Chapter 8 - Six Months Without Clara
Clara moved to Vermont.
Not Colorado.
Not Europe.
Not some tropical island where Arthur would expect her to hide.
She rented a small house outside Burlington with crooked floors and a porch that needed painting.
For the first month, she slept 12 hours a night.
For the second, she learned how to wake without reaching for her phone.
For the third, she planted tomatoes.
They died.
Clara stared at the dead plants and laughed so hard she cried.
She found work consulting for a small logistics company owned by a widow named Margaret Ellis.
Margaret did not carry a gun.
She did not bribe judges.
She considered a delayed truck an emergency.
Clara loved her immediately.
In Manhattan, Arthur dismantled pieces of his empire.
At first, nobody believed it.
He sold gambling operations.
Closed 2 clubs.
Ended relationships with corrupt officials.
Costello Logistics underwent audits so painful Gregory complained daily.
Arthur endured them.
Vincent accepted a federal deal that would keep him imprisoned for decades.
Arthur visited once.
Vincent sat behind glass.
“You destroyed everything your father built,” Vincent said.
Arthur picked up the phone.
“No.”
He looked at his uncle.
“I’m destroying what men like you convinced me I had to become.”
Vincent laughed.
“For the girl?”
Arthur shook his head.
“For me.”
He hung up.
He never returned.
Six months after Clara left, a cream envelope arrived at her Vermont house.
No return address.
Her first instinct was to burn it.
Instead, she opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Arthur standing outside a newly opened youth shelter in Manhattan.
No message.
Only a newspaper clipping.
COSTELLO FOUNDATION FUNDS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SAFE HOUSE.
Clara sat on the porch for a long time.
Margaret stepped outside carrying coffee.
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Ex?”
“No.”
Margaret looked at the photograph.
“That complicated, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Two weeks later, Clara received another envelope.
Inside was a check.
Not for her.
For $2 million.
Payable to the hospital where Arthur had nearly died 3 years earlier.
The memo read:
For the people who sit beside the bed.
Clara cried that night.
Not because she wanted him back.
Because for the first time, Arthur seemed to understand what her love had cost.
Winter arrived.
Clara built a life.
Then, one December afternoon, Margaret entered her office.
“There’s a man downstairs.”
Clara’s heart stopped.
“What man?”
“Tall. Dark hair. Looks like he charges people for breathing near him.”
Arthur.
Clara stood.
“Did he ask for me?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“What does he want?”
“He says he has a 2:00 appointment about acquiring warehouse space.”
Clara checked the schedule.
There was an appointment.
A. Cole.
She almost laughed.
Of course.
She walked downstairs.
Arthur stood near reception.
No bodyguards.
No black coat worth more than a car.
Just a dark sweater and winter jacket.
He saw her.
Neither spoke.
Finally Clara said, “A. Cole?”
“Costello seemed conspicuous.”
“You promised not to find me.”
“I didn’t.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Arthur held up a folder.
“Your company requested bids from 6 New York freight operators. Mine was one.”
Clara opened the folder.
He was telling the truth.
Arthur added, “I almost declined.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I wanted to see you.”
There it was.
No manipulation.
No excuse.
Just truth.
Clara swallowed.
“You look different.”
“So do you.”
Her hair was loose.
No glasses.
No stilettos.
She looked younger.
Arthur looked quieter.
“You’re really shutting things down?” she asked.
“The illegal parts.”
“For me?”
“No.”
She smiled faintly.
“Good answer.”
“I learned from an excellent assistant.”
Her smile vanished.
Arthur winced.
“Former assistant.”
“Better.”
Margaret appeared.
“Clara, are you going to introduce me?”
Arthur extended his hand.
“Arthur.”
Margaret studied him.
“Oh.”
Clara frowned.
“What does ‘oh’ mean?”
Margaret smiled.
“It means this is definitely the complicated one.”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Arthur Costello blushed.
May you like
Clara laughed.
And Arthur realized he would have dismantled a hundred empires just to hear that sound again.
