Chapter Forty-Six
?
Tony’s lecture regarding his gift came on the plane ride home. It started as operational instructions, which Claire considered this futile; she’d received her first cell phone in middle school and knew how to dial a number, answer a call, send a text message, and receive one. Nevertheless, his lessons did contain useful information—her telephone was linked to his computer and iPhone. If she received a call or text—he received a notification. If she sent a text or made a call—he received a notification. He even had an application allowing him to access telephone numbers and the entire content of text messages. Claire told herself—compartmentalize—she had a cell phone.
He instructed her to only answer calls from numbers programmed into her phone with an asterisk. Examples—*Tony Cellular—*Home Private—and *Eric. There were other numbers programmed into her phone—Emily cell, John V. Cell, Vandersol home, Courtney S., MaryAnn F., etc. They could leave voicemails or texts and then, together they’d listen or read and decide appropriate responses. Claire obediently listened and sighed, this is ridiculous!
“You asked for me to be able to contact you directly. This will accomplish what you asked.”
She pressed her lips together, he’s right—I did and it will. She wanted more! Deciding to capitalize on the Christmas spirit, she pushed, “Maybe I could at least text Courtney and Sue back immediately—I mean—after all—didn’t you say you can read the texts in real time from your iPhone?” Her husband made a fortune with the Internet, he had technology which allowed him to watch, listen, and monitor her every move—she knew that.
He contemplated his answer. “We’ll start with my rules. After a time, we can revisit them.”
She submitted. He hadn’t closed the subject. It was a minor victory—or a minor defeat. Either way, it wasn’t the end of the war.
They celebrated New Year’s Eve at their home with friends. The Simmons, their son Caleb and his fiancée Julia, Tim and a six-month pregnant Sue, and Tom and Beverly all had a wonderful time. Together, they spent most of the evening in the lower level, playing cards and pool, drinking champagne, talking, and laughing.
Courtney couldn’t contain her enthusiasm regarding their son’s engagement. Julia appeared overwhelmed by her overly zealous future mother-in-law. Claire couldn’t help herself. She offered Julia some advice, “Smile and give in. It makes life a lot easier.” Although the young couple hadn’t set a date for their wedding, Courtney told Claire she may have more charitable responsibilities this year. Courtney planned on helping Julia as much as possible with the wedding. Claire read Julia’s expression and whispered in her ear, “I promise to talk to her later.”
Julia smiled. “Thank you.”
Tim and Sue’s baby was due March 20—all the women oowwd and ahhhed at Sue’s growing midsection. It made Claire think, she and Tony had never discussed children. About six months before she met Tony, she had the birth control insert implanted. In hindsight, that’d been fortuitous; however, considering Tony’s age, maybe it was a subject they should discuss.
Together, they all welcomed the New Year with enthusiasm. “To another great year for everyone and for Rawlings Industries!” Everyone tapped glasses. Claire and Tony both told the Simmons how fantastic Fiji would be. Claire added, “We can’t wait to hear all about it”—then she smiled—“Well, not all about it.”
Courtney blushed. Tony embraced Claire—she’d filled him in on her packing advice—they kissed. Brent looked at Courtney questionably. She grinned. “I’ll explain later.” That made them giggle some more. The year began with a bang.
Although Tony contacted Claire directly each evening, she didn’t feel like she’d gained any liberties regarding communication. Emily had her number and would leave text messages and voicemails. Claire could read them or listen to them, but she couldn’t respond until Tony’s input was added. She learned deleting texts or voicemails was strictly forbidden—apparently, it implied hiding. She didn’t ask, but wondered why? If Tony had access to every text, why did he need to see it—on her phone—before she deleted it?
The Simmons left for Fiji, and Tony missed Brent. Claire found it amusing. He would never admit Brent’s full worth, yet his absence left Tony lacking. She planned to share this secret knowledge upon their return. Courtney asked Claire to fill in with her multiple charities during her absence. Being January—the heart of her winter blues—Claire happily agreed to the additional tasks. Unfortunately, Claire agreed to help Courtney without first consulting Tony.
“I agree they’re admirable charities. I don’t think you need to be gone that much.”
“It’s only for two weeks, and I already said I would help.”
“You agreed without discussing it. Did you forget about your responsibilities here? I certainly hope you’re not having memory problems—again.”
“I didn’t forget, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to help a friend. I promise nothing will go undone here.”
“You’re right, because you won’t be going, or do you not feel taking care of your husband is important?”
Claire knew her pleas were useless. “Tony, I’m sorry.”
She called each organization—“I’m truly sorry I won’t be able to attend your meeting. It seems that I’ve double booked my calendar. If you could e-mail the information, I’ll forward it to Mrs. Simmons.” Those calls were made on the speaker feature of her new phone with her husband present. Suddenly, her calendar was open to Tony’s whims.
Although Tony would never admit it, Claire believed these consequences resulted more from Brent’s absence than from her insubordination. Her attraction toward her husband was waning. Experience taught her it was a cyclical process—it would wane and then it would wax. She encouraged herself to be patient for the wax.
This January was less snowy than the last, which helped Claire’s disposition. Less snow meant fewer clouds, and more sunshine. The Iowa air still registered below freezing, but the view from her suite wasn’t of frozen white tundra. The winter, combined with the feeling unpredictability was predictably returning, giving her the teetering on the fence sensation from before. Continuing her personal self-therapy, Claire reminded herself Courtney would be back in another week and spring was only three months away.
Admittedly, more of an attempt to pacify than an act of devotion, she tried desperately to alleviate Tony’s concerns. She obediently waited for him each evening, dressed appropriately for his arrival, attentively listened to his day and concerns, discussed her e-mails, texts, voicemails, and expressed her undying affection. She even chose to not pursue the e-mails and text messages from Emily. That was, until she heard a recent voicemail. The distress in her sister’s voice was unnerving. She respectfully asked Tony if they could call.
They did, from Claire’s telephone. Having her cell phone saved the long walk to his office. They tried three times and didn’t receive an answer. Tony willingly agreed to try again later. When they finally reached Emily, the information from the call was difficult for Claire to fathom—John had been accused of fraudulent billing. The Vandersols were devastated.
The next morning, Claire opened her eyes and realized she was waking in Tony’s bed. The feeling of disorientation came more from her concern over her family, than from the dark surroundings. She rolled toward him, but he was gone. The clock read 7:03 AM. If she hurried to the dining room, she might catch him before he left for work. She wanted to thank him again for the ability to talk to her sister during this difficult time. Truth be known, she hoped her gratitude would facilitate her opportunity to support Emily in the future. She put on slippers and her cashmere robe and walked to the dining room. The rich aroma of coffee met her halfway down the corridor. Tony was at the head of the table, drinking coffee, his plate empty, and his laptop open. When Claire entered the room, he looked up. “Good morning, my dear. You look beautiful this morning.”
She made a face. “I think you need an eye exam”—she gave him a kiss, and continued—“I just wanted to catch you before you left.” Claire sat down at the table and Catherine poured her coffee. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated talking to Emily. It’s a difficult time for them”—she added some cream and watched the ivory liquid swirl into the black abyss. Then she looked up into his eyes, wondering if they were the color of the coffee with or without the cream, and added—“And I wanted to let you know I’ll miss you.” Claire smiled at his cream filled eyes as she spoke.
“Good news, I’m working from home today.”
Claire’s heart sank, she really wanted alone time to contemplate the John thing; however, her smile never faltered.
Tony continued, “So you won’t need to miss me.”
“That’s great! Do you have a lot of work?”
“A few web conferences and phone calls, but don’t worry, I know your schedule is free. I have some ideas for us too.” The smile and the way his eyes shone made Claire question his ideas. She would be glad when Brent returned. This Tony made her uneasy. She detested the dual personalities.
Sipping her coffee, she replied, “All right, I need to work out and clean up. I came down here in a hurry to see you.”
“When you’re dressed come to my office,” he said. As he stood to leave, he paused to touch her shoulder.
Obediently, she replied, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He kissed her cheek. “Or you could visit before you dress?” his tone, suddenly playful.
She touched his hand. “If I do that, you may not get your work done.” He reluctantly agreed and went to his office. She smiled at his attire: shirt, tie, NYU sweatpants, socks, and slippers. That comment to Vanity Fair had been truthful.
Claire’s thoughts wandered as she sipped her coffee, ate her breakfast, and looked out the tall windows. For January, the sky was an amazingly clear sapphire blue. Suddenly, she longed to be outside and in the sunshine. The John situation had her heartsick. Maybe some fresh air would give her a new perspective and some ideas to help her family. The beautiful scene outside the window beckoned her to walk, roam, and get away—if only for a few hours. The snow of the last few weeks had melted, yet today it was cold enough to keep the ground solid. Perhaps she would have time for a hike before Tony’s ideas. Maybe she could entice him to walk, too. He might have some ideas to help John.
Thinking about her walk, Claire finished her shower and left her bathroom considering the appropriate attire—jeans, a sweater, and hiking boots. Her plans didn’t matter. She saw her clothes were laid out. Claire hated that. The assistance with her clothes occurred without predictability since her accident. On her bed were jeans—dressier than she would have chosen—and a blue snug-fitting V-neck sweater—not exactly perfect for hiking—but with the addition of a coat and scarf—it could work.
Then Claire noticed her jewelry on the dressing table. Seriously, it’s morning! Who needs diamonds in the morning? Avoiding an unnecessary confrontation, she did as she was bid—dressed in the clothes and put on the diamond journey necklace, diamond stud earrings, and diamond watch. Her new watch from Switzerland was beautiful, but it sat on her wrist as a constant reminder of punctuality. She’d been late twice—she didn’t need a watch to remind her of Tony’s appreciation. The first time taught her a lesson she’d never forget.
Luckily, there were no shoes set out. She could put on the hiking boots and hope for the best. Although she was pretty sure Tony’s ideas didn’t include shoes—hers did. Maybe he could find his hiking boots, too.
It was almost 10:00 AM by the time she reached his office. She knocked and waited for his permission to enter. She didn’t hear him, but the door opened. When she entered, she saw him seated behind his desk with a shirt and tie, looking so professional, she smiled and quietly sat on the leather sofa away from the webcams and waited for the web conference to finish. It had something to do with a company in Michigan that was losing money. The local government wasn’t willing to give more tax breaks. Were they going to close it or keep it open? The discussion revolved around the potential for future profits. Claire didn’t want to think about it—it would probably result in more unemployed people. She picked up a magazine and began quietly ruffling through the pages.
At 10:45 AM he finally finished. She waited for him to complete whatever he was doing on his computer. Once he was done, she heard his chair turn toward her. “Ahh, blue, my favorite color,” he said eying the sweater, as she walked toward him. “You’re beautiful in any color”—his eyes were appreciative of what he could see and what he couldn’t—“or in no color.” He grinned and reached out to put his hands around her waist. “I have one more web conference at 11:00 AM and then two lunch phone calls. I’d like you back after that.” It sounded like a request—it wasn’t.
“It’s so nice out. I’d like to go for a hike while you are working.” Wording was such an intricate part of her negotiations.
“No. The phone calls may need to be postponed depending on the outcome of the next web conference. I’d like you here if I’m done earlier. We can lunch and discuss our possible afternoon activities.” He’d turned back to his computer screen and read while he spoke.
Claire took a breath, leaned down, and gently kissed his neck. She’d been good—he knew she was upset about her family—she hoped she could press a little more. “Well”—purposely exhaling on his neck—“then may I just go out back? The sky’s so clear and I could really use some fresh air.”
He was obviously engrossed with his computer, but her approach earned her a seductive grin. “Okay, just be back by noon, and could you get me some coffee before you go?”
Claire started to ask where Catherine or another member of the staff was, but deciding that it would delay her trip to the backyard. She kissed his neck. “Yes.”
In the kitchen she found coffee still warm in the pot. She added cream, carried it back to his office, and waited. It was now 10:57 AM.
Tony rummaged through some papers and simultaneously spoke on his iPhone. Hanging up, he said, “Tell Eric there are contracts at the Iowa City office. I need them here before 1:00 PM. He needs to get them immediately.” Claire thought about how Tony was trying to keep her busy at home. She really didn’t mind; however, she wanted to go on her walk. He must have read the question in her eyes. “And after that, go for your walk, just be back by noon.”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Okay. I’ll tell Eric and be back.” She hurried off to find Eric. Claire asked Catherine about Eric’s whereabouts and explained she’d be in the backyard or gardens if Mr. Rawlings needed her before noon.
Catherine directed Claire to Eric’s apartment, attached to the main garage. Claire started back toward the garages, a walk she rarely took. She didn’t drive, and when she went anywhere Eric or Tony picked her up at the front door. The walkway between the main house and garages was beautiful. The windows on both sides continued the full length of the hall and were so clear they seemed invisible.
She looked at the sky and thought about her sister and brother-in-law. Emily sounded so distraught on the phone last night. The fact Tony reminded her to call was a miracle in itself. The fact she spoke on speaker phone was expected. Claire couldn’t believe John was actually in jail. The charges of embezzlement and fictitious client billing were ludicrous. John would never cheat on a test; much less do any of these things. That was what made John such an amazing attorney—he was honest to a fault. Claire had tried to reassure Emily. She wanted to go to her and help; however, Tony would never allow that. Perhaps she could send money for John’s defense. After all, wasn’t Tony telling her all the time how much capital she possessed? If money wasn’t good for accomplishing what you want—what good was it?
Her thoughts quickly changed to the beautiful cars as she entered the garages. Tony definitely liked his cars. Claire knew they’d multiple new ones since her arrival. It was too bad she didn’t drive. Sighing, she thought, it has been almost two years.
Light filtered from under the apartment door as Claire knocked. Eric immediately answered. What she could see of his apartment looked like a nicely decorated living room with an attached dining area.
“Yes, Mrs. Rawlings, may I help you?”
“Eric, Mr. Rawlings said there are some contracts at his Iowa City office which he must have by 1:00 PM. If you go immediately you’ll be back in time.” As Claire spoke, Eric grabbed his coat and hat. He unlocked a cabinet on the wall containing keys to all the cars, took out the keys to the BMW 7 Series, and shut the cabinet.
Hurriedly, Eric looked at his watch. “Ma’am, tell Mr. Rawlings I’ll be back before 12:30 PM.” He got into the car.
“I will, drive safely.” Claire figured it could wait until she saw him at noon. As Eric pulled out of the garage, Claire noticed the key cabinet—it hadn’t shut properly—revealing the keys to multiple cars. Suddenly nervous, Claire contemplated the keys. She should shut the cabinet and go out to the backyard for air, or she could take a set of keys and drive to as much air as she wanted. She wasn’t thinking air for a lifetime, only enough air to breathe.
The decision took only seconds, yet it seemed like an eternity. She reached in, grabbed the first set she touched, and hit the clicker. The lights on the Mercedes Benz flashed. In the midst of unpredictability, she’d done her best to be stable and obedient. This sudden impulsiveness filled her with excitement and fear. Before she could change her mind, she sat in the car, smelled the new car aroma, felt the leather steering wheel, and turned the key.
Her motivation wasn’t to leave Tony—forever. It was just that she felt smothered. The constant monitoring, censoring, and controlling added to her sense of psychological instability. The dual Tonys added another dimension to her suffocation. A brief reprieve—or a momentary freedom—would help her sanity. Besides, she told her husband a year ago she liked to drive. That was all she wanted to do—drive.
Do not bite at the bait of pleasure, till you know there is no hook beneath it.
—Thomas Jefferson