Inferno Anthology (203 page)

The stark contrast in volume left Claire’s ears ringing as the limousine pulled away from the curb. Her mind swirled with thoughts, the evening was wonderful: music, champagne, people, theater, everything. They were riding for a few minutes when she realized Anthony hadn’t spoken since they entered the limousine. Her heart rate increased as she contemplated the possibility he was upset. She told herself he couldn’t be. She did everything everyone told her to do. She kept up appearances and let him do most of the talking. She felt his eyes upon her, but was afraid to turn and face them. The ringing in her ears turned to silence—completely devoid of sound—silence. She adjusted her new mask and turned. “That was a magnificent evening, thank you again.”

“Do you really think so?”

She wondered if he was asking about the symphony or her. “I do. The music was performed beautifully, and you were right about the conductor.” Her pulse quickened, unable to take the suspense any longer, she asked, “Did I do all right?”

“What do you think?”

She contemplated her answer. “I think I did well. I listened to Catherine, and to you, and did well.” She hoped her voice didn’t expose her insecurity.

Anthony didn’t respond but reached into his briefcase. Claire assumed the conversation was now over, and he planned to resume work. She decided if the conversation was over and he didn’t say she failed, she must have succeeded. She exhaled.

Suddenly, he turned to her and extended a square black velvet box. “I believe you did well.” She liked the tone of his voice, it sounded like the man at the theater. “I told you every action has a consequence. That can be negative, as we’ve seen, or positive. I believe that tonight, you earned a positive consequence.”

“Anthony, I don’t need a gift. I wanted to make you proud. If I did that, then I’m happy and that’s enough.”

“It is a gift, or at least I believe it was; however, it’s not new.” Anthony still held the box before Claire. With the running lights illuminating the cabin she could see his smile: genuine, not cruel or sadistic. “Will it always be this difficult to get you to open gifts?”

She took the box. “You have my curiosity piqued. What are you giving me that’s old?”

She opened the velvet hinged box. The lump in her throat made her choke, unable to speak. The dainty white gold chain with a pearl on a white gold cross hung on the satin. The surprise overwhelmed her. She only saw the necklace for a millisecond before her eyes filled with tears. She looked at Anthony again, tears trickling down her cheeks. “How did you? Where did you get this? It was my grandmother’s.”

“It was in your apartment in Atlanta when it was cleaned out. I thought you might want to have it. Do you?”

Claire listened to his words. Her apartment had been cleaned out. Where were the rest of her things? She needed to compartmentalize. Right now, she concentrated on her grandmother’s necklace. “Oh, yes, I do!”

He asked if he could help her put it on. She nodded, yes. A verbal answer wasn’t required. Next, he took the box out of her hand and started to remove the satin board. Claire observed his tenderness as he held the fine chain and delicate clasp. She turned away and he draped the necklace around her neck. Taking the compact out of her purse, she watched as the pearl moved up and down to the beat of her heart.

“Anthony, there isn’t a necklace you could have bought that would mean more to me than this.” Her tears dried, yet her emerald-green eyes sparkled.

“People who know me well, and they are numbered, call me Tony. You may call me
Tony
.”

“Thank you, Tony. This has been an amazing night. How can I ever thank you?”

Tony turned off the riding lights in the cabin. Home was still over a half hour away and the window between them and Eric was closed. His smile morphed into a devilish grin. “I have a few ideas.”

My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning
and I go to bed at night. In between, I occupy myself as best I can.

—Cary Grant

THE WEATHER CONTINUED
to warm. Claire could now sunbathe in her new bikinis. Each time she stepped through the door onto the deck of the pool, she felt like she was entering a resort. She could eat at one of the umbrella tables, read in a lounge chair, or swim in the tepid water. The Iowa sunshine resulted in a beautiful, golden tan. Her hair, which was always brown, now shimmered with golden highlights contrasting the normal chestnut shade.

It seemed impossible, but Claire actually felt busy. She would wake, work out, shower, and eat breakfast. Then, if Tony were out of the house, the possibilities were numerous. The pool remained a good option; however, Claire preferred that in the afternoon. What she enjoyed beyond anything was exploring the woods. The land around Anthony Rawlings’s estate extended for miles in most directions. One evening, she asked if walking in the woods was permitted. Tony explained that she could probably walk hours and not reach the property line. He never ventured into the woods, but he had flown over in a helicopter to survey the land, determining the best location for the house. This made her feel better about exploring. He didn’t want her leaving his property without him or his permission, but she could wander and roam and still follow the rules. The fact that even Tony hadn’t been out there made it more appealing.

Claire wanted to learn all about the land. To do this she decided to go different directions each time she ventured through the trees. She discovered areas where the trees were so dense there was no ground vegetation and it remained cool even as the temperatures of summer increased. She also found spontaneous clearings usually filled with flowers. The earlier in the morning Claire went into the forest, the more flowers she would see. There were morning glories blue as the sky above. After the sun’s warmth caused those to close, the white daisies and yellow mustard flowers would fill the void and create a multicolored canvas. With flowers came insects. Claire watched the bees busily pollinating and the multiple kinds of butterflies fluttering about. She decided to check Tony’s library to see if he had a book that would help her classify the different species.

Catherine expected Claire back for lunch each day, so she tried not to venture farther than an hour and a half in any direction. During her past life, she walked for exercise, sometimes at a gym but more often around her neighborhood in Atlanta. Walking on sidewalks and through a nearby park she measured distance by time. One mile took fifteen minutes. Lately, her adventures took her along the path less traveled. It wasn’t unusual for her to climb over fallen trees or up steep embankments. Due to these obstacles Claire estimated that one mile took closer to twenty minutes. With those calculations she traveled approximately four miles away from the house on each adventure.

One morning, she happened upon a den of foxes. Initially frightened, she watched them from a distance. There were two large and three small foxes. The small ones ventured away from the den, but the larger ones would always be within sight. It reminded Claire of camping with her dad. It filled her with warmth and a reassuring glow of protection.

It seemed like more recently she thought about her childhood and not her pre-contractual adult life. Perhaps it was a compartmentalization thing. Childhood was the past. It couldn’t be changed, only remembered.

Her life before March 15 was actually present—or should be present. She
should
be in Atlanta, tending bar at the
Red Wing
and trying desperately to find another job in meteorology. She should be going out with friends and drinking so much her head hurt the next morning. She should be talking to her sister on the phone or e-mailing her and learning about her and John.

Currently nearing the end of June, Emily would be out of school for the summer. John was a busy associate in a law firm. Before Claire
disappeared
, Emily mentioned visiting Claire. “You know I’m off work in the summer and John is busy. I could come spend some time with you in Atlanta.”

“Gosh, that would be great, but it gets really hot here in the summer, and I have to work, so you would probably be bored.” Claire now felt bad that she hadn’t been more encouraging. Honestly, she worried that Emily would disapprove of her tending bar or something else. Claire hadn’t wanted to listen to her advice. Now she would love to hear her advice or even her voice. Claire sighed and wondered about Emily: did she wonder where Claire had gone? Had she tried to contact her? Soon she realized the wooded scene in front of her was blurry and tears were spilling over her lids onto her cheeks. Claire decided to avoid those thoughts. Put them away in that compartment labeled
later
. Childhood provided safer thoughts and memories.

Tony explained that his land was virtually pie-shaped. The front of the property was where the drive met the highway, then the house, and then the land fanned out from there. Claire felt as though she was getting a handle on the layout of the property but it was taking time. Luckily, she thought that is the one thing I have plenty of, because there’s a lot of land to explore
.
Of course, that followed with thoughts of the mysterious timetable. When would her debt be considered paid?

One cool morning, Claire sat on her jacket at the edge of a beautiful clearing and watched a magnificent wildlife performance. First, she saw deer run across the open field. With each jump their white tails caught the sun like bright white powder puffs. The longer she sat the more deer she saw. They would slowly approach the clearing, run across, and slow again once in the safety of the trees. There was no threat to them at that time, but instinct told them that the trees held security
.
Claire wondered where her security was, or perhaps, this was a lesson in instinct?

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 PM. 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 sun porch. 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’m 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 wasn’t allowed 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. It was not an emotion shared by 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 watched as he turned to Mr. Jackson, who looked increasingly pale. Anthony’s voice was one Claire recognized immediately. It was not his chatty social voice. “Mr. Jackson, I’m very good with names and faces. I remember seeing you at the symphony. I do not believe we were introduced. It’s 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.”