Truth

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