The Glory Game (8 page)

Luz slow-cantered the dull-brown Thoroughbred toward the white ball sitting near midfield. Dressed in a bisque-colored turtleneck and tan riding slacks, she wore a polo helmet to protect her from a wild-hit ball. As she approached the plastic practice ball, she held her ready position until she was almost on it, then swung the cane mallet. She heard the clunk of contact and felt the vibration from the impact travel through her arm as she completed her follow-through. The white sphere arced through the air. Luz didn't give chase. Rob was coming from the opposite direction to practice a head-on shot. The brown horse snorted its boredom with this stick-and-ball work, preferring the hell-bent-for-leather excitement of a game. She reined the horse in to watch her son position his galloping mount for the shot.

With the ball running toward him, the correct timing of his swing was essential. His arm came down in an arc, his stick an extension of it. The mallet head made contact with the ball and Rob pushed it sideways, the abrupt reversal of direction giving the ball a topspin. He turned his horse to go after the ball. Luz grimly shook her head when she noticed his pony was on the wrong lead, the stride of the outside leg overreaching the inside leg of the turn. Rob made no attempt to correct it. He knocked the ball to the middle of the field where she waited, then rode up to meet her.

“I think that's enough for one morning, Rob,” she said as he swung his blowing horse alongside hers.

“Another hour,” he stated.

“It's time to call it quits,” Luz insisted. “You're making
mental errors. That last cut up the field, your pony was on the wrong lead. That's an amateur's mistake, Rob.”

He shifted in the saddle, putting his weight onto the stirrup irons. Leather groaned as he settled back onto the seat. “I must have been concentrating on the ball.” He avoided her eyes.

“You've been pushing yourself hard all week. It's time to let up.”

“Maybe you're right,” he sighed.

“I know I am.” She collected the Thoroughbred, making contact with its mouth, and squeezed her legs to urge it forward.

While she loped her mount to the sideline where their soft-spoken handler stood, Rob followed, propelling the ball along with his polo stick. She slowed the horse to a halt near Jimmy Ray and, slipping her wrist free of the strap, passed him the mallet, then dismounted. He took the reins and led the horse out of the way as Rob rode up. Luz pulled off the helmet and shook her hair free. Her cream-white Mercedes convertible was parked on the grass not far away.

“I have to get back to the house and help Emma with the party arrangements.” She peeled off her gloves and tucked them inside the helmet under her arm, glancing at Rob as he swung off his horse.

“Can you wait a minute, Luz? I need to talk to you about something.” He turned and held out the horse's reins to Jimmy Ray. “Take them to the stable and cool them out.”

Luz waited until the handler had led both horses away. “What about?” She studied Rob's expression, guessing the subject must be serious.

“Dad's been pressuring me to make a decision about which college I want to attend.”

“I know graduation seems months away right now, but you really don't have much time to make up your mind,” Luz said in her husband's support.

“But that's just it. I've already made up my mind. I don't want to start college this fall.” He spoke quickly, before she could voice the protest forming on her lips. “I want to sit out a year.”

“Rob, I don't know.” She doubted that Drew would agree to it. “What would you do?”

“I want to concentrate on polo—not just play in a tournament
here and there, but do it full-time. I want to find out how good I can be,” he argued earnestly.

“He has his heart set on your attending college.” Luz could hear the arguments in her head. “There are any number of universities with fine polo programs—Virginia, where I went, or USC, Cornell. You could do both.”

“No.” He stared at the whip he twisted in his hands. “You know what it's like for me in school now. I have to study all the time just to get passing grades. If I have to attend college and play polo at the same time, I won't do well at either of them. It's one or the other. It can't be both. You know that.”

“Yes.” She sympathized with him. School had never been easy for her either. But he needed the education, certainly more than she had. Her heart went out to her grave young son, and the sharply poignant plea of his eyes moved her.

“Talk to him, Luz. Make him understand,” he urged.

“I don't know how much good I can do.” She had an urge to suggest that he'd have a better chance if he enlisted Claudia Baines to plead his case with Drew. A half-dozen times this week, Drew had made some glowing comment about the young woman, and Luz had become highly sensitive to the mere mention of her name.

“All I'm asking is to sit out college for a year. A lot of guys do that,” Rob argued.

“I can't promise anything, but I'll talk to him,” Luz agreed.

“When?”

“After the party tomorrow night. There's too much going on right now.” She didn't know when she could fit in the time for the long discussion this would entail.

“After?” Rob looked disappointed.

“Yes. Why?”

“I was thinking that I'd leave Saturday to head back to school,” he told her.

“But I thought you were going back on Sunday?”

“I was, but why wait? What difference does it make if I leave a day early?” His shoulders lifted in a resigned shrug.

The difference was having him home one more day. “I wish you'd wait, but if you've decided, I suppose it's all right.”

“What about Dad and college this fall?”

“Maybe it's just as well that you aren't here when I talk to him about that.” It wasn't that she feared an explosion. Drew
never lost his temper in an argument, but he could destroy a person with his logic. Rob didn't face up to his father well, always withdrawing into those silences that invariably lost him whatever points he'd made. Luz examined his soberly drawn face, wishing he didn't take everything to heart so. Nothing was the end of the world. “Do you have any more surprises to lay on me?”

“No. That's all for now.” A troubled agitation seemed to stir him as he glanced over his shoulder. “I gotta go to the stable. I need to see Jimmy Ray about something.”

“Want a ride? My car's right here.”

“No thanks. I want to be by myself for a while.” His glance skipped off her in a mute apology for rejecting her company.

“Well, I have an appointment with the caterers at eleven, so I'd better run. I'll see you later at the house.”

“Sure.” He was already turning away from her.

Frowning slightly, Luz watched him walk toward the barns, his polo helmet dangling from his hand by its chinstrap. He was such a brooding figure. Yet a couple of times this past week he'd come to the house in such high spirits, laughing and cutting up with Trisha. Rob was so mercurial in his moods—high and low, and very little in between. After a troubled shake of her head, Luz walked to the car and tossed her helmet and gloves in the rear seat of the convertible.

The French doors in the dining and living rooms were thrown open to the spacious rear patio, surrounded by hanging greenery and potted plants and lighted by blazing torches set at intervals. A small band occupied the far corner of the patio, where an area had been cleared of the colorfully cushioned white wicker patio furniture so that couples could dance. An up-tempo song drifted above the hum of the laughing, talking voices, with more guests arriving all the time. While the torch flames danced in the tropically mild winter night, Luz wandered inside the house to circulate and greet the latest arrivals.

The coffered, mirrored ceiling in the dining room reflected the sumptuous buffet set up for the party guests. Instead of the usual boring fare of dainty canapés, cheap caviar, and fruit and fondue dips, Luz had opted for a menu that included scandalously tasty finger ribs and crispy fried chicken. She loved the sight of diamond-bedecked women licking their sticky fingers.
It created a wonderfully informal atmosphere, breaking down barriers and letting people be themselves. Bound for so long by the constraints of family expectations and pressures herself, she enjoyed the informality as well.

The lively sway of her dangling earrings, each a large pearl suspended on a long black bead, seemed to match her personality, bold and outgoing. The crystal-pleated two-piece lounger was comfortable yet dramatic in its use of black and white, slightly puffed shoulders, and wide, full sleeves. She wore her hair in a sleek uplifted wave away from her face, its length secured atop her head in a smooth coil. The simplicity of style and color exuded elegance.

She paused in the doorway to the living room and skimmed the crowd with a glance. There was a constant ebb and flow of guests around the fully equipped wet bar, strategically positioned near the French doors to the patio. Luz noticed Trisha hovering near the front entrance hall, obviously still waiting for her guest to arrive.

“There you are, Luz.” The woman's voice came from behind her, and she turned.

“Connie!” she declared in delighted recognition of her chubby friend, who was delicately sucking barbecue sauce from her fingers while holding a tray full of food in her other hand. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know I'm going to fill some doggie bags before I go home.” The dark-haired woman unabashedly admitted her love of food, and the proof of it was the way she was packed into her red dress. “Speaking of food …” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “Have you seen Veronica Hampton? She and George came only a few minutes ago.”

“I was outside.” Her glance searched the crowded room for the newcomers.

“Over by the bar.” Connie Davenport directed her gaze to the tall, painfully thin woman in pink. “She's been on that new diet. Isn't she pathetic? She's nothing but a sack of bones.”

“I believe that's called ‘stylishly anorexic,'” Luz murmured.

“Whatever it is, I'll never know.” Connie laughed.

“Neither will a lot of us,” Luz agreed, although she had never had a weight problem. Between horseback riding and other outdoor activities, she had managed to keep a trim figure.

“Where's Rob? I haven't seen him yet.”

“He left for school. Trisha goes back tomorrow. It's going to be very quiet around here with both of them gone. I probably won't know what to do with myself,” she admitted ruefully.

“You should be used to that by now.”

“What makes it worse this year is having Jake gone, too. Late winter's the time my father and I usually spent together in Virginia arguing bloodlines, and which mare to breed to which stallion, or checking out the crop of two-year-olds for polo prospects. I'll miss that.”

“You could still go there. By yourself, I mean,” Connie suggested. “I know it wouldn't be the same, but it would be better than doing nothing.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I know Audra has been talking about closing the house there. I think she has decided to live year-round here in Florida. If she does, maybe I could
go
back and supervise the closing for her—and have a last look around my childhood haunts.” It was a possibility to consider, but hardly important now. “We'll see.”

“Either way, with the kids gone, you'll have that much more time to spend with Drew without having them underfoot.”

“Unfortunately his law practice keeps him very busy.” He left early in the morning and she usually didn't see him until dinner that night, which was generally late.

“Isn't that always the case? Successful businessmen equals idle wives, filling their time with charity benefits and fundraising bazaars. If you look around this room, every worthy cause is represented by someone here.”

“Don't sound so cynical, Connie. It's the least we can do for the community. Besides, if we didn't, who would?” Luz chided, having chaired several such benefit committees herself.

“Don't mind me,” Connie sighed. “I just get bored with it all from time to time.” She picked up a chicken leg from her plate and nibbled on the crunchy coating, lifting the plate closer to her chin to catch the crumbs. “By the way, who's that brunette with Drew?”

“Claudia Baines.” Luz had spoken briefly to her when she arrived, before Drew had taken charge of her to introduce her to their other guests. They were talking to another couple, blocked from her view, in the living room. She noticed that Drew had his arm around the woman's shoulders, drawing her
close to his side. She glanced quickly away, fighting the coiling tightness in her stomach. “She's a new lawyer with the firm.”

“He certainly is paying her a lot of attention.” Connie raised an eyebrow in silent speculation.

“She's a protégée of Drew's.”

“Is she the reason he's been so busy lately?”

Luz's fingernails curled into her palms as she made a good show of laughing off the question. “Don't be silly, Connie. She's young enough to be his daughter.”

“That's the most dangerous kind, Luz.” The knowing tone of her voice reminded Luz that Connie's husband was notoriously unfaithful.

She felt suddenly uncomfortable, slightly sick to her stomach and cold. She could understand why Connie would think that way. Her own experience would encourage her to see something sordid in the situation. But it was truly ridiculous. Drew wasn't that type. But, God, she wished he'd take his arm away from her shoulders, Luz thought frantically. The contact intimated something more personal. If Connie thought that, others might, too.

“I know Drew,” she insisted to Connie. “I'm not worried.” Someone walked into the living room from the entrance hall. Luz was grateful for any distraction that would extricate her, and relieved that it was her sister. “Excuse me, Connie. Mary just arrived.”