Consequences Consequences Page 80 “I haven’t seen the released pictures. Do you have copies?” Bev said she didn’t but she’d be glad to pull them up online. Claire glanced at her husband, although he didn’t speak, his eyes did. Claire knew she shouldn’t, but she agreed, “Thank you, I’d love to see them.” Instead of bringing out a computer, Bev removed a remote from a drawer and pointed it at the large television on the wall. The New Year’s countdown from Time Square changed to a homepage. Bev entered Anthony Rawlings into the search engine. Nine months ago—the procedure would’ve seemed mundane—but now it fascinated Claire. She would’ve loved to take the time to read the multitude of pages that appeared as options. Bev reduced the search by entering wedding. Claire briefly saw an accompanying article; but within seconds, Bev clicked, and their pictures appeared on the screen. Claire stared. There they were in their wedding attire. There were three different pictures—a head shot—a full-length frontal view—and one of them dancing. Everyone watched Claire as she beheld herself on the screen. She looked at Tony and her—they looked like models. Tony was tall, handsome, and buff, with his dark hair, dark eyes, and dark tuxedo contrasting dramatically with Claire. She looked petite, blonde, and striking. Her hair was so light she assumed some of her friends from before may not recognize her. Next to Tony, she seemed small. Tony was right about her eyes. In the head shot, her green eyes shined vividly. She’d seen her dress in the mirror, but seeing it on the television screen and looking at it from afar, it was obviously eye-catching, elegant, and spectacular. She smiled. It had been a good choice. Claire realized everyone in the room was watching her, especially Tony. Most were happily awaiting her response. Tony seemed less pleased with the entire situation, but she knew he wouldn’t say anything there. It would be a matter better discussed in private. Finally, Sue put her hand on Claire’s knee and asked, “So what do you think?” Claire giggled. “I just can’t believe my wedding’s news.” Everyone snickered. What did she expect? She married Anthony Rawlings. Claire looked up at him. He had eyes only for her—dark eyes. Daringly, she got up and walked to her husband. Lifting herself by her toes, she reached his cheek and gave it a kiss. He obliged, bending down to allow his cheek to meet her lips. Addressing the group, Claire nonchalantly replied, “I guess I just forget who he is, but, I have a lifetime to remember.” She kissed him again. They toasted the New Year with champagne. Brent, Tom, and Tim especially wished Tony a profitable year. If his year was lucrative—theirs would be also. It was after 1:00 AM when the party broke up. Within the car, the coldness of the leather transcended Claire’s slacks. She wanted the heater to warm the seat as well as the interior of the car quickly. The roar of the window defroster in the stillness of the night told Claire the poor Mercedes was trying its best. Tony was scraping the snow from the windows and talking with Brent while Tim did the same. Everything was blanketed with several more inches of white. Thankfully, it had stopped falling. Absently, Claire wondered how often Tony needed to scrape his own windows. She knew she was trying to divert her thoughts from the reprimand she was about to receive. Her husband remained pleasant and attentive during the party, but his expression as he opened her door let her know that this subject wasn’t closed. Claire pondered that thought. Wasn’t it really the same subject as earlier? So shouldn’t it be closed? Each time she exhaled she noticed the faint white crystals which formed and hung in the air. She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders; she was ready. The windows were clear and she could hear Tony and Brent’s voices, his door would open at any moment. With each passing minute her demeanor moved from anxious to indignant. All she had wanted to do was see their wedding pictures. Why was that such a big deal? After all, it was her wedding. The fact the pictures were available online shouldn’t matter. Once on the road, the only sounds were those of the tires on the snow and the hum of the heater. Claire waited. After a significant silence Tony spoke. “Do you remember I told you I received e-mails from Emily and she’d like you to call?” “Yes, and you said I could call her tomorrow.” Claire felt a sudden panic. “I was just wondering—your memory seems to be failing you.” “May I still call my sister?” “Yes, I keep my word.” Claire exhaled. This Tony was more indirect than the one she was accustomed to. Maybe that was the advantage of being his wife—she’d been looking for that perk. “Thank you.” She glanced toward her husband, his jaw muscles defined as he clenched. He was waiting for her to approach the subject. Reluctantly she did. “What did you think of our wedding pictures?” “I think you were absolutely stunning and I’m a lucky man.” That wasn’t the response she anticipated. Yes, she was annoyed that this was a big deal; however, her intuition told her to back off. “I’m sorry about encouraging Bev. My curiosity got the better of me.” Apologizing seemed like the best option—even if it only sounded sincere. “It isn’t just what you did. It’s what you said.” Claire couldn’t remember what she said, so she asked. “What did I say?” “You said you forget who I am.” “I forget that marrying you is newsworthy—I love you for you. I forget that you are Anthony Rawlings—to me—you’re Tony.” His grip intensified on the steering wheel and she felt his tension radiating through the interior of the car. “I’ve told you over and over, you must remember who I am. If you forget who I am, you’ll forget who you are, and the significance of your behavior.” It was a different version of the appearance speech. He was right—he’d said it over and over. She listened—replied at all appropriate times—and was thankful it was only the abridged version. Tony returned to work on the January 1—from his home office. He had a lot of things to do. Apparently, he had tried to keep up-to-date while in Fiji, but someone kept him distracted. With him working in his office and her free to do as she pleased within the house, Claire soon realized how event filled the last month had been. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of solitude. Claire arrived at Tony’s office before lunch to make her call. She expected the limitations lecture. Surprisingly, he didn’t give it. He dialed the telephone, turned his back and worked on his computers while Claire waited to speak. John answered. She prayed John wouldn’t say anything to upset Tony. “Hi, John, it’s Claire, is Emily there?” “Hi, Claire. Welcome back to the United States. You are back, aren’t you?” “We are, we returned on December 30.” She was sending out mental signals, put Emily on the phone! “So, was it as beautiful as the article described?” Tony turned to Claire—she needed to conclude with John and move on to Emily—she looked at him pleadingly—she knew. “I didn’t read the article, but it was amazing. Tony definitely took me to paradise for our honeymoon. Hey, is Emily there?” “Oh, yes. She’s right here. Good to talk with you. Please, tell Anthony I said hello.”
Consequences Consequences Page 81 She made eye contact with him, hi. “I will, thanks, John.” She heard Emily take the receiver. Apparently, they weren’t using a speaker phone. “Hi, Claire, how is my jet-set sister?” Claire smiled. Emily was trying her best to accept Claire’s life. “I’m wonderful, glad to be home. How are you?” Tony turned back to his work. Emily explained that she and John were well. They wanted to thank Claire and Anthony again for the transportation. A Rawlings Industries jet took them back to Albany on Sunday following the ceremony. She also thanked them for allowing them to stay in their home, it was amazing! She asked Claire more questions about the honeymoon. Claire made it sound magical but not too over the top. Tony politely kept his back to Claire during her conversation. She knew he was listening to every word but appreciated the gesture. After ten minutes Claire’s internal clock told her time was running out. “Well, it sure was good to see you two and to talk to you—” Emily interrupted, “I wanted to let you know John’s been offered a job with a different company.” This shocked Claire. She didn’t know he’d been looking for a different job. Emily said he hadn’t. It was a surprise to them too. Claire asked if it was in Albany. No, it’s either in New York City or Chicago. The company had offices at both locations—as well as others. Claire knew that meant Emily would have to leave her teaching job. Emily said she knew that. They were weighing the pros and cons. Financially—if he took the job—she wouldn’t need to work. It was a tremendous increase in pay. Claire was happy to hear that, but she knew how much Emily loved teaching. Claire also added the pro that Chicago was much closer to her and Tony. She asked if John would be doing the same type of law? Emily said it was international corporate. He’d studied it, but for the last four years he’d practiced mostly corporate domestic. Tony pointed to his watch. Claire told Emily she was interested, and she’d try to call again to see how things were going. She also warned, “Please think it through. Don’t just jump for the money.” Emily said, “That’s easy for you to say.” Claire understood, but wanted them to be happy first and foremost. Emily asked when she would hear from Claire again, and if there was a better way to contact her than Tony’s private e-mail? Claire told she was still trying to understand the whole Mrs. Rawlings thing. So many people trying to interview her and the like—well she was sure Emily understood. So yes—Tony’s private e-mail was best. They bid each other goodbye and Tony disconnected the line. Claire thought about the call as she stood to leave Tony’s office. “Thank you, I appreciate the chance to talk with her.” She turned to let him work. “Claire, wait a minute.” Her first thought was that he expected some sort of gratitude. She turned back to him with fire in her eyes. He casually leaned on his desk. “She was fishing.” Confused, the fire still flickered. “Fishing for what? Information about our honeymoon? Honestly, Tony, she’s my sister. Maybe she’s just interested in learning about me from me—not some magazine.” Impatiently, he asked, “Are you done?” “Yes”—he indicated for her to sit. She did—“She was fishing to find out if you knew about John’s job offer.” “That doesn’t make sense, how would I know—” She looked at Tony and her heart rate increased. “Why? Why would you offer John a job? I know you don’t like him.” “I don’t like his strength and determination—He pursued the prenuptial agreement in my limousine even though he knew I didn’t want him to—He even had the balls to offer me advice—then during the rehearsal—he stood in front of me and our friends and had the audacity to not give you away.” “I knew that upset you. We just never discussed it—before now”—Tony nodded—“Then please explain why you’d offer him a job?” Tony smiled a devious grin. “I didn’t. Tom did. He contacted John while we were away. They’ve had two meetings in New York. John does have an amazing résumé for someone who went to law school in Indiana.” “It’s one of the top twenty-five law schools in the country.” Claire immediately regretted defending John. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rawlings—I’ll let Tom know that he may contact you if a cheering section is needed for Mr. Vandersol”—Claire apologized and asked Tony to continue—“He graduated magna cum laude from Indiana University School of Law and was hired by an East Coast firm that predominately hires from within the Ivy League. He’s worked very hard, and after only four years as an associate, he’s on the fast track for partnership consideration.” Claire wasn’t sure if it was Tony or Tom, but someone had done their homework. “All right, he has a good résumé, but you just said you don’t like him.” “Actually, Mrs. Rawlings, I said I don’t like his strength and determination, or more accurately, they infuriated me.” He smiled again. This one wasn’t devious, more mischievous. Claire suddenly experienced déjà vu and smiled back. “Tony, John isn’t me. He doesn’t know you as well as I do.” “That’s good—I’d prefer to keep it that way.” “I mean, I don’t want you to be upset if he refuses your offer”—Tony lifted his eyebrows. Claire continued—“John’s worked very hard to achieve what he has in life. He may not accept your offer as being based on his résumé—but as being based on a familiar relationship.” “You know him better, but Tom’s made him a very impressive offer. Those student loans, mortgage, and other debts you mentioned would no longer be an issue. Emily wouldn’t need to work, and they could live anywhere they wanted.” “Emily likes her job; she loves teaching. Our mother was a teacher, up until the day she died. Emily enjoys doing what she does”—Claire realized she wasn’t facilitating the conversation—“But, I’m sure the loss of debt would be appealing. Emily could always find another teaching job. She does have over six years of experience. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if he refuses.” “It’s interesting the lengths some people will go to reduce their debt.” Claire chose to ignore that comment. “Has Tom given him a deadline? And what was the point of me talking with Emily but not knowing about John?” “Tom asked for an answer by the end of January and I was curious”—this time Claire raised her eyebrows—“I wondered if Emily would come right out and ask you about the job, and I figured if you knew about it, she’d think you persuaded me to offer it to him, or more accurately—persuaded me to persuade Tom.” Claire thought for a moment. “Well, I can honestly say it never occurred to me to ask for such a thing, and obviously Emily doesn’t realize—I don’t have that kind of influence over you.” His smile flashed—more unscrupulous this time. “Why, Mrs. Rawlings, I believe you’ve been known to be quite persuasive.” The enlightening conversation was done. Claire had a lot to consider. She didn’t feel good about the probability of John being employed by Rawlings Industries; however, she’d been honest—both to Emily and Tony. That’s all she could do. Honesty was always the best policy—right?
Consequences Consequences Page 82 Part of the happiness of life consists not in fighting battles, but in avoiding them. A masterly retreat is in itself a victory. —Norman Vincent Peale Chapter Thirty-Four ‡ The New Year began, and the routines of the past year continued. Tony left in the morning for work—Claire stayed home swimming in the indoor pool, working out in the gym, reading books, watching movies, and waiting for his return. She still relied on Catherine to inform her each evening of Tony’s plans. One change was that if he were in town—he always came to her suite. She may even be asleep—but he slept with her. Another change was that he personally informed her of any events, gatherings, or activities they would attend as a couple. Claire felt this was an improvement from Catherine’s last-minute information. Together they attended two formal events in January. The University of Iowa held a banquet, preceded by cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, to recognize platinum donors. Mr. Anthony Rawlings—of course—was one of them. They also attended a political fund-raiser for the Iowa City District Attorney’s Office where a speaker spoke about the role of private industry in the nation’s financial recovery. Claire played her part well. She remembered all the rules of her first outing at the symphony. Now, as Anthony Rawlings’s wife, she didn’t need to be the perfect companion—she needed to be the perfect wife. She projected the persona well—beautiful, polite, contented, and appreciative. Claire had been a newlywed over a month, and most of that time was spent wandering around her home. The continual snow and cold even restricted her from getting outside into the woods. She wondered about Courtney or Sue. Perhaps they didn’t want to see her. She hadn’t seen or talked to anyone since Emily, January 1. The walls of her beautiful home were closing in upon her. When Tony worked from home, Claire joined him in his office—it wasn’t a requirement. She thought of it as a getaway from her normal routine. He mostly worked from Iowa City, but he also went out of town a few times. He said he wanted her with him on these business trips, but things were too busy. There would be no time for social activities, and she’d be bored. He decided it was better for her to stay home. Claire felt increasingly claustrophobic, and Tony seemed completely unaware of her plight. Claire decided perhaps this qualified as one of those I’m a busy man. If you want something, you need to ask me situations. One night after Tony returned from a short stay in Chicago and the two lay in his dark suite, Claire decided to ask, “I would like to go with you on your next business trip.” “I told you—things are busy—you’d be bored.” “I’m bored now. I’ve barely been out of this house since our honeymoon. I’m going crazy.” She expected some realization, an apology for being so involved in business that he’d neglected his wife, perhaps some sweeping request for forgiveness. That wasn’t what she received. Abruptly, he turned. With his face only inches from hers, she felt his warm breath on her skin. “Really? You’re bored?” Resiliently she answered, “I am.” “And you didn’t catch the end of the conversation?” “I’m sorry—I didn’t. I’ll stay out of your way, and we don’t need to go out on the town. I just want to get out of this house.” “You’ve received many invitations for outings.” He remained too close. “What? What kind of invitations? And why didn’t I know about them?” Tony explained, “You didn’t know about them—because I chose not to pass them on to you”—Claire waited while he continued—“During our wedding preparations you were extremely busy, sometimes you weren’t home when I returned—I didn’t like that”—his cadence slowed—“besides, on New Year’s Eve, you seemed to have memory issues. I decided going out as Mrs. Rawlings alone, wasn’t something you’re ready to do.” Claire felt the anger building within her chest and feared if she spoke, her words would fan her husband’s fury—not subdue it. Therefore, she concentrated on keeping her lips pressed together as he continued, “And, I like knowing you’re home, safe and out of trouble. I have too many things on my plate right now—I don’t need to worry about you having another accident.” She had remained silent as long as she could. Claire asked assertively, “From whom?” “Excuse me?” Tony understood her tone—he wanted clarification on her meaning. “The invitations I’ve received—who are they from?” “I believe your ability to understand has diminished with your memory. I said I chose not to forward them to you. I decided you will stay home, safe. Good night.” Tony lay back on his pillow. She lay still for what seemed like hours. Finally, his breathing slowed and became rhythmic. For the first time since he’d proposed, she didn’t want to be with him. Claire decided since they were in his suite, she could go to hers. She waited until she felt certain he was asleep, and then gently lifted the covers. Feeling for her robe she heard his booming voice rip through the darkness. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I’m aware the conversation is done and that I have no control in my own activities. It’s all in your hands, but at this moment, I’m also aware you don’t consider me a spouse or a partner. I’m going to my suite to ponder this information.” “No, you are not.” Without a doubt—a conclusive statement. At a little over 6’4” Tony’s arm span was immense. Perhaps if she hadn’t been tying her robe and putting her feet into slippers, she might have had better balance. Nevertheless, in less than a second he grasped her arm and her world tilted. She was once again lying on his bed. The weight of his upper body pinned her to the mattress. Memories of their wedding pictures came to mind—she felt small and defenseless. “Tony, remember your promise.” Her voice sounded falsely formidable. “Which has always been contingent upon yours.” Her chest suddenly became heavy—not from the weight of his body—but from his words. He continued, “You’re right”—she didn’t speak, unsure of her correctness—“The conversation is done and I am in total control of your activities, including where you will sleep, and which invitations you’ll accept”—the tears began to pool in her eyes—“however, you’re also mistaken. I don’t consider you a spouse—I know you are my wife—you belong to me.” Her shoulders ached from the pressure of his forearms. His words weren’t a revelation—Claire knew she was his possession. He continued moving closer with each word. “You are staying here tonight. You are not leaving me—my bed—or my presence”—the tears flowed—“Now it’s time for you to respond appropriately.” His weight shifted slightly. Claire remembered times in the past when she hadn’t replied quickly enough or to his liking. She focused her energy on keeping her body from trembling; however, she couldn’t concentrate on that and tears—so, her words became muffled sobs. Swallowing hard, she tried to strengthen her voice. “I will not leave you.” “Even if I left your bed tonight,” “it would’ve only been because I’m upset,” “not because I want our marriage to be over.” She took a ragged breath—imagined his dark eyes—and thanked God the room was dark.
Consequences Consequences Page 83 “Continue.” “I will not leave your bed. I’ve agreed in the past,” “I agree now and forever” “to submit to your authority.” “I’m sorry if I’ve given you cause to break your promise.” Inhaling, she tried desperately to defuse his temper. “If you recall—this entire incident started because I asked to be with you when you went away. I don’t want to leave you—I want to be with you.” “Your ability to respond appropriately has benefited you on multiple occasions.” He released her shoulders and laid his head on his pillow. She stopped sniffling and tried to regulate her breathing. “Now, take off that robe.” As she obeyed he added, “I believe we’ll experiment with some other forms of response.” He rolled back toward her. “However, you are my partner. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. So, perhaps you would rather go to sleep?” Claire knew this was one of those offers you can’t refuse her grandmother used to talk about. She answered, “No—I’d rather respond to you.” She successfully avoided the trembling and almost stopped the tears. The end result was that her head pounded to the beat of her heart, currently too rapid. “This time it’ll not be verbal.” His hands seized her petite frame as his domineering tone claimed her spirit. “As you may recall—this conversation is over.” Claire closed her eyes and nodded. She did her best to ignore her headache and respond to her husband. Just before they drifted to sleep, Tony offered more information. “Courtney and Sue have called multiple times—I’ll think about their invitations. Emily has called and e-mailed. John called—he respectfully declined Tom’s offer. I believe Emily can wait.” Claire’s heart sank. This new information no doubt influenced Tony’s temperament. She wanted to believe Tony’s offer to John was made in good faith based on John’s credentials. John’s refusal didn’t surprise Claire, though she was sure it did Tony. He didn’t often experience rejection. This wasn’t the first time she received the consequences of John’s actions. What concerned Claire the most was her relationship with her sister, would she be allowed to speak to her or see her? She kissed Tony and sounded as compliant as she could muster. “Thank you, I would really like to see Courtney and Sue.” Claire wanted to move away from him—to the far side of the king-sized bed—or better—upstairs—but she rested her head on his chest. “I promise my memory is better.” “I’m glad to hear that.” He slowly embraced her shoulder as his voice softened. “I need to be in Phoenix next week. It’s been in the seventies there—perhaps you can join me.” She nodded her head. “Thank you—I’d like that.” They fell asleep. The next day, using Tony’s iPhone, Claire was allowed to call both Courtney and Sue. She didn’t utilize the speaker phone, and although present, Tony didn’t question the content. Both ladies wanted to catch up and hear all about married life. Claire said she would love to. She’d check her calendar and get back to them. She also apologized for not returning their calls sooner—things were just so busy. Much earlier than normal, the sound of Tony’s alarm woke them on February 1. Their flight to Phoenix was leaving at 7:00 AM. The trip was only planned for one night, but Claire didn’t care. They were leaving the estate and that was enough to propel her from bed to the shower. She would stay at their apartment while Tony met with associates; if all went well they’d dine out tonight. He described this apartment as one of their smaller ones. As she showered, she wondered what small really meant. Steam filled the bathroom with a muggy fog. She secured the luxurious lavender towel around her body as Tony entered. “We aren’t going to Phoenix.” Her shoulders slumped. “Why? Did I do something?” Tony hugged her warm body as water dripped from her hair onto her shoulders and the floor. “No. We can’t go anywhere. Eric just called. We should’ve looked out the window.” He took her to the tall French doors leading to her balcony. When he moved the drapes she could only see white. At least 12” of new snow had fallen on the ground, trees, balcony rail, everywhere. With the addition of the 8–10” of old snow, there was now almost two feet, and it continued to fall, accompanied by wind. Barely seeing beyond the balcony, she saw drifts transforming the backyard into an ocean of white waves. Heaven knows how deep the snow was in the bigger drifts. Claire sat on the bed with large droplets gliding down her back—discouraged—and sighed. Sitting next to her, Tony rubbed her leg. “Think of it as a snow day. Didn’t you like those when you were a kid?” “Yeah, because I didn’t want to go to school—but now I want to go.” He hugged her shoulder. “You want to go to school?” Exhaling loudly, she said, “I want to go anywhere.” Tony lifted some of her hair. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll catch pneumonia if you try to go somewhere.” She laid her head back on the bed, pressed her lips into a tight line, and looked up at the ceiling. If she opened her mouth she would scream. She was trapped! Leaning over her, he grinned. “How about we celebrate our newfound free day?” She knew what he was thinking, and she didn’t want to celebrate. Telling him no was supposed to be her option; however, it hadn’t been tested, and Claire didn’t think she was emotionally strong enough for the trial. Despondently, she asked, “How do you want to celebrate?” Still leaning over her, he said, “How about you take me to your lake?” “What?”—Claire’s thoughts spun—The lake would be frozen and was about five miles away. Would they freeze? It was out, out of the house!—“Are you serious?” Her eyes sparkled as she tried to read her husband’s expression. “If it makes that spark come back to your emerald eyes—I’m serious”—he kissed her forehead—“We have boots, coats, and gloves, everything needed to ski. It was one of our honeymoon options. So let’s get you dry, us fed, bundled, and find this lake I’ve heard so much about.” “It’s about five miles away. Don’t you need to talk to the Phoenix people, let them know what happened?” “Are you trying to discourage me? I’ll contact the Phoenix office. We can communicate later in the day. It’s still very early there, and I know I’m older, but I really think I can make five miles”—he smiled with milk chocolate eyes—“Besides, we also have cross-country skis. Do you think you can get us there on skis?” In the midst of a Midwest blizzard, Claire was filled with more warmth and excitement than she’d felt in sometime. Their discussion a week ago left her uneasy. She didn’t like the way he’d treated her, or the way it made her feel, but once it was done—she hesitated to revisit the subject. Now, he wanted to go to her lake. “I bet it’s prettier in the summer, but I’d love to get out. I know I can find it.” They ate breakfast, and Catherine made them thermoses of coffee. She chided both of them for even thinking about going out in the snow; however, with Tony by her side Claire knew it didn’t matter. She was going to her lake, a place she hadn’t been since her accident.
Consequences Consequences Page 84 They dressed in layers, wrapping themselves head to toe, complete with hand and foot warmers, and were out of the house before 8:00 AM. The wind had subsided but the snow still fell. It had been many years since Claire had cross-country skied; however, the motions swiftly returned as the long slender skis and poles allowed them to glide over the 20+” of snow. At first, she worried about navigation, but with most of the ground level obstacles covered—it wasn’t difficult. Skiing was much faster than walking. They reached the clearing in less than thirty minutes. Claire told Tony all about the flowers, butterflies, and animals present in the heat of the summer. They wore tinted goggles to shield the brightness of the snow, but she sensed his serenity as he listened to her stories. They arrived at the lake shore approximately forty minutes later. Claire wasn’t cold. She was exhilarated from the fresh air, exercise, and scenery. Green leaves and blue waters were her preference, but the snow covered the evergreens and glistening ground were beautiful. The frozen lake, covered with peaks and valleys of drifts, reminded her of a large flat cake with vanilla frosting. She felt as warm as if it were August. * Tony was completely enthralled by the glistening vista before him. He’d never taken the time to experience his own property. It wasn’t something he cared about or gave much consideration—until now. As they stood and watched, three deer, one six-point buck and two does, galloped at full speed from left to right across the lake. Tony stared at Claire. If the deer could do it, they could too. Skiing on the lake was effortless compared to the woods: no hills, valleys, or trees—only open space. The wind and snow had ceased. The farther west they traveled, the more of the shoreline they could see. Everything looked virgin, completely unspoiled. After the snow ceased, other animals ventured out of their warm homes. They saw foxes and multitudes of squirrels and birds. Tony said he thought all birds went south for the winter. Claire explained not all birds migrate. She told him that in Indiana the cardinal was omnipresent. She remembered always being excited to see one in winter, it looked so red and vibrant in contrast to the stark gray of winter. Tony continued to ask questions and listen to his wife. It was almost one when they arrived back at the house. Catherine was elated to see them. She’d been worried. She promised she would send lunch, but first wanted them to get warm. Entering Tony’s suite they found his large fireplace roaring with flames and radiating tremendous heat. Claire laughed as Tony removed his ski hat. His hair was messier than she’d ever seen and his cheeks were pink and frigid. Her giddiness amused him. He offered to help remove her winter gear. It didn’t take long to realize Fiji had been a better honeymoon destination. Snow activities required too many clothes. When their food arrived Tony covered Claire with a blanket from his bed. She lay on the rug in front of the fireplace with the soft down comforter and Tony wore only a pair of gym shorts as Cindy wheeled in their lunch. Cindy started to put the warm foods and drink on the table, when smiling at Claire, Tony told Cindy she could leave. Cindy thanked him and left the cart. Claire smiled at her husband, bare chested, setting their lunch on the table. “Sometimes I think you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” He poured two cups of coffee and carried them to his wife. Joining her under the comforter he prompted, “And other times?” Answering honestly, she said, “Other times, I don’t like you.” He looked at her with astonishment. She kissed his lips. “Today is definitely a like day.” His smile warmed her heart as he said, “I’m glad.” * While eating lunch Tony asked Claire about the don’t like days. She thought about playing it off, lying, or telling him she was joking. Then she decided to be truthful. “I love you—I really do. I sometimes feel like the luckiest woman on the planet, but other times I feel like a five-year-old.” She waited. Did he understand what she was trying to say? His eyes weren’t darkening; he was listening. “I know you may not think so, but I really don’t have any intention of causing you harm. Why would I? You told me your grandfather trusted the wrong people. Was your grandmother one of them?” Tony seemed slightly shaken by the mention of his grandfather. “No. Why do you ask?” “Because I’m going to assume she loved him and he loved her. If they didn’t they wouldn’t have married.” Tony nodded his understanding. Claire continued, “I realize there are people who may try to hurt you or your business, but I’m not one of them.” She wasn’t sure how she could explain her feelings to him. She looked directly into his eyes. The mention of his grandfather minutely darkened them. “I don’t have a problem with you being in control of our lives—I trust you. I just wish you trusted me, so I could feel like a wife instead of a child or a possession.” She’d been happy, but this conversation was making her sad. “I’m sorry—I’m ruining this wonderful day.” She looked down at her lunch and her cold soup. Closing her eyes she heard his chair move. Claire didn’t want him to see the tears escaping her lids. She didn’t look up. Anthony Rawlings gently took his wife’s hand and helped her rise from her chair, then tenderly lifted her chin. Seeing her tears, he said, “Claire, it seems to me that you apologize a lot.” She started to say she was sorry, but snickered at herself instead. “See? See that smile you have? You can’t, but I can. It’s beautiful, even with your hair a mess—which it is, and your smile, doesn’t stop at those perfect lips—it extends to your pink wind-burned cheeks—and most dramatically—it extends to your bright, emerald green eyes.” He was bending with his nose millimeters from hers. “I apologize for not causing that smile to come out more.” Claire felt her resolve melt as her knees weakened. Thankfully, she was being supported by his strong, steady arms. Tony continued, “You’re right about so many things. Listening to you talk today about the different trees—snow—a blizzard—animals—and birds—you know so many things I’ve never attempted to learn, and you know me better than anyone. I’ve tried to keep my past that—the past, but you’ve managed to take the bits and pieces I’ve offered over the course of a year and weave them together into some psychological basis for your comprehension of me. I must reluctantly admit you’re correct.” She wanted to say something, but he kissed her tenderly and continued, “You have not intentionally given me reason to do anything but trust you and yet, I know I have not always behaved well. This may come as a shock, but I have issues with control”—she couldn’t help but smile—“There’s that smile.” Tony led her to the sofa in front of the fire. Wearing a soft bathrobe she sat in front of him and leaned her head on his t-shirt covered chest as they both faced the fire. The beat of his heart and the sound of his breathing echoed in her ears. The fire radiated warmth and his skin the aroma of exercise. She felt safe and secure—but at the same time—she had the feeling of living in a house of glass. The security could crash into broken pieces at any second. He asked her what she was thinking; she answered and he didn’t respond for a long period. She was apprehensive to turn and see into his eyes.
Consequences Consequences Page 85 Finally, he spoke again. “Perhaps I’m afraid of losing you, afraid if you truly know me you won’t want to stay with me.” She wasn’t sure, but due to his voice and breathing, she wondered if he was having difficulty staying composed. She wanted to alleviate his discomfort, tell him it was okay—he didn’t need to say anything else. She didn’t turn around as she spoke, “Tony, I’m pretty sure I know you—I’m also sure I’m still here.” “Because, you haven’t had the opportunity to leave.” His arms were tenderly wrapped around her. She caressed them gently with her small hands. “No—not because of that—and not because of the gifts—or the trips—or the money—I’m still here because I made a commitment to you. I did that in Central Park and again in our home—because I love you and want to be with you.” He hugged her. “Mrs. Rawlings—I love you too. I want to trust you more and be less controlling—what I don’t want is to ever hurt you like I did—if you’re kept safely away from the world, there’s less of a chance that anything will happen which could cause me to react as I did before.” “I used to feel that way—like I wanted to stay here and not risk the chance of upsetting you. I do not want to upset you, but Tony—that isn’t a life. Having me home waiting for you because I have no choice—and having me home waiting for you—because I want to be—are two totally different things”—she waited but he didn’t respond, so she continued—“If you would trust me, I’ll do my best to follow your rules. I’ll discuss things with you prior to doing them. I’ll check with you before I go anywhere. I understand the importance of appearances and the significance of consequences. I don’t want to upset you—I do want the opportunity to upset you.” Claire decided this conversation was easier without looking into his eyes. She could imagine small black irises with large velvet borders; however, she was certain her imagination and reality differed. “Tell me what you want. What freedoms have I taken, that you’d like returned?” She told herself, here is your chance, respond appropriately. “I’d like access to my own invitations. I won’t accept or decline without speaking with you, but I would like the knowledge there are other people out there who care about me. I’d like to be able to speak to my sister without being afraid you won’t let me—or be upset by my conversation. I’d like the ability to leave the estate—just because, and again, it wouldn’t happen without your consent—but just to know I can”—she listened to his breathing, the only alteration occurred when she mentioned Emily—“And I’d like you to be able to contact me directly about our evening plans—not to be told by Catherine. It makes me feel juvenile.” She’d done what she could; she’d been as honest as she could. Now, she exhaled and relaxed against his sturdy chest. She couldn’t think of anything else to say—she’d wait. The outdoor adventure was exhilarating—cold air, brilliant snow, and muscle exertion from skiing. The warming up process had been remarkable—crackling fire, soft rug, and tender lovemaking. The lunch was warm—soup, Panini, and hot coffee. Now they’d shared, talked, and been totally honest with one another. Feeling drained, Claire’s body melted against his. She waited for his response, knowing her fate didn’t rest in her own hands. She had no choice but to trust the man who had her wrapped affectionately in his arms. Closing her eyes she listened to his heart, his breathing, and drifted off to sleep. Nobody can go back and start a new beginning but anyone can start today and make a new ending. —Maria Robinson Chapter Thirty-Five ‡ Grandma Nichols once said—the only constant in life is change. Claire prayed those changes would be good. After their heart-to-heart, she began to see small signs that gave her hope. The afternoon of their talk, she awoke on the leather sofa in Tony’s suite. Hugging the warm comforter, she gazed around. The diminishing daylight accentuated by the glow of the crackling fire illuminated the room. She was alone. At first, she assumed her husband was in the adjoining bath or dressing room, but open doors and silence soon told her otherwise. This had never happened. His suite had technology. She’d seen him use it. The large framed screen could access the world at a click of a remote. Tentatively, Claire rose and walked to his bureau. The top left drawer contained that key to accessibility. She didn’t want to point and click—she needed to know if she could. The internal monologue began Can Tony see me? He’d never talked about cameras in his suite. Did they exist? Is this a test? A trap? She asked for the ability to upset him. Claire decided she needed to know if she’d been granted that chance. Her hand trembled as she gripped the slender handle. What if the drawer was locked or the remote was gone? Calling upon her courage and strength, she pulled. Through the darkness and into the cavernous depth, she saw it—silver with black buttons. The remote was there, available to her. Emotions swept through her—relief—she was getting the chance she requested. Happiness—he was trusting her. Sadness—she couldn’t touch it. Fear—would he catch her? She listened for the sound of footsteps—or worse—doors opening. The only sound came from the fireplace. Claire carefully closed the drawer, walked back to the sofa, and collapsed onto the soft cushions. The flames flickered as the scene melted before her moistening eyes. She pulled her knees into her chest and watched the blaze before her. Fear and sadness pushed relief and happiness away. Summoning the happiness, she told herself—this was a good thing. She attempted to regain her composure before she left his suite. About a week later, she sat perched on a high stool with her Gucci heeled boots teetering on a wooden rod, listening to her friend’s voice—more evidence of progress. Claire loved Courtney’s company. She could talk enough for the both of them—making Claire laugh in the process. Today, Courtney was talking about the Red Cross, the amazing job it did responding to natural disasters and helping the citizens of Iowa and the United States. She explained the financial problems facing the organization with donations decreasing and needs increasing. Courtney was the fund-raising chairman for the Quad City Chapter. She asked Claire to help with her committee, believing they had the connections to individuals and businesses who were surviving the economic slowdown. They could use those connections to help raise money. She asked Claire which fund-raisers she thought would be most profitable. They discussed the pros and cons of an auction—banquet—sports—tournament—or raffle—there were so many possibilities. Courtney wanted to exceed last year’s goal. The pub where they sat was electric with energy. Located on the University of Iowa’s campus, its tables overflowed mostly with students coming and going. The hum of voices combined with the sound of moving chairs caused Claire’s toes to wiggle with excitement. She hadn’t been around this many people in so long. She longed to absorb all the vitality. Claire told Courtney with a degree in meteorology, the idea of assisting with a charity which aided with the disasters she used to forecast, appealed to her.
Consequences Consequences Page 86 Courtney gave her a folder of information. It contained a calendar of scheduled committee meetings and a list of committee members’ names, e-mail addresses, and telephone numbers. As Claire ate her salad, she scanned the contents. This volunteering would be more time consuming than she’d realized. That was great. Of course, she knew she would need to run it all by Tony, but how would it appear if Mrs. Anthony Rawlings wasn’t willing to help charities? Besides, he’d allowed this outing, knowing Courtney intention—more evidence. Courtney stood to get them both more coffee, and Claire looked around the restaurant. She couldn’t believe her exhilaration at being out with a friend. Between Courtney and the surroundings she feared her chest would pop. The people at the other tables looked so carefree. They probably took their freedoms for granted—Claire knew she used to. Exhaling, she thought about her husband. He was trying to consider her requests. She smiled as she remembered him telling her to call Courtney. Everything seemed normal as he entered her suite and talked about his day. It was as he entered the bathroom for a shower that his words stunned her. “Claire, I almost forgot, Courtney would like you to call her. My iPhone is on the bookcase. Her number is in the address book under Courtney S., help yourself.” Then he turned and closed the door. Claire stared. Was it really him? The other times she called from any phone he’d dialed. She worried perhaps she imagined the whole scene. Her legs wobbled as she walked toward his phone. Slowly, she picked it up and went through the address book. She scrolled until she saw Courtney S. There were many names. She continued to scroll and saw Emily V., John V., and John V. home. She scrolled back to Courtney S. and hit the dial icon. The screen indicated the call was in progress. It didn’t last long and Claire believed her clammy hands and shaking knees weren’t detectable on the other end. Most excitedly, she’d made a call which led to this lunch. When Courtney returned, she set the mugs on the table. Their salads were gone and the Red Cross had been thoroughly discussed. It had been fun. Now they were having some more coffee and chatting before returning home. Gently, Courtney reached out and held Claire’s hand. Suddenly, Claire felt uneasy. With as much practice as she had maintaining eye contact in difficult situations—she looked away from her friend—Courtney’s pale blue eyes showed too much concern. “I’m so glad you’ve agreed to help me,” Courtney spoke softly and slowly. Claire’s uneasiness made her want to pull her hand away. Instead, she smiled. “I’m happy I can help you and others.” “Claire, you don’t need to be perfect all the time. You don’t need to say everything perfectly, look perfect, and be perfect. Life isn’t a test you must continually pass”—Claire stared silently at her friend, afraid her voice might crack as the energy of the room evaporated—“I just want you to know, Brent and I have known Tony for a long time…”—Claire swallowed. She’d heard this speech from everyone who knew her husband and entitled it the Great Man Speech—usually accompanied by he works so hard—“And he can be a pompous—condescending—controlling ass.” Claire’s eyes grew wide and her head dropped. She didn’t cry—she laughed—suddenly and uncontrollably—bordering on hysteria. It wasn’t good for appearances. Apparently, her laughter was contagious because Courtney started laughing, too. People looked at them. Fleetingly, Claire didn’t care. After a few moments, she regained enough composure to ask, “Excuse me? What did you just say?” “Honey, you heard me. I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I said”—Courtney squeezed Claire’s hand again—“Don’t get me wrong, I love your husband, but, let me be honest, sometimes I hate him too”—Claire nodded—she completely understood—“It’s all right; however, it’s not all right for you to feel alone”—Claire listened—“Your husband loves you. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. I’ve never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you. He also has demons—ones I can’t even begin to understand—he also has serious issues with control. He can drive Brent crazy sometimes.” Claire’s uneasiness returned. “Courtney, I think maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation.” “Tony would say we shouldn’t be having this conversation. What do you say?” Claire didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted the conversation to end—it made her uncomfortable. The other part of her wanted to talk—to open up and feel connected to someone in this world—someone besides Tony. “I think maybe it would be better not to speak about Tony.” “All right, I respect you. I respect you for marrying Tony and for your inability to talk”—Claire tried desperately to maintain her mask—“I’ve tried my very best to make you comfortable. I want you to feel relaxed with me.” “I do Courtney. I consider you my friend.” “Honey, I am your friend—you’re my friend—and Tony’s a dear friend, too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.” “Thank you, but you don’t need to worry about me—I’m fine.” “Yeah, I recognize fine, and sometimes when you’re with us, you are fine. Other times you only seem fine”—Claire didn’t know what to say—“It must be difficult to suddenly be thrust into Tony’s world. He puts a lot of significance on appearance. Well, maybe he hasn’t mentioned that to you.” Courtney started to stand to leave. Tears began to escape down Claire’s cheeks. Her voice was barely an audible whisper, “Courtney, please sit back down”—Courtney did—“If Tony knew we were having this conversation, I wouldn’t be able to have lunch with you again, and perhaps it could affect Brent’s job. I know they’re best friends, but with Tony, I’m not sure there are boundaries.” Courtney was at least twenty years Claire’s senior, yet she listened earnestly, recognizing the sincerity of the younger woman’s tone. “So my intuitions aren’t unwarranted”—Claire shook her head and Courtney spoke softly—“Claire, are you all right?” “Courtney, I think we need to go back to your SUV. I’m uncomfortable having this conversation and I’m definitely uncomfortable having it in a public place.” They stood, put on their warm coats, gathered their purses, and walked to Courtney’s SUV. The break in the conversation and fresh cool air gave Claire time to regroup. Alarms sounded in her head. If she chose to continue this discussion she’d be breaking rules: number one, do as you’re told. She’d been told on multiple occasions the importance of appearances and not divulging private information. This was her first time out alone as Mrs. Anthony Rawlings—if she wanted to be involved with the Red Cross and wanted more freedoms. Breaking rules would not facilitate those goals. They walked to the car in silence. Sitting in the passenger seat, Claire buckled her seat belt and straightened her posture. She knew what she would say, “Courtney, thank you for your support. You’re right. I’ve been overwhelmed by the responsibility of becoming Tony’s wife. He’s been supportive and understanding and is helping me recognize the significance of and the obligations accompanying that title. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’re willing to help me, too.”
Consequences Consequences Page 87 Courtney understood—Claire had just ended the conversation. “I’m glad you’re feeling better about it. Just know that sometimes women pick up on things men don’t—even very observant men. I hope it’ll help you to know I’m quite perceptive, and I’m here for you whenever you need me.” Claire thanked her again and asked her a question about the Red Cross. While driving, Courtney asked if Claire and Tony had special plans for Tony’s birthday, this weekend. Claire was taken aback. She didn’t know it was her husband’s birthday; however, he hadn’t known it was her birthday either. “I don’t believe we do. Tony seems to be very low-key about birthdays.” Courtney declared it was settled, they would do something together. She told Claire about a bar in Rock Island with live music, good food, and a fun atmosphere. Courtney thought it would be good for all of them. Claire promised to discuss it with Tony and let her know. They debated the best day; Tony’s birthday was on Saturday. Either Friday or Saturday would work for the Simmons. When Claire got out of the car she invited Courtney inside—Courtney declined. Claire leaned over and hugged her. “Thank you for everything”—she looked directly into Courtney’s caring blue eyes—“I’m looking forward to helping you and you helping me.” She grabbed her Prada handbag and the charity information. Catherine let her know Mr. Rawlings would be home for dinner in her suite at seven. Suite meant casual, but Claire decided she wanted to make the night special. She wanted him to know how grateful she was for the small freedom. She also knew she’d experienced an excellent opportunity to upset him and avoided it. She wouldn’t share that information—but in her mind it gave them more reason for celebration. Tony was pleasantly surprised by Claire’s appreciation and enthusiasm. When she showed him the schedule of committee meetings he said it would be a week-by-week decision. Circumstances can change; however, he didn’t anticipate any glitches—she didn’t either. During dinner she mentioned, “I learned a secret about you today.” “I wasn’t aware I had any secrets from you.” Claire smiled. “I learned Saturday is your birthday.” His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. “I thought since I missed your special day—we could miss mine.” “Well, Courtney thinks we should all go to the Rock Island Brew Company.” “I know the place—I’ve been there.” Claire waited for him to agree to the celebration. Finally, she asked, “I promised Courtney I’d get back to her about it, would you like to go Friday night or Saturday night?” His agitated expression made her uncomfortable. She realized this was a subject he didn’t want to continue. “Or, would you rather I told her we’ll celebrate on our own?” “I will think about it and get back to Courtney”—the discussion was done and Claire didn’t know their plans. The next evening Claire sat surrounded by papers when Tony entered her suite. Dressed and ready for dinner, she was completely absorbed in the financial information of the Iowa Red Cross. He looked at her mess and placed two large leather-bound photo albums on top of her papers. Claire looked at the albums and then at her husband. “Good evening, what are these?” He bent to kiss her and the tips of his lips moved upward. “They’re proofs of the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” Quickly, forgetting the mounds of paper, she began looking through the albums. The only pictures she’d seen were the ones on New Year’s Eve. The first album began with prewedding poses. The estate, the men, the women, everything and everyone looked beautiful. Then ones of Claire and John prior to walking down the aisle. Tony watched as she turned each page, she was afraid to linger on the photos of John and Emily, she would look at them later. The next, were a series of Claire approaching Tony and him waiting. She had to admit—she looked beautiful. Tony added adjectives—stunning, amazing, gorgeous, and striking. They both appeared to be brimming with love and adoration. There were photos from multiple directions—some very artsy. Their food arrived and they still had a full album to view. After dinner they spent the entire evening on the sofa in front of the fire, going over and over each photo. They talked about the people, decorations, and ceremony. There were numerous posed photos of the two of them in the grand hall and at the base of the stairs. She laughed at ones where the photographer put her up a few steps, trying to make her taller. “You know, if you’d married one of those models you dated they wouldn’t have had to do that.” He kissed her tenderly and gazed at her with soft brown eyes. “I didn’t want to marry any of those women. I’ve never wanted to marry anyone but you.” He could melt her heart so easily. The next photos were of the reception. They both agreed the guests seemed to enjoy themselves. Then pictures of them dancing—Claire remembered her overwhelming desire as Tony directed her around the floor. “I love watching your eyes sparkle as you look at these photos.” She told him how much she enjoyed their reception, especially the dancing. “Well, it won’t be the same, but we can try to relive that dancing on Saturday for my birthday.” Claire smiled—they were going to celebrate. “I don’t know how I can possibly choose which pictures I like best.” “Then don’t choose. You can have them all.” Placing one arm around her and flipping the pages back, and added, “This one of you on the stairs, with your gown all around you, I want that one—I want it enlarged over the grand fireplace in the sitting room.” Claire wrinkled her nose. “That’s silly—I don’t want to see me great-big every day.” “I don’t care. I do—and I will. Actually, I think I’ll contract an artist to paint it.” He leaned back and smiled. Claire just shook her head—stopping him from doing something he wanted to do was beyond her ability. Next, she saw the family photo of her, Tony, and the Vandersols. “Tony, can we have copies of some of these made for Emily and sent to them?” She only said Emily on purpose—but the them should have been her. He sighed. “Yes, that can be done.” Claire knew she should drop the subject, but sometimes she couldn’t stop herself. “Has Emily tried to contact me anymore?” “Yes.” Claire didn’t reply. He knew what she wanted—if she persisted it would be arguing or pleading—if he changed his mind—he would let her know. Besides, they were having a nice evening with the wedding pictures; she directed the conversation back to the album. “Look at this picture of MaryAnn and Eli. They were hilarious!” The Vandersol conversation ended. Trust not too much to appearance. —Virgil Chapter Thirty-Six ‡ The birthday was a success. Tony and Brent joked that with late-night partying they shouldn’t drive an hour home, so everyone rode together in the limousine. The Brew Company was vibrant with music resonating from multiple sections of the large warehouse style building. The main stage had a Tribute to Jazz performance. Courtney reserved a premium table and told the restaurant they were celebrating a birthday. The people at The Brew Company didn’t know his name, only that Tony was the guest of honor. Claire, Courtney, and Brent laughed as the singer acknowledged him with a rendition of Hey Big Spender and wrapped him in her feather boa. Watching Tony’s tolerance, Claire decided she could learn a lot from Courtney—he seemed to accept things from her Claire wouldn’t dare to attempt.
Consequences Consequences Page 88 A week later, Tony invited Claire to Chicago for two nights. Even though she needed to cancel a committee meeting, she wanted to go. It was even her idea to go to the spa and lighten her dark roots. Brent and David Field—whom Claire met what seemed like a lifetime ago—on her first trip to New York—were with them as they flew to Chicago. Claire sat on the sofa while the three men discussed their impending meetings. To pass the time, she looked through her purse and was pleased to have her new ID and credit card. Claire didn’t care about their money, but shopping was one of the few pass times Tony granted without hesitation. Her old driver’s license was a Georgia—issued ID. She thought it was interesting to see the difference in different states licenses. She soon realized the variances didn’t stop with the issuing state—the new one contained her name, Claire Rawlings, and printed at the top was VALID IDENTIFICATION. Her Georgia ID had said VALID DRIVER’S LICENSE. She hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t something she should bring up with Brent and David present but decided it was worth discussing when they were alone. Claire spent the afternoon at the spa lightening her hair and receiving a manicure and pedicure. When she arrived back at the apartment, Charles informed Mrs. Rawlings, Mr. Rawlings would be detained until after 9:00 PM. He could happily serve her dinner at a more appropriate hour. She declined, “Thank you, Charles; I’ll wait for Mr. Rawlings.” While dining, Claire sensed Tony multitasking. He was eating and conversing with her, but his mind was elsewhere with Brent and David on some big deal. He talked about the next evening. Hopefully, they would be able to go out to dinner and perhaps to a show. It all depended on his meetings. Claire said it sounded great, but she understood if his work went late. She planned to spend the entire day shopping and knew they were scheduled to go home on Thursday. As Claire contemplated the best way to bring up her question, Tony did it for her. “You’re going shopping tomorrow? Did you see your new ID and credit card? They should be in your wallet.” “I did, and I was wondering why my new ID isn’t a driver’s license?” Tony momentarily stopped eating and looked at Claire as if she’d asked why is the sky blue or why do birds fly? It seemed as though the only word missing from his next sentence was Duh. “Because you don’t drive.” His tone wasn’t cruel—perhaps cold. She thought carefully about her response. “I haven’t driven since I’ve been with you—but I used to drive and enjoyed it.” “You now have access to a driver. You didn’t before—correct?” “Correct—however, you have a driver and you still drive. The Simmons’ have a driver and Courtney drives.” Tony’s annoyance with this conversation came through loud and clear, his words were flat with restraint. “Claire, this is a ridiculous conversation. You have a driver or you’re with me. You have no need to drive.” “Tony, you are obviously busy with work. We can discuss this later.” * Throughout the past year there were numerous instances when Tony purposely baited Claire. He liked to observe her reactions. Initially, it was done maliciously. It intrigued him to see how far he could push. Lately it had become a private game. He found her self-control and resilience incredibly sexy. The restraint she demonstrated to refrain from arguing, when clearly her body language screamed fight, was stimulating. This evening Tony was not playing a game. His mind was set—Claire would not be driving. The fact they were even discussing the subject seemed absurd. “Let me help you—it has been a long day and this discussion is over. It does not need to be revisited.” * She thought about saying, “Fine—I’m going to bed.” Before she could, he continued, “I would offer you the opportunity to decide on your own if it is worth continuing, but I have decided not to take that risk—it isn’t.” Her chest expanded and contracted as she released a sigh. Looking at her husband, she kept her lips together and remained silent. He watched her neck stiffen and eyes flash. He waited. After a prolonged silence, confident of her compliance, he continued. “Now, tell me about your day at the spa.” Claire did her best to feign enthusiasm and replied, “It was very nice. They always do a great job and make me feel special.” Thinking as opposed to how I’m feeling right now. A wall of glass extended from ceiling to floor behind Tony. Through the night sky, Claire saw the head and tail lights of vehicles moving around the windy city. Somewhere deep in her soul she wondered will I ever drive again? Chicago was uneventful. She shopped without accidentally providing an interview. They dined at a steak house not far from the Tower and went to the Cadillac Palace Theater for Les Miserables. Claire saw the same musical many years ago from the nosebleed section. It was one of her favorite live shows—a winner of seven Tony Awards—she didn’t mind seeing it again. It amazed her they could get such exceptional seats. The night before Tony didn’t know if they would be attending a show. Les Miserables had been sold out for months, yet they were seated in a premium box enjoying the outstanding performance. Apparently, Tony’s dealings were successful because they and Brent were able to go back to Iowa as planned. David stayed behind to finalize some contracts. Reading her book, Claire observed Tony with Brent, sensing a difference from the accustomed friendly casual interaction. Watching and listening to them discuss business issues reminded her of Courtney’s comment, “He can drive Brent crazy sometimes.” She hadn’t seen it before, but understood it now. Tony’s repertoire of personalities included an overpowering domineering force which apparently was reserved for those closest to him. Claire had plenty of personal experience with this personality, but she’d never had the opportunity to observe it directed at someone else. Today she witnessed Tony’s manipulative rule being unleashed on Brent—it wasn’t pretty. She understood how Brent could relay things to Courtney—because that’s what real couples do—and Courtney could hate and love Tony at the same time. Pretending to be absorbed in her book, Claire didn’t want to be included in the conversation, or for her presence to make Brent uncomfortable—it obviously wasn’t affecting Tony. The last week of February, Claire and Tony prepared for an interview with Vanity Fair Magazine. Shelly, Tony’s publicist, made a point to come to their house and explain to Claire that this interview was important to Mr. Rawlings’s public relations. There were many speculations in the media about the two of them, their fast wedding, and lack of prenuptial agreement. This would be their way to shape and control the information. Claire thought it was a nice gesture. Truthfully, if Tony told her to do the interview, she would do it. What surprised Claire was the extent of planning and preparation which went into it. Shelly agreed to Vanity Fair because of their willingness to work openly. They gave her a list of questions. She deleted, added, and tweaked them until both parties were satisfied. Then Tony and Claire were given the questions and time to work on their spontaneous answers. Next, with Shelly’s assistance, they practiced and modified their answers. She arranged for cosmetologists, beauticians, and clothing designers to assist them before the photo shoot. Shelly promised to be present throughout the entire interview and photo session. She would step in and stop any unapproved questions. This was better than Mr. or Mrs. Rawlings refusing to answer a question or appearing unaccommodating. The article would then be reviewed and approved prior to publication.
Consequences Consequences Page 89 Claire thought the whole thing was hilarious. Did all people go through this before an interview? There was a time in her life when she read a celebrity interview and assumed it was as it appeared. Being Mrs. Rawlings continued to teach her so much. The day of the interview finally arrived. The people who came to make Claire and Tony beautiful arrived early, before 7:30 AM. By the time Shelly arrived they both looked like models. Just another day sitting around the house! Claire thought as she looked in the mirror at her professional make-up and styled hair. Catherine assumed the challenge of the house-it sparkled. Even the weather received the perfection memo. Not realizing it was late February, the sun shone through a sapphire blue sky, and a fresh layer of snow blanketed the gray dingy ground, adding luster to the outdoors. Anne Robinson, the reporter from Vanity Fair, arrived promptly at nine accompanied by a photography crew. The Rawlings were only introduced to the lead photographer, Shaun Stivert. The plan commenced with photos first, while Claire and Tony looked fresh and beautiful. Then they progressed to the interview. The whole process was more work than Claire imagined. Shelly was true to her word and omnipresent. She didn’t hesitate to say, “No, I think this would be better,” or, “We went over this. You know that won’t be discussed today.” Claire studied her lines well, knowing what to say and how to say it. Tony practiced too. Claire thought they both sounded sincere and spontaneous. The Vanity Fair crew finally left after 1:00 PM with Shelly not far behind. Before she left, she said, “I think that went very well. I’ll let you know as soon as I have an approved copy.” Once everyone was gone, Claire relished the quiet house again, while her head pounded behind her eyes. The headaches weren’t as frequent as they were right after her accident; however, when they struck they could be debilitating. Sleeping in a very dark room was the best remedy. Following the interview Claire accompanied her husband to his office. He hoped to accomplish as much work as possible from home; driving into Iowa City would be counterproductive this late in the day. Claire closed her eyes and enjoyed the peacefulness as Cindy placed their food on the long shiny table. After pouring their coffee she asked if they needed anything else. “No, you may go.” Tony replied before he turned to Claire and asked, “How do you think it went?” She opened her eyes to focus. “I really think it went well. It was more draining than I expected. I can’t wait to see the final article.” “Shelly said we should have a draft by next week. It’s supposed to be the cover story for the April publication, so it won’t hit the newsstands for a while.” Claire shook her head. She couldn’t believe her marriage would warrant a cover story for anything, much less Vanity Fair. The food and coffee helped her head, but she suspected it’d gone too far. A nap was the real remedy. Once they finished eating, Tony walked over toward his desk. “Do you need me? I’d like to go upstairs. The morning wore me out,” Claire asked, as she stood to leave. He picked up a manila folder and handed it to her. “I’d like you to stay here while you look at these.” She took the folder to the sofa and sat down. The content of the folder was a mystery. She suddenly had visions of Tony with the Meredith Banks interview. Sometimes compartmentalized memories would sneak out. She opened the folder to find over an inch thick stack of papers. They were printed e-mails. Her mind moved slowly, exhausted from the interview process and dulled from her headache. Confused, she asked, “What are these?” “Your invitations.” Granting her another freedom—he watched as she read. She looked at the top e-mail: To: Anthony Rawlings, [email protected] /* */ From: Courtney Simmons, [email protected] /* */ Date: February 25, 2011 Subject: For Claire, attachment Please let Claire know that our meeting is scheduled for next Wednesday at noon, but I would like to get together before that so we can brainstorm. We need to get the fund-raising calendar set by the next meeting. Attached is a file she needs to review. If one of you could let me know when a good time to get together is I would appreciate it. —Courtney (Paper clipped to the e-mail was a five-page report) Claire didn’t know what to say, finally she weakly managed, “Thank you.” He didn’t reply, but watched and continued to evaluate her response. She went back to the stack. The e-mail under Courtney’s was from Emily. It too was dated February 25, 2011; however—it was a series of correspondences. February 25, 2011 Hi, it is me again. I realize that Claire is busy with her new responsibilities, but I would like to talk to her. I’m usually home most evenings. It has been almost two months. I have sent many e-mails and tried numerous times to call. Thank you, Emily. February 11, 2011 Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time. Patricia M. February 9, 2011 Hello, this is Emily Vandersol, again. Could you please inform Mrs. Rawlings that her sister would like to speak to her? Thank you. February 2, 2011 Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time. Patricia M. February 1, 2011 Hello, Emily Vandersol here. I’m the sister of Mrs. Rawlings. I’m not sure who is replying to these e-mails. I have attempted to reach Mr. Rawlings to no avail. Please inform Mr. Rawlings or Mrs. Rawlings that my husband and I would like to talk with them. We would be happy to meet them if they plan a trip to New York, or a telephone call would be acceptable. I look forward to your response. January 23, 2011 Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time. Patricia M. January 22, 2011 Hello, Anthony, are you receiving my e-mails? I know that you have learned of John’s decision. I would like to talk to you and Claire. We need to be sure this job thing doesn’t affect our family relationship. Let me talk to you about John and his reasoning. Please pass this on to Claire. I will be home all weekend, she can call anytime. Thanks. Em. January 17, 2011 Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time. Patricia M. January 15, 2011 Hi, Anthony and Claire, I had hoped we could talk, but I haven’t been able to reach you. John is meeting with Tom on Monday. It would be nice if I could talk with Claire and settle a few things before John’s meeting. I hope you check your e-mails on the weekend. I will be waiting for your or Claire’s call. By the way, I saw some of your wedding photos in the grocery store this morning. You two looked wonderful. Please call. January 4, 2011 Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time. Patricia M. January 3, 2011 Hi, Anthony, I need to speak to Claire again. I’m not sure if she told you, but I brought up John’s job offer the other day. I’ve been thinking about it, and feel guilty. It wasn’t fair of me to talk to her about it. I know you all have a lot going on. John wanted to know if she had anything to do with your offer. I could tell she really didn’t know about it. I need to tell her I’m sorry for putting her in a difficult position. I appreciate what you are offering John. I am trying to stay out of his decision process. But I would like to talk to Claire some more; it was so nice to see more of her during the wedding. Please ask her to call me, and tell her I love her. The photos of you two on the news were amazing. Thanks again for the transportation and the stay in your home. It was beautiful. Thank you, Emily
Consequences Consequences Page 90 This history was stapled together. Claire’s eyes were wet by the time she finished Emily’s last or first e-mail. She looked up at Tony. He still didn’t speak; his dark eyes glared. Claire wondered what she was supposed to do with this information. Perhaps it was her head, but she truly didn’t know how to respond, so she asked, “Thank you for giving me my invitations, now what am I supposed to do with this knowledge?” “Tell me what you want to do.” His tone was hard. Claire rose and approached his desk. “I want to call her.” She saw the deliberation on his face. She remembered a time when she was unable to read his expression—her ability wasn’t comforting. Claire tried desperately to modulate her voice. “I’ll do it here on the speaker phone. I don’t care if you listen to every word and tell me what to say—I just want to call her.” He still didn’t speak; nevertheless, the intensity in his eyes multiplied. “Tony, may I please call her?” “It’s almost 3:00 PM, which would be 4:00 PM in Troy. Would she be home?” It wasn’t an answer, but it wasn’t a denial. Claire thought about it. School finished at 3:15 PM, at least it used to. “She might.” As if thinking out loud, she added, “And as a plus John won’t be.” He didn’t respond to her last statement, instead he began to talk about her e-mails. She sat as he explained that the folder included multiple e-mails from people she didn’t know. Since their marriage, many people have attempted to contact her for various reasons. Patricia replied to everyone: Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time. Tony continued, “Your preparation for the Vanity Fair interview and execution today impressed me. I also appreciate you made requests a month ago and have been patient. I believe you deserve to be rewarded. Therefore, regarding your e-mails—from now on—before Patricia replies—you will have the opportunity to review them. We will discuss them. Together we’ll decide responses. Of course, I’ll have the final say—however; I believe you’ve earned a voice.” Claire realized Tony believed he’d presented her with a freedom. She couldn’t help think it was—instead—only a glimpse of what she was missing. The forbidden opportunities would now be staring her in the face. “Thank you—I understand.” He turned to his computer screens, and she watched the back of his head for what seemed like hours. He knew what she wanted. She’d made her request. Now he was making her wait. How would she respond? He’d provided a token of his approval. Would she submissively accept or would she pursue the idea of calling her sister? Claire closed her eyes and tried to stop the pounding in her temples. Perched on the chair’s edge near his desk, she refused to budge. The folder—the gift he’d given her—sat closed on her lap. She didn’t care about people she didn’t know, and her head hurt too much to read anymore. She waited as his fingers flew between the keyboard and mouse. Sitting silently and expressionlessly she remembered Courtney’s kind words: Life isn’t a test you must continually pass. Claire absentmindedly rolled her shoulders and straightened her neck. If her only possibility of calling Emily was passing this test, then by God, she wasn’t moving from this seat. Finally, he turned to face her. “Why have you not called until now?” He presented his question with harsh overtones. Thinking out loud, she said, “I’ve been busy—I can tell her about the Red Cross and preparing for our interview.” What followed were not suggestions—but orders—“You will be apologetic and explain that you have been meaning to call. Seeing her recent e-mail reminded you—you haven’t. Your reasons sound valid. I’d prefer you didn’t discuss the job situation—it’s done, and of course, there are no hard feelings.” The directives should have been upsetting, but she’d played this game before—they were the means to her goal. “Yes, I promise.” He dialed the phone, put it on speaker, and didn’t bother to turn away. The phone rang three times. Claire’s hopes began to sink until finally Emily answered. “Hi, Emily, it’s Claire.” Emily’s voice brimmed with excitement. Claire’s sounded happy and apologetic. They spoke for about ten minutes. On a few occasions, Tony indicated that the subject needed to be changed. Claire attempted to keep the discussion away from the job, but Emily was determined to discuss it, explaining how John was currently very close to being named partner. He didn’t feel right abandoning the firm that had taken a chance on him when he first graduated. He’d worked hard to get to his position and didn’t feel right working for family; however, he was very honored Anthony would consider hiring him. They also discussed Emily’s class, and she asked about the interview Claire mentioned. Before they hung up Claire promised to do a better job responding to Emily’s e-mails. It amazed Claire how one phone call could make her both happy and sad. Maintaining her happy voice during the call almost reduced her to tears on its completion; her energy was totally depleted. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll take the folder upstairs and look through it. We can discuss the e-mails after dinner.” “That’s fine, you may go.” Once upstairs, Claire decided to nap instead of looking through the folder. It’d been a long day. The contrast between the interview and her reality intensified the pounding behind her eyes and more recent nausea. She took some acetaminophen, crawled between the soft cool sheets, and allowed the tears from the phone call to flow. Sleep was a welcome escape. It wasn’t long after she fell asleep when Tony woke her. He wanted to thank her again for her performance during the interview—he also believed she wanted to thank him. This only is denied even to God, the power to undo the past. —Agathon Chapter Thirty-Seven ‡ On March 15, Tony brought home the final copy of the article approved by Shelly. It was scheduled to be published the end of March, officially the April 2011 issue of Vanity Fair: Anthony Rawlings Introduces the World to the Love of his Life, His Wife Claire Rawlings—Let the Rumors Cease and Learn how She has Changed His Life By: Anne Robinson Photos by: Shaun Stivert You don’t marry someone you can live with, you marry the person who you cannot live without—Unknown author On a beautiful snowy day, in the Midwest, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Rawlings sat down with Vanity Fair and addressed the questions, rumors, and realities of their acquaintance, courtship, engagement, and marriage. The exceedingly private man and his beautiful new bride graciously opened their home to our photographers and interviewer. (Photo of Tony and Claire dressed in casual elegant slacks and sweaters, sitting on a sofa in their gorgeous sitting room.) The home of Anthony and Claire Rawlings is a stately 6,000 plus acre estate near Iowa City, Iowa.—Their residence is a spacious elegant home secluded within the private gates of this countryside. Built by Mr. Rawlings approximately sixteen years ago, it resembles a 1940’s Romanesque-style mansion— The main house is centered upon a round brick drive. Projecting from the main structure are wings of additional corridors and rooms. Upon entry you may feel you have entered a museum; however, the warmth and love radiated by the newlyweds soon help you to realize you have entered a family home; a quality Mr. Rawlings states was missing until recently.
Consequences Consequences Page 91 It was late May of 2010 when Anthony Rawlings first introduced the city of Davenport to the then Claire Nichols. They attended the Quad City Symphony. Mr. Rawlings was asked to attend the event because of a generous donation made to both the Quad City Symphony and the Support the Arts Foundation. Mr. Rawlings has long been known for his generosity and pursuit of philanthropic endeavors. He is a firm believer in the arts and continues to support endeavors that promote artistic pursuits. As a local celebrity, Mr. Rawlings is often seen attending functions in and around the Quad Cities (as well as in cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles). It was his companion on that evening that was unfamiliar. He has been seen on various occasions with different women, some with names we recognize, such as Cynthia Simmons and Julia Owens. Truthfully, throughout his forty-six years he has been seen with many beautiful women; however, it was apparent to those present on that evening in May, that this was different. Many on-lookers reported “glances” and “hand holding” that were not witnessed before. When discussing their first public “date,” Vanity Fair noted that the new Mrs. Rawlings couldn’t help look at her husband with blushed cheeks and a bashful smile. She stated that she recalled the standing ovation he received and how handsome she thought he looked. But she hastily added that at that time, neither of them was looking for a “long-term” relationship. Anthony said that he recalls seeing Claire when he picked her up for the symphony. He even recalled her outfit, a black dress with a beaded bodice, and that her hair was up with curls. (Anthony gently played with his wife’s hair as he described the style.) He remembered that she was stunning and he was proud to accompany her to the event. VF: Now, ladies, ask your husband if he remembers what you were wearing on that first date! I had to think that Mr. Rawlings should have realized at that moment his heart was lost. I wanted to know how the two of them got to that first date. How did they meet? Anthony told the story of meeting Claire in Atlanta, Georgia— VF:Was it “love” at first sight? They smiled at one another. Claire shook her head. “Probably not,” and she added, “Anthony is a complicated, private man. You can love the wrapping paper, but with him it takes some time to find out what is inside. I wouldn’t give my life to someone without knowing what is inside the package.” “What is love? Love is when one person knows all of your secrets, your deepest, darkest, most dreadful secrets of which no one else in the world knows. And yet in the end, that one person does not think any less of you.” Mrs. Rawlings added she has seen the inside of the package and loves it more than the wrapping paper. VF: Mrs. Rawlings, can you share some of your findings with our readers? What have you found under that amazing wrapping paper? Blushing slightly at the inference, she quickly recovered. “Well, he isn’t exactly how he appears.” Anthony seemed to be interested in what she was about to reveal. Claire continued, “For example, he has been known to hold webinars and web conferences from home in a shirt, tie, suit jacket, gym shorts, and sneakers.” She smiled at her husband, who playfully shook his head. He responded, “Great. Now I’m going to have to stand before each webinar to alleviate the participants’ curiosity.” He smiled broadly. When asked if anything else surprised her about Anthony, after some reflection she answered yes. He is a Vikings fan. They both grinned. Being originally from Indiana, Mrs. Rawlings said she couldn’t imagine she would marry anyone who isn’t a Colts fan. Anthony made a comment about real football teams that play outdoors, and Claire was quick to mention two recent trips to the Super Bowl. Their playful banter was enjoyable to observe. VF: Have you two had any arguments, disagreements, or fights? “No!” They answered simultaneously and laughed. Anthony took the lead on this question. “Of course. I can’t imagine spending quality time with someone and always agreeing. That is not what I want in my life. There are multitudes of people in my life that will agree with my every thought. Claire has ‘stood up’ to me in ways that captains of business have not. Her strength and determination are what I fell in love with.” Tenderly wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he added, “As well as her beauty and intelligence.” After smiling at Anthony, Claire added, “I have been told that some of those qualities can be infuriating.” This reporter enjoyed Anthony’s dismissal of that comment. VF: Will either of you share the story of the proposal? Claire volunteered, “Oh, I will. He was amazing. First, it was dinner in Manhattan. He took me to the theater district. We dined at the Crown Plaza Hotel and our table had a view of Times Square. I had no idea what his plans were for the evening, he enjoys surprises. After dinner we went to see ‘The Merchant of Venice’ with Al Pacino, fantastic by the way. Afterward, I was honestly tired and ready to go back to my hotel. But instead we went to Central Park.” Laughing she recalled, “It was very cold that night, the night before Thanksgiving. It hadn’t snowed, but it was very cold; however, he planned for that with mittens and blankets”. After each sentence she looked into his eyes. Even this reporter saw the twinkle in her green eyes as she recounted his proposal. Claire went on to say, “I did not expect a proposal. I was completely shocked. But there he was, in a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park, under the lights, with a diamond ring.” Vanity Fair will add that her diamond ring is actually a designer original Tiffany Co. 4.3 carat brilliant center stone bordered by a delicate diamond bead set in mil-grain detail in platinum. The matching wedding band is also platinum, with delicate inset diamonds. While actual value would not be released by Mr. Rawlings or Tiffany Co., New York, where he is said to have purchased the set, due to the size, clarity, and unique cut, it is estimated above 400 thousand dollars. VF: Did you say yes immediately? (Now come on, ladies, think about what you would have done.) Claire sat back. “No.” At this Anthony smiled and put his hand on his wife’s knee. He goes on with the answer, “No, she didn’t. She made me wait for what seemed like an eternity.” But leaning over to kiss his bride, he added, “She finally relented. And I was elated.” The worst thing you can do for love is deny it; so when you find that special someone, don’t let anyone or anything get in your way. VF: Now some people have questioned the quickness of your nuptials. What do you have to say to those critiques? Anthony answered, “I guess they have never been as in love.” Claire continued, “We didn’t want to wait. We made our decision. We wanted our family and friends to share in our happiness.” VF: The personal accounts were extremely complimentary. How did you pull off the wedding of the century in less than a month? Mrs. Rawlings replied, “With the best wedding planner and coordinator in the world! They were amazing. We never worried about a thing.” According to the press releases the wedding was magnificent. The bride was gorgeous in an exquisite Vera Wang gown, reportedly from an elite Manhattan boutique. The groom was dazzling in a custom Armani tuxedo—(Photo of Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings in wedding attire standing at the base of the grand stairway, decorations can be seen behind them. Note: multiple wedding pictures and decorations can be seen in a collage of pictures at the end of the article.)
Consequences Consequences Page 92 VF: Addressing Claire Rawlings, how has it been to be thrust into the public eye? Claire blushed and glanced at Anthony. “May I say first I don’t feel that I’m a celebrity? I’ve done nothing to warrant celebrity status. That’s why when you ask your question, the first response I think of is, it’s been unreal. I still find it amazing that anyone would think my clothes, shopping habits, or hairstyle newsworthy. It’s something that I’m learning to handle. Anthony has been superb at buffering the media as much as possible.” Claire added, “You can be overwhelming at times.” Addressing this reporter, she continued, “You meaning the press,” smiling a lovely smile, “not you; however, if being married to this marvelous man means seeing myself on an occasional magazine,” she leans toward his protection, “it’s more than worth it.” Mr. Rawlings included that he desired to shelter her from too much unwanted exposure. After all, he prefers to remain as private as possible. As the couple walked hand in hand to share a tour of their home it wasn’t hard to imagine that a splendid wedding ceremony could easily occur within these walls. The grand hall is breathtaking on this February afternoon. The two-story winding staircase ascended to a railed landing which appeared to extend down various hallways. The ceiling, at least another story high, holds a magnificent chandelier that illuminates the foyer. The intricate marble flooring extends behind the stairs to a window-lined sitting room. These areas were all utilized during the ceremony. Beyond the sitting room, which also contains a magnificent fireplace, is a comfortable sun porch that Mrs. Rawlings says is one of her favorite rooms in their home. She enjoys reading and sunlight very much. Even in the winter months, if it’s not too cold she can enjoy the sun’s rays on the porch; however, it is in the summer with the windows open and the fresh breeze that the room is ideal. Not far from these exquisite rooms is a grand dining room that the newlyweds claim to utilize regularly. Mr. Rawlings commented that just being with his bride is a special occasion worthy of formal dining. Beyond the sun porch this reporter could see the expanse of their backyard. Apparently, during the wedding it contained a large tent that created the hall for their reception. On this day it was snow covered and pristine. The yard is encased by trees. Currently, the trees are bare and one can see into the depths of the forest, but Anthony explained that within months the green leaves will obstruct the view and the lawn will appear an oasis in itself. He also pointed out the deck, pool area, and patio. He is proud of the house. He offers that he helped design it from memories and ideas from other dwellings. He believes the result is exquisite, and this reporter agrees wholeheartedly. Mr. Rawlings also showed Vanity Fair his home office. As an entrepreneur who began his fortune with the Internet, it seems only appropriate that his home contained high-tech electronics. Not only does his desk contain multiple computer screens, but behind his desk on the wall was also a collage of screens, second only to the ones this reporter has seen in television studios. His office is decorated in a masculine tone of wood and leather. When asked if he often works from home, Anthony responds that he does when he can. It gives him an excuse to be close to Claire when she is not out and about. (Photo of Mr. Rawlings behind his impressive desk, working on his computer with screens illuminated behind him.) Mrs. Rawlings took that opportunity to tell Vanity Fair a little about her recent philanthropic endeavor. While working as a meteorologist, Claire saw the damage and devastation that natural disasters can wreak upon our country. She never imagined that she’d be in a position where she could make a difference to people, but now she is. Claire has recently begun to work with the Red Cross of Iowa, the Greater Quad Cities, and of the United States. She’s been diligently working to facilitate their fund-raising efforts. The economy has had a dreadful effect on the Red Cross’s reserves. These are essential for the organization to be able to continue their efforts on a daily basis and especially in case of disaster. The sad reality is that the reserve is dwindling. With Anthony’s connections and her understanding of disasters and the resources needed, she hopes to be of help to the organization. Anthony’s admiration for his wife’s endeavors is evident in his expression as she discusses the work the Red Cross can do, if adequately funded. The tour continued to the lower level of the main house, where a large welcoming entertainment/ recreation room exists. There’s a pool table, game table, comfortable sofas and chairs, a large flat-screen television with four smaller screens surrounding it, and a handsome handcrafted mahogany bar with intricate tile in the mini kitchen behind the bar. Adjoining this room is a theater room complete with plush seating for six, and a screen large enough for twenty-six. The other direction from the recreation room leads to an exercise gym, with every piece of exercise equipment you would want or need. Mr. Rawlings explained that he likes to workout. He finds himself needing to burn off energy after a day of business dealings, which usually occur while seated. Vanity Fair notes that he appears fit, as does Mrs. Rawlings. She led our crew to her favorite workout, an indoor lap pool complete with spa and sauna. Claire Rawlings said she prefers the outdoor pool, but during the colder months—which are numerous in Iowa—the indoor pool is an ideal alternative. Back in the sitting room, Vanity Fair tries once again to learn more about this stunning couple. (Photo of the couple with warm coats standing on the front steps of their home and another of them sitting on the floor before a roaring fire in a grand six-foot tall fireplace. Note the portrait of Mrs. Rawlings in her wedding gown above the fireplace.) VF: Mrs. Rawlings, how do you feel about living in Iowa after living in Atlanta, Georgia? Rubbing the sleeves of her soft cashmere sweater, Claire responded, “I would gladly live any place with Anthony; however, if he chose some place warmer it would be all right.” They both smile. “Seriously,” she continued, “I grew up in Indiana. Iowa isn’t much different. The Midwest is a beautiful area. I love sunshine and warmth, but the change of seasons and newness of each spring is in my blood. From my short experience with Iowa, I think it is a wonderful state with wonderful people.” VF: It was rumored that you, Anthony, wanted to surprise your wife with your honeymoon destination. Is that true? Smiling with a smirking grin, he answered, “Yes, I tried diligently to surprise Claire for our honeymoon. And I almost succeeded.” VF had to ask, “Almost?” Anthony looked at his wife, she continued the story. “He would have succeeded had it not been for the TSA agent in Hawaii.” Mrs. Rawlings was obviously amused by the story. “I wasn’t the least bit upset. I’d sought to learn the destination for some time. No one would betray his confidence, no matter how much I tried. So after arriving in Oahu, Hawaii, all I knew was that we had farther to fly and we were crossing the International Date Line.” Anthony chimed in, “Actually, she figured that out from a hint,” and he winked at Claire. She continued, “So when the agent looked at our passports and asked our destination, I wasn’t able to answer.” Smiling, she added, “But Anthony had to. And it was then I learned that we were going to Fiji.” (Photo released by the Rawlings of the two of them dining on a torch-lit deck with a magnificent sunset and the ocean in front of them.)
Consequences Consequences Page 93 VF: Mrs. Rawlings, were you pleased with your husband’s destination choice? Some women would want to be more involved in the planning. “That may be true, but my husband planned ten days in paradise. It was amazing. I’ve never experienced anything like it. It was a tropical oasis. I know we have pictures for your publication, but honestly photos can’t do it justice. The climate, atmosphere, cuisine, beach,” and leaning close to Anthony, smiling into his big brown eyes, “his company, all made it a dream. I’m not sure heaven can compare.” VF: So you did not mind not being involved in the planning? “If all his decisions are as amazing as our honeymoon, I do not mind at all.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Anthony added, “I have had many years of living on my own, making my own decisions, and doing everything for my benefit. I have learned that people remember most how you make them feel. I try to work my business with that in mind. When I negotiate with someone, they will forget what I say or what I do, but they will not forget how I make them feel. Do they feel important to the deal? Do they feel central to the transaction? I wanted our honeymoon to be special because it would benefit me.” His smile looked mischievous to this reporter. “; however, I wanted it to be special so that Claire would feel special and know how important she is to me.” He no doubt had her full attention during his statement, and this reporter would guess during their stay in paradise. Mr. Rawlings seems to have the gift of making everyone feel special. Claire agreed he has made her feel special since they first met. VF: Vanity Fair would like to thank you for taking the time to allow us into your home. Now is it true you have other homes besides this one? Anthony answered, “Due to my multiple business sites and intensive travel schedule we do own a few apartments here and there. It makes traveling much easier.” (Insert text box of real estate holdings of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Rawlings.) VF: Mr. Rawlings, your answer about “we” owning brings VF to another more controversial subject. May I ask about the debate regarding the lack of a prenuptial agreement prior to your marriage? “I would prefer you didn’t; however, the only way to stop the rumors is to address them. First let me say there was no debate. We did not consider a prenuptial agreement, much less debate one.” Taking his wife’s hand in his, he continued, “I’m elated to have the world get to know my wife. Mrs. Claire Rawlings is an amazing woman. She did not know who I was when we met. She has told me exactly what she thinks of me or of my actions and not always in a complimentary manner. She did not anticipate a marriage proposal on that cold,” he smiled at Claire, “night in Central Park. I trust her implicitly. I have worked my entire life to build a business empire. It means nothing without someone with whom to share. I did not feel it was fair to ask her to sign a piece of paper that would restrict her partnership with me in any way. She is my wife and I am her husband. It may not be PC to say this today, but we believe in forever, in trust, and in love. A piece of paper is not going to matter when we are old and gray. We decided together that our commitment to one another is stronger than any legal agreement.” Mrs. Rawlings squeezed his hand. “Like it is said in a movie, she completes me.” VF: Thank you again for the brief glimpse into your life. Below is a quote that was recited during your wedding ceremony. To our readers, it was meant as a dual statement to both of them, from each of them. I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. —Roy Croft (Photo collage at the end includes photos of home: grand hall, sitting room, library, office, dining room, recreation room, exercise room, theater room, and indoor pool. Also included are wedding photos: of ceremony, reception, with cake, talking with guests, and dancing. There are a few of Fiji, the private island where the couple stayed, the beach, infinity pool, lounging decks, and outdoor shower.) * Claire read the copy and imagined the photos which would be inserted. It truly appeared perfect. Three days later, on the March 18, Tony surprised Claire with a long weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe. The beautiful snowy mountains filled with skiing, roaring fires, and hot coffee made for a great escape. The ski resort, literally a mile above sea level, had crystal-clear air that permeated deep into their lungs. The mountains provided the most amazing skiing with over a hundred inches of base and freshly fallen powder. The tall majestic evergreens bowed to the weight of the snow which layered each branch. Their small, private chalet held amazing views, warm fires, and no cook. For the first time in a year, despite limited supplies, Claire managed to keep them from starving. With the intensity of their exercise—both indoors and out—she was pleased he liked her cooking. A while ago she’d heard some advice. Eating was important to keep up their strength. Warm, naked, and covered with a soft blanket, she rested her head against his chest. Claire contemplated the significance of this weekend as they rested in the afterglow of their love and the glow of fireplace. Three hundred and sixty-six days ago she’d been a different person—in a different life. It wasn’t that her life now was bad. It was just that the transition had been unplanned—unwanted—and well—brutal. She needed to hear her husband’s answer to the question lingering in her mind. “Tony, why are we here this weekend?” * They both watched the crackling blaze as his strong arms encircled her petite body. He took a deep breath and replied, “I didn’t want you home in your suite this weekend. I wanted you outside in fresh air.” He felt her chest lift, then drop, and heard the soft sniffles. Damn—the crying was what he’d been trying to avoid. Nuzzling his face in her hair, he kissed her head. “If it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here now. There’s a reason for everything.” He tenderly turned her to face him, and then rolled her over onto her back. Her blonde hair fanned out onto the rug like a halo. He looked down at her angelic face. Even with the moisture, her eyes were stunning. The tears only made the green more intense in the firelight. Tony couldn’t help himself, she was beautiful, sensual, and he wanted her. His bare chest pushed against her supple breasts. He tenderly caressed her pink cheeks and soft shoulders as he looked into her eyes. “I’m not sorry we’re together, but I’m so sorry when I think about…remember the things I—” Claire stopped him. Shaking her head, she put her fingers to his lips. He stopped talking and kissed her hand, gently sucking the tip of each finger. “Please, Tony. Don’t. I don’t want to remember or think about that.” Her voice sounded amazingly steady despite the tears which now streamed from the corners of her eyes. “I want to think about now.” “But you should know—” “All I know is that I love you today—I hated you then—It’s too much of a contrast for my mind to comprehend. I want to concentrate on today.” “I love you today, too. Tell me what I can do to help. Claire, anything you want—it’s yours.”
Consequences Consequences Page 94 “I want you—I want you to love me and fill me with so many good memories that I don’t have room for the others.” She kissed her husband. “Tony, fill me completely.” * Claire wasn’t thinking. Her body was in control; more accurately, out of control, moving in sync with desire. She didn’t think, because she feared that if she did, it would be about the past and not the present. Instead, she surrendered her body and her mind to her husband. There was a time she’d tried to keep her mind, but no longer. He possessed both. * His lips found her soft skin and watched as her eyes responded. He wanted to see the spark, to have it be there. Briefly, he thought about the saying the end justifies the means. If that were true, then he wasn’t sorry. In his arms, beneath his body, responding to his touch was the woman he’d watched for so long. He suckled her hard nipples, and she moaned deeply, wanting—no, needing him. At that moment in time, sorry was not his most prominent thought. Nothing improves memory more than trying to forget. —Unknown author Chapter Thirty-Eight ‡ It was happening again. The satin sheets dripped with sweat as Claire gasped for breath. Trembling, she concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, all the while convincing herself she could breathe—this was only a dream—or a nightmare. Once over, she couldn’t remember the scenes, just the terrible feeling of helplessness. She always woke when she heard the beep. It was the same damn beep she’d heard when she first arrived; the sound meaning her suite was locked. When the dreams first started, she could roll over, find her sleeping husband, curl up next to him, and fall back to sleep. Now regulating her breathing, Claire knew that wasn’t possible—like so many times before—she needed to get out of bed and complete her new routine. The steady breathing from a few feet away told Claire that Tony was sleeping peacefully. Quietly, she lifted the covers and eased out of bed. Her hands shook as she tied her robe and tiptoed to the hallway door. “This is dumb,” she whispered, as her feet crossed the lush carpet; however, it was now her reality. She knew sleep wouldn’t be possible without completing this new drill. Gripping the metal lever, she pulled, and the door opened easily. She closed it and proceeded to the balcony. Moving the draperies aside, the French door opened without hesitation. The rush of fresh air filled the room and her lungs. She walked through the opening and gently closing the door behind her. Her perspiration-drenched body relished the cool night breeze. Standing at the rail, she inhaled the spring air and lifted her hair to dry the moisture from her neck. It wasn’t that she wanted to remember the feelings of a year ago. Truly she didn’t. When she stepped onto a patio, terrace, or into the backyard and memories would start to resurface, she could stop them. It was at night while she slept that the compartmentalization of her internment would come rushing back. Then in the minutes or hours which followed, she would attempt to calm her lingering fear. It was the one she tried to keep away, the terror that at any moment, without warning, history could repeat itself. The sickening realization that she would be completely helpless to stop it was what robbed her of sleep. The cool cement under her feet brought her back to present. She shivered, pulled her cashmere robe tight, and wished she’d grabbed slippers, but her trembling wasn’t caused by the cold. She knew it was her dream. Looking up she noticed the clear black velvet sky peppered with stars. Absentmindedly, she thought, that’s why the temperature dropped. Sighing, she fell into a chair. This knowledge would never matter again. Her job was her name, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings—Meteorology was gone forever. She’d left the suite in such a panic she hadn’t looked at the clock. It really didn’t matter—sleep was out of reach. Pulling her legs into her chest and covering them with her soft robe, she began her mental therapy session. Her still rapid heart rate told her tonight it would last hours instead of minutes. Self-therapy consisted of a mental list of reasons her nightmares were ridiculous and she had no basis for her fears. Claire believed if she could convince her conscious self, her subconscious self would be forced to agree. When she allowed her mind to go back to the spring of a year ago she could rationalize that now her life was significantly dissimilar. She now had more liberties than she’d experienced since her arrival. Tony stayed true to his word about her e-mails. He even decided she needed her own address, [email protected] /* */ This made printing easier. He was also correct about the numerous requests for interviews, money, and endorsements she received daily from people she’d never met. Having Patricia respond to those requests was easy. She also received personal e-mails, and now she had a voice in the responses. Overall, when asked, Tony agreed to requests regarding Courtney, Sue, Bev, or MaryAnn. If he had other plans for the day in question, as occurred from time to time, his plans trumped, but the act of requesting was the crucial portion of her negotiations. If she wanted to reply to someone or to go somewhere, as he had said many months ago, she simply needed to ask. She’d become accustomed to this component—it was a daily reminder of Tony’s authority. Regarding that authority—it hadn’t asserted itself, as it had a year ago. She reasoned, perhaps it was because her behavior didn’t warrant that type of implementation. No matter the cause, life was undeniably better. Watching the moonlight on the budding trees, Claire recalled the outings she’d recently enjoyed. They included lunches in Iowa City and Cedar Rapids, Red Cross meetings in Davenport, and shopping in Chicago. A few weeks ago MaryAnn suggested a catch-up day in New York, as she and Eli were there for business. Tony reviewed all of the e-mails before Claire, and she didn’t expect permission to spend the day in New York, but she asked. Surprisingly, he acquiesced. Smiling and feeling her pulse slow, she remembered flying off to a beautiful April day in New York City in a Rawlings company jet, with Courtney and Sue. All of the women had a marvelous time, and Claire made it home before 7:00 PM. He was home first, but she was home for dinner. He wasn’t unhappy. Calming, as the gentle breeze blew her hair, she listened to the voice in her head and remembered a recent unexpected freedom. Secretly coveting the chestnut hair which kept trying to return, she informed Tony she needed an appointment to maintain her blonde. He said they had no overnight plans in the near future, so she should just go. If he had the private plane she could take one of the company jets, just plan to be home before dinner. Shocked, she remembered questioning, “Are you saying I can go by myself?” “My dear Claire, is there any reason you should not?” She assured him there wasn’t. He or Patricia arranged the appointment; Claire went to the airport and boarded a company jet—by herself. She landed in Chicago, took a waiting cab to the Trump Tower where she spent the rest of the morning being pampered. Then she ate lunch and shopped for a few hours and came home. Blushing in the cool night air, she thought about being back in her suite before 6:00 PM and how she did her best to show her husband the meaning of a statement she’d made months earlier—coming home to a wife who wants to be home is better than coming home to a wife that has to be home. He caught on pretty quick—the first indication was the spark in her emerald eyes and the next clue involved a black satin robe and a warm waiting tub of water. Truth be told—she couldn’t remember eating dinner at all that night.
Consequences Consequences Page 95 Claire’s heavy eyelids reminded her she should be sleeping. Slipping back into her suite and under the warm blankets, she thought about the man lying next to her. He continued to be a paradox. The man Claire met when she first arrived hadn’t shown his personality since her accident. She knew he was still here, that knowledge alone was motivation to obey his rules. She’d been told too many times his promise to keep that personality away was contingent on her ability to behave appropriately. The stress of that reality and unpredictability loomed omnipresent. The man who worked to court her, to convince her she was important, desirable, and loved, still existed in a muted form. He was still attentive, present, and always sexual, but he was busy with work and often preoccupied. That was understandable—he was a successful man with many fires to tend. It was his need for complete supremacy over every aspect of her life that felt stifling and unbearable. Claire theorized this was the cause of the suffocation which usually accompanied her nightmares. He had companies, peoples’ jobs and livelihoods on his list of responsibilities. The fact he controlled her comings, goings, e-mails, hair, and often attire—seemed ridiculous. Attempting to stop the rise in blood pressure, she reminded herself that no matter what—she loved him. He could infuriate her one moment and make her feel less than human, and the next, he could make her feel like the world spun only because she mattered to him. It was just that those two contradictory emotions could come too close together and in any order. As Claire reminisced, she recognized that similar to a year ago, her mood, liberties, and sense of self-worth seemed to have a common denominator—Anthony Rawlings. As that realization struck, he rolled toward her, wrapped her in his arms; and though still sleeping, murmured, “My love, you’re so cold. Come closer.” She melted against his warm chest. At this moment in time, he made her feel safe and loved. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. As the spring blossomed into summer, their biggest source of dissension continued to be her family. Though she loved to hear from Emily, seeing her name on an e-mail made her stomach turn. It almost always came accompanied by dark penetrating eyes. She would sometimes choose to have Patricia reply instead of herself. There were days and circumstances when the communication wasn’t worth the conflict. It depended on Emily’s words, some motivated Claire’s determination more than others. Her calls with Emily were always monitored. It was a reality she didn’t dispute. If she did, it would result in loss of all communication. He didn’t need to spell that out for her. She knew it as well as she knew that her freedoms lay vulnerable to his whims. Since the call following the interview, Claire spoke with Emily about every three to four weeks. She heard from Emily at least once a week via e-mail. After Claire had her own e-mail address, Emily’s notes were more informative. Claire would hand-write her response. It was approved or edited and then sent by Patricia. If Emily questioned Claire’s ability to do anything, she’d profess her freedoms as Tony evaluated every word. That same Tony was the one who surprised Claire with the long weekend at Lake Tahoe. And over Memorial Day weekend he arranged for a getaway to San Francisco. While there, they met Eli and MaryAnn for dinner at an exclusive nightclub with a glorious view of the bay and bridge. The next day, after a romantic drive down Highway 1 in a leased convertible, they strolled hand in hand on the beach at Big Sur. The force and spray of the waves pounding the huge rocks along the ocean shore astonished Claire. It wasn’t like the Gulf of Mexico or even the tranquil waters of Fiji. Instead, it reminded her of the beach scenes in movies. During these excursions, he made her feel like a star. Their final day in San Francisco they went sightseeing; no trip to Alcatraz was planned or even discussed. He also had a two-week business trip to Europe planned for the end of July. This time he wanted her with him. Uncharacteristically, he asked her to help make the sightseeing plans. They would visit Italy, Switzerland, and France. He had meetings but promised free time for his wife. Claire spent hours in their library looking at books on destinations, museums, and points of interest. The Internet would have been easier but she found incredible pictures and information in the resource books. The work with the Red Cross slowed. Their calendar was planned and their goal set. It was now a matter of implementation. Courtney had other members on her committee. They divided the events: Claire was chairman of a silent auction scheduled for October. She drafted letters requesting donations, and Patricia sent them out to prominent associates of Mr. Rawlings. The letters requested donations from Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. Tony had already brought many positive responses home. Claire secured a ballroom in Bettendorf where the auction would be held simultaneously with a wine-tasting event. She even arranged for the wine and catering to be donated, believing a little wine might help increase bids. Courtney seemed genuinely pleased and appreciative of Claire’s help. The summer heat created the climate Claire enjoyed the most. She contentedly spent many of her days at home by the pool or at her lake. When summer began Tony hesitated to approve her journeys to the lake. He’d been there. He knew how far it was from the house. What if a real accident occurred? At first, she relented to his decision, but then she decided it was worth the struggle. Her lake had been her refuge—she wanted it back. Determinedly, one Sunday in early June, Claire pursued the liberty to hike. Tony finally acquiesced, saying he wanted to be mad, but it was the memory of her excitement during their February visit that made him relent. She asked him to join her. He had other plans for their day, but agreed. They brought a blanket, a picnic packed by Catherine, and water. When they reached the shore Tony seemed to understand why she loved the site. It was nothing like it had been in February. The colors of the summer starkly contrasted the whiteness of their last visit. The lake sparkled and glittered with hues of blue created by the reflection of the sapphire sky. The trees surrounding the lake were lush, full, and green. The ones in the woods had been also, creating a maze Tony hoped Claire could truly navigate. He listened to the sounds of the lake shore. In forty-six years he’d never stopped to listen to waves lap the earth. The consistent beat, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, combined with the gentle breeze of the trees soothed him in a way he couldn’t describe. He laid out the blanket on the shore under the shade of a tree and invited Claire to join him. She unpacked their lunch and they sat in silence. At first, Claire worried—afraid he might be upset by her impudence. Then she stopped worrying and looked at him, really looked at his face; he was peaceful. She thought about who she saw: Anthony Rawlings, multibillionaire tycoon and entrepreneur, a man in complete control of everyone and everything. Claire hoped perhaps she was witnessing this lofty man seeing himself as part of a grand picture. Maybe for the first time he wasn’t seeing himself as the center. Not wanting to break the spell, she let him sit undisturbed. Sometime later—Claire had lost track of time—Tony finally spoke, “This is beautiful. This is here on our property and I’ve never seen it—not like this.” The sun sparkled and shone as prisms of light and color danced off the water. Having taken the sandwiches out of the basket, Claire broke off a piece of bread and threw it into the water. Tony laughed as minnows swam to devour their newfound feast. She smiled at her husband. Her smile radiated into her eyes, she could feel it. His milk chocolate eyes looked from the water to her. He leaned toward her. “Thank you.”
Consequences Consequences Page 96 “For what?” “For showing me what I’ve been missing. I’ve been so goal oriented, so driven, I’ve missed so much.” She scooted closer and offered him his sandwich. “I’m really not hungry, yet—are you?” His hands were exploring her collar bone, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms. “I think I can wait.” The soft blanket, soft sand, and gentle breeze created the perfect bed. Their actions weren’t hard and rough, but tender and thorough. Keeping rhythm with the waves Tony took Claire beyond her refuge to a place of ecstasy. The hours of daylight almost reached their peak. The summer solstice was near. Between exploring the lake, shore, wildlife, and one another, they found themselves still on the shore as the sun began to set. It was all right. Claire knew this time there would be no punishment or accident. This time she was safe. They sat and watched the crimson ball as it bled a cherry glow across the sky, slowly fading behind the line of shadowed trees at the far end of the lake. There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will. —Epictetus Chapter Thirty-Nine ‡ Claire’s education regarding the responsibilities of Mrs. Anthony Rawlings continued during the summer months. She now had the responsibility of entertaining Tony’s business associates. As a bachelor, these gatherings weren’t expected; however, now with a wife by his side, Shelly felt this personal touch benefited Mr. Rawlings. They hosted multiple dinner engagements. On the Fourth of July, they held a large barbeque/pool party for many of Tony’s associates at the estate in Iowa. Guests included those she’d met briefly at her wedding and those that she’d never met. Tony introduced her to everyone, and she remembered names and faces remarkably well. Her job description remained the same as fourteen months earlier: be perfect. To accomplish her goal, she needed to be beautiful, polite, contented, and appreciative. Now there was another requirement: be a most gracious hostess. Surprisingly, Claire didn’t find these new duties difficult. For most people to pull off a dinner, barbeque, or pool party would require planning, cleaning, cooking, setting up, and tearing down. For Mrs. Rawlings, that wasn’t the case. Everything happened without her input. Invitations went out, RSVPs counted, meals planned, house or apartment cleaned, food prepared, tables and decorations set, the food served, and miraculously everything cleaned by the next day. She needed only to be present, ever attentive to her guests, and most importantly, attentive to her husband. The first entertaining experience occurred at their New York apartment. They hosted an intimate dinner party for ten. It was true, Claire’s nerves were shaken prior to the hors d’oeuvres. Perhaps it was Tony’s pep talk about appearances, responsibility as his wife, and the unacceptability of public failure; however, wearing the clothes he chose, hair styled as he suggested, and appearing as dutiful as she could muster, the evening progressed surprisingly well. Her talent for remembering names, faces, facts, and the intuition to know when not to interrupt business talk, yet understand when to augment small talk, succeeded in making everyone feel comfortable. After the guests left, Tony gently wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, “You were magnificent.” It made all the difference. From that point on, when she learned of an impending gathering, she had but one solitary goal—to please her husband. On some occasions they would be at opposite sides of a room and she would look up from a conversation to observe his eyes. The presence of brown rimmed pupils would strengthen her resolve to perform her role to perfection. On those occasions she would discover the black voids, she would excuse herself from her current activity and attempt to learn the source of his unhappiness. Once discovered, it became her responsibility to right the wrong. Assuming this responsibility of Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, familiarized her with many of his associates and made her feel less alone. She met the people Tony dealt with on a daily basis. In reality she may have been a beautiful accessory, but she believed she provided an important asset to his public relations. The added bonus was that she continued to amaze Tony by excelling at any obstacle put before her. A week before they needed to be in France for Tony’s meetings, he informed Claire they would spend a few nights in New York City before their trip. He could work from the New York City office and it would decrease their travel time to Paris. Claire’s research discovered many sights she anxiously anticipated seeing in France. They would arrive in Paris where he had two days of meetings. She wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Muse’e d’Orsay, Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Arc de Triomple among other places. She told Tony multiple times how excited she was being involved in planning their activities. Next, he promised her two nights in the south of France, one of his favorite destinations. He had special plans for this destination. She read about Cannes, the French Riviera, and Monaco, but willingly trusted his decisions. Next, they would be off to Italy. His meetings there were in Rome and Florence. They would have the opportunity to visit museums and monuments in both cities. Her two requests were the Vatican and the Galleria dell’ Accademia, the museum which housed Michelangelo’s David. Tony promised that David didn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before. He wanted her to see the island of Sicily. The water, he said, was beautiful. The blueness rivaled Fiji. He mischievously smiled and let her know how nude sunbathing was acceptable in the Mediterranean. “I don’t think I like the idea of nude sunbathing among multitudes of people.” With a naughty smirk Tony agreed. “I believe you’re right my dear.” He slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “Besides, I don’t believe I want others seeing what is mine, and I have the pleasure of seeing whenever I chose.” His last meetings were in Switzerland. He needed to be in Genève and Interlaken. He explained if she enjoyed the beauty and splendor of the Rocky Mountains at Lake Tahoe, she would marvel at the Swiss Alps. They were magnificent. He knew she would love all the nature had to offer in Switzerland. As Tony spoke about their trip he expressed his desire to spend more time in Europe. “I want to show you so many places. We aren’t even planning for Venice. A gondola ride is one of the most romantic adventures, and what about London? Don’t you want to see Buckingham Palace?” “We have forever to visit those places.” As he spoke about cities and sites, his eyes danced with enthusiasm. His excitement to share something with her meant more than the trip itself. The Tuesday before their scheduled departure they sat in her suite with Claire reviewing e-mails and Tony working on his laptop. She only needed to discuss e-mails she felt deserved personal follow through of any kind. She read each one and eventually came to one from Emily. She’d expected to see it. The last one had been about a week ago. This one contained new information. It wasn’t just the “I want to see you” text. To: Claire Rawlings [email protected] /* */ From: Emily Vandersol [email protected] /* */ Date: July 19, 2011 Subject: Hi. Hi, Claire, How are you and Anthony? We are doing very well. I’m on summer break, which you know. Would be great to see my little sis, but anyway, know how busy you are. How have those dinner parties been going? Still cracks me up. You being the one hosting parties! Would never have guessed it. Anyway, didn’t you say you two were going on vacation? I heard something on the television about you being on another private island. Really? Have you been gone? I never know what to believe. But I wanted to let you know John and his associate just had a big win in court recently. They made a huge impression on the partners. Not to mention some big money for them, too. We’ve been invited to multiple dinners and John has had some “lunches” with a few of the partners recently. It is looking like all his hours and hard work will be paying off soon. Would love to hear from you. Please give Anthony our love. How is Iowa? I have some time, maybe you and I could visit in person? Or are you too busy for your big sister. (I’m trying guilt.)
Consequences Consequences Page 97 Love ya, Em Claire read it, sighed, and wrote on the top: Patricia, please respond and then moved on to the next. She sensed Tony’s eyes penetrating her consciousness. He’d read it. She didn’t need to discuss the contents, she wasn’t requesting anything. Lifting her gaze she saw his eyes and answered, “I don’t want to deal with it, okay? I’m too excited about our trip.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that’s fine. I just thought you might want to see her and John while we’re in New York before our trip. It sounds to me like a celebratory dinner for your esteemed brother-in-law is in order.” Claire looked at Tony in disbelief. “Are you suggesting we meet them this weekend before we leave for Europe?” She watched for his reaction—there was none. He continued reading on his laptop and making notes on his iPad. “Please don’t tease me.” His smile appeared genuine. “I’m not teasing. If it’ll make you happy as we head out on our European adventure, I can suffer through a few hours of Mr. Wonderful.” She got up from the table and went to him on the sofa. “Really? Can I please call her and see if they’re available?” “Yes,” his hand touched the hem of her light pink sundress, “however, I can think of something I’d like to do first.” Claire reached for his laptop and set in on the floor. Climbing on his lap she giggled, “Really? I can’t think of anything—” Her world tilted as he pushed her onto the sofa and followed on top of her. The rest of her sentence—as well as dinner—and the phone call would need to wait. They arrived in New York on Thursday night and planned to leave Sunday for Paris. Tony thought Claire might need to shop before their trip, but she assured him she’d done enough research to learn she could do plenty of shopping in Paris, Italy, and Switzerland. Tony laughed. “That even scares me, Mrs. Rawlings. I believe you’re getting too good at this shopping thing.” They arranged to meet John and Emily Saturday afternoon at a restaurant in Newburgh, a scenic little city on the Hudson River, midway between New York City and Troy. Tony admitted their apartment could lend itself to a longer visit than he wanted. Claire knew this was difficult for him and appreciated his honesty. Besides, she liked the idea of a public setting. Tony would never do or say anything in a public place to jeopardize his image. She knew no matter how the dinner progressed, she would reap the consequences, negative or positive; however, seeing Emily and John for the first time since their wedding was worth Tony’s chosen aftermath. She could endure the night—tomorrow they were leaving for Europe. When they stepped outside their New York City apartment, the air between the tall buildings hung heavy and moist intensifying the July heat. Automobile exhaust filled their lungs as the motionless air refused to transport the odors away. The summer sun penetrated the dark lenses of her sunglasses, causing Claire to squint after exiting the dim cool lobby. Although, she used to like the city, she now thought pensively about the tranquility of the Iowa countryside. During the hour and a half drive, Tony worked on his latest project while Claire appreciated the tinted windows and air conditioning of the limousine and tried to read. She had packed many books for their trip; between flights, drives, and waiting for Tony, she anticipated significant amounts of downtime. Though she tried to read, the words on the page didn’t make sense. She read and reread, but her thoughts were miles ahead at the restaurant. It had been seven months since they had been together. She wanted it to go well; however, she overwhelmingly feared it would not. Trying desperately to ignore the onset of another headache, she anticipated problems. What if John said something? What about the job topic? What if Emily pursued her earlier concerns? Her mind raced through these situations and more. She contemplated possible solutions. It didn’t always work, but having contingency plans made Claire feel better. They were an hour out of Newburgh when Tony broke the silence. “Claire, please stop.” Shocked, she turned to him, “Stop what? I’m reading.” “No, you’re not. You’re sighing, fidgeting, and stressing about things over which you have no control.” “I’m sorry. I just want this afternoon to go well.” “Are you planning to do or say something wrong?” “No! Of course not.” “Let me tell you about this current project.” She really wasn’t interested, but he rarely offered to share. She closed her book. “All right.” “These are perspectives on a company. Actually, a family owned business in Pennsylvania. At one time it employed over seventy-five people. Today it employs forty-six. I don’t care about this company or the employees, but I am significantly invested in their major competitor.” Clare definitely didn’t see the connection to their lunch, but she nodded and replied, “Okay.” “When founded, the original president made wonderful decisions. In the past five years, the reins passed, and the decisions have been less fortuitous. The chairman is now seeking to sell the company, recognizing the economic climate. They need money to continue; banks aren’t lending money. If he doesn’t sell, the doors will probably close in the next two years.” Still lost, she maintained eye contact and nodded. He went on. “I’m considering a very low-ball offer. The benefit to me is to reduce the competition. If my offer is accepted, the doors will close immediately. According to my accountants, the company in which I’m already invested is projected to increase sales by over 18 percent immediately upon the close of this company. This means I reap benefits. They project my venture in this company will be recouped in profits in less than two years. The long-term benefits are increasingly fiscally rewarding. What do you think the employees of the Pennsylvania Company are hoping will happen?” “They either want their company to go on as it is—or to be sold to someone who’ll keep it running.” Tony said, “Good, why?” “So they’ll keep their jobs.” “The people on the manufacturing floor, custodians, secretaries, and other auxiliary employees played no part in the decisions which now have direct consequences on their lives.” “Yes, but they have families, debts, and responsibilities.” Claire thought about Tony’s daily decisions and their far-reaching impact. “And I’m sure they’re all worried.” “Exactly, just as you’re worried about this afternoon. What can the people in that plant do to help their situation?” Claire thought about it. “Nothing—it isn’t in their hands.” The reality made her sad. Not for her—her situation suddenly seemed trivial, but for those forty-six people. “Correct again. You’ve done all you can do.” He was now talking about this afternoon. “You’ve done much more than I ever imagined. Continue to behave as you have. If Emily or John do or say anything, it’s their doing, not yours.” She thought about John’s words in the past and how she’d experienced consequences, just like those people were about to receive. Tony started to read again, but Claire had questions, “Tony?” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, but I have some questions.”
Consequences Consequences Page 98 “Go ahead.” “So are you saying the actions of the people who don’t have control, have no consequence?” He closed the screen of his laptop. “Are we talking about Pennsylvania or here?” “Let’s start with Pennsylvania.” “No—their actions may have great impact. A lot depends on the goal of the person who has control. Let’s say someone else with capital decides they’re interested in this company. More than likely, they’ll either personally visit, or as I did, send an envoy to investigate the company. If those employees are hardworking, loyal, and if this investor is interested in keeping the doors open, their actions will be an important piece of the equation when decisions are made. Their attitude could actually determine if their company will remain open. On the contrary, if the employees are dissatisfied and disgruntled, investors interested in maintaining the company will shy away.” Momentarily lost in thought, Tony continued. “One of the issues which affect these situations is the knowledge of the employees, or the people seemingly out of control. It’s interesting how many people live their lives completely unaware of decisions unfolding around them.” Claire listened as Tony went on and worried about these forty-six people and their families. “Now if they are aware and proactive, they may try to recruit investment on their own. I have controlling interest in a few such companies, funded by Rawlings Industries yet run and invested in by the employees. They now benefit from not only paychecks, but also dividends. It creates a wonderful incentive for hard work and dedication.” Thinking out loud, Claire said, “So if I decided I was tired of shopping for clothes and wanted to shop for companies, I could go to Pennsylvania, offer them a little more than your low-ball bid, and keep the company going, assuming the employees are hardworking, loyal, and want to keep the doors open.” She smiled as she spoke. Smiling in return, he said, “Well, yes, Mrs. Rawlings, I know you have the capital; however, if you use my bid as a baseline, you’ll end up arrested for insider trading. You can’t make an offer based on the offer of a competitor, unless it has been made public. Mine has not.” With nothing more than concern in her voice, she asked, “How can you make a deal without considering the people and lives it affects?” “It’s called business. It’s how we have what we have and will have much more.” He wasn’t gloating or harsh, just stating facts. “Closing that business is my concern, the people are not. If my bid is accepted, their presence is no longer needed.” “So, there are times when innocent people reap the consequences of others due to no fault of their own.” Claire spoke from experience, yet now seeing the principle from a different perspective. “Yes. It happens all the time.” “All right, tell me about our situation. You’re comparing the two—you were saying my actions have no effect on the outcome of this afternoon, so not to worry about it?” “No. I said not to worry about it. Your actions have already had a great effect on this afternoon.” Claire saw his eyes, brown and genuine. She wanted more information. “Please, Mr. Rawlings, tell me what I’ve done to affect this afternoon.” He sighed. “Claire, why are we going to Newburgh?” “To see Emily and John.” “That isn’t the entire answer.” He waited. “We’re going because of me?” “Of course, do you—on any level—believe this is my first choice of a Saturday afternoon activity?” She knew it was not. “But it was your suggestion. We wouldn’t be going if you hadn’t allowed it.” “You’re right, but we’re going because you want to. We’re going because you have patiently accepted every challenge—every test—and every ordeal which has come your way, and for the record—not all have been my doing—merely a byproduct of being Mrs. Rawlings. Apparently, it can be a difficult role.” She knew that too and smiled. He continued, “You’ve not just accepted—you’ve conquered.” She didn’t know what to say. He complimented her regularly but she was never certain of his sincerity. He reached out, squeezed her hand, and continued, “You have exceeded any and every preconceived idea I have ever had about you. The one limitation I’ve placed on you that I recognize has caused you anguish is your sister. Truly, I have no ill feelings toward Emily. She can be excessively inquisitive, but you two share a bond.” He watched her eyes. “I told you months ago I’d try to be a better husband. I’ve spent most of my life only concerned with myself. I’m truly trying—even if it does not always appear so.” She prayed her smile radiated into her eyes, but she could feel the moisture, too. “Tony, I love you. I know you’re trying. I’m contented with the strides you’ve made. That doesn’t mean I don’t hope for more. That may make me ungrateful, but I do. I think you’re amazing. That’s why I want you, Emily, John, and me to be a family. I want them to know the remarkable man I married.” She kissed him and he kissed her, too. She still wasn’t confident in the outcome of their family reunion , but her expectations had improved, as had the feeling in her head; the ache had subsided. When they arrived, Emily and John were already seated at a private table with a wonderful view of the Hudson River. They greeted one another with hugs and handshakes. Tony watched as Claire’s eyes sparkled when she talked with her family. Tony was civil, refined, and mannerly. To the unknowing observer he may have even seemed cordial and friendly. Claire was glad John and Emily qualified as unknowing. Tony was a master at appearances and was even the first to extend his hand and congratulate John on his accomplishments. “We’re still sorry you didn’t decide to join us at Rawlings Industries. I believe that despite what your sister-in-law said, you would’ve been a real asset.” Claire smiled and shook her head at John. “I didn’t say a word. I was as shocked as you when I learned of the offer. Tony and Tom did their homework. Nevertheless, we definitely respect your decision and are thrilled with your success.” John respectfully thanked them both. The job offer was a huge compliment and he was honored. He also accepted their congratulations on the result of his trial, but as far as partnership, nothing was currently set. He added with a grin, “The jury’s still out.” Tony’s comment pleased Claire and cleared the air—allowing her to breathe easier. The four of them had a nice dinner. Claire told her sister and brother-in-law about their upcoming trip to Europe. Emily said she spent a long weekend in Fishers, Indiana, visiting some old friends. She named a few and told Claire how they all sent her their best. The mention of her past life darkened Tony’s eyes a few shades. Claire didn’t pursue the subject, only smiled and nodded acceptably. Emily also commented on Claire’s hair, did she like it so blonde? Of course, it looked beautiful. Emily actually said that she looked stunning—but so different. Some of their old friends asked if it was really her in the pictures; the name was right, she just didn’t look the same. Claire wondered if that meant she wasn’t stunning before. Claire asked how they liked the wedding pictures she sent. They both said they liked them very much. Emily even said she bought some new dresses to wear with her wedding shoes. She’s never owned shoes like those and planned to get Anthony’s money’s worth out of them.
Consequences Consequences Page 99 Tony smiled at Claire and commented, “What a great idea. Maybe Claire could decide to wear some of her shoes more than one time.” They all laughed. The mood was jovial. The dinner tasted delicious and catching up was fun. In the car on their way back to Manhattan Claire told Tony, “Thank you, but I’m glad that’s done. It’s too much stress for me. Besides, I’m too excited about our trip!” His eyes lightened again. If that night needed to qualify as a type of consequence, Claire would call it positive. The next day, they flew east across the Atlantic. Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact. —William James Chapter Forty ‡ In Paris, Tony booked their suite—more like an apartment—in the Second Arrondissement located in the heart of Paris. Many of the major attractions Claire wanted to visit were within walking distance. Tony gave her complete freedom to roam the city while he was in his meetings. At first, she worried about the language barrier; after all, he spoke French like a native; however, unlike the rumors she’d heard, as long as she attempted to speak their language, the French were polite and fluent in English. She did her best to frequent the shops along Rue de Faubourgs Saint Honoré, but she found the styles too bold for her liking. After his business was complete, they experienced Paris together. They took romantic walks along the Seine and in the Tuileries Gardens. They also dined on amazing cuisine. The cultural differences fascinated her. Dinner didn’t begin until 8:30 PM, but earlier than that they could experience l’apéritif—from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM—where cafés and bistros offered their best cocktails or wine by the glass. Tony’s understanding of the French was not limited to their language. He was also well versed in their wines. Apparently, the French consider wine to be an adjunct to each meal and snack—it reminded Claire of college. Paris claimed to be capital of romance, but Claire would suggest the Côte d’Azur or the French Riviera seek to take the title. Located in the southeastern corner of France on the Mediterranean coastline, it boggled her mind to think she was actually there in the playground for the wealthy. She didn’t realize Tony planned this portion of their trip with no business obligations, no meetings, commitments, or other recipients of his attention. He was totally devoted to her. The French Riviera was a major yachting and cruising area. Unbeknownst to Claire, they reserved a private one-hundred-foot luxury sailing yacht, complete with their own captain and first mate. It would be their hotel for two nights. They boarded their yacht in Beau lier-sur Mer, a beautiful Mediterranean resort village. They spent the next seventy-two hours lounging on the sea decks, enjoying the interior cabins, and cruising up the coast toward Italy. Some of the ports they viewed from their deck, others they stopped and explored. Cruising on a private yacht in the Mediterranean was amazing. Claire’s favorite port was Monaco. The entire experience seemed surreal. Being the second smallest independent state in the world, the entire city-state was less than one square mile. They were able to walk the hilly streets and enjoy many attractions. There were museums and palaces, as well as shopping. Tony relished Claire’s unabashed enthusiasm for Monte Carlo. Claire believed that Le Musée Oceanographic or the palace above the sea was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. She didn’t want to leave; however, their yacht was docked in the scenic harbor and waited to take them north to Italy. The last port before Italy was Menton. It was nicknamed the Pearl of France and was famous for its gardens. Tony’s zeal at sharing nature with Claire amused her. His research told him that Jardin Serre de la Madone, often known as the Serre de la Madone (Hill of the Madonna), was a garden noted for its design and rare plantings. It wasn’t difficult for Claire to show the enthusiasm Tony expected. Next, they flew to Sicily for the weekend. Landing at a small airport in Catania, Sicily, Tony arranged to have a Maserati Gran Turismo waiting. Actually, it was the Gran Cabrio, the open-air version of a small dynamic sports car. The rag top allowed them to tour the countryside and see everything as it came into view. Driving around Sicily and driving around Iowa proved dramatically different. Claire learned very quickly speed limits exceeded those found in the United States and didn’t seem to be strongly enforced. The one-lane winding roads always had someone wanting to pass or needing to be passed. Tony loved the challenge. Riding around the island with him that weekend made Claire feel like she truly put her life in his hands as never before. The desire to drive never occurred to her the entire weekend. Their hotel was in Taormina, located on a plateau below Mount Tauro on the east side of Sicily, on the coast of the Ionian Sea. Their suite rested high on a cliff with a splendid coastal view from their private glass railed balcony. It was known for its ancient Greek splendor, medieval charm, and unique views of Mount Etna. Tony was right about the water. The shades of blue and green were comparable to the waters in Fiji. There were beaches nearby which offered the sunbathing Tony mentioned; however, Claire suggested they spend their time seeing other attractions. They spent hours walking the endlessly winding medieval streets and tiny passages. Thankfully, most were inaccessible by car. They discovered garden treasures hidden behind stone walls and terraces overlooking the coast. The Greek Amphitheater built in the third-century BC offered breathtaking views of Mount Etna and the sea. The history and age of the amphitheater had Claire talking about the youth of America. Tony listened to her enthusiasm and watched her energy as she held his hand and walked through miles of history. The sightseeing was new to him. He traveled for business, not pleasure. Claire’s presence made all of this new and fun for him too. One of his goals for their trip was making her happy. Another was creating good memories. The evenings in Taormina were enchanting. Together, they strolled the illuminated streets and indulged in delicious cuisine. They watched in awe as lava left a stream of steam and light in its wake as it flowed along the snow covered slopes of Mount Etna. Hesitantly, granting Tony the pleasure of driving, they drove to Mount Etna, where they hiked. Claire was fascinated to learn ancient Greeks believed the mountain was home to the one-eyed monster known as the Cyclops. Her father loved mythology. He’d read stories of Cyclops to her as a child. It astounded her that she was actually walking around the foothills of a mythological site. With Mount Etna being an active volcano, the height of the summit changed with each eruption. The lava created beautiful solidified structures. These structures were called gorges, and at Alcantara Gorge, Claire and Tony walked around and touched the basalt gorges and columns which were formed after thousands of years of rushing waters. They waded in the Alcantara River and experienced the coolness of the water coming from the snow topped peaks. On Sunday night they flew to Florence where Tony had more meetings. Not reading any of her books, Claire kept busy with museums and sidewalk cafes. While sitting and enjoying a coffee at a sidewalk café, Claire noticed the signs advertising Wi-Fi. She saw people with their laptops and the wall of available computers. This vacation had allowed her more personal freedom than she’d experienced since originally arriving at Tony’s. He hadn’t mentioned any restrictions, yet he had mentioned restrictions to Internet use thousands of times at home. Claire decided she would spend her time in Italy seeing Italy. She could access the Worldwide Web from Iowa and hoped someday that would be an option. Today, she would enjoy Florence.
