He stood there looking down at her with a half-quizzical expression on his face, and Grace thought she had better adjust in case he had misinterpreted her remark, "My husband's in Vietnam."
Immediately he became sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hope. I didn't realize." He patted her hand again, then repeated, "See me about ten minutes before the sixth. I may have something for you."
Bill Hill and Doug arrived back at the table with their arms wrapped around the waist of a giggling, excited Judi. Bill looked toward the retreating figure of Jim Meloney and raised his eyebrows. "Hey… hey! What's he doing? Touting you on one of his horses?"
"Yeah," Doug demanded. "What'd he say about Red Jewel in the fifth?"
Grace paused a second, then feeling quite important, replied, "He thinks Red Jewel may be overmatched in the fifth, and the seventh is a tossup."
"A tossup, eh?" Bill Hill asked thoughtfully. "Sounds to me like he's trying to hide something – probably wants to keep the odds up. I think I'm going to bet him anyway."
Judi was gazing at Grace in open-mouthed speculation, her eyes wide. "Gee… Jim Meloney! He's yummy, and so rich! Why don't you invite him over to our table, Grace?"
"No." She wasn't quite sure why she refused, but it had something to do with not wanting to appear too forward with him. She liked the man as a person. She felt safe and comfortable with him. She already thought of him as a friend, and some subliminal snobbishness told her that Judi and Bill Hill and Doug were not his type of people.
Judi bore the refusal philosophically and turned her attention to the starting gate where the last of the horses was just entering the stall.
The flag went up, the gates popped open, and the horses suddenly came out as if they had been shot from a cannon. The roar of the crowd built up to a crescendo of thunder and exhortative screams, making it quite impossible to hear the public address system at all. Beside her, Grace heard Judi suddenly groan and fall silent as the horse in front abruptly was overtaken by longer-striding quarter horses. It was all over in less than 20 seconds.
No one at Grace's table had the winner, a big bay gelding by the unlikely name of Meat Wagon Herb, who had gone off at 12 to 1 odds.
And so it went. Grace, against her better judgment had another martini just before dinner was served. Ravenous, she lit into her filet mignon as though she hadn't eaten for weeks. As the time grew closer for the sixth race, she found an almost unbearable tension building up in her body. It was akin to fever, leaving her weak and feeling light-headed. As Jim Meloney had suspected, Red Jewel wasn't quite good enough in the fifth, finishing third in a photo finish. Doug, who hadn't really believed Grace, bet the horse to win and lost another fifteen dollars; he was now down $130 for the evening. Judi had kept her bets at a more conservative level, but still was out $30. Of the eight people at Grace's table, only Bill Hill was ahead, and then just slightly thanks to a lucky long-shot in the third.
The feeling of light-headed excitement continued to mount to a point where Grace's hands were actually trembling when she picked up her purse shortly before the sixth race and walked toward Jim Meloney's private box. He wasn't there, nor was he in the dining room or bar area. Disappointed, she stared around hoping for a glance of him. Then, spirit crushed, and dejected, started back toward her own table. She hadn't taken more than half a dozen steps before she felt her shoulders grasped from behind and heard his voice, "Mrs. Hope. Don't go away."
She turned, a radiant smile of relief on her face. "I was looking for you." She faltered, suddenly unsure of herself. "You did say to find you before this race?"
He turned his head in both directions then gently took her elbow and steered her over to his box. "Right. Number six. Bet it to win. But don't bet more than you can afford to lose."
"But… but you said you never betted unless you were positive," she protested.
He smiled sadly. "Nothing on a race track is ever one hundred percent positive. I've had horses five lengths out in front stumble." The grin came back, along with a wink, "Six is almost positive."
Grace looked out toward the tote boards. The odds on six were eleven to one.
"Don't pay attention to the odds," he said. "I'll be making my bet about thirty seconds before post time. They'll probably drop to around seven to one." He paused, staring at her with what seemed to be fondness and amusement, "Would you like me to place your bet when I put mine down?"
Grace took a deep sigh, then nodded her head. Quickly then, before she could change her mind, she opened her wallet, pulled out two fives, and offered them to him.
Jim glanced down at the money, then his handsome face broke into a wide smile of delight. "That's playing it safe. I knew you were an intelligent woman." He took the money and shoved it into the side pocket of his coat. "Let's see now, your ten dollars and my bet… that makes a total win wager of one thousand and ten dollars."
Grace gasped and choked. "You're betting…?"
"One thousand."
She sat down weakly on one of the padded chairs in his box. "Oh, my," she managed to say.
Jim Meloney patted her hand again. "You sit here until I come back. We'll watch the race together and both pull for our horse." He disappeared.
She sat there, waiting for him, and actually shivering from excitement. A thousand dollars! She couldn't believe it. A thousand dollars on one horse! And he seemed so confident, so sure of himself… as if he had talked to the horse himself. Then, one by one, the horses began going in the gate. She began glancing frantically around for him, not wanting him to miss the race.
"The flag is up," the public address system announced as the last horse was locked in the stall.
Again the crowd screamed when the gates opened and the horses thundered out. She felt, rather than saw, Jim Meloney at her side. Their horse had broken alertly, but was no match for the blazing early speed of a gray which had immediately drawn out to almost a length lead. She found herself screaming exhortations at their horse and jumping up and down. Fifty yards from the finish line their horse and a big black on the outside both began overtaking the gray. She reached out, without volition, and grasped Jim Meloney's hand in excitement, digging her sharp fingernails painfully into his palms. Ten yards away from the finish line, the three horses were neck and neck; it looked as if the gray were getting a second wind. Then, just as the three horses flashed across the wire, Grace saw number six put his head out in front. She was screaming and jumping up and down like a school girl. Nothing in her life had ever exceeded this moment in pure excitement. "We win… we win," she yelled, and then impulsively threw her arms around Jim Meloney and kissed him.
The touch of his lips on hers brought her back to earth immediately. She blushed a deep red, then began blurting an apology…
"Sorry!" Jim Meloney asked, staring down at her face. "What's there to be sorry about genuine emotion… excitement, fear, love?" His eyes sparkled. "We got a better price than I thought we would," he said, nodding toward the tote board. "I saw Charlie Webster and Pete Grossman both plunking down some big bills on the four horses. So, it looks like you're going to get… ah… oh, lets say, about ninety five dollars or so."
Grace sat down stunned. She couldn't believe it. A profit of $85 in less than half a minute. She was forced to believe it, though, a few minutes later when Jim handed over $96.20 in payoff for her ten dollar bet.
Jim ordered drinks for them both, then laughed delightedly and seemed pleased when she insisted on paying for them. "That's the first time a woman has bought me a drink in a long time."