"Okay. No more talk, but you'd better be prepared to take a little ribbing from Bill and Doug."
"What'd you mean?"
"Love, you weren't home yet at three thirty this morning when they finally staggered out of here. They both kept asking where you were. Four hours, you must admit, is an awful long time just for coffee."
"Oh, God!"
"Yeh."
Grace took a deep breath and decided attack was the better weapon. She squared her shoulders, turned around and said, with considerable heat, "Nothing happened. It wasn't like you think at all. And it's none of Bill Hill's or Doug's business, either."
Judi shrugged. "Okay. I'll tell them to lay off if they don't want their heads snapped off." She grinned to show she wasn't hurt by Grace's refusal to share the details of the night before.
Judi must have warned the office staff and the car lot salesmen, because no one attempted to wisecrack about Grace's drunkenness and subsequent mysterious disappearance. It was obvious, though, from the speculative looks and suggestive smirks she received that by now everyone suspected the worst. Grace worked steadily all day long, refusing to break even for lunch with Judi, concentrating on the job and shutting all else out of her mind. By five thirty, the usual quitting time, she was so exhausted she had to count her cash three different times before the receipts and money balanced, and then when she made out the bank deposit slip for $12,366.72 there was an error in addition which took her almost ten minutes to locate. Although the bank was within easy walking distance, only three blocks away, because of her headache and weariness – together with the lateness of the hour – she accepted Judi's offer to stop by the bank on their way home.
As it was, she barely made it through the bank doors before they closed.
Driving home, exhaustion kept the usually loquacious and effervescent Judi quiet. When they arrived at the apartment complex, both women went silently upstairs to their respective flats. "See ya," Judi said, yawning. Grace nodded, then almost blindly made her way into the bedroom. Two minutes later she crawled nude between the cool sheets. Her last thoughts before drifting off almost immediately into a deep slumber were: Oh my, I forgot to check the mail box for a letter from Stan; and, I wonder how I'm going to act when Jim calls and asks me out again. The first thought brought her a stab of guilt, quickly suppressed; the second made her smile briefly before sleep overcame her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Grace slept deeply until about eight o'clock that same night. Upon awakening, she was surprised to see that it was still light outside. For a moment the thought came that she had slept around the clock and it was morning. But then she heard the children screaming around the pool and knew that her unconscious state had lasted only a couple of hours.
Still weary and feeling the drugged remnants of her exhaustion, she tried to analyze why the blissful unconsciousness of sleep had fled. It took only a few seconds for her to realize that her heart was pounding and muscles tense with excitement. Then she remembered the dream! She had been at the track again and a horse with the number "five" had won convincingly; in the dream, Grace was screaming encouragement to the five horse for she had two hundred dollars bet on it to win. She even saw the exact payoff figures, $21.10, which meant that her win tickets were worth $2,120.
Again, just as she had experienced the night before, there was something akin to fever in her body. Her heart beat rapidly, her throat was dry and hoarse, and her legs felt rubbery to the point where she knew they could not support her weight. Most surprising of all, though, was the sudden realization that she wanted to be at the track right now so that the glamour and excitement might be tasted once again.
"Perhaps it's my extra-sensory-perception working," she told herself. "Maybe Jim is at the track and is thinking of me." That thought, too, excited her for there was no doubt that around the Turf Club Jim Meloney was a king, and last night he had chosen her for his queen. He had to be fond of her; after all, he couldn't have done what he had done if he didn't love her. Of course, she would never again permit him the liberties he had taken last night, but they could be friends. She would forgive him and tell him she didn't blame him at all… only herself. She could picture the scene now. He would be so relieved, for she knew that he must feel a terrible guilt about seducing the wife of a serviceman in Vietnam.
For a moment she was so sure he was thinking of her that she was positive the phone would ring within seconds, and it would be him, and he would invite her to share dinner with him at the track. Grace was so certain that this would transpire that she got out of bed and took the phone into the bathroom so she could hear it while she showered in preparation.
About nine, partially dressed, the first pangs of uncertainty and disappointment began setting in. By nine-thirty, Grace was dressed completely. She just had to go to the track… just had to. It was a craving so strong that it was simply impossible to dismiss it. Yanking open the French doors that led to the mutual sun balcony that Judi and her apartments shared, she quickly walked over to the little blonde's windows. There were no lights on anywhere in the flat. Grace tapped softly at the balcony door; when there was no answer, she repeated the knock a bit more loudly this time. Judi apparently slept on. Feeling resentment and frustration, Grace went back to her own apartment.
"I suppose I could go to the track by myself," she said in speculation. "That way if Jim wanted to apologize and talk to me privately, we wouldn't have to worry about Judi."
The last thought triggered the decision and fifteen minutes later Grace was en route to the track in a taxi. As the car came closer to Bay Meadows, she began feeling the buildup of an almost intolerable excitement that left her weak and debilitated. Mentally she urged the driver to go faster. It seemed as if at each traffic light the idiot stopped longer and drove slower.
When they finally drove up in front of the Turf Club and Club House entrance, Grace was almost in a frenzy, and it took a determined effort on her part to appear calm and collected. Part of her enforced composure disappeared when she was paying the admission fee and heard the crowd being to shout as another race started.
"Oh, dear God, please don't let my number five win it. I'll kill myself!" she silently said, as the noise grew in volume and then faded, signifying the end of the race.
At the top of the stairs she glimpsed the tote board and saw, with sudden relief that number ten had finished first, number three was second, and a photo was needed to separate third and fourth horses. Convinced by this that tonight was going to be another lucky evening, Grace slowly wove her way through the milling throng toward the box holders section in the Turf Club. No one was in Jim Meloney's box; furthermore, there were no racing forms or binoculars or cocktail glasses there to indicate that anyone had been sitting in the box.
It was only then that Grace scanned the program and discovered that Red Rebel Stables had no horses entered in tonight's races. Once again disappointment assailed her. Maybe Jim was spending the evening in another box with friends. Recognizing a trainer who had been in Jim's box as a guest the night before, she stopped in front of him and smiled brightly. "Why, hello there," she said in as friendly a manner as possible. "How are you tonight?"
The man looked puzzled; obviously, she thought, he doesn't remember me. He was completely non-committal when he nodded his head at her.
"I'm Grace Hope. We met last night. In Jim's… I mean… Mr. Meloney's box."
Recognition dawned on the face. "Oh, yeah. How you been?"
"Fine. Ah… have you seen Mr. Meloney here tonight?"
"Naw, he ain't here. He's down in Los Alamitos for the big handicap tomorrow."