Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
CLAIRE
Three months later
Claire discovered a thick white envelope at the bottom of her mail stack, her name magnificently scripted across the front in calligraphy.
The backside revealed another mystery—a wax seal closure with a mark she didn't recognize.
Curiosity fully piqued, she broke the seal and removed a printed invitation from the gold-lined envelope.
She studied it for a moment, then reached for the phone.
“Hello,” Molly mumbled, her voice as rough as sandpaper.
"It's official," Claire announced brightly.
"What? That you're the only person who doesn't appreciate the beauty of sleeping late on Saturday? It’s not even eight o'clock.”
"Sorry. Did I wake you?" Claire asked, snuggling back in her bed.
"If I had a dollar for every time you’ve asked that question."
"It's here! The invitation for Hamish's dinner."
"Fabulous." Molly yawned unenthusiastically.
"Will you go with me? You know he'd love to see you."
"I doubt he'd even recognize me. It's been years."
"Please say you'll go." Claire begged.
"When is it again?" Molly asked.
Claire re-read the card. "Three weeks. And it's at your most favorite venue in all of London.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Do you remember that time he let us take his Bentley into town? And we bought that bottle of wine and a box of cigars? And we swore up and down to that old shopkeeper that Hamish sent us?"
"Do you remember how sick we got?" Molly asked, then made a gagging noise.
"How old were we?" Claire asked.
"I think we were twelve. We turned fourteen shades of green and threw-up for two days straight."
"And you know something else? He never told my father," Claire said.
"He let us do whatever the hell we wanted." Molly laughed. "God, I loved spending summers at his country house with you."
"He spoiled us rotten, that’s for sure.”
"That man broke my heart too, you know?" Molly confessed.
"What?" Claire laughed.
"It's true. It's because of Hamish Fielding that I'm still single today."
"Oh Molly, you can't be serious."
"I'm totally serious. Do you remember that one summer, I think we were fifteen maybe, and he threw that huge party? That was the night I really fell in love with Hamish. I've been ruined ever since."
"What? You never told me this."
"I was out on the patio smoking a cigarette that I'd slipped out of some woman's purse."
"Where was I?" Claire asked, intrigued by an unknown tale from her youth.
"I don't know. I think you were inside dancing.
Anyway, I was all alone out on the patio pretending I was someone famous when Hamish strolled out there to check on me.
I'll never forget it. His hair was combed straight back, and he was wearing a white tuxedo jacket.
He had a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail shaker in the other.
He looked exactly like William Holden in Sabrina. "
"He did look incredible in a tuxedo," Claire agreed.
"He looked incredible in everything."
"So, what happened? He didn't do anything inappropriate, did he?"
Molly laughed. "Of course not. It was nothing like that. He jerked the cigarette from my hand and gave me a good verbal tongue lashing. He was furious. Of course, I argued back with him. Then, he looked at me, held his own cigarette out and said, ‘Heaven help the man who falls in love with you, Molly Wise. He won’t know what hit him.’ I melted on the spot. "
"I can't believe you never told me this."
"What was I going to say? Claire, I'm in love with your uncle. You would have been furious."
"No, I wouldn't’ve. To be honest, I was a little in love with him myself—not in a weird, sexual way, but you know what I mean. He was just so cool."
"He was like a character out of a movie, wasn't he?"
"Kind of like Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday meets Robert Redford in The Great Gatsby?" Claire summoned a mental picture of Plain Ol’ Jay.
"Exactly. I want to stand on a patio overlooking a lush estate with someone who looks as gorgeous as Hamish did that night."
"That's a great story, Molly. And one he'll want to hear first-hand when you come with me to his party. Now say you will."
"Isn't there some hottie from work you'd rather step out with?" Molly hinted after a pregnant pause. "I’m sure Isaac would love to go.”
"He’s my boss and the answer is no,” Claire said firmly.
"Are you still wearing the ring?” Molly asked after a long silence.
"Of course not," Claire said, as she reached and touched the platinum band sitting on her bedside table. The diamond sparkled in the early morning light spilling in through the windows.
"It's been six months, Claire," Molly said.
"I can count, Molly!"
"Geez. Sorry."
Claire sighed. "No, I'm sorry."
"I just hate to see you torment yourself."
Claire studied the ring, thinking back to Christmas Eve of the previous year. "A part of me feels like…” Her voice trailed off.
"So, is your father coming to Hamish’s shindig?" Molly changed the subject.
Claire eyed her alarm clock. "I don't know. I need to call him but he’s fast asleep by now."
"That didn't stop you from calling me, now did it?"
Claire could almost hear her best friend’s smirk through the phone.