Truth - Romig Aleatha (читать книги полностью без сокращений бесплатно txt) 📗
The smile Harry spotted behind the large leather bound menu, made his chest thump with pleasure. It wasn’t the pretend one.
As they discussed their cuisine options, both of their phones buzzed: a text message from Amber. SORRY. SOMETHING HAPPENED AT WORK - NOTHING SERIOUS. CAN’T MAKE DINNER. Claire felt a twinge of guilt. Truthfully, until that moment, she’d forgotten Amber was absent.
By the end of their meal as they sipped coffee, Claire also forgot about the reporters. She’d been listening to Harry talk about things at SiJo. She didn’t know anything about electronics or gaming and even mentioned she hadn’t played a video game since college.
Shocked, Harry replied, “Then, it’s settled. We’re going back to my place and you’re getting a lesson on the advances in gaming.”
Claire smiled and shook her head. “I don’t really think I’d be very good, I mean it’s been years. Everything I knew is outdated. Besides, I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“What? More important than playing video games, are you kidding? Besides, just because you haven’t done something in a while, doesn’t mean you aren’t good at it. With a little encouragement I bet you’d be very good.”
“Are you that good of a teacher?” she asked. Harry’s sly smile suddenly made Claire rethink her question. Perhaps the subject had changed without her realizing.
“I guess that remains to be seen.”
Although, she could feel the blood in her cheeks and her increased pulse, she tried diligently to keep the conversation in check. “Well, the most advanced system I ever played was the Nintendo Game Cube, over ten years ago. Has it gotten more complicated? As I recall,” she peered over her cup, “I was pretty awesome at Zelda.”
When they stood to leave, Harry casually placed his hand in the small of Claire’s back. She considered moving away but consciously decided to continue the contact. Harry joked, “That is an impressive resume. I’m not sure why SiJo hasn’t snatched you up as a gaming specialist before a competitor learns of your secret talents.”
Phil’s camera caught it all.
“Oh sure, make fun. I bet I can beat you at Zelda, and I might even remember Mario’s secret chambers, if I try.”
“You’re on!” They stepped into the spring air.
The next day Claire surveyed her new luggage and stacks of clothing. One benefit of Claire’s time with Tony was Catherine. She possessed the uncanny ability to think of everything Claire needed. Looking at the items before her, Claire wondered if Catherine would think of something she’d forgotten. There were sundresses, shorts, shirts, beach cover-ups, flip flops, and sunscreen… it seemed like all the essentials for sun and fun.
Thoughts of Catherine made Claire sad. She truly loved the woman. Catherine was like a mother to her during a very difficult time in Claire’s life. The idea to call and talk occurred more than once. Yet, Claire was afraid. She knew Tony’s staff was incredibly devoted. What if Catherine believed Claire tried to kill Tony? The fear of hearing rejection in Catherine’s voice stopped Claire from attempting communication. She didn’t want anything to change the kind loving Catherine in her memories.
As Claire’s trip approached, her excitement at seeing her old friend grew. Courtney’s first choice of destination was Cancun. Claire would have liked that; she’d never been. Unfortunately, Claire hadn’t applied for a new passport. That was fine. Corpus Christi was a beautiful destination in mid-April – prime Spring Break time. The hotels and resorts would be bustling with patrons. Two women in a suite, walking the beach, and enjoying the pool would blend in. The last time Claire enjoyed a beach was in Hawaii, eighteen months ago. Allowing her mind to uncompartmentalize the months locked away from sunshine only added to her exhilaration as she contemplated white sand, hot rays, and blue waters.
Her items weren’t bulky – the smaller suit case worked well and would be easier to negotiate through the busy airport. Claire glanced at her watch. Her flight left San Francisco International at three-thirty. With security regulations she planned to arrive by two-thirty. Currently a little after eleven, she had time for lunch.
On her way to the kitchen, the doorbell changed her direction. Her thoughts were already basking in the Texas sun; they weren’t thinking about unwanted telephone calls or reporters with cameras.
Their condominium building was secure. In order to enter, one had to pass a security guard in the garage or one in the lobby. If you weren’t a resident, an ID and signature were required for entrance. This could be perceived as inconvenient, but for inhabitants it was reassuring.
Opening the front door Claire could only see a stack of boxes labeled Neiman Marcus. With a sudden overwhelming dread, she realized the boxes obscured the delivery person’s face. However, before she could shut the door, she heard a young man’s voice and noticed inexpensive scuffed shoes.
“Ms. Nichols?”
She remembered to inhale. “Yes.”
The young sandy haired man moved the boxes to the side and peered around the bounty. “These are for you. Could you please sign the delivery confirmation?”
Relief lowered her defenses. “I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake. I didn’t order any merchandise.”
The young man struggled to balance the boxes and his electronic pad. He surveyed the information and confirmed her name and address. Pity overtook her, she finally responded, “All right. Bring them in and place them in the foyer.”
Claire signed the electronic clipboard and accepted the unknown merchandise. She shut the door and moved the boxes to the dining room table. An envelope was attached to the top box. Claire debated: open the envelope or the boxes? Choosing the envelope she read:
I’ll be in town after you return from Texas. Shall we dine? Perhaps you would enjoy wearing something more appropriate for our reservations? Since you seem unable to answer your phone, I’ll send a car to your condominium, Wednesday 7PM. I look forward to our reunion.
Her fingers forgot to grip; the card floated to the floor.
A revolt erupted within Claire’s stomach. The contents of the boxes were still undetermined; however, the meaning of his words came through loud and clear. Translation… I know everything about you. I know about your trip. We’re going to dine on Wednesday. It wasn’t a request – his customary mandate.
She contemplated leaving the boxes sealed and throwing away the merchandise. However, curiosity won. Reluctantly, she opened each one. The small top one contained shoes; beautiful, high-heeled, Sergio Rossi, black sandals. The next box was larger; tentatively, she opened the lid. The black and white, Christian Dior, off-the-shoulder dress took her breath away. The final box contained a Chado Ralph Rucci trim coat, crepe with sheer chiffon at cuffs and hem. As Claire’s fingers caressed the chiffon, she fought the desire to try it all on with the need to send it all back. Settling for somewhere in between, she stacked the boxes in her closet, and compartmentalized any thoughts related to them away for another day.
It was a lesson learned from Scarlet O’Hara, Fiddle de de, I’ll think about that tomorrow. Today she wanted to concentrate on her impending vacation. Her ex-husband’s invitation and clothes could wait. She’d deal with those later.
Things do not pass for what they are, but for what they seem. Most things are judged by their jackets.
—Baltasar Gracian
Chapter 11
1983...
“Yes, Anton, we’ll be at Blair by the time of the ceremony.” Amanda’s voice came through the telephone receiver.
