Friends made baseball fun. To Claire, the guys, all from the same fraternity, were more like brothers. After a brief romance her freshman year she decided to concentrate on school instead of love. Suddenly, Claire realized that her reminiscing made her sad. She wondered where those friends were today. She became so busy concentrating on her career. She lost touch with most of them. Maybe if they’d stayed connected they would have noticed her missing last March.
As the jet approached the private airport, Claire saw the skyline against the blue of the lake. She told herself to put the sadness away. Compartmentalize. She should concentrate on great times in Chicago. But she wondered, when driving there in an old minivan, she knew fun times were ahead. Now leaving the private jet and entering the backseat of the leased limousine, what was in store?
Eric chauffeured the limousine as they drove toward the lake at seven thirty in the morning. Claire could see the buildings, smell the exhaust, and feel the vibration of the road as the car turned north on Lake Shore Drive. She felt more at home than she had in months. Filled with excitement, she wanted to talk about everything they passed: McCormick Place, Soldier Field and Grant Park. As they approached Millennium Park, she thought about the concerts that took place all summer long.
She didn’t speak. Tony was occupied on his cell phone. He’d been in a conversation with someone since they landed. His voice sounded amicable but she could see his body language. It told another story. Listening to Claire give a tour of Chicago wouldn’t help his disposition. She also worried that he may not approve of her comfort level with Chicago. Originally she didn’t want to join him on this trip, now she couldn’t wait to enjoy the city.
The limousine pulled up to the Reliance Building and Tony gathered his briefcase, laptop, and cell phone. Eric came around and opened the door. Still talking on his phone, Tony nodded to Claire and got out. She found herself in the familiar situation, being chauffeured to a completely unknown destination.
Before they arrived, Tony informed her she could rest at his apartment. He hadn’t mentioned the location or when he would return. She took a deep breath and waited while Eric moved the car through the crowded streets. In a short time the limousine idled in a line approaching the front entrance to the Trump Tower.
Eric lowered the window that separated the two compartments and gave Claire the first information on her destination. “Ms. Claire, Mr. Rawlings’s apartment is the eighty-ninth floor of Trump Tower. Security has your name and will allow you access. As you enter the main doors, walk around to the left. You will see a security desk. They will help you reach the apartment. I will park the car and bring your and Mr. Rawlings’s bags up as soon as I can. The staff of the apartment will be available to assist you once you reach the eighty-ninth floor. Do you have any questions, miss?”
“No, thank you, Eric. I will be fine.” Then she waited while he stopped the car and came around to open her door. Only having five hours sleep, Claire felt like a mouse placed in a maze. Would she be able to find the cheese?
A cool lake breeze hit her legs as she stepped from the car and proceeded into the Trump Tower. She thought about her appearance, the blouse, skirt, sophisticated heels, and hair pulled up and back. She didn’t resemble the college girl that used to roam these streets with her friends. Doors opened and the bellman nodded as she passed. She looked like she belonged in a limousine. The guard at the security desk didn’t question her as she spoke with confidence, “Hello, I am Claire Nichols. Please show me to Mr. Rawlings’s apartment.”
“Yes, Ms. Nichols, we have been expecting you. We hope your flight was enjoyable. Please follow me this way.” The guard tried his best to make small talk, but Claire’s mind lingered six years behind.
Once the elevator reached the eighty-ninth floor, Claire tipped the guard, thanked him, and entered the open door to the apartment. Immediately, a charming gentleman greeted her, “Hello, Ms. Claire, my name is Charles. I am very pleased to meet you.” He showed her to Mr. Rawlings’s room. Would she be interested in some breakfast, coffee, or anything else?
Tony’s room reminded her of his apartment in New York, more of the masculine natural colors. The shades were drawn and Claire asked Charles to open them. The room felt dark and dreary and she knew on the other side of the shades the sun shone brightly. The view as he opened the drapes took her breath away. The windows faced north toward the lake. Far above most of the city, she could stand close to the window and look down at the buildings. Just a little to the left she could see Navy Pier and out on the lake boats. The beautiful vista hypnotized her. She loved Chicago, and there it was eighty-nine stories below.
“Ms. Nichols, will you be staying or going out?”