Truth

It wasn’t just his speech, but everything about him; the way he conversed with others, his attentive looks, and even his light chatty dinner conversation. His social presence always had, and still did, fascinate Claire. No wonder he was so successful; this Anthony Rawlings was truly captivating. With time, she forgot the circumstance of her situation and fell into her own role as his companion.

That was what he wanted, and shouldn’t Claire Nichols know, Anthony Rawlings always got what he wanted. Listening as he concluded his speech, she found herself applauding appropriately and smiling approvingly at the handsome professional man before her.

When he turned from the podium and their eyes met, there was a moment when she was once again -- Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. His velvety brown eyes filled with appreciation, directed at her. It was a look only shared with someone who knows you, truly understands the real person. How many people did Tony have like that in his life?

In the few months since her pardon, Claire had rekindled relationships with friends and family, as well as forged new ones. Who did Tony have?

As he took his seat, he reached for Claire’s hand, and gently lifted it from its resting place on her lap. This time, his grasp wasn’t a warning. Instead he lowered his head, keeping his eyes fixed on hers and brushed her knuckles with a soft sweep of his lips. The warm light touch made her smile. It was then she remembered the room of onlookers. Her cheeks reddened and she whispered, “Very nice speech, Mr. Rawlings.”

His smile lit up the room, “Thank you, Mrs. -- Ms. Nichols, you are mighty remarkable yourself.”

Someone else was speaking from the podium. Their voices were a faint whisper against the sound from the nearby speaker; Claire raised her eyebrows and asked, “Mighty?” It was a strangely common word to hear from Tony.

He gently squeezed her soft hand, “Mighty.” They both smiled and turned to listen to the next orator, a woman from the Center for Learning Disabilities thanking the audience for their support.

Their most interesting exchange occurred before the meal was served. Truthfully, they weren’t able to make much progress moving about the room. Person after person and couple after couple made their way to them. When Claire saw Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham from Shedis-tics waiting for their attention, she decided to warn Tony she’d spoken with them earlier. Her social instinct served her well in the past; she knew it was best to listen. Therefore, before the Cunninghams made their way to Tony and her, Claire excused the two of them from the public conversation and whispered in his ear, “The Cunninghams from Shedis-tics are making their way to us. You should know I spoke with them a few minutes in the waiting room prior to being asked to your penthouse.” Claire practiced her statement. The asked could have been summoned, or perhaps dragged. She decided asked sounded best. Her temples throbbed at the pressure of once again weighing each word. She watched displeasure cloud his eyes and braced for his response.

“You were supposed to be brought up immediately, before you had time to talk with anyone.”

“Well, that is someone else’s concern. I was out of the loop on your plan. I just thought you’d want to know.” Maybe she was caving to his plan, but her verbose response was pointedly more abrupt than it would have been years before.

Tony assessed Claire’s expression for a moment and responded, “Thank you, I appreciate knowing. Did you discuss...” he hesitated.

She knew he wanted to ask about Harry. “I said I was alone because of an issue at SiJo. However, who I was supposed to be with was never mentioned.”

Tony nodded and he replied loud enough for others to hear, “Most certainly, I’ll gladly get you something to drink.”

Before he could move, a waiter appeared with a tray of crystal fluted glasses, the contents bubbled from the stem to the rim. Tony took two flutes and handed one to Claire with a nod. She returned his nod. Claire understood the conversation was done; he was happy with her honesty. Each such behavior helped her figurative chess king live one more day.

When the couple from Shedis-tics finally arrived, Tony gallantly proceeded, “Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham, it is always a pleasure.”

Roger Cunningham replied, “Mr. Rawlings.”

Tony continued, “Ms. Nichols tells me you have met?”

Claire wasn’t sure, but the Cunninghams appeared embarrassed or apprehensive about their earlier meeting. She joined the conversation, extending her hand, “Yes,” she smiled pleasantly at both of them, “I was so lost in that large room. I appreciated your friendly greeting.”

The Cunninghams visibly relaxed with her comment. Mrs. Cunningham spoke, “Ms. Nichols, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure this collaboration between Shedis-tics and SiJo will be beneficial.”

Claire continued, her mask intact, “I’m sure you’re aware, it goes way back. Mr. Rawlings gave Simon his first opportunity in Silicon Valley with his dream job at Shedis-tics. Simon Johnson never forgot where he started and enjoyed the allegiance between the two companies.”

Mr. Cunningham replied, “It’s easy to forget the origins of our companies. Thank you for reminding us. I’m sure Mr. Johnson would be happy that the allegiance has remained.” Claire radiated confidence. Her never wavering smile successfully hid the contained emotions she successfully compartmentalized away. Mr. Cunningham indicated the man to his left. “Mr. Rawlings, Ms. Nichols, this is our promising new associate Derek Burke.”

Everyone shook hands. Claire evaluated Derek Burke: tall, polished, and polite. He approached Tony with an honest reverence yet with enough self-confidence to indicate he deserved the praise bestowed upon him. There were so many people who blabbered incoherently in Tony’s presence. Claire assessed Tony must also be impressed by Derek’s poise because they conversed longer than Tony usually did with one person. Unfortunately, his attention toward this new associate left Claire, once again, at the disposal of Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham. Their friendly greeting earlier in the waiting room turned to gushing compliments about Claire’s attire and the gala. More incoherent babbling, Claire thought.