Truth

the information revealed by Claire Rawlings Nichols. Once the information was approved by Ms. Nichols, it could be reviewed for editorial purposes. During the interview process, no one else could know. All the information would be kept secret, until the appropriate time.
    They hadn’t talked money or substance, but as Claire opened her door, and alarms sounded in Phillips’s suite, Claire confirmed their goal, “I feel good about this, Meredith; you think about it. We can met again tomorrow night and let me know your decision.”
    Meredith hugged her sorority sister, “I know I’m in. What time tomorrow?”
    “ Here at seven, some dinner and we’ll begin.”
    Meredith smiled sweetly, “I can’t wait. See you then.” She watched Claire a moment and asked, “The retraction isn’t coming out until tomorrow. Would you mind if I blogged tonight?”
    “ As long as it stays in our perimeters.”
    Meredith relaxed, “I’ll send you the copy before I post it.”
    Claire nodded her approval.
    “ I can’t wait to get started on all of this. See you tomorrow.” With that, Meredith walked down the hall.
    Claire shut the large double door and looked around the luxurious living room. Near the table where they’d eaten dinner was a high boy, complete with various shaped glasses and a bucket of ice. Inhaling the sweet serene quiet of her resolve, Claire moved toward the mini bar. She hadn’t ordered wine with dinner; she wanted to be in complete control of her senses. But now that the evening was done, she sighed, Yes, I deserve a glass of wine.
    Gazing at the small, one serving bottles, she decided a real bottle was in order and called room service. Claire reasoned, she may not finish an entire bottle, but with the stress of her first face-to-face with Meredith, she deserved it and would give it a good start! Considering a snack, Claire decided wine was sufficient. The server, on the other end of the line, promised prompt service with delivery in five minutes. Claire smiled. Hotels were always so willing to accommodate their nicer suites.
    Settling on the plush sofa, Claire kicked off her shoes and mentally reviewed her time with Meredith. As she replayed each interaction she felt satisfied. It was exactly what she’d hoped for, maybe more. Meredith seemed competent and eager. And Claire had to admit, it was fun to hear about so many people from her past. Her bright disposition clouded with the thought of their articles, how would people react to the information? Did she truly want the world knowing her private misery? After a moment of self-reflection she reassured herself, this isn’t about me. This is to inform the world about Tony. I was the victim; he’s the villain. I need to get that information out!
    Her thoughts turned to Harry. She was eternally grateful for the way he reacted to her private confessions. That, plus the memories of Courtney and Brent continued to fortify her resolve. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around her chest and felt a twinge of loneliness. Harry asked to accompany her to this meeting. Claire just believed she’d be more effective with Meredith one-on-one, and now that the first meeting was complete, she knew she’d been right. The entire evening was better than she could have ever anticipated.
    Claire reached for her iPhone to call Harry, when a knock came from the door. Instead she reached for her purse and pulled out a ten dollar bill; the bottle of wine would go on her hotel tab, but she wanted to tip the waiter. Leaving her phone and her purse on the table, she went to the door.
     
    *****
     
    Even though Mr. Rawlings released him for the evening, Phillip Roach remained online with his video surveillance. It was like the night at the French restaurant in Palo Alto. Even though Claire gave him the gift certificate, Mr. Rawlings made it clear Phil didn’t need to continue his observation within the restaurant. Actually, Mr. Rawlings specifically told Phil to wait outside until Ms. Nichols left the establishment, follow her, and report when she made it home. Sometimes Phillip felt more like a babysitter than a private detective.
    Tonight he didn’t know which title he should accept. He’d informed Mr. Rawlings of Ms. Nichols’ early departure from San Francisco. He decided truth about his minor slip, would help him avoid another devious exchange with Ms. Nichols. Then he followed her to San Diego. Thankfully, she actually stayed at the hotel where she’d made