The Glory Game (14 page)

“It all sounds fun right up to the last part, then it turns a little bloodthirsty. I think I'd root for the fox.”

It was so like Trisha to root for the underdog. “Actually, there aren't many foxes around anymore. It's rare for the hounds to start one. Mostly, they follow a drag, which is the scent of a fox dragged over the ground ahead of the hunt. That was true even when I was your age. As a matter of fact, I wasn't blooded until I rode to a hunt in England.”

Trisha grimaced in distaste. “That's the disgusting tradition of smearing the blood from the fox onto the face of a rider participating in his first kill, isn't it?”

“It was rather gruesome,” Luz conceded. “I remember that I had trouble eating when we all went back to the manor for the big hunt breakfast. The tables at those affairs are always groaning with food. It always reminds me of that scene from
Tom Jones.”

A thoughtful frown claimed Trisha's face as she eyed her mother. “You really love the life here, don't you?”

“Yes.” It was Luz's turn to grow thoughtful. “I used to wish your father would open an office in Washington or Richmond so we could live here. But he already had an established practice in Florida, so it didn't make much sense. He used to talk about the possibility of expanding his practice, but he never mentions it anymore.”

“Maybe he will in a few years.”

“I doubt it.” Luz knew that Drew didn't share her love for this part of the country and possessed only a tolerance for what he called “the horsy set,” an attitude he had carefully concealed around Jake Kincaid. His support of Rob's desire to play polo for a year was obviously given to please her—or, at least, to avoid arguments.

“He might,” Trisha insisted. “Especially when he takes on a new partner.”

“A new partner?” Her spine stiffened as Claudia Baines flashed through her mind. The steady clop-clopping of her horse's hooves suddenly sounded like a hammer pounding in her head.

“Yes.” Her dark eyes were agleam with some secret knowledge when she glanced at Luz. “Me.”

“You?” Behind her confusion, there was immense relief.

“Yes. I've just received notice that I've been accepted at Harvard this fall.” A proud smile of satisfaction curved her wide mouth.

Surprise and shock traveled through Luz. She was suddenly at a loss to know what to say. Her two children were so different. Rob always talked to her about his problems, told her his hopes and aspirations, but Trisha was a mystery. Half the time, Luz couldn't guess what she was thinking, let alone what she wanted. She'd always had the impression Trisha took the world lightly and never cared much about anything. This sounded very much like an impulsive decision, made without thinking things through.

“Trisha, are you sure that's what you want to do? Do you realize what it entails?” Luz doubted it. “Four years of college, plus another three years of law school. Clerking for other attorneys and passing the bar. Do you seriously intend to do this or is it just a passing fad of yours?”

“It's what I want. It's what I've wanted for a long time,” she stated firmly. “Luz, I can't be like you and just do nothing all the time. I want my life to have some purpose and meaning beyond planning this year's charity auction or a ski trip to Switzerland.”

Luz had always wondered what Trisha thought of her. Now she knew, and that knowledge hurt, more deeply than she had ever thought it would. But she successfully hid it, aware that Trisha hadn't said it to wound.

“Then I'm glad you've been accepted. Your father will be pleased when he finds out you'll be attending his alma mater. We'll have to call him tonight and tell him the news,” she said and managed a smile. “I think the horses are rested now. Are you ready to head back?”

“Lead the way. I hope Mary has the food on the table when we get back. I'm starved,” Trisha declared as they urged their horses out of a walk and posted at a trot.

All the way back, Trisha's words were a weight on Luz's shoulders that she couldn't shake off. It dulled her enjoyment of the ride and took the edge off her previous high spirits. But she was careful not to let on to Trisha that anything was wrong. When they reached the house, she made a point of telling Mary the news and insisted they raid the wine cellar to celebrate the occasion.

After an early dinner, Luz telephoned home to talk to Drew. But it was more than Trisha's unexpected announcement that prompted the call. She had an inexpressible need to hear his voice and know that she was missed. Emma answered the phone.

“Hello, Emma. It's Luz. Let me speak to Drew.”

“I'm sorry, but he isn't back yet,” the housekeeper replied.

Her wristwatch indicated it was only a little after seven. “I suppose he's just coming off the golf course. Did he say when to expect him?”

“Not until tomorrow. He's still in New York,” Emma said, vaguely startled that Luz hadn't known.

“But … I thought he was supposed to return on Friday.”

“He called yesterday to say that he was going to have to stay over another day. The earliest flight he could get on was Sunday morning. Is anything wrong?”

“No. Trisha is here.” She glanced at her daughter, curled cross-legged on the floor watching her. “We just thought we'd talk to him.”

“I'm sure you could reach him at the hotel,” Emma said.

“We'll try there.” She hung up, then dialed the hotel number.

“He's still in New York?” Trisha guessed from what she had gleaned from the one-sided conversation.

“Yes.” Luz listened to the telephone ring and carefully avoided glancing at her sister. When the hotel operator came on the line, Luz asked for Drew's room. In her mind, she kept wondering whether Claudia was staying an extra day, too, but she didn't want to see that question expressed in Mary's eyes. Instead she kept telling herself the matter must have been very important, because Drew wasn't in the habit of setting meetings on Saturday when he was in New York.

After the fourth ring, the phone was picked up and she recognized Drew's voice on the other end of the wire. “Hello, darling. I just talked to Emma and she said you were forced
to stay a day longer. How's everything going?” Luz rushed her words, not giving him a chance to explain things for himself.

“Fine. How are you doing?” he sounded distant, but Luz blamed that on the connection.

“Mary and I are tearing our hair out, but otherwise fine, Trisha came for the weekend. She has some news. I'll let her tell you herself.” She passed the receiver to Trisha and kept a smile on her face while she listened again to the announcement and heard the rest of the hurtful assertion in her mind—“I don't want to be like you, Luz.”

“Since Rob isn't likely to keep the family tradition, I decided to follow in your footsteps, Dad. I've been accepted at your alma mater.” There was a short pause, filled by his response, then Trisha said, “I received my acceptance notice this week. It's official.” That was followed by another break in which Trisha grew quieter, some of her exuberance fading. “I am happy. And I'm glad you are, too.” Then she glanced at Luz as she listened to the voice on the phone. “Sure, I'll tell her. Bye, Dad.”

As Luz reached to take the receiver so she could talk to Drew, Trisha stood up. Instead of handing it to her, she set it back on its cradle.

“He had dinner reservations, so he had to go,” Trisha explained. “He said to tell you he'd call next week when he got back home.”

“Oh.” Luz regretted not talking to him longer in the beginning. “What did he say when you told him?”

“He was glad … proud of my decision. And he didn't sound as surprised as you were,” she remembered wryly, then frowned. “When you talked to him, Luz, did you have the feeling someone was there with him?”

She hadn't been on the phone with him long enough to get any definite impression. “There probably was. More than likely his client.” Or Claudia Baines, but Luz didn't say that. She didn't want Trisha to get the wrong idea about Drew's relationship with the young female lawyer.

Trisha left early on Sunday afternoon to return to the private girls' school she attended. With her departure, Luz no longer had to keep up a pretense of cheerfulness. When Mary suggested tackling the trunks in the attic, Luz readily agreed,
grateful for any activity that might keep her morose thoughts at bay.

The third-floor attic had formerly been used as servants' quarters. The tiny, poorly lighted, unheated rooms had long ago been converted to storage space. Piles of boxes and trunks were randomly stacked amid broken rocking horses and old dress forms, and objects that defied identification. There was an old and dusty smell to the drafty rooms that spoke of long-forgotten things.

“Let's pile the stuff we're definitely going to pitch in the center of the rooms,” Mary suggested. “I think that will be quicker.”

“Okay.”

They began with the bulky, obvious items—the wheelless doll carriage, the padded dress forms with their wire skirts, and the broken sleds and rocking horse. Mary dragged an old phonograph player to the middle of the room.

“Do you suppose this is an antique?”

Luz glanced at it. “I'd hardly describe it as being in good condition.” The arm dangled by a wire and the turntable sat at a definite angle.

“I can't believe Audra would keep all this junk.” Mary shook her head in amazement as she hauled out an old table radio, knobless and gutted of tubes. “When we were little, she was boxing up our clothes and donating them to some needy organization the minute we outgrew them. So why did she keep this stuff?”

“Jake did. It's the one time I remember hearing them argue about something. Audra insisted the attic was a firetrap and Jake warned her that if she removed one box, he'd …actually, I didn't hear what he threatened to do,” Luz recalled with a faint smile, then paused to look around the cluttered room. “But I don't think a single box was ever taken out of this attic.”

“Neither do I. It's strange how one man could be so sentimental yet so—”

“Yes,” Luz interrupted Mary before she could say “insensitive.” There was nothing to be gained by speaking ill of the dead.

Conversation lapsed as they ruthlessly attacked the piles of boxes and trunks, discarding most of their contents. An hour into the chore, Luz unearthed an old trunk and discovered the
treasure trove of memories it contained … a plait of snowy-blond hair she had braided for Jake after her long ringlets had been cut off, her first riding habit for the hunt, and her christening dress.

“It's chilly up here.” Mary shivered as she squeezed her hands together to warm them. “Want some coffee? I'll go downstairs and get it.”

“Sure,” Luz agreed absently, the question barely registering.

In the trunk, she found a box of old photographs. She didn't even realize Mary was gone until she heard the clump of her footsteps on the steep stairs. The sound roused her, and she looked up when Mary entered the cluttered room, out of breath from three flights of steps.

“I need something stronger than coffee after that.” Her sister crossed the room and handed Luz one of the mugs of coffee, then collapsed on the floor beside her. “Hey, isn't this what you were doing when I left?” she accused and glanced over Luz's shoulder. “What have you got there?”

“Some old snapshots taken when we were kids,” she answered in a musing tone. “Remember this one?” She showed her the black-and-white photograph taken when she was eight years old. A woeful-looking collie was sitting beside her, a rag bandage around its head and one on its leg. “I was going to be a veterinarian when I grew up.”

“It wasn't long after that you decided you were going to be a jockey and ride in the Grand National like Elizabeth Taylor,” Mary chided. “Then you wanted to be a singer, I think.”

“What do you suppose happened to all those dreams?” Luz stared at the scratched old photographs.

“You grew up, thank God.” Mary warmed her hands against the hot sides of the coffee mug. “I suppose.” She sighed heavily and laid the pictures back in the box.

Mary tipped her head, angling it toward Luz. “What's bothering you? And don't say nothing. You've been quiet as a cat ever since Trish left.”

“Were you surprised by her decision to prepare for law school?” Luz asked instead.

“A little. But after putting seven through college, I've given up trying to guess what they'll do.” She took a swallow of her coffee, eyeing Luz over the rim. “It surprised you, didn't it?”

“Yes.” But that wasn't what brought the hurt rushing back to tighten her chest and make her throat ache. “Do you know what she said to me when I questioned her about it?”

“What?”

“That she didn't want to be like me and do nothing. In her words, she wanted her life to have meaning and purpose.” Her short laugh held no humor. “That's quite a denouncement.”

“This is the career-minded generation. The world was different when we were their age,” Mary reminded her. “Granted, there were a dedicated few who wanted careers, but they were the exception, not the rule. Our ambition was to marry well and raise a family. Anything else was just a stopgap until the right man came along.”

“I know.”

“Don't pay any attention to that women's-lib bullshit. It isn't easy being a wife and a mother,” Mary stated with a decisive nod.

“It's more than that.” Luz shook her head. “It isn't just Trisha. My mother thinks that I'm not very clever. My husband doesn't believe I can carry on an intelligent conversation. And now my daughter thinks my life has no purpose. Mary, I'm forty-two years old and I feel like a failure.” Her voice was flat. “This isn't the way I thought it would turn out, Mary. What happened to all the dreams?”