The Horsewoman(74)

“I want both of you to ride your best,” he said.

“Not an answer.”

“Let me put it another way,” he said. “I am training you. I want you to get everything you want. But I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I want both of you to make it to Paris. And I believe that the Selection Committee will want that, too, if things are close in the end, just because it will make such a good story.”

He turned to watch the ring again. Could not help himself. Saw Becky and Gus making their way out, the trophy nearly sliding off Gus’s lap as he reached up to give her an enthusiastic high-five.

Gus’s day, too, Daniel thought with more than a little regret.

Not mine.

When he turned back to Maggie, her eyes were on him.

“I’ll talk to Becky later,” she said. “But for now, could you please just take me home?”

They had come together today, his car. Maggie hung back as Becky and Gus passed underneath them. Then she and Daniel walked in the opposite direction, toward the tent.

When they were outside, and making their way toward the barn, Daniel said, “What is making you like this today? You’ve lost before.”

“Tyler was right that day,” she said. “Becky was right. And you knew they were right whether you came right out and said it.”

Daniel waited, maybe just to hear her say it. So at least he would know.

“I never should have let her win,” Maggie said.





NINETY-TWO



I DIDN’T CELEBRATE with Grandmother that night, or with Mom. I celebrated with Mom’s trainer. In our family, it made about as much sense as anything else these days.

“Just to be clear,” I said to Daniel, “I did invite Gus to join us, so this isn’t technically me asking you out on a date.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t need a third wheel,” I said. I grinned. “Said he had enough wheels in his life on his Zinger.”

We were out on the back deck at the Clubhouse, the restaurant at Palm Beach Polo. Dinner was over. Our waiter brought out my bottle of champagne, which he’d kept on ice for us.

The conversation during our meal had mostly been about my round, the whole weekend, what it meant to be going forward. Daniel had said it was the best he’d ever seen me ride. I told him I could still do better. He smiled and told me I was right.

Now we were back to talking about the scene with Mom and him in the stands, even though Daniel had announced when we sat down that he didn’t want to talk about that on such a happy occasion. I’d told him that just off what I’d heard, they could have sold tickets to it. Being Daniel, he’d tried to deflect, saying again that it wasn’t as heavy as it sounded, or might have looked from a distance.

“I honestly believe that it came down to how badly she felt about the way she rode,” he said, “especially after she had put herself into position to win if you got one rail.”

“She’s always upset when she loses,” I said. “Except when she’s trying not to win.”

An unreadable expression settled on his face. Not the first time.

“I thought we had made a deal to stop talking about that,” he said.

I smiled. Smiling came easy tonight. Even now. There hadn’t been all that many nights like this for us lately. When it was just the two of us.

“The only thing I really heard was saying something about it being her fault,” I said. “What did she mean by that?”

“She was still upset about her round,” he said.

“Why do I think it’s more than that?”

“Becky,” he said, his voice firm suddenly. “You have to be aware enough to know that anything she feels is making her dream slip away is going to make her angry right now.”

He took a small sip of champagne. At the rate Daniel Ortega drank champagne, he’d finish his glass sometime late Tuesday afternoon.

“You have to know what a chip she has on her shoulder,” he said, “despite the career she’s had. It is something that drives her. As much as she has done, she feels she should have done much more. I have never known someone so talented and filled with regret. Now she has convinced herself that if she doesn’t make the Olympics, she is a complete failure.”

“And on top of everything else, I’ve passed her,” I said. “For now, anyway.”

“Yes,” he said. “That is a part of this.”

“Did she say that to you?”

“Not in so many words. But, yes.”

He shifted his chair slightly so he could face me more fully.

“The two of you should be having this talk,” he said.

“No,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m only focused on one thing right now,” I said. I drank some champagne. “Winning.”

“This should be an adventure for the two of you, this journey,” he said. “Not ultimate fighting.”

“It is what it is,” I said.

We sat in silence and looked out at the setting sun.

“Change of subject?” I said.

“Please.”

“It’s so weird, us not being a team,” I said.

“Agreed,” he said. “But it is best for everyone, even if your mother is not seeing it that way.”