahead.

  Why didn’t Claire make the ring appointment? What the hell is going on with her? Did she even book our meeting with the wedding planner?!

  I scrolled through my phone and called the number she’d given me for the wedding planning firm.

  “Dream Wedding Associates,” a woman answered. “This is Charlotte speaking. How may I help you today?”

  “I need to speak to the director right now.”

  “Um...” She paused. “Well, she’s currently busy at the moment, but if you give me your name I can have her get back to you.”

  “Jonathan Statham.”

  She gasped. “I’m sorry, Mr. Statham. I’ll connect you right away.”

  The phone rang two times before a woman with a high pitched voice answered. “This is Miss Corwin. Who am I speaking to this afternoon?”

  “Jonathan Statham.”

  “Oh! Mr. Statham!” Her pitch rose even higher. “I am so excited and honored that you chose me to coordinate your wedding! I promise that it will be the wedding of the year! It’s going to be the best one I’ve ever done!”

  “So my fiancée has booked an appointment with you?”

  “Of course she has.” She sounded confused. “I’m scheduled to meet with the both of you...” There were papers rattling the background. “Next Thursday at six. She told me how you feel about the tiny details, so she and I are going to meet Friday to go over those alone. But all the bones—colors, location, date, et cetera—will be discussed Thursday. I am so excited! I can’t wait!”

  “Me either.” I narrowed my eyes at the picture Ryan had sent to Claire earlier—the picture I’d left on my dashboard. “As a matter of fact, I need to ask you a few more questions...”

  Chapter 5

  Claire

  Across and forward...Backwards and across...Across and forward...

  I weaved my needle through the lampshade, trying to make the stitches as neat as possible. I’d been locked inside my office all day, sewing order after order.

  Since one of my handmade lampshades had been featured in a national magazine last week, I’d had to hire three more people to fill all the incoming requests. I’d even considered shutting down the store for a couple days to finish, but all my staff members offered to stay late and help.

  “Miss Gracen?” Rita’s voice came over the intercom. “Lisa and Sam are heading home for the day and your fiancée is on line one.”

  “Thank you.” I picked up the phone. “Yes, Jonathan?”

  “Come home.”

  “I will, right after this last piece. I only have twelve more patches to sew.”

  “It’s eight o’ clock, Claire. Come home now.”

  I sighed. “You can’t give me fifteen more minutes?”

  “No. Now.” He hung up.

  I rolled my eyes and picked up my needle again, sticking it through the bottom. I’d accidentally used the wrong fabric earlier and I needed to finish it for a customer pick-up tomorrow.

  I’ll explain it to him later...

  When I was halfway done, there was a light knock at my door.

  “Come in,” I said, still focused on my project.

  “Miss Gracen.” Greg’s deep voice made me look up. “Mr. Statham i
s adamant about me bringing you home right now.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “He just wants you home.” He held the door open and gestured for me to stand up. “Non-negotiable.”

  Sighing, I called Rita to thank her for staying so late. Then I grabbed my blazer and walked out front—tossing the store’s keys to her on my way out.

  Greg opened the backdoor of the town car and waited until I was comfortable before pulling off.

  “Greg?” I cleared my throat.

  “Yes, Miss Gracen?” He looked at me through the rearview mirror.

  “How long have you been working for Jonathan?”

  “Since he first started his company.”

  “Did he treat all his girlfriends like this? Make them drop whatever they were doing just because he wanted to see them?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “But you chauffeured them around too, right? Those few serious girlfriends that he had?”

  “Miss Gracen...”

  “I’m just trying to make conversation to get my mind off the fact that he just demanded that I come home. That’s all.”

  “Of course.” He pulled the car onto the highway ramp and turned the music up a notch.

  “Are you going to answer my question, Greg?”

  He sighed. “Mr. Statham has never asked me to chauffeur any of his other girlfriends.”

  What? “How did they get around when they went on dates?”

  “He drove his own car to pick them up.”

  “Did he take them on his yachts?”

  “Miss Gracen...” He kept his voice firm. “I can remember a few random dates on his yacht from years past, but to the best of my knowledge you are the only woman who has been on all of his yachts. With the exception of his sister and your daughters, you are the only woman who has flown on his private plane and you are, without a doubt, the only woman who I have personally chauffeured around. You are also the only woman he’s ever shown his real home. Now, if you don’t mind, I would prefer not to talk about my employer.”

  I nodded and sat back in the seat, completely speechless.