Chapter 9 - He Finally Learned How to Ask
Arthur stayed in Vermont for exactly 2 days.
He never asked Clara to dinner.
That irritated her.
Which irritated her even more because she had no right to be irritated.
On the second afternoon, they inspected a warehouse together.
Arthur remained professional.
Painfully professional.
“The southern loading bay needs reinforcement,” Clara said.
“I agree.”
“And your quote is 12 percent above the others.”
“Our insurance coverage is better.”
“Still overpriced.”
“Margaret called me handsome. I assumed that was worth 5 percent.”
Clara stared.
Arthur smiled.
“You’re making jokes now?”
“I’ve been told personal growth is important.”
“Who told you that?”
“My therapist.”
Clara stopped walking.
“Your what?”
Arthur looked offended.
“I know what a therapist is.”
“You have a therapist?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily?”
“Mostly.”
Clara laughed again.
Arthur watched her.
This time the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.
She looked away first.
That evening, Arthur prepared to leave.
His car waited outside Margaret’s office.
Clara stood beneath falling snow.
“You’re really going?”
“I have a meeting tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
Arthur studied her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Clara.”
She sighed.
“You came all this way and didn’t even ask me to dinner.”
Arthur went completely still.
“You wanted me to?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just complained that I didn’t.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“Explain the distinction.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Arthur immediately corrected himself.
“Sorry. Arrogance relapse.”
Clara covered a smile.
Arthur took one step closer.
Not touching.
Never assuming.
“Clara Hughes.”
“Yes?”
“Would you have dinner with me?”
She studied him.
“Dinner.”
“Dinner.”
“No business.”
“No business.”
“No bodyguards sitting 2 tables away.”
Arthur hesitated.
“One outside?”
“Arthur.”
“Fine.”
“And this is not me coming back.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t erase what happened.”
“I know.”
“You hurt me.”
Arthur’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“And I don’t trust you completely.”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer mattered most.
Clara nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
Arthur smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
Their first date was terrible.
Arthur selected the most expensive restaurant in Burlington.
Clara hated it.
The waiter recognized him from newspapers.
Arthur spent half the meal scanning exits.
Clara finally put down her fork.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Managing the room instead of being in it.”
Arthur looked around.
Then he did something Clara had never seen him do.
He relaxed.
A little.
They left the expensive restaurant and bought cheeseburgers from a roadside place instead.
Arthur got mustard on his coat.
Clara laughed at him for 10 minutes.
He kissed her outside her house.
But only after asking.
“Can I?”
Clara looked into the gray eyes she had spent years trying to read.
“Yes.”
The kiss was gentle.
No possession.
No desperation.
No promise that everything was magically repaired.
When they separated, Arthur rested his forehead against hers.
“I did love you,” he whispered.
Clara’s eyes closed.
“That night?”
“Long before it.”
“Then why say you didn’t?”
“Because loving you gave you the power to destroy me.”
Clara opened her eyes.
“And you thought destroying me first would protect you.”
“Yes.”
“At least you know how stupid that was.”
“Painfully.”
She touched his cheek.
Arthur leaned into her hand.
Then Clara’s phone rang.
Margaret.
Clara answered.
Her expression changed immediately.
“What happened?”
Arthur straightened.
Clara listened.
Then whispered, “When?”
She ended the call.
“What?”
“Vincent.”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“What about him?”
“He was attacked during a prison transfer.”
“Is he dead?”
“No.”
Clara looked at Arthur.
“He escaped.”
The warmth vanished from the night.
Six months of peace ended in 5 words.
And this time, Arthur did not tell Clara what to do.
May you like
He simply asked:
“What do you need from me?”
