Truth

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. Cu

“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. Cu

Roger Cu

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

Claire wasn’t sure, but the Cu

The Cu

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. Cu

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. Cu

Eventually, the next set of attendees made their way to Claire and Tony. When di

At one point, before the speeches, Claire excused herself to visit the ladies room. She expected a warning glance or gesture. Surprisingly, she received neither. All the way to the restroom she considered borrowing someone’s cellphone and calling Harry. The problem was – she didn’t know his number. She called it multiple times a day. But, the number was programmed into her phone. After racking her memory, she gave up and made her way back to her new assigned seat.

On her way to Tony, she passed the round table where she should have been sitting. Claire noticed three empty seats. It was the only table within the large room with so many vacancies. The Cu

*****

Sophia believed she’d suffocate if she spent another minute in the beautiful sitting room of the Saint Regis’ Presidential Suite waiting for the mystery buyer. Walking through French doors onto a balcony she observed the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. Although almost the end of May, the evening air was brisk against her exposed skin. Mindlessly she wrapped her arms around her chest and dissected the view, as only an artist can do. The towers glowed more orange than gold, she thought as she as she viewed the illumination from Route One.

She stood motionless at the rail and inhaled the salty air. It wasn’t the same as Provincetown. There was something about Provincetown Harbor which was unique from San Francisco Bay. Nevertheless, closing her eyes and listening to the distant rush of waves, the similarities made her homesick. She glanced at her watch, almost nine thirty.

She and Mr. George had been in this suite both alone and with Mr. Hensley for an hour and a half. Though she’d communicated with Derek regularly, she knew he was upset. He should be, she reasoned. This was ridiculous and rude.

Sophia even felt sorry for Mr. Hensley. The poor man was doing his job. It truly wasn’t his fault his employer was delayed. The first excuse was about traffic on 280. When eight thirty came and went, Mr. Hensley kindly ordered them di