Truth

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.
    “ It starts at two,” he reminded his mother.
    “ We know that. You know Nathaniel would never be late.”
    That went without saying; Anton’s family was punctual. “Mother,” Anton hesitated, “is Grandmother coming?” He debated voicing the question but needed to know. After all, his relatives portrayed the perfect family. That image was becoming increasingly difficult to depict with Sharron Rawls’ erratic behavior. Besides, he had enough issues with his classmates. He didn’t need a crazy grandmother added to the mix.
    “ She is. It will be fine. I promise.” Anton didn’t answer. Amanda continued. “Nathaniel hired Sharron a private assistant. She accompanies your grandmother everywhere. With her assistance, Sharron is doing much better. It keeps her organized and focused.”
    Anton liked the sound of that. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”
     
    Two days later, dressed in his cap and gown, Anton peered out into the auditorium searching for his family. Bright lights shone directly onto the stage, limiting his ability to see the audience. However, he knew they were there. The Rawls may be many things, but undependable or unreliable, were not among their list of inadequacies. If a commitment were made, it was completed.
    Following the ceremony, Anton met his family in the grand hall of the Center for the Arts. It was the perfect location for graduation from this prestigious private academy. Scanning the crowd, he found his parents and grandparents, and an unfamiliar face. Walking toward the group he waited for accolades that would never come. How could Anton ever imagine he’d receive praises for graduating third in his class? Third, what a disgrace! That his GPA was above the perfect 4.0 and he’d been accepted by every university to which he’d applied were not important. He wasn’t number one.
    Feeling the slap on his shoulder, he turned to see his father’s reserved, yet kind eyes. “Congratulations, Son, we’d like to take you out to dinner. This is the end of a very important phase of your life.”
    Anton nodded in his direction; it was a form of