Truth

their children’s children, and children’s children’s children... ”
    How could she stay? Even if she’d already paid her due, Claire couldn’t allow her child to pay.
    The temperature of her and Tony’s suite dropped as Catherine presented her final and most persuasive argument. Catherine stood from the table, disappeared into the closet, and returned with Claire’s missing laptop. When Claire saw it she thought she’d be ill. “I thought my laptop was missing?” Claire asked as dread filled her chest.
    “ I believe the final word was,” Catherine set the laptop on the table in front of Claire, “the police weren’t able to locate your laptop.”
    Semantics , Claire thought. “When was it found?”
    “ From what I understand, it was before you regained consciousness after Patrick Chester’s attack.”
    “ I don’t understand...” Claire looked into Catherine’s gray eyes hoping for an answer capable of quelling the dread growing within her. “That missing laptop is why I moved back here.”
    Catherine closed her eyes and nodded, “Anton knew if you felt threatened you’d be more likely to move.”
    Claire tried desperately to comprehend Catherine’s words while her new world crashed around her. “What about the packages?”
    “ Those are real.” Claire heard the emotion in Catherine’s voice, “At least I think they are.”

    By the time Catherine left the suite, the tepid air had become cold. Walking to the French doors, Claire stepped onto the private patio and looked up at the velvety sky ladened with millions of stars. Struggling with her decision, the cool autumn air cleared Claire’s mind and her thoughts moved to her future. In and out, inhale and exhale. Her future was her baby’s future. Claire knew she needed to make her child’s safety her first priority. Feeling the calming effects of Iowa’s tranquility she contemplated her decision. Tony wasn’t due back to Iowa for four more days. If she followed through on Catherine’s plan, by the time he returned she’d be long gone and no one would suspect him.
    The stars blurred as she thought about the dark chocolate eyes she’d never see again. Her heart ached. Nevertheless, her child’s safety was paramount in her mind. Suddenly, Claire prayed, not for the green-eyed daughter Tony sought, but for a dark-eyed son...
     
    *****
     
    Sophia felt she was getting better and better at timing her personal events around Derek’s travel. While he was on his second trip to the orient, she executed a very successful art exhibit at her Provincetown studio. Although she often exhibited at the Palo Alto studio, since Mr. George was called away and the new curator was in place, she wasn’t as comfortable there. It was all right while she was in Santa Clara. But more than anything, she relished her time on the East coast.
    Her recently found success and artificially high sales prices out West increased her notoriety throughout the East coast art community. This translated into more guests and investors interested in her three day gallery exhibit.
    As she settled into their cottage on the cape, Sophia poured herself a glass of wine and waited for the familiar ringing of her laptop. Derek’s Skype call was due any minute. Although the time difference made communication difficult, they’d worked out a manageable schedule. Derek’s new assistant was both efficient and experienced with business travel. His suggestions aided in making their separation easier. Sophia never heard what happened to Danni. The last thing Derek said was that she was transferred to another office under the Rawlings Industries umbrella. Personally, Sophia could care less. She was just glad the woman wasn’t around her husband anymore.
    The ringing of her laptop brought Sophia’s focus to the screen. After a moment or two of circles turning, she saw her husband’s soft brown eyes shining from the other side of the world. “Hey, Beautiful, how did day three of your exhibit go?”
    “ It went very well.”
    “ Do you ever wish you’d taken that offer for the traveling exhibit?”
    “ Are you kidding?” Sophia lifted her glass of wine and toasted her husband’s image. “This is too much work. I’d rather spend my time painting and enjoying time with you.”
    Derek’s smile filled the monitor. “I like that, too!”
    “ Hey, I sold three pieces to Jackson Wilson.”
    “ Are you sure he isn’t your secret mystery buyer?”
    “ No, I’m not sure.