“To hunt?”
“Oh, no. Sorry, I’m so excited. No. To run. A timber horse. Oh, I’ve always wanted a timber horse. He’s been calling around, and he just now told me. I’ve been on cloud nine. I’m calling him Cloud Nine!”
“Where is Sam? I can’t wait to hear the details,” she replied.
“Last I saw him was by the fireplace in the living room.
But it will take you half an hour to reach him. We’re packed like sardines.”
Twenty minutes later Sister reached the living room. Sam looked better than he had in years but still had the gaunt thinness of a lifelong alcoholic who forgets to eat. He smiled when he saw the master.
“Happy New Year, Master.”
“Sam, glad to see you in the hunt field. Gray, too. I hope you’ll be out with us more often.”
“Depends on the man.”
Sister smiled.“In your case, it just might depend on the woman. She’s levitating over the timber horse you’ve found.” She paused a moment as she nodded to friends in the crowd. “How’s it going?” Sister asked.
“Pretty good.”
She placed her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Well, I hope the job works out. Crawford’s a demanding man but, ultimately, a fair one. And I’m happy to have you in the hunt field.”
“Take it no one much likes Crawford,” Sam whispered.
“People who are against something or someone are always more expressive than those who think things are just fine. He has his detractors, but over the years I’ve learned to appreciate his good points. If you need anything, Sam, call or drop by.”
“Thank you. That’s white of you.”
She laughed.“You are bad, Sam Lorillard.”
Sliding back through the crowd, Sister squeezed up behind Clay Berry. His wife, Isabelle, hair shoulder length and honey blonde, didn’t see Sister behind Clay’s broad shoulders. She might have changed her tune had she known Sister was there.
“Not another horse, Clay. You have two perfectly good field horses, and I never see you as it is.”
“Sugar, that’s not true.” His light tenor hit a consoling note.
“The hell it’s not. You disappear during hunt season. I have one month with you when it’s over, and then you’re off to the golf course. I might as well be a widow.”
“Izzy,” he called her by her nickname, “you’re being overly dramatic.”
“I’m starting to think of you as my insignificant other.” She pouted. “And how you can think of another horse when you know I am dying, dying for that new 500SL convertible. I want it in brilliant silver with the ash interior.”
“That car costs a hundred and six thousand dollars with the options you want.”
“I’m worth it,” she coolly replied.
He shifted gears.“How could any man put a price on such a beautiful woman? Of course you’re worth it, baby. However, it is a big hit at this time.”
“Oh, pooh.” She suddenly became flirtatious. “You’re making money hand over fist. My birthday is coming up and,” she rubbed the back of his neck, her lips now very close to his, “you will never regret it. I’ll do anything you want whenever you want it.”
He swallowed.“Honey, let’s talk about this later.”
Sister tried to get beyond these two, but the crush of people was so great, the din of conversation so loud, she was pinned.
Izzy stood on her tiptoes to kiss her husband. She bit his lower lip. In doing so, she saw the master.
“Sister!” She quickly reached around Clay to grab Sister’s hand. “I need you to weaken Clay.”
More power to you, Sister thought to herself. At least you aren’t denying what you are. She then spoke out loud. “Isabelle, I think you can weaken Clay all by yourself.”
“But I’d love to be between two beautiful women.” Clay rolled his eyes heavenward.
Izzy, in a studied breathless voice, crooned,“I must have that 500SL. I mean I amdyingfor that car. It’s the sexiest thing on the road. Sexier than a Ferrari or Porsche Turbo or the redone Maserati. I’m nearing forty. I need a boost.” She now held both of Sister’s hands as the crowd pressed them bosom to bosom, and both ladies were well stacked.
Sister found the situation comical.“It is a spectacular car, and you’d make it even more spectacular. Mercedes-Benz ought to pay you to drive one.”
“You say the sweetest things. I want to grow up to be just like you. You’re so beautiful.” Izzy waxed enthusiastic.
“She’s right.” Clay seconded his wife. “Except for your silver hair, you look just like you did when I was in Pony Club. I don’t know how you do it.”
“She has a painting in her attic,” Izzy recalled the famous plot from Oscar Wilde’sThe Portrait of Dorian Gray.
“Thank you. You’re both outrageous flatterers, but it does my heart good to hear it.”
Clay leaned down, his face serious.“I do mean it. You’re beautiful, Sister.” He smiled then. “And your arms are more muscular than mine, and I work out like a demon.”
She cocked her head a bit sideways while looking up at him.“I don’t know about that, but I do know farm work sure burns the fat off your body.”
“Oh, Clay, guess you’d better buy another hunter, and I’ll take care of it.” Izzy laughed, a pleasing musical laugh.
Walter spied Sister pressed between Clay and Izzy. He pushed his way toward her.
“You can’t have her all to yourselves. It’s my turn.” Walter kissed Izzy on the cheek, which she rather liked, then used his body to make a path for them through the people.
“You’re a hero.”
“You say that to all the boys,” Walter teased her.
Once out of the worst of the press, she took a deep breath.“Well, Walter, it’s been my privilege to watch how a woman works a man for her gain. Whew. I never could do it.”
“You never needed to do it.” His slight grin enhanced his rugged handsomeness.
“Walter, you are a true Virginia gentleman.”
“I mean it. Guile, throwing yourself at a man, deceit, and that sort of thing. It’s not you. You could never do that.”
“Maybe that’s why Ray found other women attractive. I didn’t play the game.”
“Ray found other women attractive because he needed conquests to feel like a man.” Walter, Ray’s natural son, said this with authority.
Both Walter and Sister had learned of this old secret a year ago. Everyone knew but them, and Walter was the spitting image of Ray Arnold Sr.
“It’s all water over the dam, honey. We’re still here, and life is wonderful.”
“Life is wonderful because I have you in my life.” He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “You’ve given me foxhunting, understanding, and more than I can express.”
“Walter, you’ll make me cry.”
He hugged her.“That would shock everyone here.”
“Have you been drinking?”
He laughed.“No. One cold beer. No, my New Year’s resolution is to tell the people I care about how I feel. I’m overcoming WASP restraint.”
“Is there a class for this? I need to sign up.”
They laughed together, then Walter said,“Did you hear on the news? Found one of the alcoholics dead down at the train station.”
Walter could have said winos, but, being a physician, he looked at alcoholism with a scientist’s eye.
“What a dreadful way to squander a life.” Sister shook her head.
“Yes,” Walter replied. “It’s an insidious disease in that it’s both chemical yet voluntary. In my darker moments I wonder if they aren’t better off dead. Medicine can’t reach them. Perhaps God can reach them.”
Sister considered this sentiment. She truly believed that people could be redeemed.
Xavier bumped into her, back to back.“Pardon me. Oh, Sister, if I’d known it was you, I’d have bumped you harder.”
Walter kissed her again on the cheek and moved away.“Any New Year’s resolutions?”
“Lose forty pounds.” He grimaced. “Damn, I don’t have a spare tire, I’ve got enough to put four Goodyears on a Camaro.”