Chapter Forty
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In Paris, Tony booked their suite—more like an apartment—in the Second Arrondissement located in the heart of Paris. Many of the major attractions Claire wanted to visit were within walking distance. Tony gave her complete freedom to roam the city while he was in his meetings. At first, she worried about the language barrier; after all, he spoke French like a native; however, unlike the rumors she’d heard, as long as she attempted to speak their language, the French were polite and fluent in English.
She did her best to frequent the shops along Rue de Faubourgs Saint Honoré, but she found the styles too bold for her liking. After his business was complete, they experienced Paris together. They took romantic walks along the Seine and in the Tuileries Gardens. They also dined on amazing cuisine. The cultural differences fascinated her. Dinner didn’t begin until 8:30 PM, but earlier than that they could experience l’apéritif—from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM—where cafés and bistros offered their best cocktails or wine by the glass. Tony’s understanding of the French was not limited to their language. He was also well versed in their wines. Apparently, the French consider wine to be an adjunct to each meal and snack—it reminded Claire of college.
Paris claimed to be capital of romance, but Claire would suggest the C?te d’Azur or the French Riviera seek to take the title. Located in the southeastern corner of France on the Mediterranean coastline, it boggled her mind to think she was actually there in the playground for the wealthy. She didn’t realize Tony planned this portion of their trip with no business obligations, no meetings, commitments, or other recipients of his attention. He was totally devoted to her.
The French Riviera was a major yachting and cruising area. Unbeknownst to Claire, they reserved a private one-hundred-foot luxury sailing yacht, complete with their own captain and first mate. It would be their hotel for two nights. They boarded their yacht in Beau lier-sur Mer, a beautiful Mediterranean resort village.
They spent the next seventy-two hours lounging on the sea decks, enjoying the interior cabins, and cruising up the coast toward Italy. Some of the ports they viewed from their deck, others they stopped and explored. Cruising on a private yacht in the Mediterranean was amazing. Claire’s favorite port was Monaco. The entire experience seemed surreal. Being the second smallest independent state in the world, the entire city-state was less than one square mile. They were able to walk the hilly streets and enjoy many attractions. There were museums and palaces, as well as shopping. Tony relished Claire’s unabashed enthusiasm for Monte Carlo. Claire believed that Le Musée Oceanographic or the palace above the sea was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. She didn’t want to leave; however, their yacht was docked in the scenic harbor and waited to take them north to Italy.
The last port before Italy was Menton. It was nicknamed the Pearl of France and was famous for its gardens. Tony’s zeal at sharing nature with Claire amused her. His research told him that Jardin Serre de la Madone, often known as the Serre de la Madone (Hill of the Madonna), was a garden noted for its design and rare plantings. It wasn’t difficult for Claire to show the enthusiasm Tony expected.
Next, they flew to Sicily for the weekend. Landing at a small airport in Catania, Sicily, Tony arranged to have a Maserati Gran Turismo waiting. Actually, it was the Gran Cabrio, the open-air version of a small dynamic sports car. The rag top allowed them to tour the countryside and see everything as it came into view. Driving around Sicily and driving around Iowa proved dramatically different. Claire learned very quickly speed limits exceeded those found in the United States and didn’t seem to be strongly enforced. The one-lane winding roads always had someone wanting to pass or needing to be passed. Tony loved the challenge. Riding around the island with him that weekend made Claire feel like she truly put her life in his hands as never before.
The desire to drive never occurred to her the entire weekend.
Their hotel was in Taormina, located on a plateau below Mount Tauro on the east side of Sicily, on the coast of the Ionian Sea. Their suite rested high on a cliff with a splendid coastal view from their private glass railed balcony. It was known for its ancient Greek splendor, medieval charm, and unique views of Mount Etna. Tony was right about the water. The shades of blue and green were comparable to the waters in Fiji.
There were beaches nearby which offered the sunbathing Tony mentioned; however, Claire suggested they spend their time seeing other attractions. They spent hours walking the endlessly winding medieval streets and tiny passages. Thankfully, most were inaccessible by car. They discovered garden treasures hidden behind stone walls and terraces overlooking the coast. The Greek Amphitheater built in the third-century BC offered breathtaking views of Mount Etna and the sea. The history and age of the amphitheater had Claire talking about the youth of America.
Tony listened to her enthusiasm and watched her energy as she held his hand and walked through miles of history. The sightseeing was new to him. He traveled for business, not pleasure. Claire’s presence made all of this new and fun for him too. One of his goals for their trip was making her happy. Another was creating good memories.
The evenings in Taormina were enchanting. Together, they strolled the illuminated streets and indulged in delicious cuisine. They watched in awe as lava left a stream of steam and light in its wake as it flowed along the snow covered slopes of Mount Etna.
Hesitantly, granting Tony the pleasure of driving, they drove to Mount Etna, where they hiked. Claire was fascinated to learn ancient Greeks believed the mountain was home to the one-eyed monster known as the Cyclops. Her father loved mythology. He’d read stories of Cyclops to her as a child. It astounded her that she was actually walking around the foothills of a mythological site. With Mount Etna being an active volcano, the height of the summit changed with each eruption. The lava created beautiful solidified structures. These structures were called gorges, and at Alcantara Gorge, Claire and Tony walked around and touched the basalt gorges and columns which were formed after thousands of years of rushing waters. They waded in the Alcantara River and experienced the coolness of the water coming from the snow topped peaks.
On Sunday night they flew to Florence where Tony had more meetings. Not reading any of her books, Claire kept busy with museums and sidewalk cafes. While sitting and enjoying a coffee at a sidewalk café, Claire noticed the signs advertising Wi-Fi. She saw people with their laptops and the wall of available computers. This vacation had allowed her more personal freedom than she’d experienced since originally arriving at Tony’s. He hadn’t mentioned any restrictions, yet he had mentioned restrictions to Internet use thousands of times at home. Claire decided she would spend her time in Italy seeing Italy. She could access the Worldwide Web from Iowa and hoped someday that would be an option. Today, she would enjoy Florence.
While wandering the Galleria dell’ Accademia, the museum housing Michelangelo’s David, Claire lost all track of time. The museum was large with a magnitude of amazing exhibits. The art fascinated her. She lingered at the impressionistic paintings. The greatness of the exhibits caused her to forget about everything except the treasures she was seeing and experiencing firsthand.
When she realized the time, an immediate rush of panic nearly knocked her off her feet. It was 4:30 PM and she was supposed to be back at their suite by 5:00 PM. Her minute recollection of Spanish did little to help her navigate the Italian street signs. She’d walked to the museum, stopping at others on the way. The sidewalk cafés and narrow streets all looked the same. Normally, she had an uncanny sense of direction, but seeing the minutes tick away on her watch made her lose any navigational skills she’d previously possessed. She practically ran the streets filled with people, trying desperately to find her way back to their hotel. At 5:30 PM she reached the Relais Santa Croce. Entering the exquisite lobby, she did her best to regain her composure.
With only twenty-four rooms, the staff excelled at name recognition and attention. The concierge immediately greeted her in broken English, “Good evening, Signora Rawlings, your husband—he awaits you in your suite. May I carry your baggage?”
Claire’s heart sank. She knew Tony’s meetings were nearby. Now her fears were realized. At first, she told the concierge no, thank you. Then she decided perhaps having someone enter the suite with her was a good idea. She handed him the few bags she carried and they proceeded to the Rawlings suite. The concierge assisted her by using her key to unlock their door. The double doors opened to the sitting area, complete with fireplace and windows overlooking the historic center of Florence. Tony wasn’t there.
The concierge placed Mrs. Rawlings’s bags on the sofa and thanked her. She reached into her purse for a tip when Tony appeared from the bedroom. He smiled gallantly at the concierge, thanked him, and handed him a generous tip from his money clip.
Thanking Signor Rawlings, the concierge bowed and left.
Claire’s heart began to pound in her ears as she and Tony stood silently for what seemed like an eternity. She’d used all her resolve maintaining her facade with the concierge. She hadn’t witnessed the other Tony in quite a while. She worked diligently day and night to keep him away. But now she was late, she broke his punctuality rule, and there was no need to explain. She knew her reasons wouldn’t matter. So she stood, tall and resolute. Her eyes weren’t full of fury, they brimmed with tears. He just watched and said nothing. The pupils of his eyes were taking over, yet his expression wasn’t keeping up. Claire waited.
*
Tony watched her. He’d been worried. What if something happened to her? He didn’t even know where to begin to look. When he heard her arrive his immediate feeling was relief, she was okay, but then he saw her, knew she was safe, and relief faded into displeasure. It wasn’t conscious, but he felt it happening, and he didn’t want to give in to it. Her expression looked so frightened, yet she stood so strong and proud.
There was a time he would have enjoyed quelling her resolve; but right now, all he wanted to do was make her feel safe. Finally, without speaking Tony indicated they sit on the sofa. Claire sat and waited. He broke the silence. “Tell me what you saw today and what caused your delay.” He didn’t yell or strike. Claire’s obvious relief led to a sudden loss of control. Tony reached for her and she started to involuntarily tremble. “Claire, it’s all right.” His tone comforted her as he pulled her close.
“Tony, I’m so sorry. I was at the Galleria dell’ Accademia—which was amazing—when I realized the time. I immediately left the museum, but I couldn’t understand the signs and the streets all look the same.” Her words ran together with small sobs between. “I knew the hotel was within walking distance—but I suddenly couldn’t remember the direction.”
At first, he didn’t speak, only holding her. Then he said, “It’s a foreign city, mistakes happen. I was worried something happened to you. I didn’t want you to have an accident.” His voice was tender, yet his words…
Their discussion continued to the bedroom. She finally regained her composure. He tried his best to show her she was safe and loved. She showed him her relief at his reaction. Later after they’d soaked in the large marble tub, they dressed for a romantic dinner and walked through the streets of Florence. Although the streets were packed with people, as they walked arm in arm it felt like their private journey. The romantic city, beautiful structures and tepid night breeze combined to enhance the evening.
*
It wasn’t long until they arrived at their next destination, Rome. Tony had meetings scheduled for one of their two days. They stayed at Rome Cavalieri-Waldorf Astoria, in a luxurious suite with a magnificent view of the city highlighted by the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica.
Claire was relieved to learn her tardiness in Florence didn’t cause the loss of her roaming pass. Although Tony continued to allow her to sightsee alone, he reminded her multiple times to keep track of time. She spent the day walking and busing around the city while Tony attended to business. The ancient history that accompanied everything in Rome fascinated Claire.
She visited the Coliseum, the Forum, and the Pantheon. She enjoyed a latte in Piazza Navona and watched as couples threw coins into the Trevi Fountain. The sights were breathtaking and remarkable, but the entrenched fear she felt in Florence affected her. She enjoyed everything, but now it felt tarnished. She didn’t want to feel that way, but sometimes memories and emotions would overcome her. Not wanting Tony to see the change, she dutifully put on her mask and performed to the best of her ability. The sights were still amazing and spectacular.
The next day, at Vatican City, they walked hand in hand through the atrium of Saint Peter’s Basilica. They viewed the Vatican grottoes, Saint Peter’s Treasury, Saint Peter’s Square, and the Vatican gardens. As they walked the steep road back to their hotel, Tony confessed, “With all of my traveling, I rarely sightsee. Today, when you said you wanted to spend the entire day at the Vatican, I thought you were crazy. I expected to be done in an hour or two”—Claire watched as he spoke—“But it was incredible. I just want you to know I understand how you lost track of time in Florence. I get it.”
She didn’t speak; she squeezed his hand. Something from her past came to mind and she smiled. He once said she was trainable, perhaps he was too. It just took longer with him.
The last country on their journey was Switzerland. Tony had meetings, first in Interlaken and then in Genève. They spent one night in Interlaken. The Swiss Alps were the epitome of pure unsullied nature and grandeur. The small town of Interlaken was surrounded by crystal-clear lakes, sparkling streams, and waterfalls. And ever present were the Monch and Jungfrau mountain range of the Swiss Alps. Claire felt like she was in the middle of a postcard.
While Tony met with investors, Claire chose to relish the relaxing scenery and take in the atmosphere. She wandered the streets, enjoyed the cafés, and rested in the beauty of the tranquil landscape. Their two weeks were action packed. She could have spent her time any way she chose, the options were numerous; however, she enjoyed some downtime to reflect on all they’d seen and to relax in the natural splendor.
Her memories overflowed with sights and sounds of ancient cities. She could close her eyes and recall the amazing art and architecture. Inhaling the sweet Swiss chocolate as she sipped her coffee and nibbled on the candy bar, she remembered the amazing cuisine and delicious wines. She thought about her husband. He’d spent the entire two weeks open and understanding. She never anticipated the freedoms she’d been granted. Her stack of books remained unread. Even when she was late, his voice and expression were more of care and concern than of anger. Her thoughts moved from his voice and expression, to his strong, safe embrace. They’d made love at every stop.
She recalled the yacht with the rhythmic rocking from the sea. Smiling, she thought lustfully about wanting him—how on many occasions it was her who initiated their carnal encounters and he who responded appropriately. Claire slowly realized he was doing what she’d asked—filling her with good memories. She finished her chocolate and smiled contentedly.
Early Saturday morning they boarded a train to Genève. Tony had one more meeting. It was his last obligation of their trip. After it concluded, they’d spend the last night in Genève and fly home in the morning. Claire couldn’t believe how quickly the fourteen days had passed. She felt completely exhausted and yet exhilarated. The first time she remembered Tony traveling to Europe he’d stayed for eight days. Claire remembered when he arrived home he had said he was tired. She understood. Being absent from Iowa for over two weeks, she was ready to get home. Their destinations were spectacular; however, Claire longed for the serenity of her own bed and suite.
Before they went out for their final night in Europe, Tony insisted they take some time to visit famous boutiques and shops on Rue du Rh?ne. Claire repeatedly told him she needed nothing. As if unable to hear or comprehend, he led her to an exclusive jewelry store. He wanted her to have something to remember their time, so he purchased a sparkling diamond watch. She wondered about a possible double meaning.
After a nine-hour flight, they arrived home. She couldn’t remember being more tired. Their flight from Fiji was longer, yet they predominately rested in Fiji or at least spent time horizontal. She felt like she had been literally sightseeing, walking, and hiking for the past seventeen days. Their dinner in New York seemed forever ago—still she knew it was not.
Before they went to bed, Tony brought Claire a large stack of e-mails from his home office; she chose to not look at them. She’d do it tomorrow. They both collapsed into her bed. She thanked Tony repeatedly for the trip of a lifetime and the wonderful memories. She drifted into a dreamless sleep with her head resting on his shoulder, listening to his breathing.
Though exhausted, his arm embraced the soft warm body that nestled against his side. Her steady breathing told him she was sleeping. Closing his eyes he could hear her voice thanking him for the memories. Inhaling the scent of her hair he recalled their unforgettable trip and marveled at the intense satisfaction blooming within his chest.
Before he drifted off to sleep, Tony whispered, “I plan to go into the office tomorrow.”
Stirring only slightly, Claire murmured, “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I plan to sleep through your alarm.” He smiled at her honesty as they both floated into blissful slumber.
It’s not a question of enough, pal. It’s a Zero Sum game, somebody wins, somebody loses. Money itself isn’t lost or made, it’s simply transferred from one perception to another. Like magic.
—Gordon Gekko