Claire thought about it. She had about two hours, but decided a shower would be more beneficial. She already took a nap. They talked as Jan knocked on their door. She entered the room and put a coffee carafe, cream, and two mugs on a table near the windows. She inquired if they needed anything else. Learning they didn’t, she left.
The open drapes exposed a spectacular view filled with darkness even though it wasn’t even six in the evening. The New York city lights glittered below, evidence of inhabitants racing from place to place. Claire held her mug of coffee, inhaled the rich aroma, and fell silent, mesmerized by the sight. This time of year, with shorter dreary days, had always been a difficult time for her. She loved sunshine, it made her joyful. This year she had missed most of the autumn sun and now the bleakness of winter was rapidly descending.
To her, dark was contrary to light. Therefore, instead of joy it brought sorrow. That is why she liked Atlanta. She stood at the window, looked at a magnificent skyline, sipped her warm mug of coffee, and thought about being sad. This made her chastise herself. She should be happy about her wedding and her reunion with Emily. But what she really wanted was to be back in Iowa. She didn’t want the pressure of choosing a dress and dealing with Emily’s constant questions. She didn’t long for the warmth of Atlanta anymore, but for the warmth of her fireplace and lack of pretense.
She saw Tony approaching in the reflection of the window. He stood close behind her, put his arms around her waist, and she rested her head against his chest. Tony’s voice sounded soft and affectionate, “What are you thinking about? You seem far away.”
“I don’t want to say. You will think I’m ungrateful.” She put her mug down on the table and turned to face him.
Tony lifted her eyes to his. “I appreciate honesty above all.” He wasn’t being authoritative, only candid. He noticed how tired her eyes looked as he lightly kissed her lips. “And let me decide what I think.”
She continued to look in his eyes. The brown matched the color of her coffee lightened by cream. It gave her strength to be honest. “I want to go home.” His expression changed slightly, telling her that he didn’t understand her meaning of home. “Tony, I want to go back to your home, I want to be back in Iowa.” He smiled and hugged her.
“Why would that make you ungrateful?” She explained that she loved his surprise, seeing Emily and John thrilled her, but things have changed. Emily asked so many questions and seemed so dismayed by Claire’s life, it felt as though they weren’t connected anymore. Tony had released her chin and her face rested, buried in his chest. The thumping of his heart filled her with security. She closed her eyes and listened. The steady beat made her head feel better. She couldn’t see his face or smile of satisfaction.
She continued, saying that if she could she would cancel their dinner plans for tonight. Lifting her eyes again, he said, “You know that isn’t an option. We’ve made a commitment and we will honor it. But I am happy to know you want to be home with me, to our home. We will be there tomorrow.” Claire nodded her head and said that yes, she knew. She picked up her mug of coffee and went to the bathroom for a shower.
Once there she noticed the large garden tub. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen it before, it had been there all along, but it looked very inviting. Starting the warm water she decided to find out where they are going. When she opened the door to ask Tony, he was sitting on the bed with his back to her. He had her purse open, the contents strewn on the bed, searching for something. Perhaps something Claire had left in there that she shouldn’t have had. Maybe evidence of her being somewhere with Emily instead of the bridal boutique, but there was nothing. She considered saying something, confronting him about privacy, instead she quietly closed the door and thanked God she’d given him the paper with the telephone number.
Eric pulled up to the restaurant on the Upper East Side at approximately seven forty-five. Claire was very pleased with Tony’s plans for the evening. First, the quaint, casual seafood restaurant was away from the hustle and bustle of the busy streets and not as elegant as their normal dining establishments. Their reservation had been moved to eight, and although the Hyatt wasn’t far, Emily and John weren’t there yet. Second, she approved of Tony’s choice of attire, they both wore jeans. When they left the bedroom, Claire told Tony again how much she liked him in jeans. He reminded her how much he liked her out of them. Their eyes sparkled.
Since their table wasn’t ready, Tony and Claire went to the bar to wait. At the end of the bar stood one unoccupied stool, Tony directed Claire to it. She sat while he stood beside her. He ordered himself a designer beer and Claire a glass of Zinfandel. Sitting at the bar reminded Claire of the Red Wing. Compartmentalize. She felt much better than she had earlier. Perhaps it was the nap, the bath, the coffee, Tony’s understanding about her long day, or just some time to relax away from questions. Whatever the cause, her spirit felt revived and ready for the evening. They chatted about the different bottles of liquor lining the bar. Claire recalled some of her bartending knowledge. She talked about most of the liquors from a first-person point of view, ones she liked, ones she didn’t, and why. It amused Tony that she’d tried so many of them. After all, she’d only been legally drinking for six years. Claire smiled and repeated the word legally. They were chatting and laughing when John and Emily approached.
Proceeding with the customary round of hellos and handshakes, Emily and John ordered drinks, stood conversing about nothing in particular, and soon their table was ready. John, Emily, and Claire went to the table while Tony stayed back to pay the bar tab.
Once the hostess took them to their table, Claire excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. As she exited the bathroom, which was located down a narrow hall, she was surprised to find John waiting for her. “Well, hi. Did you think I was lost?” Claire started to pass him, thinking they were going back to the table, when John stopped her.
“Claire, I really need to talk to you without Anthony present.”
Claire suddenly felt uncomfortable. “No, John, you don’t.”
He spoke soft and fast. “Yes, I do. Tell me you haven’t signed a prenuptial agreement yet.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good, I want to review it first. Emily said you don’t think it is necessary, and I should drop it, but I’m your brother. I have known you since you were a little girl. Let someone who has your best interests at heart make sure you are represented.”
“Thank you, John, I believe Tony has my best interests at heart. I don’t care about his money, I trust him, and I . . .” Claire could see the change in John’s expression. Oh god! She knew by the tightness in her stomach that Tony was behind her. She turned and looked directly at his chest. He was right behind her.
Continuing Claire’s sentence, Tony said, “And I believe this conversation would be better held in a private setting.” Tony’s voice exuded displeasure. They, however, stood in the hallway of a public restaurant; therefore, it was not loud, rude, or aggressive. Claire looked up to see his face, wondering how much he had heard. She could see the brown disappearing behind expanding blackness.
“Tony . . .” Claire started to speak. His expression stopped her cold.
“Shall we all go to our table? I believe our waitress would like to introduce herself. John, you and Emily are welcome to join us in our car. We will be glad to drive you back to your hotel following dinner. At that time, if you choose, you may continue your legal counsel.” Claire prayed he would not choose to continue. She knew from experience there are some things not worth pursuing.
John looked from Tony to Claire and back to Tony. He sounded strong and defiant. “That would be fine, Anthony. I appreciate the offer. We would be glad to join you.” He then lightened his tone. “Emily tells me you have a very nice car.” They all began to walk toward the table.
“Thank you, it isn’t mine. I lease cars in the city. Too many accidents with all the traffic . . .” And the conversation continued benignly to the table and throughout dinner.