Consequences: Consequences, Book 1

Claire believed these consequences resulted more from Brent’s absence than from her insubordination. Tony would never admit that. Her attraction toward her husband was waning. Experience taught her that it was a cyclical process. It would wane, then it would wax. She encouraged herself to be patient for the wax.

This January was less snowy than the last, which helped Claire’s disposition. Less snow meant fewer clouds, more sunshine. The Iowa air still registered below freezing but the view from her suite wasn’t that of frozen white tundra. The winter, combined with the feeling that unpredictability was predictably returning, gave her the teetering on the fence sensation from before. Continuing her personal self-therapy, she reminded herself that Courtney would be back in another week and spring was only three months away.

Admittedly more of an attempt to pacify than an act of devotion, she tried desperately to alleviate Tony’s concerns. She obediently waited for him each evening, dressed appropriately for his arrival, attentively listened to his day and concerns, discussed her e-mails, texts, voice mails, and expressed her undying affection. She even chose to not pursue the e-mails and text messages from Emily. That is, until she heard a recent voice mail. The distress in her sister’s voice was unnerving. She respectfully asked Tony if they could call her.

They did from Claire’s telephone. Having her cell phone saved the long walk to his office. They tried three times and didn’t receive an answer. Tony willingly agreed to try again later. They finally reached Emily and the information from the call was difficult for Claire to fathom. John had been accused of fraudulent billing. The Vandersols were devastated.

The morning after the call, Claire opened her eyes, realizing that she was waking in Tony’s bed. The feeling of disorientation came more from her concern over her family than from the dark surroundings. She rolled toward him, but he was gone. The clock read 7:03 a.m. If she hurried to the dining room she may catch him before he left for work. She wanted to thank him again for the ability to talk to her sister during this difficult time. Truth be known, she hoped her gratitude would facilitate her opportunity to support Emily in the future. She put on slippers and her cashmere robe and walked to the dining room. The rich aroma of coffee met her halfway down the corridor. Tony was at the head of the table drinking coffee, his plate empty and his laptop open. When Claire entered the room he looked up. “Good morning, dear. You look beautiful this morning.”

She made a face, “I think you need an eye exam,” and gave him a kiss. “I just wanted to catch you before you left.” Claire sat down at the table and Catherine poured her coffee. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate talking to Emily. This is a really difficult time for them.” She added some cream, watching the ivory liquid swirl into the black abyss. Then she looked up into his eyes, wondering if they were the color of the coffee with or without the cream, and added, “And I wanted to let you know I will miss you.” She smiled at the cream filled eyes as she spoke.

“Good news, I am working from home today.” Claire’s heart sank, she really wanted alone time to contemplate the John thing. However, her smile never faltered. “So you will not need to miss me.”

“That’s great! Do you have a lot of work?”

“A few web conferences and phone calls, but don’t worry, I know your schedule is free. I have some ideas for us too.” That smile and the way his eyes shone made Claire question his ideas. She would be glad when Brent returned. This Tony made her uneasy, detesting the dual personalities.

Sipping her coffee, “All right, I need to work out and clean up. I came down here in a hurry to see you.”

“When you’re dressed come to my office,” he said as he stood to leave. He paused to touch her shoulder.

Obediently she replied, “I will be there as soon as I can.”

He kissed her cheek. “Or you could visit before you dress?” His tone suddenly playful.

She touched his hand. “If I do that, you may not get your work done.” He reluctantly agreed and went to his office. She smiled at his attire: shirt, tie, NYU sweatpants, socks, and slippers. That comment to Vanity Fair had been truthful.

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