Page 59 of Power Games

Fuck, Isabella had a lot of shoes. And make-up. And dresses. Vanessa suspected that clearing her own wardrobe would have been as hard, but the main difference was that she would never, ever, do it herself.

And maybe she should have just paid someone to deal with Charles' place too, but she expected that the comprehensive inventory of each item she and Henry were putting together would help. Every evening, she sent Charles a list, and by morning he let her know what he wanted to keep. All by email, or text; they'd evidently mutually agreed to stay the hell away from each other after the incident in his office on Wednesday.

The last thing they needed right now was the press to get their hands on compromising pictures of them. They'd dug out whatever they could find from years ago, their innocent coffee dates and whatever proof of their few haphazard encounters. It wasn't much. She yet had to make any form of statement at all, and the public was already on her side, thanks to Claudia, of all people.

Vanessa had gone to meet her on her first day in town; it was going to be one of her most challenging tasks and she wanted it over with.

Claudia was a thirty-one-year-old divorcee who'd married three times: once, for money; the second time, for social status; and the third, for love. She joked that the last marriage had been the shortest because money and status didn't vanish quite as fast as love. Vanessa had honestly always admired her rumbustious, overly blunt, and obdurate ways, but she'd never gotten to know her on a personal level, partially because Vanessa spent most of her time in LA, and partially because Claudia absolutely loved Isabella Grant. They'd been two peas in a pod, not unlike Vanessa and Robb or Kaia.

Vanessa didn't think she'd ever met Claudia without Isabella being present as well. They'd saluted each other quite pleasantly, and parted ways as hastily as possible.

Henry found Claudia's details and Vanessa called.

"Hello, Claudia. I know this may be a little weird, but I would like to meet if you have some time to spare."

The woman had snorted. "You? You would like to meet? That's a good one. So, Miss Too Good For Us needs me now, hm?"

At least she hadn't hung up quite yet.

"I do," she replied. "I will be taking care of some things for Charles, and honestly, I didn't know Isabella much. I don't think she liked me. I'd hate to do anything that would go against her wishes."

Claudia was silent for a good twenty seconds. "I'm sorry, I'm just stunned by the amount of bullshit that comes out of your mouth. You'd hate to do anything that Izzy wouldn't approve of? Why are you screwing her husband, then?"

She'd seen that one coming. She considered denying any wrongdoing, but she could tell that wouldn't work with Claudia Denvers, so instead she shrugged. "Well, that's another matter altogether, isn't it? I mean, I could ask why did Izzy screw my father, my brother, your second and third husbands, her surgeon, and basically most attractive men in DC, but it has very little bearing on what flowers she liked and who she'd want to have pearls. I'm only concerned with the second type of information. Without you, I'll assume that roses would do just fine and send the jewelry boxes to her mama. With your help, we can settle her affairs in a way she would have approved of.”

Claudia still wasn't cutting the phone call short. Finally, she sighed.

"Well, I suppose it's nice to hear a bit of honesty these days. And she disliked roses. Too basic. As for her jewelry, it definitely shouldn't go to her mother. They were arguing all the time. Are you really managing all these things?"

"Whatever Charles doesn't want to handle himself, and you know men. They aren't much help when it comes to organizing events. I would infinitely appreciate it if you could spare some time."

"And I would infinitely appreciate if you stopped talking like we're having afternoon tea. Jesus, did they make you swallow a protocol guide or something?"

She smiled and confessed, "I revert to formality when I'm nervous. Give it a day or two."

"Well, that's reassuring. Right. I can free up most afternoons; after two, mind you. A lady needs her beauty sleep."

And so Claudia was suffering alongside them, writing down suggestions and orders about Isabella's belongings. The suggestions, Henry annotated in black on his Excel sheet; they'd ask Charles about it later. The orders were in red. Claudia wasn't compromising. Isabella's pretty fur shawl absolutely must be given to Tanya Dell, because she'd promised to lend it to her someday. As Charles didn't seem to care one way or another, all directions were approved.

Vanessa and Henry packaged and sent whatever items had a future owner set up, and packed the rest in donation boxes in the morning. The afternoon was spent sorting through new things. Six days later, it didn't feel like they were going to crawl from underneath the mountain of belongings anytime soon.

They'd kept the conversation solely focused on the task at hand for close to a week, but that Wednesday, Claudia surprised Vanessa. "I replied to a silly tweet, you know."

Vanessa lifted her head. "Hm?"

"About Isabella, and you, and Charles. Someone tagged me because I was in a picture, you see. They were saying some very nasty things about you, so I replied. I just said Izzy was no angel, and that they obviously hadn't met you if they thought you could be anyone's mistress." Claudia waved her hand. "I may I have added a thing or two about the need to surgically remove the broomstick up your ass first, but you know."

"Oh!" Vanessa looked up, admittedly surprised. "I'm not following the Internet drama right now, not while I have all this to worry about." She gestured to the open space full of boxes around them. "But thank you. It means a lot, coming from you."

It did. There was only so much Vanessa's friends could say that would matter. Kaia's bitchy comments helped her more than anyone else's, according to Henry, who followed the whole thing for her. She was confident that Claudia's tweet would be gold.

That evening, for the first time in a week, she did check her social media. Vanessa frowned. She was tagged left, right, and center on a video featuring Charles. She hadn't known he'd made a statement yet. They hadn't discussed anything of the sort.

The headline read, "Charles Grant of Jacobs Enterprises says it all." She clicked on it.

A female journalist was interviewing him in his office. Charles looked perfect for this: he wore a black suit, with a dark gray shirt and a black tie, loose around his neck. His eyes were a little red, somewhat puffy. The obvious weariness and despondency would make him all the more likable.

She frowned, concerned. Maybe she should go see him soon? Check how he was doing in person. Bring him a coffee. She remembered his order: black, one sugar. Nothing fancy for him.

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