The Horsewoman(83)

“Oh, wait,” I said. “You’re serious.”

She turned to scope out the room. I looked at her in profile, thinking there was no better-looking woman in the place. Knowing how little effort it had taken, or prep work. A blue dress on her I couldn’t remember her wearing in a long time. Jimmy Choo suede pumps. Pearls. She hadn’t even had her hair done, just let it hang down her back. She was standing next to Gus, hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Gus said. “Go talk to people you normally wouldn’t talk to on a bet.”

“What about you, tough guy?” I said. “You going to work the room?”

“I go where she goes,” he said, grinning at Mom.

He was wearing the same blue blazer he’d worn to the courtroom. Daniel was in the same suit he’d worn that day. They both looked handsome as hell. When Mom and I were dressed and ready to come over here I’d said, “How is it that you ended up with more of a love life than me?”

“Patience,” she said.

“Easy for you to say,” I said.

We looked across the tent and saw Steve Gorton standing at his table, surrounded by a crowd of men and women, all of whom suddenly burst into laughter at something he’d just said.

“Nobody is that funny,” Daniel whispered to me.

“Certainly not him,” I said.

Against all odds, Gorton had been acting more decently to Mom, really to all of us, lately, even though I realized it was a low bar. He’d even found a way to be civil to Grandmother, who said that even though weeks had passed since he’d discussed making a change on Coronado, that he would always be one of those loudmouth jerks, insecure no matter how much money he had. But also obsessed enough with appearances to know how he’d look if he pulled Maggie Atwood off Coronado this close to the Olympics.

I asked Grandmother if she was going to say hello.

“Let a sleeping dog lie,” she said. “And I do mean dog.”

“More like a dog who lies,” Mom said.

Mom and Gus went to talk to Jennifer Gates. Daniel and I headed in the direction of the bar.

“Are we really going to mingle?” he asked.

“Ish,” I said.

Then I said, “Am I allowed to ask how things are going with you and the United States government?”

“Slower than an old horse,” he said. “It’s complicated, but things might not get resolved before I’m supposed to go to Paris.”

“There’s still a chance, though, right?” I said.

“There is always a chance,” he said. “But for tonight, let’s just try to enjoy ourselves.”

We did our best, chatting with some of the big shots from FEI, then Tess McGill, who I genuinely liked and who was now in first place in the rankings. And Kevin Seth, who’d been the best rider in the country before major back surgery had ended his career. That was four years ago.

“Kevin was such a champion,” Daniel said. “He just finally had too many falls.”

“That could have been Mom,” I said to Daniel. “Not coming back, I mean.”

“Or you,” Daniel said, “landing on that rail the way you did.”

When we turned to make our way back to the table, Steve Gorton was standing right in front of us.

“What is it with you trainers,” he said to Daniel, voice as loud as a bullhorn, “ending up with the hottest women?”

He didn’t seem drunk. Maybe the simple fact of things was that he was simply being Steve Gorton.

“No shit,” he said, “you guys are killing it in more ways than one these days, am I right?”

“Which guys would that be?” I said.

He nodded in the direction of Gus and Mom, talking now with Matthew Killeen.

“Maggie and the wheelchair guy,” Gorton said. “Or so I hear.”

“His name is Gus Bennett,” Daniel said quietly.

Maybe there was something in his tone. Or in Daniel’s eyes.

“Hey,” Gorton said. “I’m just having some fun here.”

At least you are.

“Like when I was just messing with you the other week in the parking lot,” he added. “You gotta learn to let shit go.”

“What other day?” I said to Daniel.

“Very nice to see you, Mr. Gorton,” Daniel said, trying to end the conversation right there. “Good luck with Coronado on Sunday.”

Daniel took my hand now as we stepped around Gorton and headed back toward our table. But from behind us we heard Gorton’s voice, even louder than before.

“Hey,” he said, “I wasn’t done talking to you.”

“Yes, you were,” Daniel said, softly enough that only I could hear.

We left Gorton where he was, alone in the middle of the crowded tent. I turned to see him staring at us.

We kept walking.





ONE HUNDRED FIVE

Daniel



BECKY AND MAGGIE had to stay around to take pictures with some of the Mercedes people, with the other riders, with each other for the Palm Beach Post, to go with the story the newspaper was running about them on Sunday.

Before Daniel left, Becky said to him, “What happened between you and Gorton the other day?”

“Nothing,” he said.