The Plan - Chances & Choices Prequel Read online

  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.

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  http://www.helenkarolchoices.com

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  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. Art 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 sooooo 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 sweate
r 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.

  “I...I would, but...”

  “Now don’t worry about the plate price, my dear. The committee are happy to offer you a place out of respect for your father, but I do have a bit of a favour to ask.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I would like you to accompany a friend of ours. His wife died last year and he needs someone who is used to attending these gatherings. I think you would be just right.”

  Claire thought about it. Did she want to go enough to spend the time with some old guy who could be really boring or maybe worse? Yes, seemingly she did because the words left her lips before she could stop them.

  “Sure, that would be fine.”

  “Oh good, I am glad. I think you might be a comfort to each other. His name is Julian. I’ll give him your number to confirm and make arrangements.”

  In typical Andrea fashion, she hung up before Claire could ask anymore. Julian who? The name did seem to have a vague familiarity. Oh well, she’d find out soon enough. The ball was only a week away.

  Chapter Four

  Fading Scent

  Julian stood in front of his closet mirror telling himself this was the right decision and could work as part of the plan. Andrea and Stephen were right; he needed to get back in the flow. These events were important to any business, but as a designer of haute couture, it was essential he attend. As a Hollywood star, Susanna’s attendance was always mandatory and she had loved this charity.

  He could never quite believe it when they would move around together in this room, dressing to attend these events. He’d stand in front of the mirror, looking at the reflection of his outrageously sexy, gorgeous wife, and wonder how he ever got so lucky. It was a fairytale come true. The perfect romance.

  Only now, he had to cope with the tragic ending. He had to get on with going through the motions. Eventually the motions would feel real and life would fall into place again. Or at least that is what the literature told him, but he knew he was never going to forget, he was going to keep the memory of how he felt now, stored and ready always, so he could never make the same mistake.

  If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her press her breasts against his back, just like she did that first moment when they met, just before he turned and saw his own overpowering emotions mirrored in her beautiful, soulful, brown eyes. Walking over to the the closet, he lifted the the shawl draped around the hanger. He hesitated for a moment and then allowed himself the forbidden luxury of burying his face in her scent. He sunk into it and felt panic. Her scent was less today, just as it was every day. Gradually it would fade and soon, far too soon, he would lose this part of her as well.

  He struggled with the panic, pushing it away, getting used to the feeling of being without her, of not feeling, not reacting. He looked down at his hand still holding the shawl. His ring was still there, mocking him. In a fit of determination, he pulled the ring from his finger, walked over to his dresser and dropped it into the small chest that held his limited accessories, his cufflinks and watches. It dropped in with a metallic clunk of finality and he closed the lid with purpose. There was a band of pale skin where the ring had been and he rubbed it vigorously as if that would turn it the same colour as the rest of his finger.

  Moving through the beach house, he closed the sliding doors leading to the Pacific Ocean and walked out through the raised dining room to the garage. Just before pulling the car out into the highway, he texted the late Liam Fitzpatrick’s daughter to let her know he was on his way. Claire. A sophisticated name for a young girl. Nineteen. How the hell was he going to manage to entertain a nineteen year old for the evening? She sounded okay on the phone, not a giggly teenager. Young women were more knowledgeable and confident these days. Shit, listen to yourself, West. You sound like an old man. Young women these days. Lighten up.

  Chapter Five

  Running Late

  Claire saw Julian’s text and panicked. Shit. She wasn’t ready yet and he would be here in half an hour! Running around frantically in her underwear, she left her hair halfway through blow-drying and went to pull on her dress and do her make-up. Twenty-five minutes later, Julian texted her, as they agreed, to say he was five minutes away. Wel
l at least he was considerate. It was part of being a widower, probably, remembering his husbandly training and honouring it carefully in deference to his passed wife. Her father was the same. Her heart contracted at the thought of her tall, handsome father. How she missed him.

  It had always been just the two of them. She had encouraged him to meet women. She was desperate as a young kid, always trying to match make, like one of those syrupy kids from a Disney movie. But, Liam Fitzpatrick had been too happy in his first marriage, had spent too many years in the company of the woman he loved to distraction, to look anywhere else. Her memory was all he wanted, along with her, Claire, their unexpected treasure, gifted to them late in life. He had always told her that she was his special present, sent to help him cope with the early loss of his Mary. Claire had few memories of her mother and although she missed a woman in her life, she never felt incomplete; her father showered her with so much love. His loss, more sudden than she expected, left a massive, gaping hole.

  She hoped going to the ball wasn’t a mistake, that she would hold it together and not fall apart when confronted with a setting and situation where she was so used to his presence. For once, she was grateful to Andrea Saunders. Attending with someone who had also recently lost a loved one was a good move. That way if either of them got wobbly, the other would understand, there would be no need for awkward explanations.

  She jumped when the buzzer sounded. Shit she had no time to put her hair in the upswept style she usually wore for these occasions. It made her look older and more capable of holding her own. She looked in the mirror. Drying naturally, her massive mane of golden hair was draped in unruly waves around her. Along with plunge neckline of her sleeveless, gold dress, it made her look wilder and sexier than she usually did. Not that she usually looked wild and sexy; she was much more the cool blonde. It covered the backless portion of her outfit, which was disappointing as she felt it was one of her better features and chose the dress for that reason. Never mind. Too late now.