“As a surprise for your birthday, I made reservations for Sunday and Monday night at the presidential suite of a very exclusive hotel, inside Yosemite. I thought you’d enjoy the Sierra Nevada Mountains and National Park. After last year, I didn’t want to miss celebrating your birthday.” His tone became stern. “However, instead of surprising you like I hoped, our romantic birthday getaway now rests in your hands.”
Claire tried to follow his words: her hands? What did he mean?
“If your memory isn’t failing, if you can remember my concerns and rules, and if you can obey the few requests I’ve made, then we’ll be able to keep the plans for your birthday. If, however, you’re unable to handle your responsibilities, I’ll have no choice but to cancel the reservations, and we’ll concentrate on ways to help facilitate your memory for the future.” He stared at his wife as she sank to the edge of the bed. “What is your choice? You want to be a partner. Tell me what you want to do: go to Yosemite, or go home and review appropriate behavior?” This was another of those offers you can’t refuse type questions.
God she hated the dance: a blow to the cheek one minute and discussing a romantic getaway the next. It was the one step forward, two steps back waltz. She wanted to scream. Sitting on the side of the bed, Claire allowed herself tears and swallowed. Her voice revealed her distress, yet she tried to sound composed. “I’ve never been to Yosemite. I’ve heard it’s beautiful. That sounds like a wonderful birthday.”
Unmoved by her tears, he stood waiting for a response to his question. Seeing her husband’s stare, feeling a too-familiar twinge of panic, Claire realized she hadn’t answered his question. “I’d like to go to Yosemite. I’ll do as you say.”
He moved closer, took her hands, and helped her stand. Their chests touched as she looked up at his still too-dark eyes. She didn’t look away. “Claire, I don’t want to break my promise, but at the risk of sounding repetitive public failure is not an option.”
“I understand. I’m sorry for making you break your promise. I’ll do better.”
That night while lying in bed next to his sleeping wife, Tony remembered a scene from his childhood. It was one of many that shaped so many of his decisions. His grandfather’s booming voice: “Boy, you will not be joining us at dinner this evening.”
Surprised, he noticed the absence of his place setting. Anton asked why. His grandfather didn’t speak, but removed a letter from the breast pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table. Anton retrieved the letter and unfolded the page. It was his grades from the last semester of classes. He’d taken seventeen credit hours: a very full load for a freshman. There were five A’s and one B+, in Calculus. That seemed good to him.
He remembered still not comprehending his grandfather’s tone. “You plan to succeed in this world, boy?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Then don’t let this happen again. Failure has consequences. Perhaps some time alone, eating in your suite, will help you remember perfection is the minimum requirement for success.” His grandfather then turned his eyes away and took a drink of wine.
“Nathaniel, perhaps he did his—” His grandfather’s dark eyes stopped his grandmother’s plea. She looked down at her plate. The subject was closed. Tony looked at his parents. They too were looking down.
He remembered walking out of that dining room vowing to make Nathaniel proud. It wasn’t easy, but today he believed he’d seized opportunities and created others. If his grandfather were alive, which he should be, Tony believed he would be proud.
The following morning, Tony left the apartment early to golf with friends. During her morning shower, Claire noticed tenderness on her right arm. While drying, she saw a large purple hand print. Claire’s concern wasn’t that she endured her husband’s wrath. It was that the physical evidence would be visible. She felt relieved to find Catherine had packed blouses with sleeves. She rationalized if the purple bruise was seen, it would break multiple rules: appearances and private information. Most importantly, Tony wouldn’t be happy. Thinking ahead, Claire checked her party dress: sleeveless.
Once the ladies were all together, Claire summoned her brightest smile and asked, “So is anyone up for a little shopping on Rodeo Drive? I think a new dress for the party is in order!” It didn’t take much convincing to entice the others to join her on three blocks of the most famous and expensive shopping in America. Apparently, her mask wasn’t without cracks. Courtney tried on multiple occasions to isolate Claire and ask her what was happening. She said she felt something amiss.
Claire smiled brightly and looked her friend in the eye. “It’s just newlywed stuff. We’re both new at this marriage thing. We’re working on it.” Sensing Courtney’s disbelief, Claire continued, “Really, everything is fine.”
Tony mentioned Claire’s shopping talents had improved; he was right. She found two dresses that her friends adored, one from Armani and the other Gucci from Saks. Of course, each needed shoes and a bag. She reasoned that two would allow Tony to make the final decision. Claire laid the dresses on the bed, with their shoes and handbags, and enthusiastically asked Tony which one he wanted her to wear. He liked that she shopped with her friends. The reason was never questioned; however, a decision would be difficult without a fashion show. Claire obliged. Tony chose the Gucci deep-blue long-sleeved classic wrap dress. He particularly liked the ease at which it unwrapped.
The six of them arrived at the party to a crowd of celebrities and press. Claire stayed by her husband’s side, as they chatted with people she’d only seen on screen. She was surprised how normal they seemed. Perhaps a few were boorish or narcissistic, but as a whole they were unpretentious and humble and treated Tony with respect. Claire didn’t realize until listening to his conversations that he also capitalized in forms of entertainment: television stations, news stations, and movie studios. This connection was the impetus for his friendship with Eli. She’d thought they made unlikely friends.
Now it made sense.
Claire hadn’t anticipated the grandeur of Eli and MaryAnn’s home. Bev’s design house had been instrumental in the decor. Every inch screamed California: open spaces, stunning views, clean lines, and affluence. Being built into a cliff with a spectacular ocean view, Claire wondered if they ever worried about earthquakes. She decided not to ask.
Aside from a few excursions with Courtney or MaryAnn, who was determined to introduce her to the Hollywood A crowd, Claire stayed dutifully at Tony’s elbow. He amiably included her in his conversations and introduced her to everyone. Anthony Rawlings and his bride—how cute they were. Still honeymooners and inseparable, it was the talk of the party.
Following a Sunday brunch with their friends, Tony and Claire flew to Fresno. He had arranged for a rental car. She wondered how many people rented cars valued at over a hundred thousand dollars. He said it wasn’t quite the Maserati Gran Turismo, but he liked driving the Corvette ZR1. The man who delivered it, claimed it could go from zero to one hundred miles per hour in seven seconds. Claire said, “Seriously, I believe him. We don’t need to test it.”
Yosemite was as beautiful as she’d heard. The famous stone mountains, waterfalls, lakes, and giant sequoias thrilled her. Her love of nature overpowered her recent unsettled sentiment toward her husband. With the stunning surroundings and his amorous temperament, she could forget his other persona, or at least, she could compartmentalize it away and focus on this Tony.
On her birthday, after climbing a steep trail to the base of Nevada Falls, Tony surprised Claire with a picnic lunch he’d hidden in a backpack: complete with blanket and bottle of wine. She wanted to hate him, his behavior and rules. At times she could, but other times he could be so romantic, tender, and affectionate.
After they ate, he handed her a burgundy velvet box, and cooed, “Happy birthday, Claire.” Displaying his devilish grin, he added, “I remembered, no black velvet boxes.”
She shook her head thinking: damn, he’s good. She accepted the box and opened it, t
o discover a stunning pair of diamond stud earrings. She had a fleeting memory of earrings long ago, ones her parents had given her for her high school graduation. They weren’t near as big or impressive. Momentarily, she wondered where they were.
“Thank you, Tony. They’re amazing.” Her words were sincere and appreciative. The diamonds glistened in the rays of sunlight and truly were the prettiest diamond earrings she’d ever seen. The only prettier diamond would be the one on her left hand.
Tony tenderly kissed her. “Happy birthday, love. I’m glad we’re here.”
She nodded. So was she.
On Tuesday afternoon, Eric waited for them in Fresno with Tony’s jet. They arrived home late Tuesday night. The time difference worked better traveling west.
Although the clock read after 10:00PM, Claire decided to press her luck. “Tony, I’ve had a wonderful birthday. Yosemite was beautiful and my earrings are stunning.” She was wearing the earrings, her journey necklace, and her new diamond watch from Europe. “I have one more birthday request.”
He hugged her close. “And that would be?”
The past few days had been good. She momentarily hesitated, but decided to proceed. “I’d like to talk to my sister.” She looked up into his eyes. What color were they?
He sighed. “Let’s go to the office and call before I change my mind.”
She lifted herself on her toes and kissed him. “Thank you.” She was barely able to contain her excitement at the ability to call. The fact it was on speaker was expected. When Emily answered, she sounded sleepy. Claire apologized, told her she had just gotten home from out of town, and wanted to call. Emily quickly recovered. They chatted for nearly fifteen minutes before Claire realized her time had expired. Of course, Claire apologized for not calling sooner: things were so busy with the auction. She told Emily about the Hollywood party and about Tony’s surprise birthday trip.
Emily thanked them for the donation to the school district. It’d been made anonymously, but she guessed it was from them. She also told Claire she was worried about John. As the deadline approached, he spent too much time at the office. He was currently there even though it was after 11:00 PM. He would probably be gone before Emily woke in the morning. Apparently, some auditor reviewed their information: their hours worked, hours billed, fees recovered, etc. John hadn’t disclosed everything to Emily, but she had a bad feeling. Something didn’t feel right. She promised to keep Claire informed if she got the chance to talk to her. Claire told her she would try. She said goodbye and Tony hit disconnect.
Hugging her husband she whispered, “It’s been a great birthday. I might not be as tired as I thought.” Both of their smiles were genuine.
Chapter Forty-Four
Perspective is the most important thing to have in life.
—Lauren Graham
Claire once again had a voice in her e-mails. Of course, a voice was only one part of the equation. Presentation was also a crucial component. In preparation for her oration, she straightened her three stacks of papers. The first one was her Patricia respond pile: responses that didn’t require a personal touch, rarely was this pile even discussed. The second pile, the one she’d mentally labeled: Ask Tony, was the one which usually dominated their discussion. Often, those were her only two stacks. Some days she didn’t feel there were any requests that warranted the stress of the second pile, and then other days Claire felt the need to include a third category: Correspondence. Most often, this was her written response to someone’s correspondence, but on occasion, like today, it was an unsolicited outgoing e-mail. Sometimes her messages were sent as she wrote them. Other times, they made changes. It was all part of the intricate deliberation and negotiation.
Today’s unsolicited e-mail was to Emily and had been written and rewritten about six times. Pacing around the suite, Claire wondered if she worded it well and more importantly, if Tony would allow it to be sent.
John’s deadline had been November 1. Today was the November 4, and Claire still hadn’t heard from her sister. Claire was hopeful that the message she’d prepared could be sent. After all, Tony was the one who suggested she call Emily on the November 1. Of course, she jumped at the chance, but no one answered. When she didn’t get an answer on November 2 or 3, Claire couldn’t help worry.
With Claire’s revelation that her subconscious and conscious were sharing the same concerns, and her newfound time around the house, Claire continually practiced self-therapy sessions. She entertained the idea that her concern about John was in actuality a defense mechanism: a way for her to think about someone’s situation besides herself. Truly, she didn’t worry about herself. She was mostly concerned about the man she’d married. The loving persona was back in many ways: complimentary, caring, and compassionate. Control continued to be an issue. He expected obedience and submission. As long as she complied no consequences occurred. She spent endless hours spinning that into a positive paradigm.
If it were truly positive, would it require hours of spinning?
Having little else to do, she dressed for dinner and read a book while awaiting Tony’s arrival. As usual, he was expected home at 7:00 PM; however, unexpectedly he entered her suite about 5:30 PM. When she looked up from her book and smiled, Claire immediately recognized something amiss in his expression. Her heart raced, as she wondered, what have I done?
He didn’t speak, put some papers on the sofa, and knelt before her. The papers reminded her of Meredith’s interview, but she could sense he wasn’t enraged. Distressed would be a better assessment.
“Tony, what is it?” As he lowered his head to her lap, Claire thought he appeared as shaken as she’d ever seen him. Lifting his face, she asked, “Seriously, Tony, you’re scaring me. What’s the matter?”
“I came home as soon as I saw the news release. I knew you’d want to know. You probably don’t believe me, but I am sorry.”
Claire looked into his eyes and saw sincerity. With trembling hands she reached for the papers. She had no idea what she was about to read, but it didn’t take a psychic to know it was bad:
TRAGIC ACCIDENT CLAIMS LIFE OF YOUNG GAMING PHENOMENON
Simon Johnson, 28, of Palo Alto, California died Wednesday,
November 3, 2011, after a tragic accident.
Claire put the papers down and ran to the bathroom, suddenly ill. She hadn’t seen Simon in eight years, hadn’t consciously thought of him. Now he was gone.
The vomiting caused her to tremble. Once she was done, she turned to see Tony standing in the doorway: watching his wife. She didn’t know how he’d respond to her reaction, but she assumed he’d think it was inappropriate. Suddenly, Claire didn’t care. Dejectedly, she sank to the floor and surrendered to whatever was coming her way. Her tears pooled as the cool tile soothed her pounding head. Though she heard Tony’s approaching footsteps, Claire knew she was too weak to defend herself. She closed her eyes and waited for his booming voice.
It didn’t come. Instead, Tony silently knelt beside her, helped her stand, and tenderly carried her back to the suite. When he laid her on the sofa, he sat and placed her head in his lap. For the longest time, they didn’t talk. He stroked her hair as she cried. She cried for Simon, not a lost love. She was married to someone else. Claire cried for a life lost too young. The article said he was twenty-eight. She was twenty-eight. Wasn’t that was too young to die?
Finally, she managed to ask, “How did he die?”
“The article said his plane went down in a remote area over the mountains.” Her sobs resumed. “The authorities found the crash site, no survivors. It came across my news feed, and I rushed home.”
Claire regained enough composure to sit. Looking to her husband, Claire tried to explain, “He was a friend. I’m not upset because a longtime ago, he and I were involved. He was just too young to die.”
Tenderly hugging her, Tony said, “I really understand. I overreacted before.” He gently moved her hair away from her face. “The article said he was recently engage
d.” That news restarted Claire’s tears. She wanted him to be married and loved by someone.
When she calmed, Tony brought her tissues, and she read the rest of the news release:
Officials found the crash site of Mr. Johnson’s personal aircraft in the upper elevations of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. Mr. Johnson’s flight plan indicated he was on his way home to Palo Alto after a meeting with investors in the Los Angeles area. Mr. Simon Johnson, self-made millionaire, was best known for his gaming creations. His creative start occurred with Shedis-tics, a Rawlings Industries subsidiary in Northern California. Mr. Johnson began his own gaming company, Si-Jo, in 2005. Mr. Johnson, originally from Indiana, was scheduled to wed Ms. Amber McCoy of Palo Alto, California, on April 21, 2012. Information regarding services has yet to be released by family.
Claire put down the pages and laid her head on Tony’s chest. He put his arms around her as she drifted between sobbing, crying, and dreaming. When she awoke, her head pounded, and her eyes felt swollen and tender. Tony was still there, holding her. She got up and went to the bathroom, washed her face, and came back out. “I think I’m done. Thank you for being so understanding.”
He motioned for her to return to the sofa. When she did, he put his arm around her. “Did you know he worked for one of my companies?”
“He told me that in Chicago, saying how strange fate can be. He said he wanted to thank you for the great start.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t have the chance.”
Tony didn’t respond. What could he say?
The next day, Tony worked from home and Claire rested on the sun porch, feeling her emotions teetering between sad and empty. Despite the recent drop in temperature, merciful sunshine made the porch comfortable. The trees were once again bare, and the grass had resumed its winter gray cast. Claire thought the entire situation seemed unreal and wondered about Amber McCoy and Simon’s parents. She couldn’t imagine what they were going through.
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 45
