Reaching for her hands, he stared down into her emerald eyes. Suddenly, the cooling autumn air no longer registered—Claire knew she could stand in his gaze forever. Before the sadness behind the dark registered, his baritone voice replied, “This is your glass house—one that won’t shatter. I don’t want you to ever feel trapped again. I want you to be able to see the sky and sun—or moon and stars—whenever you desire.”
She melted against his chest. “Thank you, I love it! But how—how did you do this? You were in prison.”
“I had a lot of help.”
Their balcony contained furniture perfect for enjoying the woods behind their home. Standing at the rail, Claire peered below and saw many other amenities—a pool, a basketball court, a play set—bigger than those in most local parks—and the gardens. Sitting on a gliding seat, looking over the tree tops, Claire sighed and laid her head against her husband’s shoulder.
Tony spoke, “Of course, you still have your island—if you’d prefer you can move back there. Although this view is beautiful, it’s difficult to compete with the view from your lanai. I just thought it might be easier on Nichol if you lived closer to John and Emily for a while.”
She looked up. “Why do you keep saying you? You mean we.”
Tony reached into his breast pocket, removed an envelope, and extended it toward her. “You and Nichol, Claire—this house—the entire estate—it’s yours.”
Her world stopped spinning. There weren’t enough masks ever created to hide her emotions. Whatever was in the envelope he offered—she didn’t want. Never in the history of time had any documentation he handed her been good. Claire stood and backed away from his hand. “I don’t know what’s in that envelope, but whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
Soothingly, he said, “It’s for you.”
“I don’t care. I said no.”
“You just said you didn’t know what it was. How can you say no?”
Her volume decreased. Fighting the sobs, she whispered, “Tell me—tell me why you’re saying you instead of we?” When he hesitated, she straightened her shoulders and spoke louder, “Tell me!”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I deserve a straight answer.”
“If you’ll sit down, I’ll explain.”
Claire eyed him suspiciously and slowly retook the seat beside him. She steadied her voice, closed her eyes momentarily, and said, “I’m sitting—talk.”
He looked out at the trees and exhaled. “I tried to contact you. I wanted to be with you, to be there for you. The scene at the estate was crazy. When you pulled the trigger, the police were already here and they immediately arrested both of us. Apparently, the Iowa City Police weren’t aware of our cooperation with the FBI. Catherine had called them to say I was there, and that she was afraid. The police assumed that you and I were trying to kill Catherine.
“Eventually, Brent got me out on bail. Of course, that was after he returned from Chicago and learned he was supposed to be dead. He was the only legal counsel who knew about our cooperation with the FBI. By the time I was out—Emily had obtained a restraining order against me. You weren’t talking to anyone, and she assumed you were trying to kill me—to get away from me. Brent, Tom, my whole damn legal staff tried to lift her order. Meredith’s book was out—the whole world knew what I’d done to you.”
Claire heard the emotion in his voice.
Tony continued, “There were two theories as to your condition. One was traumatic brain injury—Emily argued I was the cause. Even though I was out on bail, the courts wouldn’t let me get near you or Nichol. The other theory for your condition was a psychotic break brought on by Catherine, Nichol, the fire—”
Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Claire pleaded, “Tony, stop! I know the past. I don’t want to hear it or talk about it. I want to move on. I want what we had in paradise—right here.”
He gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you understand? You can’t keep doing that.”
“What?”
“You can’t continually push every bad memory away to deal with later.”
“Why? I can, and besides, we dealt with our demons in paradise. I remember it all. You’re the one who always said—the past is the past—think about the present or the future.”
“I was wrong. You need to face it, and so do I. In all those discussions on the island, we never spoke about the things in Meredith’s book.”
She melted against his chest. “Thank you, I love it! But how—how did you do this? You were in prison.”
“I had a lot of help.”
Their balcony contained furniture perfect for enjoying the woods behind their home. Standing at the rail, Claire peered below and saw many other amenities—a pool, a basketball court, a play set—bigger than those in most local parks—and the gardens. Sitting on a gliding seat, looking over the tree tops, Claire sighed and laid her head against her husband’s shoulder.
Tony spoke, “Of course, you still have your island—if you’d prefer you can move back there. Although this view is beautiful, it’s difficult to compete with the view from your lanai. I just thought it might be easier on Nichol if you lived closer to John and Emily for a while.”
She looked up. “Why do you keep saying you? You mean we.”
Tony reached into his breast pocket, removed an envelope, and extended it toward her. “You and Nichol, Claire—this house—the entire estate—it’s yours.”
Her world stopped spinning. There weren’t enough masks ever created to hide her emotions. Whatever was in the envelope he offered—she didn’t want. Never in the history of time had any documentation he handed her been good. Claire stood and backed away from his hand. “I don’t know what’s in that envelope, but whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
Soothingly, he said, “It’s for you.”
“I don’t care. I said no.”
“You just said you didn’t know what it was. How can you say no?”
Her volume decreased. Fighting the sobs, she whispered, “Tell me—tell me why you’re saying you instead of we?” When he hesitated, she straightened her shoulders and spoke louder, “Tell me!”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I deserve a straight answer.”
“If you’ll sit down, I’ll explain.”
Claire eyed him suspiciously and slowly retook the seat beside him. She steadied her voice, closed her eyes momentarily, and said, “I’m sitting—talk.”
He looked out at the trees and exhaled. “I tried to contact you. I wanted to be with you, to be there for you. The scene at the estate was crazy. When you pulled the trigger, the police were already here and they immediately arrested both of us. Apparently, the Iowa City Police weren’t aware of our cooperation with the FBI. Catherine had called them to say I was there, and that she was afraid. The police assumed that you and I were trying to kill Catherine.
“Eventually, Brent got me out on bail. Of course, that was after he returned from Chicago and learned he was supposed to be dead. He was the only legal counsel who knew about our cooperation with the FBI. By the time I was out—Emily had obtained a restraining order against me. You weren’t talking to anyone, and she assumed you were trying to kill me—to get away from me. Brent, Tom, my whole damn legal staff tried to lift her order. Meredith’s book was out—the whole world knew what I’d done to you.”
Claire heard the emotion in his voice.
Tony continued, “There were two theories as to your condition. One was traumatic brain injury—Emily argued I was the cause. Even though I was out on bail, the courts wouldn’t let me get near you or Nichol. The other theory for your condition was a psychotic break brought on by Catherine, Nichol, the fire—”
Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Claire pleaded, “Tony, stop! I know the past. I don’t want to hear it or talk about it. I want to move on. I want what we had in paradise—right here.”
He gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you understand? You can’t keep doing that.”
“What?”
“You can’t continually push every bad memory away to deal with later.”
“Why? I can, and besides, we dealt with our demons in paradise. I remember it all. You’re the one who always said—the past is the past—think about the present or the future.”
“I was wrong. You need to face it, and so do I. In all those discussions on the island, we never spoke about the things in Meredith’s book.”
