“This what?”
“We never dated. I guess twice, in Atlanta.” Her smile didn’t falter at the reference. “I like it.”
He gently squeezed her hand, and they ascended the front steps. “We better get you behind a locked door, so I don’t do anything to ruin this date.” He emphasized the word.
Claire smiled slyly, “Actually, according to a definition I recently heard, we need to be in public for this to be a date.”
Tony’s only response was another small squeeze of her hand. However, as they entered the well-lit foyer, her emerald eyes sparkled at his upturned lips.
Once behind her secured door, Claire hit call on the contact Tony had just added to her phone. After three rings she heard Courtney’s voice. “Hi Courtney, I was just checking the number Tony gave me...” They didn’t talk long. Courtney asked if Claire was okay. Claire assured her she was alone, behind a locked door, and fine. When she hung up, she sent a text message to Emily, Amber, and Harry. It said the same thing: I VISITED WITH TONY’S CLOSE FRIENDS. ALL WENT WELL. NOW SAFELY ALONE AND GOING TO SLEEP. WILL TEXT TOMORROW.
On the table, Claire found a note:
Mr. Rawlings turned off the cameras in your suite.
Please call the number below when you wake. Your breakfast
will be brought to you. Sleep well - good night, Catherine
Claire thought about the changes she’d seen in Tony. Was her opinion swayed because of their child? Did she see positives where she should be seeing warnings? Claire recalled Brent’s advice: Remember who you’re dealing with.
Wasn’t that a two edged sword? She had many memories of Tony, and a lot were good. Of course, there was a flip side. Perhaps, she should think about them. However, she didn’t want her baby overwrought with negativity.
Inhaling the cool night air, the country noises and moon lit vista enveloped Claire as she stepped onto the balcony. Despite the change in decor, the familiarity of the suite, balcony, and nocturnal murmurings comforted her. She felt her body relax and exhaustion prevail. Moments later she snuggled into the soft sheets as sounds of crickets and cicadas through the open French doors serenaded her to sleep.
The next morning Claire woke after ten. She blamed the time difference. Nonetheless, she lay motionless for moments, assessing her physical state. When she’d determined she was not going to be ill, she made her way to the bathroom. Next, she called the number from Catherine’s note. Claire didn’t leave her breakfast to chance. When Cindy answered, Claire was very specific, “Hello, Cindy, I’m finally awake. Could someone please bring me...?”
Cindy brought dry scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit and served it on the balcony. Claire ate her breakfast and drank tea and orange juice while a soft breeze blew her unbound hair around her face. Taking in the beautiful, green, peaceful scene, it was difficult not to enjoy her surroundings. Everything was perfect.
When Claire finally descended the grand stairs, it was almost twelve. She’d wanted to speak with Catherine. And although Tony was due home any minute, Catherine was waiting for her near the sun porch.
“Do you think we have time for a walk?” Claire asked.
“Yes, not too long. However, I believe it would be good for you to walk.”
The two women strode in step out of the sun porch and down into the backyard. Even though the midday sun heated the June day, a warm breeze kept the air moving and comfortable. Together they made their way to the gardens. Flowers of all colors adorned the paths. Following the flagstone stepping stones they made their way to a stone bench at the edge of Tony’s yard.
“This is visible, not audible.” Catherine said. Claire nodded. “Ms. Claire...”
“Just Claire, please?” Claire asked with a smile.
Catherine smiled, “Claire, thank you for what you said yesterday. You will never know how much it means to me. Mr. Rawlings asked me about a box of information sent to you in prison. Why do you believe it was sent?”
Claire’s insides fluttered. She didn’t know if it was their baby finally waking or anxiety produced by the possibility of answers to her many questions. “I think it depends on who sent it. At first I thought it was sent by Tony. If that were the case, I thought it was done maliciously – bragging about the things he’s done.” She paused. When Catherine didn’t respond, Claire continued. “Now I’m not sure. And I don’t understand all of the contents.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“How long have you known Tony?”
“A long time,” Catherine’s expression revealed someone reminiscing. “I met him the day he graduated high school.”
Claire gasped, she had no idea they went back that far. “So you knew him when he was Anton?” Catherine nodded. Claire asked, “Did you know his family: his parents and his grandparents?”