Consequences

Rawlings.

 
Lust and greed are more gullible than innocence.
—Mason Cooley
     Chapter 12
    Nathaniel didn’t mind the commute between New York and New Jersey, especially when he drove the winding drive toward his home. Each time the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick came into view, he momentarily remembered the two-room apartment he’d shared with his wife. For a young soldier recently home from fighting the Japs, it was ample. Being a soldier was the only attribute Sharron’s family had seen in him. That was the only reason they allowed their daughter to marry Nathaniel Rawls.
    Today as he stepped into the marble entry, he wished her high-and-mighty father could see his daughter now. Oh yes, Nathaniel Rawls did make something out of himself. And now with Clawson’s ideas, there is so much more to be made. If his father-in-law were still alive he would gladly shove this up his—
    “Good evening, Nathaniel.” Sharron’s greeting came from the archway to the sitting room. She had his bourbon waiting. Dinner would be precisely at seven. Everyone knew that. Perhaps it was the military training, but punctuality was never questioned. “How was your day?”
    “It is better now.” He took the glass she handed to him and kissed his wife’s cheek. The sparkle of his wife’s eyes in the illumination of the fireplace added to the tranquility of the scene. A man’s home is his castle and Nathaniel loved the castle his queen was able to enjoy.

 
Look deep into nature, and then you will
understand everything better.
—Albert Einstein
     Chapter 13
    Claire waited about ten minutes after hearing the door to her suite shut. During that time, she lay still, barely breathing, and pretended to sleep. She didn’t want to face him, talk to him, or even see him . Though appearing peacefully asleep, her mind was a whirlwind of questions: How long until I am sure he won’t come back? Can he see me? Is he watching? Oh god! What did he write?
    Finally, her curiosity overtook her. She got out of bed and started to walk to the table to read his note. Suddenly, the thought hit her like a physical strike. She remembered the cameras and the staff. She reached for her robe on the floor near her bed and put it on. Sitting on the table where he left it was his note.
I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It is
hard to say, until we thoroughly review the footage.
I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is
available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust
last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t
disappoint me.
    Never in her life had she remembered being so overwhelmed with emotion. Her entire being emitted loathing, directed completely and totally toward one man, Anthony Rawlings. She hated him, his sadistic ploys, and nasty reminders. She picked up the note, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall. It created significantly less mess than the vase of flowers had months earlier.
    Her mind tried desperately to compartmentalize the videos. She wanted to put them away, someplace she would never find them. Think of something else , she told herself, but it was too difficult. She climbed back into bed and smelled his aftershave. Turning over the pillow, the cool side smelled fresh. That, with the realization that he wouldn’t return until a week from Wednesday, gave her a sliver of peace. She tried to concentrate. What day is it now? Sunday. She felt her muscles relax. It is Sunday, his day to be home . . . but he is gone. Her eyes closed as tears began to slip onto her pillow. She drifted away to another place.
    “Ms. Claire? Ms. Claire, you must wake.”
    Claire tried to focus. She’d been somewhere in a dream. Now hearing Catherine’s voice, she rolled over and saw her standing at the edge of her bed.
    “Catherine, what are you doing?”
    “Ms. Claire, it is after one in the afternoon. You need to wake and eat. You have already missed breakfast and now lunch. I am worried about you.”
    Opening her eyes caused pain. They felt puffy. However, Claire could see Catherine’s concerned expression and hear it in her tone. From the moment he left the room and she read the note, she’d been crying, even in her sleep. Her body ached, head ached, and heart ached. She felt more alone and isolated than she’d ever felt. “Thank you, Catherine, for your concern. But I believe I will stay in bed today. I’m not feeling well.” She tried to sound strong, but