Chapter Thirty-Three
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The view through the windshield of Tony’s new Mercedes-Benz CLS-Class Coupe reminded Claire of space movies—the snowflakes were like stars being passed at warp speed. The snow, wind, and subfreezing temperature accentuated the reality that they were no longer in paradise. She settled into the heated seat, rubbed her leather gloved hands, and watched the snow covered terrain. The glistening sparkles would’ve been pretty if not for the blowing and accumulation. Tony didn’t mind. He was enjoying his new car, which had arrived at the estate while they were gone. To Claire’s relief, it handled amazingly well on snow.
Although almost 8:00 PM, she felt as though she was finally waking—the jet lag was difficult to navigate. Both she and Tony had slept late following their arrival back to reality. Now as they headed to Tom and Bev’s for a New Year’s Eve celebration, she thought about their return.
When they entered the estate, Catherine’s welcoming smile was the best sight Claire could imagine. They immediately embraced. The peaceful stillness of the mansion, barren of decorations and workers, was comforting. She and Tony ate a light dinner and fell sound asleep.
It was during the morning, while more awake, they discussed their bedroom situation. Now that they’re married, should they move into one room? When Tony asked Claire’s opinion—a benchmark moment—she replied she liked maintaining two rooms. The most important thing was sleeping together, the location was irrelevant. Claire said she liked her suite. Truth be told—she did. Yes—she knew it had surveillance and memories—but it was also where she felt safe and at home. Maybe she’d come to terms with the recordings. She felt—well—secure. If Tony could watch her every move, he wouldn’t question her actions. She also mentioned, “Besides, my suite doesn’t match yours in terms of technology.” His had the big multifaceted screen and God only knew what else. “And you wouldn’t be able to access all your stock market data from here.”
Since their big storm last summer, Claire hadn’t been required—or asked—to watch more videos, but she believed Tony did. She also believed he could access his videos and anything he wanted: from his office, bedroom, movie-theater, or anywhere else he chose. This hadn’t been confirmed, but somehow she suspected it was true.
His reply was why, even now as they drove, Claire was still stewing.
“I think that sounds reasonable, I don’t believe we’ll be running out of room anytime soon”—As Claire watched the honeymoon hue of Tony’s eyes fade into darkness, he continued—“however, regarding the technology you mentioned, I believe it would be prudent to maintain the past restrictions involving my office and bedroom. I don’t think you need unsupervised access to computers, Internet, or telephones.”
“Tony, I’m your wife. What do you think I’ll do?”
“I think it’s best to avoid possible glitches”—He lifted her chin—“Do you agree, or would you like to discuss it further?”
Claire stared into his eyes, squared her shoulders, and straightened her neck. “I agree. Excuse me. I need to take a shower.” He released her chin and she walked away. She’d learned months ago she didn’t like glitches and pursuing a closed conversation wasn’t prudent; however, every bone in her body wanted to pursue it. She really didn’t care about the technology and didn’t want to access it. Claire wanted the ability to access it!
Ten hours later, as they rode to Tom and Bev’s party, she contemplated the closed conversation. Now that she was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, didn’t that give her some kind of clout? Some perks? Could she possibly revisit the subject without fear of retribution? As she debated this internally and watched the glistening flakes sparkle in the illumination of the Mercedes’ beams, she wondered if her life had changed.
She was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, but was that really different from being Ms. Claire Nichols?
“Which do you prefer?”
Tony’s question pulled Claire from her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear your question.”
“I asked if you prefer the view in Fiji over the frozen splendor of Iowa.”
Claire laughed. “I don’t think you need to ask, do you?”
“Probably not, but I’m trying to get you to talk.”
“I’m talking.”
“Yes, you are, but you haven’t really been talking since this morning. Would you like to discuss the cause before we get to Tom’s?”
Claire thought about the question. Yes, she wanted to revisit the subject, but should she? “I don’t know.” Her feet were cold and the fashionable boots weren’t helping. She tried to get them under the blow of the Mercedes’ heater. “If I say yes, am I opening a closed subject?”
“Yes, I guess you are. Is it worth it to you?”
The interior of the car was warm, yet Claire pushed her gloved hands deeper into the pockets of her fur jacket and considered the implications. Did she really care anymore about technology? Was it worth pushing this discussion? She knew immediately the answer was no. “I think my decision is to not reopen the conversation; however, I want you to know—it isn’t the technology I long for—it’s the ability to access it.”
Tony smirked. “Claire, your talents were wasted in meteorology. You would’ve made a wonderful businesswoman. You just said you didn’t want to pursue the subject, yet you managed to enlighten me about your motivation. Once again, I’m impressed.”
His condescension didn’t help her disposition. The snow was coming at the windshield with enough velocity to make her feel as though they were flying thought space at hyper speed. Her lips pressed tightly into a line. Finally, she asked, “What kind of response do you expect?”
“Honest, as always.”
“Okay—seriously, who do I have left to contact? I don’t understand why you feel the restrictions are still necessary. God knows I know the rules.” The branches of the pines lay low with inches of heavy accumulating snow. Keeping her gaze to her right, Claire saw the ladened evergreens through the side window. They were nearing the Millers’ home and the sound of soft music filled the air. Tony didn’t respond. After all, this discussion was closed. The familiar sense of powerlessness filled Claire’s chest. She wanted the unspoken tension to end. She reached over and touched his arm. “I love you. I’ll do whatever you want or expect of me. I admit I’m not pleased by your verdict, but I’m okay. Let’s spend tonight with our friends and welcome the New Year.” At least she’d explained her view; that was something.
The Millers’ home was magnificent. Beverly had fantastic taste in decor. It was ultramodern yet amazingly inviting. The unique style was a combination of stone, brick, and wood, accentuated with glass and chrome. Despite the numerous windows, the house was warm. They could watch the snow and wind and stay snug inside.
Perhaps it was the fire in the fireplace or the wine in their glasses, but the gathering radiated warmth. Their friends happily celebrated their return. They wanted to know all about the honeymoon. Claire told them that it had been wonderful—Tony had literally taken her to paradise. Everyone complimented their wedding. They were a beautiful couple. Sue mentioned how beautiful their pictures were in the press release. Claire had forgotten about press coverage until that moment.
“I haven’t seen the released pictures. Do you have copies?” Bev said she didn’t but she’d be glad to pull them up online. Claire glanced at her husband, although he didn’t speak, his eyes did. Claire knew she shouldn’t, but she agreed, “Thank you, I’d love to see them.”
Instead of bringing out a computer, Bev removed a remote from a drawer and pointed it at the large television on the wall. The New Year’s countdown from Time Square changed to a homepage. Bev entered Anthony Rawlings into the search engine. Nine months ago—the procedure would’ve seemed mundane—but now it fascinated Claire. She would’ve loved to take the time to read the multitude of pages that appeared as options. Bev reduced the search by entering wedding. Claire briefly saw an accompanying article; but within seconds, Bev clicked, and their pictures appeared on the screen.
Claire stared. There they were in their wedding attire. There were three different pictures—a head shot—a full-length frontal view—and one of them dancing. Everyone watched Claire as she beheld herself on the screen. She looked at Tony and her—they looked like models. Tony was tall, handsome, and buff, with his dark hair, dark eyes, and dark tuxedo contrasting dramatically with Claire. She looked petite, blonde, and striking. Her hair was so light she assumed some of her friends from before may not recognize her. Next to Tony, she seemed small. Tony was right about her eyes. In the head shot, her green eyes shined vividly. She’d seen her dress in the mirror, but seeing it on the television screen and looking at it from afar, it was obviously eye-catching, elegant, and spectacular. She smiled. It had been a good choice.
Claire realized everyone in the room was watching her, especially Tony. Most were happily awaiting her response. Tony seemed less pleased with the entire situation, but she knew he wouldn’t say anything there. It would be a matter better discussed in private. Finally, Sue put her hand on Claire’s knee and asked, “So what do you think?”
Claire giggled. “I just can’t believe my wedding’s news.” Everyone snickered. What did she expect? She married Anthony Rawlings. Claire looked up at him. He had eyes only for her—dark eyes. Daringly, she got up and walked to her husband. Lifting herself by her toes, she reached his cheek and gave it a kiss.
He obliged, bending down to allow his cheek to meet her lips. Addressing the group, Claire nonchalantly replied, “I guess I just forget who he is, but, I have a lifetime to remember.” She kissed him again.
They toasted the New Year with champagne. Brent, Tom, and Tim especially wished Tony a profitable year. If his year was lucrative—theirs would be also. It was after 1:00 AM when the party broke up.
Within the car, the coldness of the leather transcended Claire’s slacks. She wanted the heater to warm the seat as well as the interior of the car quickly. The roar of the window defroster in the stillness of the night told Claire the poor Mercedes was trying its best. Tony was scraping the snow from the windows and talking with Brent while Tim did the same. Everything was blanketed with several more inches of white. Thankfully, it had stopped falling. Absently, Claire wondered how often Tony needed to scrape his own windows. She knew she was trying to divert her thoughts from the reprimand she was about to receive.
Her husband remained pleasant and attentive during the party, but his expression as he opened her door let her know that this subject wasn’t closed. Claire pondered that thought. Wasn’t it really the same subject as earlier? So shouldn’t it be closed?
Each time she exhaled she noticed the faint white crystals which formed and hung in the air. She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders; she was ready. The windows were clear and she could hear Tony and Brent’s voices, his door would open at any moment. With each passing minute her demeanor moved from anxious to indignant.
All she had wanted to do was see their wedding pictures. Why was that such a big deal? After all, it was her wedding. The fact the pictures were available online shouldn’t matter. Once on the road, the only sounds were those of the tires on the snow and the hum of the heater. Claire waited. After a significant silence Tony spoke. “Do you remember I told you I received e-mails from Emily and she’d like you to call?”
“Yes, and you said I could call her tomorrow.” Claire felt a sudden panic.
“I was just wondering—your memory seems to be failing you.”
“May I still call my sister?”
“Yes, I keep my word.”
Claire exhaled. This Tony was more indirect than the one she was accustomed to. Maybe that was the advantage of being his wife—she’d been looking for that perk. “Thank you.” She glanced toward her husband, his jaw muscles defined as he clenched. He was waiting for her to approach the subject. Reluctantly she did. “What did you think of our wedding pictures?”
“I think you were absolutely stunning and I’m a lucky man.”
That wasn’t the response she anticipated. Yes, she was annoyed that this was a big deal; however, her intuition told her to back off. “I’m sorry about encouraging Bev. My curiosity got the better of me.” Apologizing seemed like the best option—even if it only sounded sincere.
“It isn’t just what you did. It’s what you said.”
Claire couldn’t remember what she said, so she asked. “What did I say?”
“You said you forget who I am.”
“I forget that marrying you is newsworthy—I love you for you. I forget that you are Anthony Rawlings—to me—you’re Tony.”
His grip intensified on the steering wheel and she felt his tension radiating through the interior of the car. “I’ve told you over and over, you must remember who I am. If you forget who I am, you’ll forget who you are, and the significance of your behavior.” It was a different version of the appearance speech. He was right—he’d said it over and over. She listened—replied at all appropriate times—and was thankful it was only the abridged version.
Tony returned to work on the January 1—from his home office. He had a lot of things to do. Apparently, he had tried to keep up-to-date while in Fiji, but someone kept him distracted. With him working in his office and her free to do as she pleased within the house, Claire soon realized how event filled the last month had been. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of solitude.
Claire arrived at Tony’s office before lunch to make her call. She expected the limitations lecture. Surprisingly, he didn’t give it. He dialed the telephone, turned his back and worked on his computers while Claire waited to speak. John answered. She prayed John wouldn’t say anything to upset Tony. “Hi, John, it’s Claire, is Emily there?”
“Hi, Claire. Welcome back to the United States. You are back, aren’t you?”
“We are, we returned on December 30.” She was sending out mental signals, put Emily on the phone!
“So, was it as beautiful as the article described?” Tony turned to Claire—she needed to conclude with John and move on to Emily—she looked at him pleadingly—she knew.
“I didn’t read the article, but it was amazing. Tony definitely took me to paradise for our honeymoon. Hey, is Emily there?”
“Oh, yes. She’s right here. Good to talk with you. Please, tell Anthony I said hello.”
She made eye contact with him, hi. “I will, thanks, John.” She heard Emily take the receiver. Apparently, they weren’t using a speaker phone.
“Hi, Claire, how is my jet-set sister?” Claire smiled. Emily was trying her best to accept Claire’s life.
“I’m wonderful, glad to be home. How are you?” Tony turned back to his work. Emily explained that she and John were well. They wanted to thank Claire and Anthony again for the transportation. A Rawlings Industries jet took them back to Albany on Sunday following the ceremony. She also thanked them for allowing them to stay in their home, it was amazing! She asked Claire more questions about the honeymoon. Claire made it sound magical but not too over the top. Tony politely kept his back to Claire during her conversation. She knew he was listening to every word but appreciated the gesture.
After ten minutes Claire’s internal clock told her time was running out. “Well, it sure was good to see you two and to talk to you—”
Emily interrupted, “I wanted to let you know John’s been offered a job with a different company.”
This shocked Claire. She didn’t know he’d been looking for a different job. Emily said he hadn’t. It was a surprise to them too. Claire asked if it was in Albany. No, it’s either in New York City or Chicago. The company had offices at both locations—as well as others. Claire knew that meant Emily would have to leave her teaching job. Emily said she knew that. They were weighing the pros and cons. Financially—if he took the job—she wouldn’t need to work. It was a tremendous increase in pay. Claire was happy to hear that, but she knew how much Emily loved teaching.
Claire also added the pro that Chicago was much closer to her and Tony. She asked if John would be doing the same type of law? Emily said it was international corporate. He’d studied it, but for the last four years he’d practiced mostly corporate domestic. Tony pointed to his watch.
Claire told Emily she was interested, and she’d try to call again to see how things were going. She also warned, “Please think it through. Don’t just jump for the money.”
Emily said, “That’s easy for you to say.”
Claire understood, but wanted them to be happy first and foremost. Emily asked when she would hear from Claire again, and if there was a better way to contact her than Tony’s private e-mail?
Claire told she was still trying to understand the whole Mrs. Rawlings thing. So many people trying to interview her and the like—well she was sure Emily understood. So yes—Tony’s private e-mail was best. They bid each other goodbye and Tony disconnected the line.
Claire thought about the call as she stood to leave Tony’s office. “Thank you, I appreciate the chance to talk with her.” She turned to let him work.
“Claire, wait a minute.” Her first thought was that he expected some sort of gratitude. She turned back to him with fire in her eyes.
He casually leaned on his desk. “She was fishing.”
Confused, the fire still flickered. “Fishing for what? Information about our honeymoon? Honestly, Tony, she’s my sister. Maybe she’s just interested in learning about me from me—not some magazine.”
Impatiently, he asked, “Are you done?”
“Yes”—he indicated for her to sit. She did—“She was fishing to find out if you knew about John’s job offer.”
“That doesn’t make sense, how would I know—” She looked at Tony and her heart rate increased. “Why? Why would you offer John a job? I know you don’t like him.”
“I don’t like his strength and determination—He pursued the prenuptial agreement in my limousine even though he knew I didn’t want him to—He even had the balls to offer me advice—then during the rehearsal—he stood in front of me and our friends and had the audacity to not give you away.”
“I knew that upset you. We just never discussed it—before now”—Tony nodded—“Then please explain why you’d offer him a job?”
Tony smiled a devious grin. “I didn’t. Tom did. He contacted John while we were away. They’ve had two meetings in New York. John does have an amazing résumé for someone who went to law school in Indiana.”
“It’s one of the top twenty-five law schools in the country.” Claire immediately regretted defending John.
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rawlings—I’ll let Tom know that he may contact you if a cheering section is needed for Mr. Vandersol”—Claire apologized and asked Tony to continue—“He graduated magna cum laude from Indiana University School of Law and was hired by an East Coast firm that predominately hires from within the Ivy League. He’s worked very hard, and after only four years as an associate, he’s on the fast track for partnership consideration.”
Claire wasn’t sure if it was Tony or Tom, but someone had done their homework. “All right, he has a good résumé, but you just said you don’t like him.”
“Actually, Mrs. Rawlings, I said I don’t like his strength and determination, or more accurately, they infuriated me.” He smiled again. This one wasn’t devious, more mischievous.
Claire suddenly experienced déjà vu and smiled back. “Tony, John isn’t me. He doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
“That’s good—I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“I mean, I don’t want you to be upset if he refuses your offer”—Tony lifted his eyebrows. Claire continued—“John’s worked very hard to achieve what he has in life. He may not accept your offer as being based on his résumé—but as being based on a familiar relationship.”
“You know him better, but Tom’s made him a very impressive offer. Those student loans, mortgage, and other debts you mentioned would no longer be an issue. Emily wouldn’t need to work, and they could live anywhere they wanted.”
“Emily likes her job; she loves teaching. Our mother was a teacher, up until the day she died. Emily enjoys doing what she does”—Claire realized she wasn’t facilitating the conversation—“But, I’m sure the loss of debt would be appealing. Emily could always find another teaching job. She does have over six years of experience. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if he refuses.”
“It’s interesting the lengths some people will go to reduce their debt.”
Claire chose to ignore that comment. “Has Tom given him a deadline? And what was the point of me talking with Emily but not knowing about John?”
“Tom asked for an answer by the end of January and I was curious”—this time Claire raised her eyebrows—“I wondered if Emily would come right out and ask you about the job, and I figured if you knew about it, she’d think you persuaded me to offer it to him, or more accurately—persuaded me to persuade Tom.”
Claire thought for a moment. “Well, I can honestly say it never occurred to me to ask for such a thing, and obviously Emily doesn’t realize—I don’t have that kind of influence over you.”
His smile flashed—more unscrupulous this time. “Why, Mrs. Rawlings, I believe you’ve been known to be quite persuasive.”
The enlightening conversation was done. Claire had a lot to consider. She didn’t feel good about the probability of John being employed by Rawlings Industries; however, she’d been honest—both to Emily and Tony. That’s all she could do. Honesty was always the best policy—right?
Part of the happiness of life consists not in fighting battles, but in avoiding them. A masterly retreat is in itself a victory.
—Norman Vincent Peale