The Glory Game (18 page)

“I hope I can live up to his bragging.” His eyebrows lifted in a high arch while the corners of his mouth came grimly down. “It isn't going to be easy when I'll be riding strange horses and playing under a different set of rules.”

“There are only minor differences between the Hurlingham Rules and the U.S. Polo Association's. In the study there's a copy of Lord Mountbatten's polo book, which contains both sets. You should study it before we go,” Luz advised.

“I will.” So serious and intense in his promise, Rob was very positive in his nod. The rare times she saw the light of exhilaration in his eyes always came during fast polo games. His love of the sport was beyond question, equaled only by his determination to excel at it. Luz was glad she was able to give him this opportunity to gain some international experience.

“As for the horses, Fiona wrote that Henry had recently purchased a string of eight Argentine ponies. So I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to riding
strange horses. It sounds as though you're going to be well mounted.”

“Better find out what the Spanish word for ‘whoa' is.” Trisha poked him in the leg, and hit a bruised spot where a ball had hit him.

“Knock it off, Trish.” Rob rubbed at the soreness, never very patient with her irreverent humor.

“One thing I should warn you about, Rob,” Luz interrupted, hoping to stop the bickering that would have continued between them. “Henry is very particular about riding in proper attire. Jake played with him a few times, and I remember once how put out Henry was when Jake didn't wear a regulation shirt. So be sure to take plenty of changes with you. Even in practice, he'll expect you to be dressed correctly.” Her glance made a pointed sweep of the faded jeans and T-shirt hugging his lank frame.

“How do you suppose Henry will feel about Rob's long sandy locks?” Trisha continued to taunt just to irritate her brother. “If he's such a stickler, maybe he won't let Rob play for him unless he cuts his hair. In polo, they roach the pony's mane. Why not his?”

“You're a pain, Trisha.” He pushed the sun visor down across her face, stretching the wide elastic band that secured it around her head. She ducked out of his reach and removed the visor to fluff her shaggy cinnamon curls back into order. “Why don't you pick on somebody else for a change?”

“What are older brothers for?” she mocked.

“Luz, make her lay off,” Rob appealed to her as he always had when his sister's needling became too much for him.

Trisha became impatient with him. “Lighten up, Rob. I'm only teasing.”

“That's enough, both of you,” Luz intervened for the sake of her own peace, and settled her glance on Trisha, who had instigated it all. “Not all of this England trip is for Rob's benefit. Early summer is the Season in Britain, or what's left of it. Which means there will be rounds of parties. I admit there isn't much of a debutante season on either side of the Atlantic any more, at least not on the scale there once was. Since you refused to take part in any of the coming-out affairs here—”

“I think they're crass,” she stated contemptuously. “It's all pointless anyway. Supposedly the idea is to meet all the eligible
young men, but I already know everybody who is anybody. It's just an opportunity to show off—for the parents as well as their daughters. I much prefer my trip to Paris, especially since it includes my first shopping trip on the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré.'

“That's reassuring,” Rob said dryly. “For a minute there, she was sounding so superior to the rest of us, it's a relief to know she's as acquisitive as everyone else is.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when Rob scored one off Trisha, but Luz tried to keep a straight face and continue with the discussion. “I know your feelings on the subject, Trish, but this will acquaint you with the international scene and give you an opportunity to meet new people. Fiona is planning a huge party while we're there, and I'm sure we'll receive invitations to others.”

“It probably will be fun.” But Trisha knew there was only one person she was interested in meeting again—Raul Buchanan. She supposed it was human nature to want something that was out of reach, greener grass and all that. Maybe if she ever got to know him, she wouldn't like him. But not many men had made such a strong impression on her. “Is Drew still coming with us?” she wondered.

“Our plans have changed somewhat. Now we're going to be gone longer—roughly three weeks. I don't know if your father can arrange to be away from his office for that length of time. He may simply join us in Paris.” With that said, she swung her legs over one side of the chaise and pushed out of the chair. “I think it's time for all of us to think about cleaning up for dinner.”

“Be there in a minute,” Trisha promised and watched her mother cross the patio to the glass-paned doors and enter the house. Beside her, Rob shifted as if to follow. Trisha tipped her head back to glance at him. “Does she seem weird to you?”

He paused. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know. Just sometimes she acts a little depressed.”

“She said she had a headache,” Rob reminded her.

“Yeah.” But Trisha wasn't convinced that was it. On the surface, everything seemed normal, but sometimes she felt bad vibrations and couldn't place the source.

“At the polo office today, I heard you asking around about that Argentine player, Raul Buchanan. How come?”

Trisha feigned a shrug of indifference. “I just wondered where he was playing now.”

“What'd you find out?”

“At Retama in San Antonio. They have their fiesta somewhere around this time of year. I wouldn't mind going to it. I've heard it's more fun than Mardi Gras in New Orleans.”

“Nice dream.” Rob smiled. “But Luz would never forgive you if you missed the Easter gathering of the Kincaids. I bet you'd blow your trip to Paris.”

“Easter. It's fitting, isn't it?” She grinned with the humor of her own thought. ‘The original Kincaids have multiplied like rabbits. It's kinda fun, though, hiding all the Easter eggs for the little ones and seeing everyone again.”

It was an ironclad rule that every member of the family gather at the Kincaid estate on Easter Sunday. No exceptions were allowed unless a member was serving in a branch of the military—the Kincaid influence was not always strong enough to obtain a leave. Audra wanted her sons, daughters, and grandchildren home on all holidays, but usually she let it be their decision. On Easter, it was an absolute command.

So they came—children, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren as well. Events for the entire day were scheduled, starting with sunrise services, the traditional family Easter-egg hunt, a huge brunch, volleyball games on the beach in which all ages participated with each team having its requisite number of youngsters, swimming, and an outdoor barbecue late in the afternoon. By then, everyone was too tired and too full to do anything more strenuous than talk.

Luz often thought the choice of Easter was a symbolic one, representing the resurrection of the family as a unit—laughing, playing, eating, all as one. They were a rolicsome, boisterous group—too loud, sometimes. Which was why Luz had slipped away to the wide sun deck overlooking the beach and ocean, where a volleyball game raged, supervised toddlers played with their sandbuckets, swimmers braved the rolling waves, and others sunned themselves or sat under large umbrellas. Here the shouts, shrieks, giggles, and talk were at a distance, giving her a break from all the noise and confusion and the unaccustomed crush of people.

“Aha, I've caught you sneaking off,” a voice accused in
jest, and Luz turned, relaxing when she saw it was Mary. “Shame on you for stealing off like this. Anyone would think you didn't like our company.”

“I just had too much of it.” A quiet smile curved her mouth. “What's your reason for slipping away, or am I supposed to believe you were looking for me?”

“That's what I'll tell everyone,” her sister countered as she leaned her hands on the deck rail. “But I'd lie about anything for this little bit of peace and quiet. Isn't it wonderful to get away from that”—indicating the crowd of family on the beach—“for a little while.”

“It is,” Luz agreed.

“There goes Julie's little monster heading for the water.” A toddler waddled as fast as he could toward the oncoming waves, but a teenage boy, one of several watching the younger ones, scooped him up before his feet got wet. “Remember what that was like, Luz? I swear you needed ten pairs of eyes to keep my brood out of trouble.”

“I remember. It's a good thing we were young then or we would have died of heart failure many a time.” A breeze curved a strand of hair across her mouth, and Luz turned into its salty current, shaking her head and letting it blow aside her hair.

“Where's Drew? I don't see him.”

“He's out swimming.” Even at this distance, it was easy to pick him out from the other heads bobbing in the surf. The twin streaks of white hair made him easy to distinguish.

“You seem unusually quiet, Luz.”

Sisters could be too perceptive. “Why do you think I'm here?”

“I don't mean now. All day, even in the middle of that, you've seemed just a little bit reserved. Is something wrong?” She looked askance at her, a thought suddenly occurring. “You aren't still bothered by that remark Trisha made?”.

“Isn't that odd?” Luz mused aloud. “I had completely forgotten about that.”

“Then what is it?”

She had always trusted Mary with her secrets. Although she wouldn't have searched her out to confide in her, now that the opportunity presented itself, she accepted it. “Drew had an affair with that woman Claudia Baines. It happened while they
were in New York. I found out about it by accident. It doesn't matter how. He assures me it's over.”

“Don't you believe him?”

“I don't know.” A long sigh broke from her, before her mood turned wryly bitter. “Claudia. Remember that word-association game? Every time I hear her name, I think of the word ‘cloying.' Claudia is cloying. It isn't true, of course. The times that I've seen her—you've met her—she seems warm and friendly. But cloying still comes to my mind. Maybe because it's all so sickening.”

“I've never understood why a woman becomes a man's mistress. It's true that she has no responsibilities and no commitments and she doesn't have to go through the day-to-day drudgery of living with him. But there are so many more minuses to an affair. She rarely sees him on weekends, and never on holidays. He may go to bed with her, but it's guaranteed he'll go home to sleep. His wife, children, and job all have priority over her. She's at the bottom of his list, and she sees him only whenever he's so inclined. Women who put up with that must have a streak of masochism in them.”

“He's infatuated with her.”

“I'd think you would find that reassuring,” Mary said. “Infatuations don't last.”

“But look at the damage that's been done in the meantime.” It saddened her to know how very far apart they were now. She turned to Mary, uncertain why she felt she had to say, “No one else knows this. I couldn't stand it if Rob and Trisha found out.”

“I won't tell anyone, not even Ross. I don't want to give the man any ideas,” she joked lightly.

“Thanks.” Luz smiled faintly, then looked toward the beach, her attention drawn back to the spot where she'd last seen Drew. He was wading ashore. She watched him shake out a beach towel and rub himself dry, then drape it around his neck and jog toward the bathhouse cabana on the beach close by the house.

When he noticed her standing on the sun deck, he waved and cupped a hand to his mouth to shout. “I'm going to shower and change! Afterward, let's have a sundowner!” She waved in acknowledgment, then he disappeared inside the cabana.

It seemed time that she attempt some sort of conciliatory gesture. “I think I'll fix those drinks and take them down.”

“I'll just stay here and enjoy the quiet,” Mary replied.

After fixing the drinks at the wet bar located in the game room, Luz used the covered, outside stairs that connected the cabana with the main house. Her rubber-soled deck shoes made almost no sound on the board steps as she walked slowly down the two flights of stairs to avoid spilling the drinks in her hands.

It took her a minute to juggle the drinks and open the rear door. As she stepped inside and paused to close it, she heard Drew talking to someone. That's the way it sounded at first, but no one ever answered him. Puzzled, Luz left the door standing ajar and went down two of the carpeted steps leading to the sunken rec room.

When he came into view, his back was to her. He was wearing a thick terry-cloth robe, and a towel was slung over his shoulder. The instant she spied the telephone receiver in his hand, Luz understood why she had been hearing only one side of his conversation. She began paying attention to what he was saying.

“Sure,” he said and waited, then, “I will. Bye.” The intimate tone, the warmth in his voice, told her more than the meaningless answers. When he hung up the phone, Luz was raging with hurt.

“Who were you talking to just now?” The harshness of her demand rang through the stillness, and Drew swung around in surprise, a stunned and guilty look on his face.

He recovered quickly. “It was the wrong number. Someone wanting the Carlyles.”

“You lying bastard!” Her cry of outrage was hoarse and raw as she hurled a glass at his head, ice cubes and liquor spraying the air. He dodged it, and it crashed against the wall in an explosion of shattering glass.

“Luz, for God's sake—”

But she wasn't interested in anything he had to say. “You called her, didn't you? It was Claudia on the phone, wasn't it?” She was trembling with the violence she felt.