by G H Edwards
“I’m sorry, Mr. Allen,” Claire said using a napkin to dab tears from the corner of her eyes, trying not to overplay it, “I just don’t think I’m ready to pack up Michael’s things. I’m sure I will be later, but I just don’t think I’m ready.” She shifted as if she were getting ready to leave the table,
Allen obviously uncomfortable, quickly relented and agreed to her one demand. She thanked him again and assured him she would give up her old place as soon as she could.
As the food arrived and the wait staff disappeared, the conversation turned to Claire’s trip to Miami.
“We’ve all heard the news reports about Miami being hell, but surely it couldn’t have been that bad?” he asked.
“From what I saw, it was very bad,” Claire replied calmly, stabbing her fork into her lunch, which turned out to be some kind of chicken.
“Well, how much of Miami did you get to see?”
“Honestly not a lot. I just got to the outskirts and stayed there. From what I saw, I didn’t think I would have made it far in the city.”
“So how did you survive?”
“I found some places to sleep, like old abandoned buildings. There were a lot of those since the city was in such bad shape,” Claire replied. She had answered many of these questions during interviews and she assumed Allen had seen them.
“And then you just drove back home?”
“Yes, that’s right. It was a long trip.”
“How did you get a different car?”
Claire knew she had never told anyone in Houston that she had driven a different car back. She wondered if he had accidently let his hand show again or if he was testing her. “Well, let’s just say I borrowed it,” Claire said with a smile.
“That was pretty dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, I knew I needed to leave that mess of a city, so I took a chance, and it worked out. But don’t tell anyone about that, please. I don’t want the Miami police to track me down.”
“I think you’ll be okay,” Allen said with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
The sentence hung in the air in an electric silence as the two of them finished their meals and thought over their next moves. Claire felt her heart beat in her chest as she steeled herself.
“Mr. Allen, I want to say thank you again. You’ve really been kind to me just when I needed someone.”
“Please, again, call me ‘Terry.’”
“Well, thank you, Terry,” Claire replied with a smile. “You’re so thoughtful for fitting me into your busy day.”
“No, thank you. You’re a nice break from my usual routine,” he said as the corner of his mouth raised into a slight smirk.
She’d thought he might be flirting with her before, but now she was sure of it. “Oh, and please thank Sharon for me too. She seems so lovely.”
Allen’s smirk intensified as he nodded. He said he would tell her with a full knowing smile across his face.
Claire drained the last of her water. “I should probably get going. I have a lot to do before the move, and I’m sure I’m keeping you.” She rose quickly before he could respond.
Allen was obviously caught off guard; she correctly assumed he wasn’t used to having people leave so abruptly. He recovered quickly and walked her toward the exit.
They talked over small details about the blocks as they walked across the large room. When they reached the stairs, he gave her a slightly longer than normal kiss on the cheek. Claire shyly thanked him for everything again. Glancing back, she saw that he was watching her leave with the now-familiar smirk on his face; she knew she had done well.
CHAPTER 50
Claire thought everything was literally moving too fast. The movers had arrived just ten minutes before, and already Claire was losing track of the things that were staying in her old apartment and the things that were going to her new place. All of Michael’s things would stay where they were, and the bare essentials would remain. Luckily, her new apartment was furnished, so some things could stay, giving the place a still-lived-in look. She was pleased that Allen had let her keep the place and a little surprised that he put up such a small fight. She assumed a few tears would help convince him. He liked to be in control but a few tears from a woman and she takes control.
She rushed around the apartment, trying to keep the movers from taking the wrong items. Before she was even close to ready, the place was nearly empty and the movers were gone, on their way to her new apartment. The silence and emptiness of her longtime residence made Claire miss Michael more than ever. She walked from spot to spot, remembering fun times they had shared. Tears poured down her face as she curled up in a pile of Michael’s clothes.
“I’m sorry,” she wailed over and over. She felt she was leaving a major part of her life behind. This was yet another way of letting Michael go, and she wasn’t ready.
After a long time crying, she got up and arranged the place. As she left, she looked back at the pitiful studio lit by a small bulb in the ceiling. She gave a sad smile as she flipped the security-system switch and slowly closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER 51
Since it was moving day, Claire had decided to wear a pair of baggy sweatpants and a High Island Town Wildcats T-shirt. One thing Heather had said over and over was to always look good if you go out in public. She knew Heather would be upset that she went out in public without dressing nicely, but she felt today was an exception. She regretted her outfit decision when she pulled up in front of her new block. It was number 4960, an amazing egg-shaped block made of all glass and situated where the bay met the Gulf. It looked to be even newer and in a better location than Allen’s office building. The mirrored glass seemed to climb higher than all the buildings around it. When her taxi came to a stop, a doorman rushed out to open the door for her.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Gale. How are you today?” the short man in a thick uniform asked.
“Um…I’m fine thank you,” she stammered as she left the taxi. She was caught off guard that the doorman already knew who she was. Another doorman appeared, grabbed her luggage from the trunk, and hauled it to the elevator.
They walked with her through the ultra-modern lobby toward a bank of elevators. Claire noticed a few uniformed police officers coming and going. “Did something happen?” she asked, gesturing to the officers.
“Oh no,” the short doorman responded with a chuckle. “We have many police officers who live in this block. Even the commissioner of police lives here. The residents sometimes joke that it’s the safest place in the whole city.”
“Ah,” Claire said, nodding.
She stepped in as one of the doormen lugged her bags into the large elevator and pressed the button for the 151st floor. When he pressed the button, Claire initially thought he had made a mistake; she had assumed Allen would get her a lower floor because of her fear of heights. The door silently closed, and her stomach dropped as they ascended. As she rocketed up, she wondered if she should call Allen and ask for a different floor but felt apprehensive about it. She didn’t want to seem like a whiny little girl, so she decided to at least go into the apartment. With a ping, the doors slid open.
After a short walk down a stunning hallway, Claire used her key to open the door to her new apartment. Natural light streamed through her enormous windows as she entered. It was a wide apartment, easily three times the size of her last place. The entire exterior wall was glass and gave an unobstructed view of the Gulf. The view was amazing, even better than the view from Allen’s office. The doorman dropped off her bags, wished her a good day, and left before Claire could even think of thanking him. She wondered if she should have tipped him; she didn’t know—this was all still very new to her. She looked back out the large windows and decided she would be okay with the place, since the only view she had was of the water.
She walked in and saw the huge, open kitchen to her left with shiny new appliances. The countertops glistened and the appliances looked like something fro
m a space ship. She opened the refrigerator and found it was full of food and drinks. For a moment she thought maybe she had entered someone else’s apartment by accident. The kitchen seemed to spill out into the large living area, which was decorated with sleek, ultra-modern furniture. She walked through her new home, rubbing her hands on the smooth surfaces. Eventually she looped around and ended up at the doors to the two bedrooms. Opening one of them, she saw a huge bed already made up with gorgeous bedding. She felt a kid-like desire to jump up and down on the bed. When she found the large bathroom, her knees went weak. The huge bathtub was lit by frosted glass that lined the room and looked like it could fit five people. Walking back through the apartment, she admired the lamps and artwork. It was all so perfect, like someone had shopped just for her. Between the kitchen and living room were her belongings from her old apartment. She looked at her things sitting in boxes, and they seemed so out of place. They looked old and cheap compared to the shininess of everything else around them. She could have sworn her old items smelled and were stinking up her new place. When she completed her circle, she ended up back in the large open kitchen, where she saw a large fruit basket sitting on the island. Finding a note, she leaned forward and read it out loud:
Hope you like the new place. If you need anything please let me know, I’m only a few floors up. —Terry
The tightness returned to her stomach. She didn’t know he lived in the same building as her.
She grabbed an apple from the basket, washed it off, and began to unpack. She couldn’t find places for most of her things but forced herself to unpack everything. She was done in a remarkably short time. She felt depressed that her previous life seemed to fit in just a few boxes. Now her life was composed of modern chairs and couches that weren’t even hers.
She decided to try out her new bathtub. It took her a few minutes to figure out the controls, but eventually she was able to slip into the hot water and relax. She laid back and thought how far she had come and had far she had left to go. Her phone pinged from a nearby table. She retrieved it and read the message. It was from Heather, telling her she was on her way up and they had to “break in” her new place. Claire sighed and got out of the bath.
“See, I told you I could get you to the top!” Heather said as she toured Claire’s new place. Claire was in her pajamas and was still towel drying her hair while Heather walked and talked.
It was nighttime, and the never-ending view of the Gulf was replaced by a few twinkling lights.
“Does my new place meet your high standards?” Claire joked.
“Oh, yeah. Now I can come visit you again. I might even move in,” Heather said, sitting down on the couch.
“Oh, goodie” Claire said with a laugh from the kitchen as she fought to uncork the champagne Heather had brought.
“I know I’m good and everything, but I haven’t seen Allen move anyone up this high before. 4960! You must have really impressed him.”
Claire cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I don’t know… I guess.”
A long pause ensued before Heather said, “Oh, girl, you like him, don’t you?”
“What! Of course not. I’m married, Heather,” Claire said, sounding defensive.
“No. Sorry, you’re a widow, remember. And a widow is the best kind of woman.”
Claire’s eyebrows rose. “A widow is the best kind of woman?”
“Of course. All men think that if a woman isn’t married, she must not be able to keep a man because she’s crazy. And if she’s divorced, it’s probably her fault because she’s crazy. But if she’s a widow, she isn’t crazy but is a wounded bird who needs a strong man to help her.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Claire, I’m single, so yes, I’m crazy. I thought we covered this.”
Claire laughed. “Plus, he’s married. So that would make me crazy for liking him”
“Claire, honey. It’s not wrong to like Mr. Allen. I think a hundred percent of women in this town like him. If you don’t, maybe you are crazy.”
“Well, I’m unavailable. He can have the rest of the women in the city but not this one.”
“He can have this one any day of the week!” Heather, said pointing to herself.
They laughed again as Claire delivered the glasses of champagne. “Sharon is very nice.” she said, sitting down.
“Yeah, she’s like the queen but if the queen was eighty years younger and had big fake tits.”
They both burst out laughing.
“If she’s the queen, Terry would be the king,” Claire said. “I could see him liking that.”
“I’m sure he would,” Heather said then paused “Hey…did you just call him ‘Terry’?”
Claire flushed. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I meant ‘Mr. Allen.’”
Heather smiled, “Oh, you are dangerous, aren’t you? You two are close now, aren’t you? Wow.”
Claire laughed and finished her glass. “Well, you’re close too. He lives a few floors up,” she said with a smile. Heather’s jaw dropped open.
CHAPTER 52
The next morning, Claire turned her flat TV and was greeted by film of her in her crummy sweatpants and a beat-up T-shirt walking through the doors of her new block. She felt embarrassed and angry with herself for forgetting that she might be seen out. She hadn’t even seen the camera. She knew Heather would give her an earful. Claire examined the remote and found the button to turn up the volume on the large TV.
“Claire Gale moved into a new complex yesterday and was seen sporting a much more casual look,” the male TV anchor said, turning to his female co-anchor.
“I have to say, Mitch…I just love this girl,” the female newscaster said. “She’s just so down to earth. I mean that’s what a normal person wears when they move. And not only that, but she looks beautiful doing it. I know I never look that good when I move.” Both anchors laughed.
Claire smiled and turned off the TV. She was still dominating the news cycles even when she wasn’t doing anything. She was starting to feel like she could do no wrong. She glanced at her kitchen and saw the empty champagne bottle and used glasses next to the picked-apart fruit basket. She decided it was time to contact Mr. Allen. The ball was in her court, and she knew she needed to be the next to reach out. She began to craft a text message, erasing multiple times and restarting. Eventually she wrote:
Terry, this place is amazing. Thank you so much for the fruit basket. I would love to have you and Sharon over for dinner sometime
CHAPTER 53
“How could they start a farmers’ market. They don’t own the farms,” Allen said into the phone while sitting at his desk. “Well, no. And who’s selling them seeds? Well, pull them out…Yes, especially from Law Co. If they want fruits and vegetables, they can buy them like everyone else… Okay, hold the permit request for now, and I’ll think about it.” Allen ended the phone call with the mayor’s office without saying goodbye. These were situations that he hated. He wished he could multiply himself and just do all the work so he knew it was being done right. Or at least find a way he could monitor everything all the time, but he couldn’t, yet.
He exhaled loudly, which he had come to notice he did after every problem. It allowed him to drop the stress of the problem and move on to the next one. He wondered how long he could do this for. His father had covertly run the city for forty-four years, so he thought he could make it fifty years, but some days he doubted it. He knew owning the city was becoming more complicated with every new piece of technology that came on the scene. Things like social media and satellites were making it more difficult to keep the city together. It seemed every day he was plugging a new leak. But not only that—every time some modern-day genius created something new, Allen had to decide if it would damage the eco balance of the city. Like when self-driving technology was created and he had to decide if he should let it be implemented. He ultimately decided against it because it would put thousands of people out of work. That would mean thousan
ds of people who would probably live on the street and off his dime. It was problems like this that the people wouldn’t understand. The system his family had built was a delicate balance and took a Herculean effort over many generations to maintain.
Allen’s phone pinged, telling him he had a text message. He saw it was from Claire and read the message with a smirk.
They’d had a terrific lunch together, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t a threat, but she was still on his mind constantly. Claire seemed different than most women. She hadn’t grown up rich like everyone else he knew. She didn’t seem to beg for attention like everyone else. And most of all, she wasn’t falling all over him. Most women in town turned into jelly when he talked to them, but Claire wasn’t like that. He was pretty sure she liked him, but she also sent signals that pushed him back, like mentioning Sharon so much. It wasn’t often that he found something he couldn’t have, and it made him want it more. Claire was unique; she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out, and it thrilled him. Allen felt like a silly high school kid; the feeling was new and exciting.
Having an affair wasn’t a new thing to him, but it was usually set up in advance and nondisclosure agreements were created. It was fun, but with Claire it seemed very different. She was a celebrity and had her own life; this would be different than his usual arrangements and could be dangerous. He knew women in this town had big mouths, and it would hurt his reputation if word got spread that he was cheating on his wife. He knew Sharon wouldn’t actually care; she’d be more concerned with her image than his infidelity. He could already see that she would divorce him and play the abused wife card and ride that for years. This didn’t bother him, other than the fact the public would want the juicy details and cry for the divorce drama. When everyone is used to hearing everyone else’s dirt, they develop a thirst for it. Sure, he could keep it out of the media but that wouldn’t stop people from talking. Allen lived for power, and his crystal-clean image gave him a sort of personal power, almost a moral high ground, and he didn’t want to throw that away. He knew he needed to be careful, but something about Claire made him want to go wild.