Truth

by Aleatha Romig

  She grinned. Technology was wonderful! She wouldn’t let Danni, or anyone else, make her feel insecure about her husband. After swallowing the final drops of Jasmine Tea, she stowed her tea cup in the dishwasher, wiped down the breakfast bar, and began contemplating the extent of art in the Provincetown studio. Her mind spun with displayed and stored artwork. Suddenly the ring of her telephone brought Sophia’s thoughts back to Santa Clara. Looking to the illuminated screen she saw: Derek’s office.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Burke. This is Danni.”

  “Yes?”

  “It seems that a meeting has been rescheduled, Derek is available after 12:30 this afternoon.”

  Sophia’s smug expression couldn’t be contained. “Thank you, Danni. I look forward to seeing you and Derek then.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The line disconnected.

  Glancing at the clock, Sophia realized she had three hours before she needed to be in Derek’s office. She decided to go to Palo Alto and talk to Mr. George in person. Maybe he called the wrong person. After all, who would buy three pieces of art without seeing them in person?

  The Civic Center in Palo Alto was in the heart of a cafe haven. Easing her car into an available space, she contemplated stopping at one of the many shops she passed. As in Santa Clara, parts of the city gave Sophia the wonderful small town feel.

  The fog that so often encased the Silicon Valley was gone, dissipated into the shining blue sky. The buildings, trees, and mountains all glowed with the spring sun. As Sophia walked along the crowded sidewalk, inhaling the fragrant aromas emanating from the coffee shops and cafes and listening to the murmurs of pedestrians, she found herself bemused by the recent turn of events. This new life wasn’t as bad as she’d made it out to be. Derek did want her here.

  The revelation or epiphany came in the knowledge that he wanted her -- not some perfect wife. That support strengthened her, rejuvenating her confidence as she approached Mr. George.

  Entering the small studio, she noticed the contrast in noise. The sounds from the busy street silenced as the glass doors closed to faint music, impeded only by a soft chime indicating a prospective customer. Sophia took in the white walls, indirect lighting, and lovely pieces of displayed art on canvas as well as three-dimensional pieces on podiums. At the beck and call of the protective bell, Mr. George appeared from the depths of the back rooms.

  Since their initial meeting, they’d only spoken on the phone. Sophia wanted more information before she shipped her entire collection to this man.

  “Oh, Mrs. Burke!” Mr. George exclaimed with perhaps too much glee.

  “Mr. George, please call me Sophia.”

  “Yes, Sophia. I’m so glad you came in today.” His bright smile threatened to rupture his ruddy cheeks as he positively swelled with excitement. “Did you receive my voice mail?”

  So it was meant for me, she thought as she answered, “Yes, that’s why I’m here. Can we discuss this transition?”

  “Most certainly, I agree it’s unusual. But I want you to know, I’ve verified the funds, although I’m unable to confirm the identity of the buyer. It’s real. Someone offered 2.3 million for all three works.”

  Sophia’s bravado dissolved. She struggled for air. Her lungs collapsed, and her legs wobbled. “I’m sorry; did you just say 2.3 million?”

  “Oh, didn’t I mention the amount on the message? Yes, initially the buyer asked me the price. I told him I’d need to discuss it with the artist. He didn’t want to haggle, so he offered what he believed would be the top bid.” Mr. George’s grin enlarged even more, showing his too white, too perfect teeth, and the pink gums above. “I think he succeeded. However, I still told him I’d need to discuss it with you. Of course, the studio collects fifteen percent. The rest is yours.”

  Before her legs gave out entirely, Sophia found an empty chair. Her mind subconsciously computed the math, while her lips fought diligently to speak, “Mr. George, I’m going to talk to my husband, soon. I’ll be getting those works for you as soon as I can.” One million nine hundred and fifty thousand dollars! “I just don’t know about my entire collection. I don’t want to close my Provincetown studio.”

  The two of them discussed the possibilities and opportunities. They decided upon a sampling of her works on display in Palo Alto, with the entire collection available online. If this buyer or another wanted one of the works still in Provincetown and were willing to pay appropriately, Sophia would return to Massachusetts.

  An hour later, Sophia entered Derek’s office. As her long gauze skirt brushed the tops of her feet and her high heeled sandals clicked the marble floor of his private reception area, Sophia chose to ignore Danni’s looks and innuendos. Her mood was too high to worry about the immaculately dressed PA or the plush surroundings. She casually walked past the pretty blonde without speaking and stepped into Derek’s regal office. Brazenly, she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed his parted lips. Before she could introduce her tongue teasingly into his willing mouth, Sophia realized Danni followed her into Derek’s office.

  They both turned to see her standing in the doorway. Before Derek had the chance to recover from his wife’s licentious greeting, Sophia took the liberty of dismissing his assistant, “That’ll be all, Danni. Please close the door on your way out.”

  Danni looked questionably at Derek, who smiled uncontrollably, barely able to take his eyes away from the spirit filled woman who’d just fallen into his lap. Finally, he glanced toward his PA and confirmed Sophia’s wishes, “Yes, Danni, and please hold my calls.”

  Danni’s incredulous expression as she backed out of the office and closed the door added to Sophia’s euphoria.

  “My, my, Mrs. Burke,” Derek managed between kisses, “To what do I owe this lascivious reception?”

  She explained the unbelievable procurement of three of her oil paintings. Derek stared, open mouthed, when she disclosed the bid. Eventually, he found his voice, “Wow, Baby! I love your work, but I’m shocked at that amount of money.”

  Sophia pouted, more in jest than reality, “What? Don’t you think they’re worth it?”

  He immediately pulled her against his chest and spun her around in his large leather chair. Sophia curled her legs into his lap and threw her head back, allowing her long hair to fan out and fall over his shoulder as his office became a blur. Leaning his mouth to her exposed neck he breathily whispered, “I think they’re worth ten times that! But, if you’re willing to part with them for a measly 2.3 million, I guess that’s your prerogative.” His lips connected her warm sensitive neck, immediately instigating purrs from the depth of her throat.

  When his lips slowed, Sophia pulled away and made eye contact. Looking suddenly serious, she went on, “There is a problem. The buyer wants them yesterday. I need to fly to Provincetown and ship them back here. Mr. George also wants me to ship some other works to put on display and photograph the rest of my collection. It’ll take me days to get them all packaged for mailing.”

  “That dinner for Shedis-tics is Friday. Will you be back by then?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think so.” She looked passively into his soft brown eyes, “If you want me to wait, I can ask Mr. George to contact the buyer, have him contact the mystery person, and see if it can wait.” Sophia watched through seductive lashes as Derek’s expression changed before her eyes. She saw pride, disappointment, indecision, and resolution.

  Eventually his light brown eyes glimmered as his cheeks rose in conjunction with the tips of his lips. “You know, when Shedis-tics asked me come out here early, they promised me some time off. How about, I travel with you? If we work together, we can package your art much faster. We might even make it back for this big dinner thing. I’m not sure why, but they really want me there.”

  Sophia stared at her husband in disbelief, “You’d really be willing to go with me?”

  “Sure,” he kissed her lips, “we can consider it a romantic get-a-way.” Then wit
h a predatory grin he added, “And maybe we can use one of those private jets they promised in my interview?”

  “You know, Mr. Burke, I’ve always wanted to belong to an exclusive club.”

  “Really, Mrs. Burke, what club would that be?”

  “I believe it’s called The Mile High Club.”

  Derek closed his eyes and shook his head at the woman who’d swept him off his feet three years ago. Regaining his focus he replied, “I’ll be sure to find the criteria regarding entry into that exclusive club. I’ve heard initiation can be strenuous. Perhaps you’re not up to the challenge?”

  “Mr. Burke, you check out the specifications, and I’ll concentrate on my aptitude.”

  He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his grin concealed, “Aptitude isn’t an issue, Mrs. Burke. I believe the component in question is altitude.”

  Sophia buried her lips into the crook of his neck. “You provide the altitude, I’ll provide the aptitude.”

  “We can do a test run at sea level, just to be sure.”

  Sophia amusingly shook her head. This was a battle of wits she didn’t want to win.

  “Perhaps, when I get home?” Derek didn’t wait for an answer from his wife as he picked up the phone, his voice no longer playful, “Danni, make the necessary arrangements. My wife and I need a Shedis-tics jet to fly to Provincetown, Massachusetts, leaving tomorrow and returning Thursday.” Sophia listened to his side of the conversation.

  “That can be rescheduled.” “That, I can do from anywhere.” “Do you have any other concerns?” Sophia heard the agitation in his voice. She wondered if Danni recognized it too. Derek continued, “That is fine. Let me know the final arrangements.” “Thanks, Danni.” He hung-up. Smirking ear-to-ear he proposed, “The next order of business it to research the requirements for that club.”

  Sophia squeezed his neck, “Thank you! We can work day and night to get back for that dinner.”

  Derek caressed her waist as his eyes muted ever so slightly, “I think I know a better way to spend our nights.”

  Sophia giggled, “Really? We can debate the pros and cons of each proposal.”

  “No. I think I’m evoking the helpful husband card; you’ll have to agree to my proposal -- no debating allowed.”

  She didn’t argue. “I see your point. However, I’ll need at least an abstract of your ideas presented tonight at home.” Her eyes twinkled as she stood and smoothed her skirt.

  “You drive a hard bargain.” Derek replied, “See you tonight.”

  They kissed and Sophia opened the door of his private office. Walking past Danni’s desk, her mind filled with Derek’s affection and playful banter. As she turned toward the impassive gaze of his private assistant, Sophia summoned her sweetest voice and said, “Thanks, Danni. Bye.”

  From gritted teeth, Danni replied, “You’re welcome.”

  Walking along the still crowded sidewalk, Sophia felt the sensation of floating. Had someone really offered 2.3 million for her art work? It didn’t seem possible. And her conversation with Derek went in such an unexpected direction. She’d expected him to be supportive, yet reserved about missing the dinner. After all, how important could attendance at a fundraiser really be for a Fortune 500 company?

  Despite his executive pretense, he was just a man. Sophia told herself; she needed to remember that. After all, she was just a woman. That makes the two of them compatible in a remarkable way.

  Wanting to speak to Mr. George in person, Sophia drove back to Palo Alto. She wanted to let him know she and her husband would be packaging her work and getting it west as soon as possible. Before facing Mr. White Teeth, Sophia decided to stop for a cup of tea and some lunch. Working her way into a bustling cafe on the same street as the Art Studio, Sophia scanned the crowd looking for an empty seat.

  The cafe hummed with the drone of conversations at most every table. The aroma of freshly baked bread, rich coffee, and tangy spices made her empty stomach twist with anticipation. She stepped toward the counter to read the menu above, when a woman near the window with an electronic tablet, cup of coffee, and salad caught her attention. She looked vaguely familiar. Sophia didn’t want to stare. It just seemed strange that she’d know anyone eating in Palo Alto.

  *****

  The chatter of the busy cafe surrounded Claire, soothing her aching temples. She mindlessly picked at her half eaten salad while simultaneously skimming the latest news on her iPad. Relishing the temporary reprieve, she enjoyed one of her first free moments in the last week. She realized the irony of solitude in a crowd.

  Last Saturday, her sister, Emily, and brother-in-law, John, arrived in San Francisco. Since then, she’s hardly had a minute alone. Wistfully she thought about Harry; they hadn’t had a minute alone either. Actually, since San Diego, a week and a half ago, they’d only had one opportunity to utilize his procurement of resources from that drugstore.

  Multitasking, Claire read each headline on her newsfeed. However, her thoughts were of her sister and brother-in-law. They’d asked to borrow her car and take a day trip into San Francisco. She was thankful for them to get some time to themselves.

  The face-to-face reunion between the three of them washed away all doubt and hard feelings from their past. When Emily walked through the archway at San Francisco International Airport last Saturday and their matching green eyes met, they melted in a sobbing embrace. It was minutes before John was able to separate the two of them, before he got his own chance to hug Claire.

  Being the ever accommodating hostess, Amber offered the Vandersols the use of her third bedroom. It meant re-filing all of Claire’s research, but it was worth it. For five days Claire’s sister and brother-in-law would be only a door away.

  It also thrilled Claire that Emily and John got along so well with Amber and Harry. The ease of conversation and similar interests created a comfortable atmosphere, very dissimilar to the one while she’d been married to Tony.

  After a few days, Amber began to talk business with John. The two shared similar philosophies and work ethics. What started as discussion over a few interesting Rawlings Industries dealings soon turned to SiJo Gaming strategies. While the two talked shop, Claire and Emily enjoyed one another’s company. The sharing and camaraderie was wonderful.

  Nevertheless, Claire couldn’t understand why she continued to fight her aching head. She was being more open and honest with her family than she’d been in years, yet she had the strange feeling of teetering on the edge of a looming argument. Her emotions felt stretched. Truthfully, she had no idea what the impending argument entailed or why it was stressing her out.

  Looking up from her iPad, Claire scanned the cafe. People moved about in every direction within the cafe and outside on the street. Sitting by the window, she watched people pass the glass. Occasionally she would have the sensation of being watched. It was both annoying and familiar. In a moment of self-reflection, Claire asked, when in the past three years haven’t I been watched? Or did it date back further than that?

  Later tonight Claire, Emily, John, Harry, and Amber had reservations at a local restaurant. They were going to meet Amber’s new friend. She met him a few weeks ago, at an out of town conference. He works for Google. Amber claimed it wasn’t serious, but the gleam in her eyes as she mentions Keaton made Claire smile.

  It also made the idea of telling Amber about her and Harry easier. Claire reasoned if Amber were also involved with someone, she’d take the news much better. Claire assumed Amber and her family had suspicions. But no one asked, and Claire and Harry hadn’t volunteered. For the most part, the two of them kept their new familiarity private.

  Claire looked up again and saw Phil Roach standing in line behind a pretty blonde woman. Her nervousness quelled. That nagging feeling of being watched was easier to deal with when you know the voyeur, or as Claire liked to refer to Phil, her bodyguard.

  She wondered how he handled losing her at the airport back in San Diego. Smiling to herself, Claire realized she sometime
s too thought of parts of her life as a game. And unquestionably, she enjoyed controlling the metaphorical chess board.

  Refocusing her attention to the electronic tablet, she read a headline on MSNBC about Megatone, a subsidiary of Sony. She read about concerned investors. There was a recent selling frenzy of stock resulting in a plummet of share prices. Just since this morning they’d fallen from $77.12 to $48.13. Claire glanced at her watch. It was almost one-thirty, four-thirty on the East coast. The stock market would close soon. It didn’t sound good for Megatone.

  The Associated Press article discussed personal wrong doing on the part of the CEO. Concerned shareholders questioned ethics in the boardroom. The underlying insinuation was if an individual in a place of power made poor personal choices, investors rightfully or wrongly transferred that to business choices. Megatone and its board of directors maintained the company’s position of strong integrity and principal. Currently no evidence of corporate wrong doing was evident. Yet, with up to the second news, the stock continued to dive.

  Claire searched her stock market app; Rawlings Industries stock currently sat at $168.78 per share. That was up $2.04 since the same time yesterday. The company had been experiencing an upward spiral, despite the economy, for the last five years.

  *****

  Sophia searched her mind as she stood in line. Each time she snuck a glance at the brown haired woman, she analyzed her features. Finding a small table, Sophia sat sipping her tea and waiting for her salad. Suddenly, she realized it was the hair that was wrong. The woman that this woman resembled had lighter hair. Nonetheless, as an artist she dissected the woman’s features. Sophia knew without a doubt, in every other way, the woman at the window was the same woman Sophia had stared at for days and weeks. Not only had Sophia stared at her, she’d painted her, wearing a beautiful Vera Wang wedding gown.