Claire contemplated talking to Catherine about packing a lunch so that she could stay out in the woods longer. Then she decided that might be something to do when Tony was out of town. She didn’t want to get lost and not be back to the suite by 5:00 p.m. She hated his rules, but following them made her life more pleasant.
On days Tony stayed home exploring wasn’t an option. He required her to stay near in the event her services were needed. She was often told to stay in his office, where she would read, sitting on the soft leather sofa until he summoned her. There were days when he never requested her services, yet she wasted the entire day in his office. Claire knew it was more of the continued power play. He controlled her time, her body, and her life.
To continue her busy days, after lunch Claire sunbathed by the pool or read on the sunporch. She also had the library that could captivate her for hours at a time. If it rained she might opt for a movie in the theater. There were so many things to do.
The addition of an occasional evening out with Tony was the biggest change to Claire’s busy schedule. It started with the symphony. Since that time she accompanied him to a few other events. None as formal as the symphony, and all charity related, different foundations having dinners or cocktail parties or benefits. Each time Tony would tell Catherine that Claire needed to be ready for a specific event. She liked getting out away from the estate, but an invitation instead of a mandate would be nice. Apparently, companionship to events had now been added to her job description. Claire believed she did well at each turn and felt confident as long as Tony was near her. He would handle any situation that came her way.
At an event to honor donors of the University of Iowa’s Children’s Hospital, Claire stood dutifully at Anthony’s side while he spoke with a gentleman, to whom she’d been introduced. Another man began to speak to her. It started innocently enough, “Hello, Ms. Nichols, I am not sure if you remember me? We met a few weeks ago at the Quad City Symphony.” His volume was low, to either lure her away from Tony or not be heard by him. Claire believed she remembered him. She tried to remember names as well as Tony but she could only recall his face. He then introduced himself, “Charles Jackson,” and made small talk about the symphony. He started asking her about her place of residence, did she live in the Quad City region? Chicago? What brought her to this area? The entire time Claire stayed steady to Tony. She didn’t want to interrupt Tony’s conversation, but her instincts told her this wasn’t good. She successfully avoided direct answers but he persisted beyond political correctness. She decided she needed to get Tony involved before this man dragged something out of her she didn’t want to divulge. She lightly placed her hand on Tony’s arm. At first, he didn’t respond, so she squeezed it a little. When he excused himself from his conversation, he turned to Claire. She hated that she interrupted him, but she wore her mask and politely motioned toward the gentleman.
“Anthony, this is Charles Jackson.” Anthony turned to Charles and shook his hand. Charles appeared uncomfortable, but not Tony. “Mr. Jackson has been incredibly inquisitive. I thought you might be able to be of assistance to him.”
Claire stood back a half a step, still holding Anthony’s arm, and turned back to Mr. Jackson, who looked increasingly pale. “Mr. Jackson, I am very good with names and faces. I remember seeing you at the symphony. I do not believe we were introduced. It is not my practice to converse with members of the press. It is my policy to allow my publicist to discuss such matters. I recommend that you speak to her, not my companion.”
Anthony’s voice was one Claire recognized immediately, not his chatty social voice. Mr. Jackson didn’t have any difficulty distinguishing the tone or the meaning. He apologized profusely to Anthony and then to Claire and made his way out of the event. Claire felt ill. She honestly didn’t know how she would have handled it without his help. Tony placed his hand on top of Claire’s as Mr. Jackson walked away.
“Tony, I am sorry I interrupted your conversation. I just felt uncomfortable.”
Leaning down to her ear and squeezing her hand, he whispered, “It is fine. You made the right decision.” She exhaled with relief.
Her current job passed its third-month anniversary. She still felt trapped and hated that she was there, but she didn’t hate every day. She thought of each day as a new possibility, and like everyone else in the world, some days were better than others. She knew the difference with her life was that her barometer was not her. It summed up her dependence on Anthony Rawlings. The tone of her life depended totally and completely upon his frame of mind.