Kentucky Heat (18 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
Hatch bit down on his lower lip so he wouldn't burst out laughing. “Are you sure you want to go to the Jockey Club for dinner? There are other places. Places where you might feel more comfortable.”
Nealy reared up in her seat. “With or without my shawl?”
“The way I see it, it's your call. If you get cold, I could give you my jacket or I could put my arms around you.”
“Oh, yeah. No, no, no, that kind of thing leads to . . . you know. I bought one of everything in Victoria's Secret. I had so many of those pink bags people were staring at me.”
This time Hatch did laugh. “Was it a good feeling?”
Nealy rocked back and forth laughing. “Yeah. Oh-oh, you were supposed to turn back there. We're there. Here. At the Jockey Club. You drive like Smitty drives, on two wheels. That was exciting turning around in the middle of the road like that with the tires screeching. I would never do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I always obey the rules, that's why. It's no fun, though. When you do everything that is expected of you, it makes you boring. Ruby said I was really boring. It's too soon for you to know if I'm boring. You'll probably have a better idea after dinner. Do you want to sit on the front porch and watch the stars when we go home?”
“I'd like that, Nealy.”
“I like putting my feet up on the banister. I don't like sitting and crossing my ankles. You should try that sometime. It sucks.”
“I bet it does. Sit still now and I'll come around and open the door. Can you do the seat belt?”
“Just as soon as I uncross my ankles, I will do the seat belt. I wish you'd hurry and open the door. I'm choking here.”
Hatch scurried around to the passenger side of the car. Half of the luscious pink shawl was dragging on the ground and was filthy dirty. He opened the door.
“Arwk,” Nealy gasped. “Now I can breathe again. We made good time, didn't we? It seems like we just started out.”
“That's what happens when you're having fun,” Hatch said with a straight face.
“Isn't that the truth? I cannot tell you how worried I was about this date. Is this a date or just dinner? I need to know so I know what to eat.”
“Huh?”
“You know. If it's a date, you're nervous. You already know I'm nervous about all of this. That means I have to eat something soft so I can just swallow it. I can't drink anything sweet or sticky or I'll get sick. I usually order six desserts. Ruby said I can't do that. If I do that, you won't think I'm classy.”
Hatch threw his hands in the air. Was this the same Nealy Diamond Clay who had been married to his best friend? Right now she seemed more like a nervous teenager than the formidable Nealy Diamond Clay of legend. What the hell. When in Rome . . . “
I'm
going to order six desserts!”
I'm
going to order six desserts!”
“You are!” Nealy said, her eyes almost popping from her head. “I can't. I promised I would do everything they said.”
“I'll share mine with you then.”
“I love sweet stuff. I have a real sweet tooth. Do you have a sweet tooth, Hatch?”
“I have a whole mouth full of sweet tooths. Or is that sweet teeth?” He lifted his shoulders and looked to her for an answer.
“I don't know. Probably teeth. That's one thing we have in common then.”
“I think we have more than that in common, Nealy,” Hatch said, taking hold of her elbow, steadying her.
Nealy stared at the Jockey Club emblem on the door. “This club was started by men and has always been maintained by men. There are no waitresses, only waiters. My mother was a waitress,” she said, her mind taking a momentary detour. “Not here, of course, but in a small Texas town. They don't like women here but they have to let me in because I belong to the Jockey Club. They stare at me. I beat them. All of them. Me. Whataya think of that, Hatch?” Nealy said, sashaying over to the little podium. “I would like a table by the window in the smoking section, Franklin.”
“Certainly, Miz Clay, just follow me.”
“You have to hold your head up and pretend not to see all these people. I have to keep up what they perceive to be my nasty image.”
Befuddled, Hatch nodded.
Nealy looked around. “Do you like this place, Hatch?”
“It looks kind of stuffy, or maybe I'm mistaking that with steeped in tradition. Don't you like it?”
“You're right on both counts. It's very stuffy and there's lots of traditionâtradition that doesn't include women. I don't like the people.” She looked up when the waiter approached. “I'll have an Old Grandad on the rocks. A double.”
“Ice tea,” Hatch said. “I'm driving.”
Nealy smiled at him. Was he always so in control? Probably. “That's right, you are driving.”
Nealy stared across the room at the picture wall. The Derby wall. Her picture hung there with all those who had gone before her. She stared at it, wondering if the club would have a second picture to hang next year.
The restaurant was quiet, with just a handful of guests. She let her gaze rake past the tables but not long enough so she would either have to nod, smile, or mouth a greeting. It was dim, with the only light coming from sconces lined up around the walls. A small candle sat in the middle of each table. They gave off just enough light to read the menus. The tables and chairs were dark mahogany, the tableclothes a deep burgundy. The bar was dark mahogany with polished brass, the barstools were high and upholstered in dark red leather. The carpet was old and probably the most important thing in the dining room. The pattern in the center was the racetrack at Churchill Downs. Woven into each corner of the rug were the most famous Triple Crown winners of all time, Secretariat, Citation, Seattle Slew, and Whirlaway. Definitely a man's room.
“Is your picture hanging up there?” Hatch asked.
“Bottom row, third from the end. Next year they'll have to start hanging the pictures on the next wall. I'm honored to be here.” She wiggled her bottom into the cushiony softness of the chair, the same way she did when she was trying to get her seat in a new saddle. “What should we talk about, Hatch? I can hold up my end of the conversation if we talk about horses or the kids. I'm not real good with that chatty stuff. Do you want to talk about Hunt and Sela so we can kind of go on from there? It's okay with me if you do. You have such sad eyes.”
Hatch looked down at the table as though deciding what it was he wanted to say. “Sometimes I feel like I want to talk about Sela and my son, but I always feel if I do that, then they won't be mine anymore. I'll have shared them. They were my life. Everything I did, every thought, every action was for them. I couldn't wait to get home at night to be with them. I miss them with every breath I take. I've let go. I packed away all their things. I suppose I should have given them away, but I wasn't ready to do that. I try to do what Sela wanted by getting on with my life. When Nick showed up, it was like it was meant to be. I plunged into that with all my might. Believe it or not, he helped me get over the last hurdle. I'm okay now.”
Nealy looked at him over the rim of her glass. “That's good, Hatch. I mean really good,” she said with sincerity. “Life is for the living. I wish I had been more worldly when Hunt came into my life. I was so sheltered it was pitiful. At least you're going forward without regrets. I have a bushelful. Let's talk about something else. Like what we're going to order.” She opened the menu and studied the entrees.
“Six desserts,” Hatch reminded her.
“I'm going to have the macaroni-and-cheese casserole. It has little onions in it. Nick loved it. It's soft. That's what I'm having. I have to watch my weight. It's okay if you want to go over and look at the pictures. I'll just sit here and drink and smoke a cigarette. I quit, but sometimes I smoke when I'm nervous. I'm nervous, so I'm going to smoke. This is the smoking section. Do you smoke?”
“On occasion,” Hatch said, getting up to walk over to the picture wall. “I'll be right back.” Nealy heaved a sigh of relief as she gulped at her drink and signaled for another. Another hour and they could leave. She wondered if she could hold out that long.
Nealy stared across the room at Hatch. He was a big man. A gentle man. Yes, he had sad eyes, but there was laughter in those eyes, too. She wished she knew what he thought of her.
“Your picture is awesome. How did it feel, Nealy, when you were in the winner's circle?”
Nealy stared into her glass as she tried to come up with the answer. “Like a thousand Christmas mornings.” She paused, reliving the moment, then looked up and met his gaze. “The best part, though, was when Flyby found that tiny little hole and made his run for it. At that precise moment I thought we really were flying. It was like this giant explosion of sound and sunlight and exhilaration. I don't have the right words to tell you. I won the Preakness and the Belmont, but they can't compare to the Derby. For me it was the Derby. I hope I can do it again next year. They're already talking about me being too old. I worry a little about that. I'm training. Tonight is . . . I'm smoking and drinking because . . .”
“You're nervous.” Hatch smiled.
Nealy's head bobbed up and down.
The waiter appeared to take their order.
“I'll have the macaroni-and-cheese casserole. Coffee, too.”
“Apple pie with pecan ice cream. Banana cream pie, praline pie, peach cobbler, chocolate thunder cake, and crème brûlée,” Hatch said. “And coffee for me, too.”
“No entree, sir?”
“Only if I'm still hungry. You know what they say. Life is short, eat dessert first.”
Nealy grinned at him as she felt a warm glow flow through her.
Two hours later, Nealy looked across the table at Hatch. “I can't believe we ate all that food. We talked, too. Ruby was right. Maybe it was Smitty. I'm ready to go now.”
“I'm ready if you are.”
“Didn't I have a shawl with me?” Nealy said, bending down to look under the table.
“We left it in the car.”
“Okay. I guess we can go then. Are we going to sit on the front porch and look at the stars? Sometimes I give them names. Do you ever do that?”
“All the time,” Hatch said, cupping her elbow in his hand to lead her from the restaurant.
“Remember now, don't look at anyone.”
“There's no one here to look at, Nealy. Everyone's gone. We're the last to leave.”
“How'd that happen?”
“We had six desserts, they only had one.”
“Oh.”
In the car, with her ankles crossed demurely, her seat belt secure, the dirty shawl on her lap, Nealy fell asleep. A smile settled on Hatch's face and stayed there until he brought the car to a stop by the back door of Blue Diamond Farms. He exited the car and loped down to the barn, where he found Ruby and Metaxas.
“Our friend is . . . a little under the weather. If you show me where her room is, I'll carry her upstairs.”
“Carry her upstairs!” Ruby bleated. “What's wrong with her?”
Hatch laughed. “She just got nervous.”
“Nervous? What's that mean?”
Hatch threw his hands in the air. “I don't know. I never did understand women. She said she had to cross her ankles and then the shawl was choking her and she said she had to eat soft food and nothing sweet or sticky and she always does what she's told to do and a lot of pink shopping bags. I tried to keep up but gave up when I had to eat those six desserts.”
“Was it a fun evening?” Metaxas asked carefully as he watched his wife for her reaction.
“Hell, yes. I haven't laughed like that in a couple of years. Well, that's not quite true. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't laugh. She's funny. I have to say, I had a good time.”
“Did Nealy have a good time?” Ruby asked.
Metaxas rolled his eyes, a warning that Hatch should think before he responded. The big Indian missed the message.
“I don't think so. She was too nervous. Why she was nervous is a mystery. I guess women get nervous for no reason.”
“Shut up,” Ruby said as she marched toward the house.
“What did I say?” Hatch demanded.
“You said Nealy was nervous. Don't you know anything about women, Hatch?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot. How much do you know?”
“Probably less,” Metaxas groaned. “I guess we aren't supposed to use the word
nervous.
I learned a long time ago not to ask questions. Women stick together. Like glue,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Where are you sleeping, big guy?”
nervous.
I learned a long time ago not to ask questions. Women stick together. Like glue,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Where are you sleeping, big guy?”
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