Tony stood, walked toward the door, but stopped and faced her, “Yes,” his voice confident, “my dear, the information isn’t known by many. My list of candidates was quite limited. It didn’t take long to confirm my theory.”
She followed him toward the door. Looking up at his face she asked, “Who?”
“Good bye Claire, for now. May I have your hand?”
She spied him suspiciously, “Why?”
He didn’t answer; instead he held out his hand and waited. Reluctantly, she placed her right hand in his upturned palm. Tony bowed and touched his lips to her knuckles. While the warmth radiated up her arm, he turned her hand over. “Close your eyes.”
Weakened by his strong yet benign command, she obeyed.
“Keep them shut,” he whispered. She nodded as he reached into the pocket of his slacks, brought out a white gold chain with a pearl upon a white gold cross and placed it in her upward palm. Next, he closed her fingers around the delicate necklace and squeezed her hand. “My sign of commitment -- end this with Meredith.” He kissed her closed fingers and opened the door.
By the time she saw her grandmother’s necklace lying innocently in her hand, the scene blurred. Tears overflowed her lids and cascaded down her cheeks. She turned to Tony, but he was gone.
Claire’s trembling fingers fumbled with the small clasp. With intense concentration she managed to put the delicate chain around her neck and secure the fastening. Hastily, she ran to the mirror and watched the small white gold cross with the large pearl, move up and down upon her chest, accelerated by her now rapid heartbeat.
With time, her eyes moved from the necklace to her own face. The concentration and determination from before were gone. Her cheeks were now blotchy and smeared with mascara.
The stress of her reunion with Meredith -- the unexpected meeting with Tony -- complete with multiple confrontations -- and now the reality of her grandmother’s necklace sucked any remaining strength from her core. Claire collapsed onto the bed, stared up at the ceiling, and fought the urge to cry. She couldn’t stop the tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. But the sobs that screamed for release from the confines of her chest -- those she worked to contain.
Cradling the large soft pillow, now damp with tears, Claire curled into the fetal position, and closed her eyes. The combination of stress and emotion brought back her once familiar aching head. In time, slumber surrounded her, isolated her, and comforted her, creating a safe haven from the storms continually confronting her life.
The sound of pounding interrupted her peaceful bliss. She fought the disorientation associated with waking suddenly in an unfamiliar place. Groggily she saw the clock: 3:17 and forged toward the door of the suite, toward the source of the pounding. Nearing the large double doors she heard a key in the lock and his panicked voice, “Claire, Claire, are you in there?”
O, shit, I didn’t call Harry.
Claire ran toward the doors. She’d used the chain lock; their key couldn’t open the door completely. Just before her destination, she glanced at the large mirror near the entry, seeing her clothes from yesterday. The silk blouse, now untucked, hung wrinkled above her rumpled linen slacks. Dark black circles of melted mascara graced the underside of her swollen, red eyes. She mindlessly tried to smooth her messed hair, as if that would help her sad appearance. Quickly she called to the man on the other side of the door and fumbled with the chain. “Please wait, just a minute.” Sliding the chain and pulling the freed door inward, Claire gasped at Harry, two men dressed in the hotel’s signature burgundy, and a woman in a San Diego police uniform.
She stood in shock at the crowd before her.
Any anger she’d heard in Harry’s voice through the door evaporated as he took in her appearance. “Are you all right?”
Before she could respond, he hugged her shoulders, and pulled her into his embrace. She didn’t resist, melting against his chest. Unconsciously, she inhaled his masculine scent as her cheek felt the rhythmic beat of his rapidly pumping heart.
“Are you alone?” Claire nodded. “Did he hurt you?” She shook her head.
Harry turned to the others, “You may go.” Speaking to the woman in uniform he said, “We’ll let you know tomorrow if there’re any charges.”
Harry’s unwavering embrace impeded her view, yet Claire struggled to free herself and turn toward the police officer, “There are no charges.” Looking up Harry’s soft blue eyes, she continued, “I’m sorry. I just fell asleep.” Looking back to the woman in blue, she said, “Thank you for your time. I’m sorry for any misunderstanding, but there are no charges.” Harry pulled her back into his embrace. She felt his heart slowing to a steady rhythm. "I'm sorry I worried you.” She mumbled as they walked into her suite.
The comforting tone of his voice dwindled and agitation prevailed, “You said you’d call. You promised.”
She stepped back from his touch, suddenly defensive. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I was upset when Tony left. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just did.”
Harry reached out to Claire’s cheek and wiped smeared mascara with his thumb. “You’ve been crying?” She nodded. “What happened?”
She exhaled and recalled the evening in a synopsis of the finer points. “We argued. He told me not to speak to the media about our relationship. I told him to leave the people I care about alone. Then, when he left, he gave me this.” Claire pointed to her necklace.