Текст книги "Truth "
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 42 страниц)
She put down the page and another photo caught her eye. It was one of Tony kissing her hand. The look on her own face made Claire uneasy. The woman in the picture was staring into Tony’s eyes with a blushed radiance. Claire remembered; it was right after his speech.
“Yeah, that one caught my attention, too.” Harry’s emotionally ladened voice returned Claire to present. “I’ve never seen that look in your eyes. You’re acting skills are amazing!”
Tentatively she looked up to Harry. His blue eyes cried out with unspoken angst. She laid the papers back on the table and struggled with her own emotions. Claire needed to feel understood. Instead she felt challenged and fought the urge to launch her defenses. When she spoke, her voice came out flat. “Do you want to hear what happened? Or have you already made your own conclusions?”
He stared in silence. Finally, shrugging his shoulders, he walked to the kitchen, and returned with a partial bottle of Blue Label and an empty tumbler. Pouring himself two fingers of whiskey, he sat down in his recliner, gestured to the sofa and replied, “By all means, make yourself comfortable and fill me in. I can’t wait to hear how this isn’t how it looks.” She sat; he took a drink of the amber liquor and added, “It never is, is it?”
“I’ve never seen you drink, like this.”
“I’ve had a shitty day. Would you like a glass? Or has your day been all parties and private drivers?”
She saw herself in the mirror at Tony’s penthouse. How could he not see that she’d been crying? Claire could feel her swollen eyelids. Did he think she looked like someone who’d had a great day?
“No, thank you.” She answered dryly. “Harry...” Claire began. Then she stopped. Her head pounded with her internal debate. Was she mad, sad, defensive or wounded? Abruptly she stood and walked toward the door. “I can’t do this.” The tears resumed. Claire honestly wondered how she had any tears left. “I can’t do more confrontations.”
Suddenly, Harry was out of the chair and standing before her. She looked up at his expression. Behind the anger she saw hurt.
She had been wrong; hurt was worse than anger. The smell of whiskey burned her nostrils as his breath blew warmly toward her face. Her stomach clenched, but undeterred she strived to maintain the eye contact.
She attempted to explain, “You deserve to hear everything. I didn’t do anything without thinking of you and of Amber. I did it for you! But I can’t talk to you about it when you’re like this.”
She reached for the door handle as his words cut into her heart, “Did you sleep with him?”
Claire wanted to be angry and then she remembered her dream – that wasn’t a dream. She settled for offended, “I can’t believe you just asked me that. No. We didn’t sleep together tonight.”
He seized her shoulders and stared down into her red swollen eyes. “Why?”
“Because, he blackmailed me! With you. And with Amber and SiJo. He was responsible for the problems you had tonight at SiJo.”
Harry interjected, “No, he wasn’t. We found the problem, it was internal. I tried to call you; hell, I was on my way to San Francisco when Amber called me. She saw the news release, and after witnessing our moment in her living room, she thought I should know.”
Claire’s stomach twisted. She wanted desperately to make Harry understand, “But, he did know about it! He threatened to make your problems worse if I didn’t concede. And he had that press release issued before I even spoke to him.”
Harry released her shoulders and stared incredulously, “I can’t fathom how you can continually believe he has that much power. Our computer engineers are top notch. Your ex-husband,” Harry struggled with his words, walked to his glass, took another drink, and continued, “or should I say the man you’re working to reconcile with can’t just snap his fingers and bring down our firewall.”
“Firewall! That was the word he used. He said it was incompetent. And I didn’t answer your calls because he took my phone.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “Our firewall is secure. Our people had everything cleared and secure by eight o’clock. I could have been there with you by nine.” He took another drink and chuckled, “Now, that sure as hell would’ve been fun!”
“You had it cleared by eight?” she repeated dejectedly.
“Yes, why?”
Claire closed her eyes. She remembered Tony’s words. He told her the problem was resolved by eight. It was clear, Harry wouldn’t believe her. She made her way to his sofa, and collapsed. The night would never end. “I know I sound ridiculous, but don’t you see? Now I’m trapped. He took my plans for public revelation and used them against me.”
“How are you trapped?”
The words flowed with welcomed release as she tried to explain. She told him about being summoned to the penthouse, the revelation of their supposed reconciliation, the gala, and their confrontations back in the penthouse. Admittedly, her recollection contained a few omissions. Specifically, she excluded the kiss and the disclosure about her dream. She explained to Harry that the news release was a public disclosure. According to public knowledge, she and Tony were now working on their relationship. Public failure wasn’t an option.
His shocked expression renewed her stream of tears. After waiting for him to comment, she finally whispered, “You and I aren’t official. We haven’t even told Amber about us.”
“So you’re ending this,” he waved his arm around, “us... because of a news release?”
“No! I don’t want us to end. For the time being, we’ll just keep it the way it is, under wraps.” She tried to smile, “You know, like they say: friends with benefits.”
Harry contemplated her words. “So I’m friends with benefits and you’re going to be out publically with him?”
“I have to talk to him about it. I’m supposed to meet with him tomorrow before he leaves for Iowa. But that’s my current concession, public only– no private.”
“Well, obviously when it comes to Mr. Rawlings your negotiating skills are stellar! After your little meeting tomorrow you’ll probably move back to Iowa. Hell, you won’t even need to pack your things. I’m sure he’ll gladly buy everything new.” Harry’s sarcasm saturated words stung. The pain endured from a physical slap would pass faster than the hurt she felt growing in her chest.
Claire stood and turned toward the door. Her dry tone resumed, “I’m going home.” She paused, still facing the door and asked, “Unless Amber no longer wants me?”
“She didn’t say that. It’s your home. No one is kicking you out.”
Claire exhaled in relief. After a few steps she turned back, “What about us?”
His blue eyes paled as his broad shoulders sagged, “What us? We aren’t official. You see, I didn’t realize I needed to inform the Associated Press. Maybe, you could devise a handbook?”
She squared her shoulders and stared at him through swollen lids, “You are letting him win.” After a prolonged silence she lowered her eyes and turned toward the door.
As she stepped into the hall, she heard him say, “No, you forfeited... ”
Walking toward Amber’s condominium, Claire grasped the magnitude of Tony’s current victory. In one critical move he completed a double attack. He exposed a weakness at SiJo Gaming. Even if Harry didn’t believe her, Claire knew Tony was responsible for their problems. If she hadn’t done as Tony asked, those problems would have become worse. It also proved he could do it again.
Next, in a bold and critical move, he publically exposed their bogus relationship. While risking negative public opinion, he took control of the situation. He effectively removed any power Claire previously believed she possessed. And as a bonus for forcing her moves, Tony damaged her relationship with Harry.
As she opened the door to her dark, quiet condominium, Claire wondered about Amber. How would she behave toward Claire tomorrow? Was Tony systematically removing her external support, in essence whittling away her chess pieces?
Lying in her cool bed, Claire’s tired mind tried to regroup. Did she still have any power? Could she fight him? The questions and answers processed slower and slower as she tried to debate her options. Sleep overtook her. There was no doubt. To paraphrase a book her mother used to read to her as a child, it had been a terrible, horrible, very bad, and very long day. She couldn’t even rise triumphant over sleep.
You cannot make the same mistake twice. Because the second time you make it, it is not a mistake, it is a choice.
—Unknown
Chapter 38
The incessant ringing of her alarm jolted Claire from her sound blissful sleep. Her mind reeled with why she’d set an alarm. Rarely did she need to wake at a definite time. Besides, she didn’t get to bed until almost three the night before. As she sat up to turn off the noise, her stomach twisted, and she fell against the pillows. Closing her eyes she willed the rapid onset of nausea to pass.
The alarm continued to assault the silence of her normally peaceful room; nevertheless, Claire feared moving to stop the ringing. Perspiration beaded her entire body. Suddenly her light silk nightgown moistened and plastered against her clammy skin. Slowly she tried to remove the covers from her sweat drenched legs. Her focus increased with each movement. Claire prayed if she earnestly concentrated, she could keep the contents of her stomach in-check.
Exhaling repeatedly, she stared at the bright ceiling. Mindlessly she realized she’d forgotten to close the blinds the night before. Through the wrenching intestinal pain, her eyes squinted against the added assault of the unrestrained morning sunlight flooding her room.
Suddenly, Claire remembered the reason for an alarm. She was supposed to meet Tony at ten. Could her impending meeting be the origin of her current illness? Perhaps, even her body didn’t want to see him again.
The knock at her door caused Claire to jump. The jolt intensified the nausea, propelling more beads of perspiration to adorn her skin. “Come in.” She managed as her face contorted in pain, and she concentrated once again on breathing.
Claire didn’t turn her head to see her roommate enter. Nevertheless, she heard the door open and Amber’s footsteps approaching the alarm.
“What the heck? It’s Saturday morning. Why do you have a damn alarm...?” As Amber turned from the now silenced clock, she beheld her roommate’s ashened, perspiration drenched complexion, and her tone mellowed, “Claire, what’s the matter?”
Claire didn’t speak, but gently shook her head from side to side. The movement was too much. Gathering strength Claire reached for her blankets, threw them back, jumped from the bed, and ran to her bathroom.
It had been a long time since Claire Nichols had been physically sick. The last time she remembered vomiting was when she learned of Simon’s death, which seemed ironic, now that she was living in Amber’s home. The heaves came in waves.
Amber stood supportingly holding Claire’s long auburn hair away from her face, as Claire rested her heavy head on trembling arms and waited for the next upsurge. When it came, Amber remained quiet while Claire’s body racked with convulsions. Even after the contents of Claire’s stomach were gone, the heaving continued.
In time, the lull between occurrences lengthened. Finally, her body stilled, leaving only a weakened and shivering Claire.
Amber helped her roommate sit on the closed lavatory lid, wetted a washcloth with cool water, handed it to Claire, and directed her to wipe her face. Next, Amber helped Claire to the sink where she repeatedly rinsed her mouth with water. After Amber helped Claire back to bed, Claire closed her eyes and prayed that whatever this was, it was over.
“It could be food poisoning.” Amber offered, after Claire’s color returned and her breathing normalized. “Maybe you ate something at the gala last night. I wonder if anyone else is having problems. ”
Claire nodded her head. Her strength was returning, little by little. “You’re probably right. With as bad as last night was, food poisoning would be a highlight.” She grasped the hand of the woman now sitting on the side of her bed. “Amber, we need to talk about last night.”
Amber visibly bristled and regrouped. “We do,” her tone was comforting not harsh, as it had been when she entered the room about the alarm, “but, not right now. Can I get you something? Maybe some toast? It could help settle your stomach.”
“What time is it?” Claire asked, panic threatening to disrupt her current non-vomiting state.
“It’s a quarter ’til eight. Why did you have that alarm set anyway?” Amber asked as she replaced the cloth on Claire’s forehead with a fresh cool compress.
“I have to meet someone at ten.”
“Well, I think you’re rescheduling.”
Closing her eyes she assessed her current state and said, “I can’t.” She was truly feeling better. Hopefully the offending food was gone. She wondered, could Tony possibly be sick too? A weak smile floated across her face. She responded, “I’ll take that toast, if you don’t mind.”
Amber stood, “Sure thing. Do you need anything else?”
“A glass of water?”
Amber squeezed Claire’s hand and replied, “Coming right up.”
Once she was gone, Claire reached for her phone. When she completed the task requiring movement successfully, Claire reassured herself she was definitely feeling better. If the toast stayed down, she was good to go.
Claire needed to text Tony a meeting location. She wondered where she wanted to meet him. Her first thought was nowhere. But, that was unacceptable. She remembered a cute cafe in Redwood Shores. It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t Palo Alto. She Googled the cafe and forwarded the information to Tony, with a text:
I MIGHT BE LATE. HAD AN ISSUE THIS MORNING. THINGS ARE IMPROVING.
Claire knew he wouldn’t be happy about her possible tardiness. Nonetheless, remembering the overwhelming sickness, she decided Tony’s darkening gaze ranked below projectile vomiting and keeping Amber’s toast down on her current list of concerns.
Covering her now cold body with blankets, Claire felt her stomach growl. How could she possibly be hungry after what she’d just experienced?
AT 9:51 AM Claire eased her Honda Accord into the parking lot of the Patio Cafe in Redwood Shores. She wasn’t late. Her reflection in the rearview mirror frowned back through the glass. Even the blush and lipstick didn’t disguise her pallor. On the bright side, she’d kept Amber’s toast down, plus a banana. And despite the paleness, she really did feel better.
During her drive to Redwood Shores, Claire fought the urge to turn around and miss this mandatory meeting. Once again, it was fear which propelled her. This time it wasn’t the fear of physical punishment. It was the fear of Tony showing up at Amber’s. He was right; Claire’s concern for others was her weakness. While she dreaded seeing him, she wrestled with fleeting positive thoughts regarding her ex-husband.
She reasoned it was because of their charade last night. During the evening, as much as she hated to admit it, Claire actually relaxed and enjoyed Tony’s company. Guiltily, she thought of the picture Harry printed: the one of Tony kissing her hand after his speech. The look on her face exposed her momentary ease and affability. No wonder Harry was upset.
Upset or not, Harry’s words still hurt. They may have been brought on by a combination of jealously and liquor, but that didn’t make them any less painful. How could Harry honestly feel Claire’s affections could change so dramatically in six hours?
The thoughts of Harry turned to thoughts of Emily, John, and Courtney. Her magnitude of missed calls and messages on her iPhone were mostly from Harry, Amber, and Emily. There was also one from Meredith. Claire decided that should wait until after she spoke with Tony. Her work phone held missed calls and text messages from Courtney. Since she and Harry spoke last night and Amber wanted to wait, Claire spent a good part of her morning talking to Emily, John, and Courtney.
Apparently, Tony’s press release hit the airways last night at approximately 7:30 PT. Emily and John saw it around 10:30 in Indiana. Courtney said Brent read it on his news feed about 9:30 in Iowa. Needless to say, they were all relieved to hear from her this morning. That being said, once the relief passed indignation reigned.
Courtney remained the most supportive. She understood Tony’s persuasive nature and promised continued support. Claire appreciated Courtney’s constant concern despite her stress regarding her son’s upcoming wedding. Understandably, she and Brent weren’t happy about Tony’s claims of ensuring Claire’s pardon. Claire assured Courtney she didn’t believe him, and she’d never tell him, or anyone else, who her actual saviors were. Even Jane Allyson didn’t know.
Claire repeated her honest account of the entire evening with everyone. There were a few omissions. Courtney was the only one to hear about the kiss. And no one learned about her dream – that wasn’t. She wasn’t ready to admit that reality to herself.
After everything she’d been through, Claire believed honesty, no matter how difficult to face, was her greatest ally. Remembering the isolation of Iowa and being Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, she vowed, despite the forced charade, she would not allow Tony to distance her closest supporters. Publically, she would do whatever was necessary to keep her loved ones safe, as well as their businesses. Privately, she promised never again to deceive the people around her.
Despite, or possibly because of, Claire’s truthfulness, Emily was livid. A few times during their tense conversation Claire considered hanging-up on her sister. After all, Claire wasn’t feeling top-notch after the whole food poisoning thing and having her sister’s condescending and accusatory voice ringing loudly through her phone didn’t aid her recovery.
Walking along the sidewalk toward the cafe, Claire lifted her face to the breeze. Wisps of loose hair blew around her face as she inhaled. The fresh air coming off a small inlet from San Francisco Bay was cool. Her blue jeans and blouse were perfect for the late spring air. Yes, if she were in Indiana or Iowa this late in May it would be much warmer. Nonetheless, she was slowly acclimating to west coast weather.
Parked three cars down, Claire saw a gray sedan with a man inside reading a paper. She hadn’t spoken to Phil since San Diego. Now seeing him she decided with Tony near, this wasn’t a good time to chat.
Phillip Roach was another of Tony’s intrusions. Somehow over the past three months, she’d come to accept him. Was she being too compliant, as Emily said? Claire didn’t believe so. She truthfully felt she was resisting Tony’s control much better than she ever had. Not staying with him last night and not allowing him to visit the condominium this morning were two examples of her noncompliance. Claire contemplated her strength, or lack of, as she stepped into the busy restaurant.
The large glass doors led directly to a counter. The Saturday morning crowd filled the bustling cafe, with people waiting to order food. The hum of voices filled her ears as the various aromas filled her lungs. She tried desperately to ignore the returning nausea as she made her way to a tall two person table near the window. A ceiling fan above the table provided a continual cool breeze, calming her queasiness. Moments later, she glanced toward the doors and saw Tony walking casually toward her.
Involuntarily she smiled. He looked so laidback and informal, in jeans and a button down shirt. She noticed how his crisp shirt was pressed and untucked. His hair was perfect, and his face freshly shaven. Her eyes went back to the jeans. Claire always liked Tony’s long legs in blue jeans. When his dark eyes met hers, her breathing stopped. She immediately judged his expression. His cheeks rose and a small smile came to his lips. Claire exhaled with a sigh of relief. She didn’t want more confrontations. If this charade was to proceed, she wanted to learn the specifics and go on with her life.
Unexpectedly, he bent down and kissed her cheek before taking the seat across from her. Claire’s eyebrows rose suspiciously as she eyed the man across the table. He responded with a mischievous grin and crooned, “Good morning, Claire. It is nice to see you aren’t late.”
His pleasant greeting eased her tightly strung nerves, she chuckled, “Yes, you see there was this man I used to know. He was a real stickler for punctuality.”
“Really? It seems as though he must have been a good influence. His persistence appears to have paid off.” Tony’s brown eyes glittered, reflecting the sunlight through the windows.
“I’m not sure about his influence, and insistence would better describe it. But since you mention it, persistence is something he’s definitely mastered.”
“Hmm, sounds like my kind of man. I’d like to meet him.”
Claire shook her head good-naturedly, “No, I don’t think you’d like him.”
Tony’s eyes opened wider, “You don’t?”
“No, he has real control issues. You two would probably clash.”
“Because... you think I have control issues?” This time Tony’s eyebrows rose.
Claire leaned forward, as if telling a secret. Her eyes sparkled with the lightheartedness of their conversation. “I hate to be the one to break it to you... but yes, you do.”
Tony’s laughter filled her ears. Finally he asked, “Don’t you want something to eat?”
“No, not really, I ate earlier.”
“I’ll get us some coffee then.”
Although she usually loved coffee, the idea didn’t sound good on her recently emptied stomach. “Could you get me an iced tea instead?”
Tony eyed her skeptically, “Sure, unsweetened, correct?”
Claire nodded.
When Tony returned with their drinks they began to discuss this public reconciliation. Although the cafe bustled with patrons, their voices remained low and private. “Claire, I’m pleasantly surprised by your accepting attitude this morning.”
She sipped her tea, “Don’t mistake it for pleasure. I don’t like being bullied into this situation. However, I see signs of compromise. It gives me hope.”
“Compromise?”
“In your own way, you’re trying to be accommodating. If you weren’t you would’ve tried to stop me from leaving last night, or you would’ve insisted on riding with me. I see that.”
Tony nodded, considering her words. Then he asked, “Hope, what do you hope for?”
“That this won’t last long. That we can remain friends and be honest with the world.”
As she spoke, clouds darkened his gaze. “I see,” he took a drink of his coffee. “I hope... you change your mind.”
“See what I mean. That’s progress. I honestly don’t intend to change my mind. However, I will admit, when you aren’t being a controlling ass who’s threatening my friends or my friends’ company,” she smiled coyly, “you can be charming.”
“Thank you, my dear.” He snorted, obviously shocked by her candor, and replied, “When you are being bold and cheeky, the spark in your gorgeous green eyes makes my initial irritation fade. At that point, I see you for what you truly are.”
“Oh really, what am I?”
“Sexy as hell,” he leaned closer. His words slowing to a sultry tenor, “And when you are being reticent and genteel, I find you irresistible.”
She felt her insides quicken and her cheeks blush, just like in the picture. “Well, then I guess I can behave in any manner without fear of consequences.”
“As long as you are doing it with me, my affection will prevail.”
Claire shivered at the possible implications of his words. Playfulness left her tone, “Tony, I don’t intend to be with you all the time. I’m not moving back to Iowa.”
“I’m a busy man, Claire; I can’t be flying to California every other day.”
“Then we won’t be seeing each other every other day. By the way, when do you need to be back?”
Dryly he said, “I have my own plane. I don’t have a schedule to maintain.”
“I’m aware of your plane. I thought you might have meetings or a date or something.”
The clouds returned, “I won’t be having any dates with anyone except you. That was the point of the news release.” His voice lowered as his tone hardened, “And neither will you.”
She sat straighter, “This is what we need to discuss. Define date.”
His hesitant expression glared – his gaze loomed shades darker than moments before. “A date is the going out in public of a man and a woman.” He scanned the cafe. “I suppose it could be a man and a man or a woman and a woman; we are in California.”
“Well, that happens in Iowa also. But my point is two people can go out in public and be friends, not dating.”
“I would prefer you didn’t.” Before she could choose the words to her reply, he rephrased, “It would not be publically acceptable, so the answer is no.”
Trying to keep her voice low, “I’m telling you, not asking your permission.”
“This is not debatable.”
“Then what is?” She leaned across the table as indignation infiltrated her words, “Why are we even here, discussing anything at all? If it is all predetermined, just lay out the ground rules.” She tried to keep her voice low and restrain her emotions. “That’s the way you operate. Things don’t change!” Moisture stung her eyes as tears threatened her facade of strength. She stared and waited for the explosion. Claire knew it wouldn’t be overt. Their location was too public, perhaps a whispered clandestine threat.
Although his eyes remained dark, the tips of Tony’s lips moved upward. He reached out and held the hands that lay on the table in front of him. “Yes, sexy as hell.”
Claire removed her hands, sat back against the chair, and pressed her lips together.
His tone lightened with a change of subject, “You know, I don’t think the cooler weather is good for you. You look pale. You need sun.”
“Thanks, I quite like the west coast.”
Tony watched, waiting for more outbursts. Finally he said, “I concede. Some things are debatable. I would make you move to Iowa if I could. Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that I am incapable. It is that I want you there of your own free will. So that move is debatable.”
“Not debatable – I’m not going.”
“Now you see. We each have issues where we don’t want to budge. Let’s discuss public events.”
Claire settled back and listened. Tony talked about the different public events and business trips he had scheduled in the near future. He offered transportation, private accommodations, and money to purchase appropriate attire. He also discussed acceptable behaviors while separated. In many ways it reminded Claire of sitting in his office, listening to the ground rules of living in his house. The memories made her feel uneasy. Slowly she felt her pulse increase and the temperature of the room increase. The breeze from the fan remained but was no longer refreshing.
It was then she noticed the food behind her. The man must have had an entire side of pork. His plate overflowed with bacon. The aroma filled the space around their table.
Although Tony was still talking and Claire had been attentively nodding, she abruptly stood. “Tony I can’t do this. I need to leave.”
His shock quickly morphed to irritation, “What?”
“No, not this – us. This – here. I need to go outside.” With that she grabbed her purse and walked briskly toward the door – away from the mound of pork. Each step eased her discomfort. Nonetheless, it wasn’t until she stepped into the sunshine and felt the wind once again on her face that she could truly inhale.
Only steps behind her, Tony reached for her arm and spun her toward him. His expression changed immediately. The rage disappeared into a mixture of displeasure and concern. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know. I think I must have gotten food poisoning last night. How have you been feeling?”
“I feel fine. Is that what this just was, you not feeling well?”
“Yes, it was that bacon. It smelled horrid!”
Tony laughed. “I thought you liked bacon. Catherine used to have it for you all the time.”
Feeling better, Claire smiled, “I did. I do, I think. But I was ill this morning. That’s why I thought I might be late.”
Concern won the race on Tony’s rollercoaster of emotions. “You were ill? I could have come to you.”
Her eyes narrowed, “No. I don’t want you at Amber’s. It just isn’t right.”
“I’ve taken you to my friends. If that is truly your definition of Amber and her brother, what is the problem?”
There were so many things wrong. First his friends reminded Claire of Brent and Courtney, people whom, just this morning, she’d spent over a half hour talking with on the phone. Next, she thought of Tony with Simon’s fiancée. And lastly, Harry. At this moment she wasn’t sure how to define him. But having Harry and Tony together wouldn’t be good, no matter his definition.
“Are we done?” Claire asked.
“There are a few more things to discuss. How do you feel?”
“Better, the fresh air helps.”
“I saw a park not far away. Would you like to walk?”
Claire nodded. Truthfully she wanted to go home, but walking was better than staying in that cafe. Tony gently grasped her hand. Conceding the loss of her appendage, their fingers intertwined. The casual contact radiated familiar warmth through her body. They began walking toward Bridge Parkway. Across the small inlet they entered a haven of nature. Trees surrounded a large grassy plane with picnic tables and benches overlooking a lagoon. Scattered about were signs indicating a summer concert season. Everything pointed to warmer weather and blue skies for the future.
While they talked about their agreement, they also chatted – not about anything in particular, just things. Surprisingly, it felt good and easy. As long as the conversation avoided Harry, Amber, and her incarceration, Claire found herself speaking without weighing each word. They laughed at children on the playground equipment and watched a man set-up a camp to fish in the lagoon.
Claire tried to remember the last time she’d spent such a normal day with her ex-husband. It had been a long time. When Tony looked at his watch and saw that it was after two, he asked Claire if she were up to eating lunch.
“I think I can handle it, as long as there’s no bacon,” she said with a smile.
They walked back to Tony’s car and drove to a small diner with outside seating. When the waiter brought the menus, Claire perfunctorily left hers lying on the table. She couldn’t contain her surprise when Tony glanced her way and said, “Since you haven’t been feeling well, you’d better look and see what sounds appetizing.” It was the first time she’d ever ordered her own meal while with him. Maybe things do change?
