The Glory Game (12 page)

“Have you heard from Drew?” She paused inside the room and set her purse on the round breakfast table.

Emma turned, removing her bifocals. “He called a half hour ago to say he was going to be late and not to wait dinner.”

“But what about the concert tonight? We have tickets.” She unfastened the single-buttoned jacket of her ruby-red suit and shrugged out of it. “Am I supposed to meet him there?”

“No. He said for you to go without him, that he wouldn't be able to make it.”

Disappointed, Luz sagged a hip against the table and thoughtfully fingered the gathers at the neckline of her silk charmeuse blouse. “I don't really want to go by myself,” she murmured and sighed dejectedly. “You're welcome to use them if you like, Emma. I think I'll just spend a quiet evening at home for a change.”

“Thank you. I think I will go.”

Luz gathered up her jacket and purse and left the room to go upstairs and change. She had plenty to do to make the evening alone pass. She wrote letters to the children, assuring Rob that she exercised his horses regularly and suggesting to Trisha that they might spend a weekend together when she went to Virginia. All the while she consciously listened for the sound of Drew's car coming up the driveway.

The later it became, the more troubled she became. At ten o'clock, she called his office, using the private number that didn't go through the switchboard. There wasn't any answer. Thinking it meant he was on his way home, she fixed some fresh coffee. An hour later, Luz knew her assumption was wrong. Her mood alternated between worry and irritation. It was half past eleven when she finally heard his car outside. She was at the rear entrance waiting for him when he came in, her arms folded in front of her.

“Well, hello.” He smiled in surprise and bent to kiss her cheek. “I didn't expect you to be up still. How was the concert?”

“I didn't go. Where have you been? I tried the office but no one was there.”

He curved an arm around her shoulders and drew her along with him as he walked to the living room. “I took Claudia to dinner. It seemed the least I could do after keeping her so late at the office. I would have called to tell you, but I thought you were at the concert. I'm sorry if I worried you.”

“You did.” Now that her fears were calmed, irritation was left. “You must have had an awfully late dinner.”

“Not really. I'm afraid we got to talking and lost all track of time,” he admitted.

“I see.”

“No, I don't think you do.” Drew paused, letting his briefcase rest atop the backrest of the lemon-yellow sofa. “I don't know if I can explain how much I enjoy talking to Claudia. I can discuss things with her that I can't talk to you about. Granted, you would listen, but you couldn't respond intelligently. Claudia is a lawyer, so we can converse on the same level. Conversations with her are always so stimulating.” He glanced at her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I hope your feelings aren't hurt.” He appeared suddenly impatient with her. “I mean, it is business.”

“I understand.” It was part of his life she didn't share—a large part. And legal shoptalk bored her, she knew that. Since he couldn't talk to her about it, that left a void between them. Now another woman was filling that void. To say it didn't hurt or that she didn't feel that she had somehow failed him would be to lie.

“I'm sorry for causing you needless worry and for unknowingly keeping you up.” He swung his briefcase back to his side.

“I made coffee.”

“No thanks. I'd just as soon go to bed. I'm supposed to meet John Randolph at the golf course bright and early in the morning so we can play a round before the course gets too crowded.”

“But there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Luz said.

“Can it wait? I'm really beat.” A minute ago when he was talking about Claudia he hadn't acted tired. He'd been very animated with the pleasure her conversation gave him.

“All right.” But she trembled with the force of her resentment,
a resentment centering around Claudia Baines. She resented her for giving Drew what she couldn't, and she resented Drew for taking it. And she resented herself for feeling the way she did about both.

“Thanks.” He kissed her lightly. “Good night, dear.”

All honeymoons end sometimes, even second ones. Luz wondered if this was the end of hers as she watched Drew pass through the doorway to the entrance hall where the oak staircase rose to the suite of rooms on the second floor.

Over the weekend, Luz didn't mention to Drew that Audra wanted her to go to Virginia. She had no reason. If Drew remembered that she had wanted to talk to him about something, he didn't bring it up. The first of the week, Mary called to schedule the trip and Luz suggested the last two weeks of February.

That evening, Drew excused himself from the dinner table. “I'm going into the library. I have to make some phone calls.”

After he left, Luz lingered at the table over a second cup of coffee. The mirrored ceiling reflected the flickering yellow flames of the candles on the table. So romantic a setting, she thought, but not for one. She blew the candles out, then took her coffee into the living room.

The door to the library-den was not tightly closed. She heard Drew laugh, and gravitated toward the sound. She wandered into the room, thinking she'd sit and have her coffee there and tell him about her coming trip to Virginia once he had finished his phone calls. But she didn't have a chance to sit down in the leather wingback chair by the fireplace.

The minute he saw her, Drew said into the phone, “Just a minute.” Then he placed his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Did you want something, Luz?”

“No.” She smiled, shaking her head.

“This is business,” he said and waited, not removing his hand from the telephone to resume his conversation. It took her a minute to realize he expected her to leave the room. He didn't want her listening to what he said. She felt strangely embarrassed, like a child being told her company wasn't wanted in a roomful of adults. Self-consciously, she retreated, unwilling to stay when she was so obviously not welcome. But
once outside the room, Luz stopped, wondering why she had let him prod her into leaving.

As she turned to go back inside she heard Drew say, “Sorry, Claudia. You were saying?”

Abruptly, she swung away from the door and crossed the living room to the liquor cabinet behind the wet bar, where she poured a liberal amount of whiskey into her coffee. Claudia. She was growing to hate that name. It was so obvious to Luz that the woman was playing up to Drew. How many times had she heard others say that most successful career women slept their way to the top? The woman was using Drew. Surely he knew it. Maybe he didn't care. Her insides felt twisted, and the whiskey didn't seem to smooth them out.

She didn't know how long she nursed her whiskey-laced coffee nor how much time passed before Drew emerged from the den. What little of her drink remained in the bottom of her cup was cold when he joined her at the wet bar.

“I think I'll fix myself something,” he said, walking behind the counter. “What are you drinking?”

“Just coffee,” she lied.

“I think I'll have something stronger.” He picked up a glass and added cubes to it from the icemaker. “Isn't there anything worth watching on cable tonight?”

“I don't know.”

“I think I'll check.” He splashed some soda in with the whiskey and picked up the glass. “Are you coming?”

“No.” As he started to walk away, Luz called him back. “Drew. I'm going with Mary to Virginia. Audra wants us to close up the house. I'll be gone about two weeks.”

“When?” He appeared unconcerned that this was the first he knew of it.

“The middle of February. We leave the fourteenth.”

“I leave the same day for New York. I rescheduled the trip and moved the departure time ahead a few days. I was going to tell you, but it slipped my mind. What time does your flight leave?”

“We haven't made reservations yet. Mary's handling that.”

“It would be convenient if we could go to the airport together. It would mean one less car parked in the lot.”

“Yes.” Luz didn't know what she expected his reaction to be, but it wasn't this near indifference.

*   *   *

The airport was crowded with winter-weary northerners seeking the tropical clime of Palm Beach. Through the flood of fur-wrapped arrivals milling by the doors, Luz saw her sister directing a porter laden with luggage to the ticket counter where she waited.

“I've already checked my bags,” Luz said when Mary joined her.

“Good.” The porter set her cases on the scale, and Mary handed him a tip. While she waited for her luggage to be tagged and the claim stubs to be stapled to her ticket envelope, she turned to Luz. “Where's Drew? Has his flight left already?”

“No. He went to the newsstand.”

After the baggage was checked, they moved away from the congestion at the counter. “Should we wait here for Drew or go to the gate?”

“Here he comes.” Luz saw him walking toward them, a winter topcoat thrown over his arm. He was carrying a briefcase along with a folded newspaper and a package.

“What do you have there, Drew?” Mary nodded at the heart-shaped red box peeking out of the plastic sack and sent a sly glance at Luz.

“Some Valentine chocolate for Claudia,” he replied smoothly and appeared not to notice the way Luz visibly stiffened. “She's a chocoholic. I would have bought you a box, Luz, but I know you don't like candy.”

“No, I don't, but I suppose it's the thought that counts.” She was mouthing phrases all the while she was wondering why he'd bought Claudia a gift when he was on his way to New York … why he was buying Claudia a gift at all, especially a Valentine present.

“She should be here.” Drew searched the throng of travelers. “There she comes.”

Luz followed his gaze and located the vivacious brunette, wearing an eye-catching burgundy silk blouse. A long plaid shawl was thrown over one shoulder, a plaid that matched the pleated challis skirt. A thin black leather briefcase swung from her hand. She smiled and quickened her step when she saw Drew.

“Well, I'm all checked in, ready to go,” she said to him before acknowledging the presence of the other women. “Hello,
Mrs. Thomas. You look stunning, as usual. So do you, Mrs. Carpenter.”

Actually, Luz felt very drab in her oatmeal-and-brown suit and brown bowler-styled hat with the front brim turned down. She wished she had chosen something more colorful, but the nubby material stood up under traveling so well.

“This is her first trip to New York, so naturally she's excited,” Drew volunteered, and Luz felt a second shock wave go through her. Not once had he mentioned that Claudia was accompanying him on the trip. Did he think it was a minor detail?

“Naturally,” Mary said, filling the silence that Luz couldn't. No words would come out, and she was afraid of what they might be if they did.

“Can you imagine? All those years living in Connecticut and I've never been to New York City,” Claudia declared. “Though I doubt I'll have time to see any sights.”

“You're from Connecticut?” Mary asked.

“Didn't Drew tell you? We're from the same town. We even know some of the same people.”

“From different eras, of course,” Drew inserted dryly. “She wasn't even born when I left there.”

“It doesn't matter.” Claudia shrugged aside the age difference. “It still proves what a small world it can be.”

“Yes, it does,” Mary said, continuing to fill the blank spaces.

“Our flight is scheduled to begin boarding in ten minutes,” Drew said. “We should go to the gate.”

“All right. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mrs. Thomas.” She thrust a hand at Luz.

“You, too.” She managed to recover enough poise to shake hands. Then Drew was bending to kiss her cheek.

“Enjoy yourselves,” he said.

But Luz couldn't wish him the same. “Have a safe flight,” she said instead and felt a growing heaviness as she watched the two of them walk away.

“I take it that you didn't know she was going with Drew to New York.” Mary eyed her perceptively.

“No, I didn't.” Her voice sounded flattened, void of all emotion.

“It sounds like the honeymoon is over.”

“A honeymoon requires two people. Maybe I was the only
one on it … and I just didn't know it.” Her eyes burned with tears and she quickly blinked them away.

“Luz.” The pity in her sister's voice was more than she could stand.

Her chin came sharply up as she determinedly shook off her own hurt and self-pity. “There's a saving grace in all this. Maybe he didn't tell me she was going, but he didn't hide it either. After all, she met him here—with us—and they openly talked about the trip. They wouldn't have done that if there was something to conceal.”

“And the candy?”

“Stop it, Mary,” Luz demanded angrily. “I don't have all the damn answers!”

After a pause, Mary said, “Let's go to the gate. Did I remember to tell you Stan Marshall is meeting us at the airport?”

“No, you didn't.” Luz was grateful for the change of subject as they started down the long, crowded corridor to the departure lounge.

Stan Marshall was the manager of Hopeworth Farm, and his association with Jake Kincaid went back more than twenty years. A jockey in his youth, he was a short stocky man with a craggy face and grizzled hair—and the patience of a saint. He was standing at the gate when Luz and Mary left the plane. His soft, squashy hat, the kind he'd seen the English country gentlemen wear, was in his hand. Luz swore he had on the same tweed jacket with suede patches at the elbows that he'd worn for the last ten years, and wondered if he had a closetful or whether he simply bought an identical jacket when one showed signs of wear.