The Plan - Chances & Choices Prequel

The Plan-Chances & Choices Prequel

Julian and Claire – Choices Book 1

By Helen Karol

Copyright 2013 Helen Karol

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

[email protected]

http://www.helenkarolchoices.com

http://www.twitter.com/HelenKarolwrite

Table of Contents

Chapter One -
Present Tense

Chapter Two -
It’s Time

Chapter Three -
The Correct Escort

Chapter Four –
Fading Scent

Chapter Five –
Running Late

Chapter Six –
Bossy

Chapter Seven -
Moments

Chapter Eight –
Coming Home

Upcoming Titles

Chapter One

Present Tense

“Julian, its Susanna’s favourite charity - you can’t not be there.”

Andrea delivered this ultimatum with a tone that was kind but no less commanding.

“I thought we agreed we were going to stop that.” 

She looked puzzled and he forced himself to look her square in the eye before telling her.  “Talking about Susanna in the present tense.”

He half expected her to feed him some bullshit about Susanna being alive in their hearts.  That kind of crap was all over the media when she died and people still said stuff like it whenever they reviewed her films or she received some posthumous award.  In a way, they weren’t far wrong – she was still present on the screen.  It made him think of his college art teacher.  A
rt is in the present tense because it lives.
  The idea inspired him at the time; the words rousing in him a burning desire to create designs that would remain an enduring part of the present. 

Now they gnawed at his guts.

Celluloid was no substitute when you had held the real thing in your arms for over five years.  Besides he never watched her movies anymore – it didn’t fit with
the plan
.  Neither did attending a Spring Ball for her favourite charity.  But Andrea had more common sense to trot out platitudes and she was too determined to be so easily distracted from her purpose.

“Sorry – it’s just habit.  I still find it hard to think of her as part of the past.  Considering that…”  She paused and he knew where she was going from both her tone and the direction of her gaze.  He rubbed the ring defensively.  “I can understand you wearing it for a while, Julian.  But it’s time.”

“Only a little over a year.  Lots of widowers continue to wear their rings in remembrance of their wives… and...and...well...it keeps away unwanted attention.”  He regretted the last words almost before they were out – why hadn’t he just kept them in his head?  Andrea pounced.

“Exactly.  I would understand if it was
just
because of Susanna’s memory, but you’re using it to avoid things you shouldn’t.   Those men are usually much older with decades of marriage and often children together to remember. You’re still only twenty-seven, Julian.  A year is the required time of mourning for a reason – as with most ritual etiquette.  Life goes on and society must function.  You’re far too superior a specimen not to procreate.” 

He listened to her little spiel without surprise.  Andrea said shit like that all the time.  Like she was a society lady in some period drama.  He was used to it by now.

She paused and then presented what she thought was her trump card. “I know you promised Susanna you would marry again.”

“What about Liam Fitzpatrick, he always wears his ring and he’s never married again.”  He knew he sounded like the petulant boy she was treating him as, but he was looking for a focus to keep him on the plan, anything to stop him remembering when he made that promise.  Anything not to see her again so hauntingly, gorgeously frail, so delicate and yet still able to wind him around her perfect little finger. 

But he hadn’t perfected the plan yet and so she came unbidden.  She half sat up in the hospital bed to compose her demand, the musical voice that had been charming moviegoers from before he was born, and mesmerised him from the moment they met, breathy and weak.  “Promise me, Julian – you must...” she sank back into the pillows, her voice and strength abandoning her.  And so he promised without a thought in his head but for her and her needs.

Alive, he could never say no to her, but now she was gone he didn’t feel bound by the promise at all.  A twenty-two year age difference had prepared him for losing her sooner than a wife closer to his own age, but he still thought they had many, many more years together.  She told him nothing of the cancer that was in remission when they met.  If she had, he might have...  No, he was not bound by any promises!

“He was in is late fifties when his wife died AND he had a young daughter to look after and keep him company.”  Andrea’s voice softened.  “It was so wonderful when his wife had an unexpected baby in her early fifties.  It was such a joy for them after being childless for so long.  He died last year, as well, you know.”

It drew him back to the present, genuinely surprised and saddened.  Liam Fitzpatrick had been part of the entertainment and fashion industry for – well forever.  A freelance journalist and reviewer he was well respected and a solid pillar of an old school style of journalism that was fast disappearing.  He didn’t know him well enough to truly mourn the man, but he knew enough of what he represented to mourn his passing.

Andrea brightened.  Julian inwardly groaned. He knew his late wife’s closest friend well enough to tell when she was hatching something.

“
That’s
who you should take to the ball – she’s perfect!  Oh, I am glad. I was wracking my brains for the right choice.”

“I have no intention of even going to this ball.  Never mind letting you fix me up with a date with a view to marrying me off so I can procreate, allowing your precious society to function.  Contrary to what you imagine, I am not some waif Susanna adopted who is now your responsibility.”

Chapter Two

It’s Time

Andrea looked across her dining room table at the love of the late Susanna Ainsley’s life.  His emerald eyes were flashing dangerously and his lower lip was pushing out ever so slightly. Susanna always expertly managed his tendency to either erupt in rage or sulk or sometimes both.  His churlishness only increased his drop dead gorgeous appearance.

Susanna confided that she always tempted him into bed when Andrea expressed concern over his explosive temper. “Does it frighten me?  Are you kidding?” Her friend laughed; her seductive tone and sensuous expression flushing Andrea with more than embarrassment. “Oh, Andrea, his temper’s delicious.  I do soo
ooo
love
angry sex.” 

Poignancy washed over her.  She really did often fail to think of Susanna as gone; how much harder must it be for Julian?

When Susanna brought him over in a wild daze to announce their marriage after only a few weeks, Andrea just saw an astonishingly good looking, intense, charming boy – after all, he was of an age on par with her own sons, but she couldn’t miss the fact that he was clearly very much a man to her childhood friend.  Especially when he looked at her like he wanted to devour her.

She had been against the whirlwind marriage at first, cautioning a tempestuous affair instead.  But as time went on and she saw more of them together, she understood why Susanna -not to mention the media - found their union irresistible.

Andrea was joyfully married to the love of
her
life but if she was ever going to stray – well!  Just then, the afore-mentioned love of her life meandered absently into the dining room, no doubt looking for his pipe.  She handed it to him and he popped it in his ratty sweater pocket and then held out two neckties in front of her.  She considered and pointed at one.  He nodded and started to make his way out, taking the pipe from his pocket.

Julian watched in envy at the wordless communication of the happily long married. He and Susanna had never quite reached that point.  He pushed the thought and the emotion down where the plan demanded it go, along with all other futile and dangerous emotions.

“Don’t be foolish, Julian.  I’m not suggesting a date.  That’s why I was being so picky.  This will be your first public appearance since – well since.  It’s essential you have the
correct
escort.”

Julian hunkered down in his chair, attempting to hang on to his bad humour. She had a point.  Maybe it was time.  Andrea sensed his softening and was planning her next move carefully when Stephen took an unexpected interest.

“Escort?”  Stephen Saunders usually ignored his wife machinations, respecting her ability to rule capably over her societal empire, an empire that played a significant role in his financial business success.

“Darling, I’m trying to convince Julian to attend the Spring Charity Ball.  It really is the best event for him to appear again, but he’s being difficult.”

Stephen looked down at his pipe and slowly twirled it in his hands.  Andrea held her breath.  He didn’t look up when he spoke, his voice was matter of fact, and his words directed at Julian were short and to the point.

“You’ve had the pre-requisite year.  Your absence won’t be overlooked anymore.  It’s just good business.”

He looked up then and walked past his wife back towards the door.  He squeezed her shoulder on the way out, his tone infused with soft affection.

“Claire Fitzpatrick is an excellent choice, my dear.”

Chapter Three

The Correct Escort

Claire looked at the quarterly publication in front of her with melancholy.  It promoted her father’s favourite event and her first, when six years ago, at fourteen, he deemed her mature enough to accompany him to the many events his career involved.  She’d received similar notices all this past year.  These events were planned well in advance and her father’s name would be on their mailing list long before his death, almost a year ago.  She had binned all of them.  Some she had ferociously ripped to tiny shreds first.  She felt good afterwards; the violent expression of her feelings cathartic.

This one still sat on her table.  It had done for over two weeks.  This one she wanted to go to.  But she knew that was probably not going to happen. She couldn’t spring for the outrageous plate price – okay not outrageous given the cause – but her father’s various editors and publishers always paid in the past.  Her small inheritance left her with the apartment and enough for her education.  It did not spring to $5000 a plate charity balls.

There were a couple of guys who would take her but they would expect more for their $5000 than Claire was willing to pay.  Another few who would expect less but hope for more and she didn’t want to feed that hope when she had the certain knowledge it would never go anywhere.  She should just bin it like the rest.  She put it back in the top drawer.  You never know, miracles do happen.  She pushed off the melancholy and decided to go to for a run and a swim.

Her cell rang just as she was making her way out the door.  She grimaced when she saw Andrea Saunders caller id.  The woman so irritated her.  She was tempted not to answer but past experience knew it would be pointless.  Andrea was tenacious.  She would just have to agree to whatever volunteer role she had for her now.  Andrea clearly felt Claire had to be kept busy. 

“Hi, Andrea.” She offered unable to keep the resignation from her voice.

“Now, Claire, don’t worry, I’m not asking you to help with any teas or bazaars, this time.  I know you always attended the Spring Ball with your father and I thought you might like go this year as well.