Truth - Romig Aleatha (читать книги полностью без сокращений бесплатно txt) 📗

Marie stood before Anton. He looked at the woman his grandfather loved. She looked so much older than three years his senior. Her tired gray eyes cried out in anguish over the events of the past few months. She’d lost her husband, her name, and now her money. Anton knew he could turn her in to the police and go on with his life. Marie knew that too.

“I will repay you for this.” She said, with her eyes lowered trying not to notice the grime on the worn carpet. Marie continued, “I know you are doing this for Nathaniel, not for me. But, I thank you.”

He lifted her chin; she was his grandfather’s wife. She needed to act as such. “You are right. And you are a Rawls; don’t ever look down like that. I am the one who failed him by not stopping my father’s law suit. I will not fail him again.”

“I came to your family as hired help. I am not above doing that again. I can work for you.”

Anton stared. His mind filled with memories of his family. He remembered the dinners in the grand dining room – his grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, Marie, and him. How had it come down to just the two of them? “I’m not sure how this arrangement will work. I don’t exactly have need for household staff at this point.”

“You will.” In the midst of total chaos, Marie’s tone rang with confidence. “You are Nathaniel’s grandson. You will succeed. I have no doubt.”

Anton remembered Nathaniel’s evaluation: She is mighty remarkable. He replied, “I will not abandon you. In a few more days we should be able to move you. Once we get you back to New York, we will create a timeline, an iron clad alibi for your whereabouts during my parent’s death. The future will work itself out.”

“It will, Anton. I have confidence in you.” She reached for his shoulders, there was no sexual attraction. They were family. Marie felt as if she were looking into Nathaniel’s eyes each time she stared into Anton’s deep dark irises. The touch was merely a point of contact. They were together in this mess and bound forever by Nathaniel. “You know, your grandfather had plans for after his release. I’ve had a lot of time to think about those during these past few days.”

“He told me.” Her determination impressed Anton.

“I can help. I want to help. Truly I didn’t intend to kill your parents, but I’m not sorry they’re gone. I could lie and tell you I am. But, I won’t.” Anton nodded. “There are others who assisted in putting Nathaniel in prison, your father was but one.”

“I have names. However, this will take time and money.”

Marie smiled, “I have time. You make us more money.”

The truth is rarely pure and never simple. 

—Oscar Wilde

Chapter 46

Sophia exhaled and spoke determinedly, “Mr. George, I’ll consider the most recent offer, but I’m afraid I cannot give you an answer today or tomorrow.” She didn’t wait for his response. “I will call you when I make my decision. Good-bye.”

Silvia looked questionably at her daughter. “You are too busy to be babysitting your old parents.”

“I’m hardly babysitting. You and Pop are helping me get this studio ready to open.”

“I think getting away from home for a while has been good for your father, a change of scenery and all.”

Sophia smiled. The thought came to her as she was flying to Princeton. She wanted to spend time with her parents and get the studio open. At first her parents balked at the idea. It wasn’t until she told them how much work she needed to do that they willingly consented. Sophia knew if they felt needed, they’d be willing to go.

It was a good change of scenery for Sophia too. With Derek overseas, she didn’t want to be stuck in California. Besides, Mr. George was beginning to annoy her with his persistence. Although smaller than the studio in Palo Alto, her studio in Provincetown was home.

She and Derek had worked so quickly to secure some of her art for shipping, they’d left this studio in disarray. Sophia still had many paintings and chalk and charcoal drawings stored here. Now, she and her parents needed to work to choose the best ones to display. Once the choices were made, the pieces needed to be framed, or stretched and framed, depending upon the medium.

Sophia’s parents never claimed personal artistic skills. Nevertheless, when it came to displaying art, they were professionals. Silvia laughed saying they’d been doing it since Sophia was barely two years old – displaying her creations on the refrigerator door. Carlo’s memory may have difficulties, but when it came to constructing an appropriate frame for his daughter’s masterpieces, he was still on the top of his game.

Derek wouldn’t be back to Santa Clara for another week. It was the perfect time for Sophia to enjoy her family, her cottage by the shore, prepare her studio, and hire someone to manage it while she’s away. The income from her recent sales truly gave her more freedom than ever before.

*****

Tony and Claire returned to the house before five thirty. Claire hoped for a nap, before readying for the dessert celebration at Brent and Courtney’s house. Catherine promised dinner on the patio at seven, saying they shouldn’t go to a dessert and wine celebration on empty stomachs. Thinking of her condition, Claire agreed.

Back in her suite, Claire checked her phone. Of course, she had multiple text messages from her sister. The main request was for a call. Claire didn’t want to call. She would willingly text, but she didn’t want to hear Emily’s voice or lectures. However, Claire worried, if she only sent a text, Emily would suspect Tony’s manipulation.

Dreading the conversation, Claire hit call. Emily answered on the first ring. “Claire, are you all right?” Claire assured her sister she was fine. She still had her ticket to return to California on Sunday and those plans haven’t changed. Claire promised to be careful and politely hung-up before Emily’s words became too annoying.

After sending text messages to Amber and Harry, Claire climbed into the beautiful four poster bed, settled into the soft sheets, and slipped away. The memories of her lake and their afternoon floated through her subconscious. Being alone, she didn’t try to subdue the smile that continually crept onto her face.

Her dream didn’t make sense... when she drifted to sleep she was in the copper colored suite, yet as she looked around the walls were once again a rich beige and heavy golden draperies covered the windows. Claire reached for her cellphone but it was missing. Easing herself from the warm covers she searched for her iPad. It was no longer on the table. She saw the television, but instinctively knew the channels were limited. Her breathing quickened as she paced the confines of the luxurious room. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t fill her lungs with adequate oxygen. The beautiful walls were closing in around her. She needed air, fresh air. Quickly she moved to the heavy golden drapes and exposed the tall French doors of her balcony. When the lever refused to budge, her heart rate quickened. Why wouldn’t the doors open? The condensation on the small panes indicated cold on the other side. She peered through the small windows and registered the scene outside. The green leaves and vibrant colors were gone. In their place she saw skeletons of bare trees and visions of black and white. Inches of snow sat undisturbed on the rail of the balcony.

Claire’s knees became weak. If it were winter, where was her baby? Claire’s hand moved to her midsection finding her flat stomach. She wasn’t visibly pregnant, so their child must be born. Claire scanned the suite for a crib, nothing. She ran to the hallway door. The lever wouldn’t move. No! She was locked in! Where was her baby? Tears of panic rushed from her eyes as she beat upon the door. Panic filled her voice as she screamed at the top of her lungs. This was no longer her nightmare; it was her child’s too.