Truth - Romig Aleatha (читать книги полностью без сокращений бесплатно txt) 📗
“Actually, there is...” The two continued their conversation for almost an hour. Brent wanted to know all about Tony’s box. The information fascinated him. He also asked about the information she’d learned from their detective work. Brent vowed to do what he could from his end. He also explained the things he’d done to hurt Claire: the divorce with no financial compensation, his attitude when he visited her in prison, hiring a private detective to find her, and supporting Tony along the way.
Claire reassured Brent, she understood. He didn’t have a choice and she appreciated his current clandestine support. Fearfully, Claire asked Brent a question she’d contemplated of and on again for a while, “Is Jane Allyson all right? I mean, has Tony done anything to her?” Claire’s heart skipped a beat as her question met silence.
Finally, he answered, “She is, for now.”
“Can you please elaborate?”
“When we left her office, Tony voiced his displeasure.” Claire nodded, although Brent couldn’t possibly see her from Iowa. He went on, “I’ve tried on numerous occasions to remind him, if something would suddenly happen to her up-and-coming career, immediately following your petition for pardon, it would appear suspicious.”
Claire smiled; Brent knew the game. Tony’s kryptonite was indeed appearance. Claire replied, “I don’t want her to pay because she helped me.”
“I put her in that position. I promise I’ve done all I can to protect her.” Brent replied, then he chuckled. “She knew what she was doing when she did it. That’s why I chose her. She is one tough lady and a great attorney! You should’ve heard her when we went to her office.”
“I bet. She’s the only one, in a room full of males, who stood up to Tony, at the jail in Iowa.”
“Other than you.”
Claire stammered, “I... me... I didn’t stand up to him. I never did.”
“That isn’t true. You never would’ve survived if he didn’t consider you a challenge. He truly thought you’d take the insanity plea.”
“Well, the fact I didn’t, probably confirms, I am insane.”
Brent laughed. “That’s why you and Courtney get along so well.”
He went on to tell her about Phillip Roach, the private detective who’s been watching her for the last month, sending photos and information to Tony. Brent wasn’t privy to all the information, but Tony’s attitude regarding Claire seemed to be changing. Brent assessed, he’s no longer upset; obsessed would be a better word.
Brent assured Claire she’d successfully lost the private detective during the last week. “If Tony knew you and Cort were together I would have heard. I even called Mr. Roach once to confirm my theory. He was rather allusive about the past four days and promised more information in the future.” Claire heard the smile in Brent’s voice, “It’s all making Tony a little crazy.”
“Have you met this Phillip Roach? What does he look like?” Claire asked.
The clock read 7:23 PM. Originally, Claire planned a quiet evening with room service. Her TV had an attached gaming system, and she’d contemplated practicing her skills in anticipation of another gaming session with Harry. However, finishing her make-up, stepping into the Marc Jacobs white silk sundress, and fastening her Prada sandals, she mentally reviewed her new plan.
Charm – which means the power to affect work without employing brute force, is indispensable to women. Charm is a woman's strength just as strength is a man's charm.
—Henry Ellis
Chapter 13
The final slam of the cottage door muffled Sophia’s sigh. On the other side of the wooden barrier was their home, life, and private haven. With a turn of the bolt and the closing of heavy shutters on creaky hinges, she’d successfully closed it tight –storing everything away for a season.
Sophia’s mind swirled with memories of their first home: late nights slipping out of bed, making her way upstairs to her studio, while Derek slept – light brown hair disheveled, mouth slightly open. She relished the security of knowing when sleepiness overtook her creativity; she could crawl back into their bed and be enveloped by his warmth. Leaning against the door, she remembered the first time Derek made a fire in their fireplace but forgot to open the flue. Once the smoke cleared, they laughed until they cried. And the way the golden sunshine streamed into her studio in the late morning. It was her favorite time to paint; the colors looked so real. These recollections made her smile despite her heavy heart.
Begrudgingly, she allowed herself a window of self-pity. That being said, as soon as she was once again face-to-face with her husband, she vowed to keep her true feelings hidden. After all, this was Derek’s big break. Sophia wanted to be the supportive wife. She kept telling herself, if the roles were reversed, he’d support me.
Undoubtedly, the uncertainty added to her unease. They didn’t know when they’d be back to Provincetown or who’d be returning. It could be both of them or only Sophia. It all depended on Shedis-tics.
Since graduating high school, Sophia controlled her life. Having the people of Shedis-tics dictate her living arrangements, travel plans, and everything else, made her anxious. Yes, she’d submitted to the occasional investor, agreed to show her work, or attended a private wine-and-dine session; but, all at her discretion. She’d always had the option to say no.
Sophia knew marriage meant collaboration, a partnership. She’d watched her parents successfully share a similar arrangement her entire life. When she said I do, Sophia willingly accepted her role as half of a whole. However, now she questioned her percentage. Was she in fact half? Or was she less? Was Derek still half? Or was he more? Perhaps Shedis-tics was now part of the equation?
Originally his new job was scheduled to begin May 1st. Nevertheless, they called him out to Santa Clara only two days after her father’s accident, over four weeks early.
Little did Sophia realize, when Derek said he couldn’t take more than two nights in her childhood bedroom, he’d meant it literally. Truthfully, Derek hadn’t known either. As he explained, when the company president calls and invites you to meet with parent company executives, you don’t say, No Thank you.
Lingering on the stoop of their cottage, she looked toward the Harbor, inhaled the salt air, and listened to the soft din of the sea. The sound of the surf created a continual soundtrack for life in Provincetown. While something she rarely thought about, she knew she’d miss it terribly.
Yesterday, she closed her studio on Commercial Street. The sign in the window read: Closed for an Undetermined Amount of Time. The neighboring businesses promised to keep a watchful eye on everything. Sophia knew nothing would physically happen to her personal slice of cramped heaven. It was the emotional toll that concerned her.
On her way to the airport, Sophia took a detour and found herself at the shore enjoying the calm water rippling beneath the crystal clear blue sky. Tears streaked her cheeks as she bid ado to Provincetown Harbor. Through her blurred vision she saw the Cape across the sea. Sophia absorbed the scene, savoring it – preserving it. If she kept it safely sealed within the recesses of her mind, it would never completely be gone. In times of need, she’d will it forward, out of the depths of her memories, and into her thoughts.
Recognizing the inevitable, she made her way to the small Provincetown airport. From there she’d fly to Boston. In Boston she had tickets for a first class flight to San Jose, the closest airport to Santa Clara.
Even with a short layover in Denver, she anticipated feeling Derek’s strong arms by four o’clock, Pacific Time. When she did, she planned to melt into his embrace and show him why they should never be apart again. Then, she reasoned, the world would once again be right.
