A Woman of Fortune (23 page)

32

C
laire pulled from Knox Street into the parking lot and found a spot at the back not far from a Pottery Barn. PB (Jana Rae's nickname for it) was her friend's favorite store. But today Jana Rae wasn't interested in shopping. She'd decided they both could use some exercise.

Never mind it was August in Dallas. Never mind Claire owned several pairs of running shoes but never wore them. And especially never mind she was not, nor ever had been, a runner.

She slipped from her car. Jana Rae spotted her and waved. Claire watched as her friend jogged over, looking stunning in a white and robin's-egg-blue running ensemble. With her red hair pulled into a ponytail, she could pass for Lainie's age.

“Hey, you are going to
love
the Katy Trail,” she claimed, running in place. “And you might want to warm up.”

“Warm up?”

“You know, do some stretches.”

Now her friend was speaking her language. Running always seemed such a hot and nasty form of exercise. Claire preferred her personal gym at the house and working with Koen Van Wygeurt, a Belgium trainer Tuck had hired for her when she complained her size 6 pants were getting snug and the yoga classes no longer seemed
to be working. According to Koen, dynamic stretching performed in sets of eight to twenty repetitions was the foundation to his custom plan for strength building and his weight-maintenance program.

She followed Jana Rae to a park bench, where she began her side bends while Jana Rae squirted a long draw of water into her mouth from a stylish bottle that matched her tank top.

Claire's own outfit consisted of a cute little exercise set in tangerine, one of the things the receiver passed over when he'd done his inventory. She'd suffered many humiliations since Tuck's arrest, but watching a team of pinched-faced men paw through her closet topped the list. Thankfully, she'd been able to keep most of her wardrobe. But gone were the Valentino and Dior gowns, Jimmy Choo pumps, and Prada duffels—anything considered couture was bagged and logged and taken away.

Not that it really mattered. She'd never be invited to lavish parties or travel to Paris again. That life was over.

Jana Rae closed her bottle and clipped it on her belt. “You ready?”

Claire followed Jana Rae onto the running path. She wasn't a runner, but she could learn to love this runner's park. She remembered a fund-raiser sponsored by Friends of the Katy Trail, where Tuck had written a large check contributing to the construction effort.

Once abandoned railroad tracks, the trail consisted of an over twelve-foot-wide concrete path for pedestrians and cyclists that ran several miles through the Uptown and Oak Lawn areas of Dallas. Next to the concrete path, a soft, recycled-rubber track was built parallel for runners.

This was the first time Claire had actually used the lovely path lined with gorgeous perennial grasses and native Texas trees and plants, including chinquapin and lacey oaks.

They ran for about a half hour before Claire pooped out. “Jana Rae, I've got to take a break. You're used to this. I'm not.”

She'd done a lot of running lately, none in athletic shoes. She'd
run from television cameras and from investors who believed she was Bonnie to Tuck's Clyde. More importantly, she had run from the truth. That mind-set was now over.

She bent over and tried to catch her breath.

“Lightweight.” Jana Rae pulled the towel from around her neck and swiped her brow. “You know, lack of exercise is as bad for you as smoking.”

Claire straightened. “Does Clark know you spend your afternoons with Dr. Oz?”

“The Urologist has no room for complaint. He's in love with
The Good Wife
.” A look passed across her face as she realized she'd just mentioned a television show that mirrored Claire's life in so many ways.

She watched a blue jay flutter in the branches of a nearby tree. “Mama thinks I need to get a divorce.”

Jana Rae didn't respond immediately. Instead, she pulled out her water bottle and squirted the back of her neck. Finally, she looked at Claire. “I'm not sure what to say.”

They started walking.

Claire paced her steps, and her words, carefully. “Well, I agree with her at some level. I'm too young to be alone.”

“You're not alone, Claire. You have your children. You have me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Besides, I'm learning I focused too much on Tuck over the past thirty years and didn't see things that were right under my nose. And I'm not talking about Tuck's crimes.”

“What things?”

Claire told her about her conversation with Garrett, how her inability to see how much her son was hurting had left him feeling torn in two. She'd never forgive herself for failing him.

“Now my son's gone,” she told her friend. “Garrett and Marcy plan to raise the baby in Houston. Three hours away.”

“Mike lived in Waco until just recently,” Jana Rae reminded her. “I saw him all the time.”

“Still, I wonder if Mama is right,” Claire said, ignoring her friend's attempt at another way to see things.

Her mother had seen the news coverage and made her position clear. “Seems to me the curtain has closed on this production. Take it from me, darlin'—you had a good run with Tuck, but it's time to close down the show so you can get out there and audition again.”

Jana Rae spoke carefully. “Is that what you want?”

“I don't get what I want, Jana Rae. Apparently, for years I've lived with blinders on, not seeing things that were happening right in front of me. Now I have no choice but to face reality.” She shook her head. “He's gone. Twenty years.”

“That doesn't mean you necessarily have to divorce.”

She stopped walking and turned to her friend. “I'm surprised you say that. I thought you'd be the first to push me to a fresh start.”

“Eh, I think a bit differently about these kinds of things.” Jana Rae looked at Claire, her eyes steady and sure. “Divorce is overrated, Claire. I know from experience.”

Two young guys sprinted by, sweat drenching their shirts. They looked determined, as if trying to finish a race. Claire and Jana Rae stepped aside to let them pass.

Claire frowned. “‘For better or worse' doesn't include a twenty-year prison term, Jana Rae. I have a right to try to be happy, don't I?”

“I'm not advocating women shouldn't get out of marriages when abuse or unchecked infidelity is involved. But . . . well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been there since the beginning, when you and Tuck first met and fell in love. How do you just stop feeling that for one another?” Jana Rae wiped her brow with her arm. “Look, I do want you to be happy. Just be really sure before you head down that particular path.”

“Well, it's nothing I have to decide right this minute,” Claire said, giving Jana Rae a weak smile as they stopped at a water fountain and filled their bottles. “I have enough on my mind. My focus needs to be on finding a new place to live and a job.”

The credit card incident at Riscky's popped into her mind. Funds were running out, and she needed to get employed.

Soon.

On the morning of her forty-ninth birthday, Claire donned a sleeveless white top over peach-colored capris and slipped her feet into a matching pair of Ralph Lauren flip-flops. After days of no makeup, she moved into her bathroom and applied foundation powder, colored her eyelids with a light shade of amber, liner, and mascara, then smoothed a pretty coral gloss across her lips.

She examined her image in the mirror. The woman looking back didn't match the one who'd been packing all week, hair up in a clippy. Margarita was a huge help, but she was only one woman and, at her age, tired easily. Certainly Claire's mother had been useless in the effort. “Why don't you hire someone?” she'd suggested, forgetting Claire's current financial situation. So, much of the work of sorting and loading boxes fell to Claire, a far cry from her depending on the large household staff at her beck and call all those years.

She ran a comb through her long blonde hair. Satisfied, she headed downstairs. In a couple of hours, she'd be meeting Jana Rae in Fort Worth.

At first Claire argued she just wasn't up for a celebration, even a quiet dinner out with her friend. What if the media caught wind and cornered her again? But Jana Rae wouldn't take no for an answer. Tonight was her treat at the new Brazilian steakhouse. The one with great lobster bisque.

Claire asked her mother to join but learned she had an iPad and knew how to use it. She'd found a group on Meetup called Yorkie Lovers of Dallas. Tonight was their first meeting.

Claire didn't mention it was her birthday. Neither did her mother.

Last year, Tuck had flown friends in and surprised her with a party at their home in Pebble Beach.

Tuck wasn't much for golf, likely because he preferred custom leather Luccheses over shoes with spikes. Even so, they'd purchased the sprawling vacation home with amazing ocean views five years ago upon the urging of an investor, the owner of one of the largest real estate investment trusts in California.

She'd learned Tuck had planned her party for weeks, and indeed, she'd been shocked to arrive to a house filled with guests.

“Surprise!” they all yelled when she stepped inside the door.

Claire's hands flew to her mouth. She looked at the children's smiling faces, then turned to Tuck, who stood beaming. “How—when did you?” She kissed his cheek.

His arms moved around her waist as he said to her and to the crowd, “Ah, you know me. I'm filled with surprises.”

She wondered if any of those people thought of that now—especially those who had heavily invested in Tuck's cattle program and lost everything. He'd surprised them all.

Claire grabbed her bag. “I'll be home late, Margarita.”

“Go, go.” Margarita shooed her out the door. “You need some fun.”

From the rearview mirror, she watched Margarita wave. Today was supposed to be filled with celebration. Despite Claire wanting to feel happy, sadness descended as her thoughts played back on telling her housekeeper of over fifteen years that she could no longer afford to keep her on.

“I'm so very sorry, Margarita,” she'd explained with a choked voice. “I just don't have the money.”

The wise old housekeeper hadn't seemed surprised by the news. She'd watched as others had been let go, and she'd seen Claire's valued possessions carried away by men with badges. But Claire knew the turn of events had shaken the woman. Although she'd seemed excited to join her daughter and grandchildren in El Paso, a look connected her and Margarita each time they walked past one another. This was not what either of them had expected . . . or wanted.

This year, with her family scattered, Claire was forced to celebrate her special day quietly, with Jana Rae. Garrett was in Houston. Lainie was nowhere to be found, hiding out until she felt ready to face their new life. They'd both called with birthday wishes, and Max sent a bouquet of her favorite blooms. Delicate purple irises, which many say symbolize hope.