The Vanishing by Gary Brown (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📕

“Are all your company parties as elaborate as this?”

“Truthfully, yes. But I have to say this one really takes the cake.”

A knight walked past, a rack of bells in his arms. He chimed them slowly. Ding! Dang! Dong! “Hear ye, hear ye, lords and ladies,” the knight announced. “Dinner is served.” The guests slowly made their way to their tables.

As they walked across the room, Martin said, “Claire, would you mind if I paid you a compliment?”

“No, Martin,” Claire replied. “Of course not.”

“If you will allow me to say so, you are definitely the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.”

Claire blushed. “What a sweet thing to say. I’m flattered.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Martin replied as he pulled back her chair.

As the evening progressed, they enjoyed a wonderful meal and even better conversation. Martin received a standing ovation and accepted an award for the success of Heaven on Earth, his fourth consecutive bestseller. After the speeches, Kelly stopped by to congratulate Martin personally, though Claire knew her real underlying motive was to find out how the two of them were getting along.

“Well, Martin, I see you’ve met the good doctor. Guess that saves me the trouble of making the introductions.”

“Actually, I didn’t know Claire was a doctor,” Martin replied. “She hadn’t told me.”

“Second generation,” Kelly bragged.

“Then I’d say you’ve been holding out on me.”

“How’s that?”

“You never told me your roommate was a doctor, and a beautiful one at that.”

“What?” Kelly sighed. “And have your attention swayed away from me? Why would I do a foolish thing like that? Besides, I know you lie awake at night dreaming up steamy fantasies about me. Come on, admit it.”

Claire laughed. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“God, no!” Martin said. “I wouldn’t be safe for a second.” He winked. “Besides, I suspect she just wants me for my body.”

“Who wouldn’t!” Kelly teased. “Anytime, anywhere. Right now’s good for me. Your room or mine?”

“Very funny,” Claire said.

“Okay, okay,” Kelly quipped. “I can tell when it’s my cue to split. I’ll leave you two alone to get better acquainted.” She leaned between them and stage-whispered in Martin’s ear, loud enough for Claire to hear. “Suite 1422. I’ll leave the key card under the mat. See you around 11:00?”

“Goodnight, Kelly!” Claire teased.

Kelly laughed. “Goodnight kiddo. See you later.”

Martin turned to Claire. “I have an idea,” he said. “It’s a beautiful night. What would you say to a stroll along the boardwalk after dinner?”

“Sounds marvelous,” Claire replied. “But I have to run out to the lobby first. Be right back!”

“Okay,” Martin said, puzzled.

Claire returned shortly. In her hand, she held a copy of Martin’s book.

“Mr. Belgrade, sir,” she said. “Would you be kind enough to autograph my book for me?”

Martin laughed. “Sure, but it’ll cost you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Claire said. “How much?”

“Once along the boardwalk and twice around the block.”

As the serving staff offered coffee, Martin signed Claire’s book. She read the inscription and laughed.

To Claire, whose table manners are much better than Maggy’s.

Martin Belgrade

Below his name, he had written his phone number.

17

AWAY FROM THE harsh lights of the hotel, the evening sky teemed with a canopy of bright stars. Claire walked with Martin along the boardwalk to the symphony of the surf. A fishing pier jutted out over the water, bathed in the soft glow of a single overhead lamp. They strolled to the end of the wooden dock and stared out over the moon-dappled bay.

“Martin,” Claire said.

“Yes?”

“When we first met, I asked you about your books. You mentioned you write about cults.”

“Yes, I do. Why?”

“Of all the things to write about, why such a fascination with cults? Especially, how did you put it… destructive cults?”

“It’s a long story,” Martin replied. “Cults are an obsession of mine, for all the wrong reasons, I’m afraid. Five years ago, I lost my wife and daughter to a cult.”

“Oh my God,” Claire said. “I’m so sorry. Lost how?”

“Before I became a writer, I was a university professor. So was my wife, Anne. I taught English literature. Anne’s area of expertise was religious studies. We were doing well. We had stable jobs, a decent income, and a big house in the country. You could say we were living the American dream. After a couple of years, we had a daughter, Melanie. My wife had been teaching longer than me, so we decided she would take a sabbatical. I would continue to work, and she would stay home with Melanie. Money wasn’t a problem for us. We could afford it. Anne’s father died several years before Melanie came along and left her a sizable inheritance, which we had invested well. But after Melanie was born Anne began to change, gradually at first. She wasn’t the sweet Anne that I had fallen in love with anymore. She had become distant, non-communicative.”

“What did you do?”

“I tried to get her to open up and tell me what was wrong, but she wouldn’t. She said it was none of my business and that I probably wouldn’t understand, anyway. She began spending more and more time away from the house with people from the university she said were her friends. I thought I knew all her friends because they were my friends too, but I’d never seen these people before. I got worried. A few of them gave me the creeps. They’d speak to Anne, but never to me. One day I came home early from work. A van I hadn’t seen before was parked in the lane near the back of our house. Melanie was two at the time. When I walked inside, I found her sitting alone on the kitchen floor. I was shocked. Anne never let Melanie out of her sight, not for a second. I looked upstairs and down, but she was nowhere to be found. The kitchen window was open. That’s when I heard voices coming from the barn where we kept a couple of trail horses. It sounded like