Since their big storm last summer Claire hadn’t been required or asked to watch any more videos, but she believed Tony did. She also believed that he could access anything he wanted from his office, bedroom, movie theater, or anywhere else he chose. This hadn’t been confirmed, but somehow she suspected it to be true.
His reply was why even now as they drove Claire was still stewing. “I think that sounds reasonable, I don’t believe we will be running out of room anytime soon.” As Claire watched, the honeymoon hue of Tony’s eyes was overtaken by darkness. “However, regarding the technology you mentioned, I believe it would be prudent to maintain the past restrictions involving my office and bedroom. I do not think you need unsupervised access to computers, Internet, or telephones.”
“Tony, I am your wife. What do you think I will do?”
“I think that it is best to avoid possible glitches.” He lifted her chin. “Do you agree, or would you like to discuss it further?” He’d closed the conversation.
Claire stared into his eyes, squared her shoulders, and straightened her neck. “I agree. Excuse me. I need to take a shower.” He released her chin and she walked away. She’d learned months ago she didn’t like glitches, and pursuing a closed conversation wasn’t prudent. However, every bone in her body wanted to pursue it. She really didn’t care about the technology. She didn’t want to access it. Claire wanted the ability to access it!
Ten hours later, as they rode to Tom and Bev’s party, she contemplated the closed conversation. Now that she was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, didn’t that give her some kind of clout? Some perks? Could she possibly revisit the subject without fear of retaliation? As she debated this internally and watched the glistening flakes sparkle in the illumination of the Mercedes’ beams, she wondered if her life had changed. She was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, but was that really different from being Ms. Claire Nichols?
“Do you agree?” Tony’s question pulled Claire from her thoughts.
“I am sorry. I didn’t hear your question.”
“I asked if you would prefer the view in Fiji over this frozen splendor of Iowa.”
Claire laughed. “I don’t think you need to ask, do you?”
“Probably not, but I am trying to get you to talk.”
“I’m talking.”
“Yes, you are. But you haven’t really been talking since this morning. Would you like to discuss it before we get to Tom’s?”
Claire thought about the question. Yes, she wanted to revisit the subject, but should she? “I don’t know.” Her feet were cold and the fashionable boots weren’t helping. She tried to get them under the blow of the Mercedes’ heater. “If I say yes, am I opening a closed subject?”
Tony appreciated the fact his wife was thinking this through. “Yes, I guess you are. Is it worth it to you?”
The interior of the car was warm, yet Claire pushed her gloved hands deeper into the pockets of her fur jacket and considered the implications. Did she really care anymore about technology? Was it worth pushing this discussion? She knew immediately the answer was no. “I think my decision is to not reopen the conversation. However, I want you to know it isn’t the technology I long for. It is the ability to access it.”
Tony smirked. “Claire, your talents were wasted in meteorology. You would’ve made a wonderful businesswoman. You just said you didn’t want to pursue the subject, yet you managed to enlighten me about your motivation. I am, once again, impressed.”
This didn’t help her disposition. The snow was coming at the windshield with enough velocity to make her feel as though they were flying thought space at hyperspeed. Her lips pressed tightly into a line. Finally, she asked, “What kind of response do you expect?”
“Honest, as always.”
“Okay. Seriously, who do I have left to contact? I don’t understand why you feel the restrictions are still necessary. God knows I know the rules.” The branches of the pines lay low with inches of heavy accumulating snow. Keeping her gaze to her right, Claire could see them through the side window. They were nearing the Millers’ home and the sound of soft music filled the air. Tony didn’t respond. After all, this discussion was closed. The familiar feeling of powerlessness filled Claire’s chest. She wanted the conversation to end. “I love you. I will do whatever you want or expect of me. I admit I’m not pleased by your verdict, but I’m okay. Let’s spend tonight with our friends and welcome the New Year.” At least she’d explained her view. That was something.
The Millers’ home was magnificent. Beverly had fantastic taste in decor. It was ultramodern yet amazingly inviting. The unique style was a combination of stone, brick, and wood, accentuated with glass and chrome. Despite the numerous windows, the house was warm. They could watch the snow and wind and stay snug inside. Perhaps it was the fire in the fireplace or the wine in their glasses, but the gathering radiated warmth.
Their friends happily celebrated their return. They wanted to know all about the honeymoon. Claire told them that it had been wonderful. Tony had literally taken her to paradise. Everyone told Tony and Claire how wonderful their wedding was. They were a beautiful couple. Sue mentioned how beautiful their pictures were in the press release. Claire hadn’t thought about press coverage until that moment.
“I haven’t seen the released pictures. Do you have copies?” Bev said she didn’t but would be glad to pull them up online. Glancing at her husband, he didn’t speak, but his eyes did. Claire knew she shouldn’t, but she agreed. “Thank you, I would love to see them.”
Instead of bringing out a computer, Bev removed a remote from a drawer and pointed it at the large television on the wall. The New Year’s countdown from Time Square changed to a homepage. Bev entered “Anthony Rawlings” into the search engine. Nine months ago, the procedure would’ve seemed mundane, but now it fascinated Claire. She would’ve loved to take the time to read the multitude of pages that appeared as options. Bev reduced the search by entering “wedding.” Claire briefly saw an accompanying article; but within seconds, Bev clicked, and the pictures appeared on the screen. Claire stared. There they were in their wedding attire. There were three different pictures: a head shot, a full-length frontal view, and one of them dancing. Everyone watched Claire as she beheld herself on the screen. She looked at Tony and herself. They looked like models. Tony was tall, handsome, and buff, dark hair, dark eyes, and tuxedo contrasting dramatically with Claire. She looked petite, blonde, and striking. Her hair was so light she assumed some of her friends from before may not recognize her. Next to Tony, she seemed small. Tony had been right about her eyes. In the head shot, her green eyes shined vividly. She’d seen her dress in the mirror. But seeing it on the television screen and looking at it from afar, it was obviously eye-catching, elegant, and spectacular. She smiled. It had been a good choice.
Claire realized that everyone in the room was watching her, especially Tony. Most were happily awaiting her response. Tony seemed less pleased with the entire situation, but she knew he wouldn’t say anything there. It would be a matter better discussed in private. Finally, Sue put her hand on Claire’s knee and asked, “So what do you think?”
Claire giggled. “I just can’t believe that my wedding is news.” Everyone snickered. What did she expect? She married Tony, Anthony Rawlings. Claire looked up at him. He had eyes only for her. Those eyes were darkening. Daringly she got up and walked to her husband. Lifting herself by her toes she reached his cheek and gave it a kiss. He obliged, bending down to allow his cheek to meet her lips. Addressing the group, Claire nonchalantly replied, “I guess I just forget who he is. But I have a lifetime to remember.” She kissed him again.