Chapter Twenty-Eight
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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.”
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 traditional 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.
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.”
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