by Leigh Hearon
There was a short silence, then Marcus spoke.
“Did you see it happen?”
“Thankfully, no. Patricia and I were up at the house having drinks with the rest of the women when Hollis told us. We made a taped statement to the police, but it looks like just a freak one-car accident. The woman’s husband is a doctor, so he’ll know if she might have crashed because of a medical condition.”
“How horrible. For everyone.”
“Yes, although only one rider here seems to have actually known her.” She sighed. “And today, I saw her being exceptionally cruel to her horse—in my eyes, anyway, and I reported her. Now she hates me, I feel like a rat, but I’m still furious at what I saw her do.”
“Spare me the details. I trust you.”
“Oh, and by the way, she knows you.”
“She does?”
“Actually, two women here know you. Your name apparently is legion among dressage riders throughout the world.”
“Who are these mysterious women?”
“Well, the one I royally ticked off is Nicole Anne Forrester. She’s engaged to a guy who supposedly handles your investments. A Douglas something. I don’t know his last name.”
Marcus laughed. “Doug Kenyan. We went to business school together. Yes, he handles some of my money, and I’d heard he was getting married. It’s his third. What’s his latest bride like, other than a horse abuser?”
“Well, that about pretty much sums it up. She’s snooty, ignores the rest of us, doesn’t take criticism well, and is very proud of the rock on her fourth finger of her left hand.”
“Maybe I should warn Douglas. She sounds like trouble.”
“Well, don’t bring up my name. She already loathes me and I’m sure is looking for revenge. I’m thinking of hiring a taster to make sure I’m not poisoned at dinner. Although that is one wonderful part about being here. The chef is incredible.”
“I look forward to sampling his creations.”
“And it’s been great getting to know Liz and Patricia better, just as you predicted. I’m learning a lot about dressage, and you’re right, all I have to do is enjoy watching everyone else work.”
“So, why are you sounding less like your usual perky self?”
“I am not perky.”
“Okay, ebullient.”
“I’m not that, either. I don’t know . . . it’s just some of the people here are so caught up in their own thing.”
“Such as the other woman I’m supposed to know?”
“She’s in a league all her own. Gwendolyn. I’ve forgotten her last name. She said she had dinner with you a few days ago.” With your mother, Annie silently added.
“Gwen? Gwen’s down there with you?”
Well, that certainly didn’t sound too reassuring.
“Yes.” Annie bit her lip, so she wouldn’t ask the thousand questions she wanted answered.
“She said she was going to a dressage show. I had no idea it was the same one.”
Annie patiently waited to be told Gwendolyn was nothing to him. No way could Marcus be in love with her, or even like her, for that matter. No man could possibly tolerate the woman unless he just wanted her money. And that was something she knew Marcus didn’t need.
“Well, give her my best, will you?”
Give her my best? Annie began to feel the telltale signs of anger rising in her once more. It had happened too many times already today. She couldn’t help what she next blurted out.
“Marcus, is something going on between the two of you?”
“Annie, whatever do you mean?”
“As soon as we met, she made a big point of telling me she knew you. And that she’d dined with you and your mother the day you returned from the Peninsula.”
There. It was all out. Annie waited to see how Marcus would deal with that loaded statement.
“She’s right, she did dine with us last Monday. What of it?”
“Her implication was that it was more than just a friendly dinner.”
“Why? What did she say?”
Annie wracked her brain, trying to remember Gwendolyn’s exact words.
“I can’t remember exactly. Just that she’d recently had dinner with you and your mother. It was the way she said it that got me. She also made a point of telling me how you and Hilda first met at the Rolex. And what a great rider Hilda was.”
And how little I know about her world, horses and otherwise, Annie thought to herself.
“Annie. You haven’t told me anything that isn’t true. Hilda and I did meet at some fancy horse show in Lexington. It probably was the Rolex. She was a great rider. At least, she won a lot of ribbons. But you know what our relationship was like. I’ve poured my heart out to you about our marital issues. Why should it become an issue now? Hilda’s not in my life anymore. She’s not in anyone’s life. She died a horrible death. Why bring all this up now?”
The conversation was quickly heading somewhere Annie didn’t want it to go.
“This isn’t about Hilda, Marcus. I know her death was tragic, and of course it shouldn’t have happened.” In case you’ve forgotten, I was the one who found her body, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “But Gwendolyn is always comparing Hilda and herself with me, and in her eyes, I come up way short. And she definitely is trying to imply that she has a close relationship with you. To be honest, I think she’d like nothing more than to have me out of the picture and have you all for herself.”
“Annie, I’ve known Gwen for twenty years. She was one of Hilda’s closest friends. She knows you and I are together. If’s she’s sharing bits and pieces of the past with you now, it’s just her way of trying to connect because I’m the one person you have in common. It’s unfair for you to put a spin on what she says and assume she means something that just isn’t there. I think you’re overreacting. Frankly, I would have thought you to show more maturity than what you’re exhibiting now. This is way out of line.”
There was nothing more to say. Things had not gone as Annie had expected. She’d assumed that Marcus would commiserate with how awful Gwendolyn behaved and assure her he loved only her and no one else, especially not that loathsome cow. Instead, he had defended the woman and blamed Annie for “overreacting.”
“I think we should end this conversation,” she said stiffly. “Let me know if you still intend to try to come here this weekend.”
She didn’t wait for his answer. She ended the call. And then she burst into tears.
* * *
An hour later, Annie emerged from her room, calmer but with a much heavier heart than she could remember—not since those horrible days last spring when Marcus had disappeared, and she thought he might be dead. Now, he might as well be dead, at least in her life. She was still reeling from his words. She couldn’t believe that he had not offered her the support she’d asked for, or she’d thought she’d asked for. She held fast to her small piece of anger toward him. His refusal to see things from her perspective was the only thing that kept her from crying now.
As she walked down the hallway, she heard Amy and Lucy talking quietly in one of their rooms, and from an open upstairs window, gales of laughter far off in the distance, probably from one of the trainers’ cottages. Annie listened and recognized Gwendolyn’s mocking laugh. It must be Harriett’s cottage. Who else would she deign to hang with?
Walking down the staircase to the main floor, she saw Melissa heading off once again to the stables. There was no sign of Tabitha, and presumably Nicole was still at dinner with her fiancé. Even the kitchen was dark and silent.
She needed to go to the gym and work off some of her anger, so she quietly opened the front door to start her walk there. It was ten o’clock, and the sun had long set. She wished she had a flashlight. Perhaps the Darbys had installed ground lights on the path to the sports pavilion. It would be just like them put in lights for the infrequent guest who liked to work out at night.
“Annie? Is that you?”
She starte
d, unaware that anyone else was in the open foyer. She looked toward where the voice had spoken and saw Hollis sitting in a wingback chair in the back of the living room. A single reading lamp illuminated his body. His legs were crossed, one knee supporting his overturned open book.
Just as she started to approach him, he clapped his hands, puzzling Annie for a half second, until the overhead lights miraculously came on.
“Now that’s impressive.”
“We put it in just to impress our guests. Actually, it makes life easier for Miriam, so she doesn’t have to walk to every single light switch in the house.”
“What are you reading?”
“Oh, just an old Agatha Christie. I’ve read them all once, but most of them so long ago that I can pick up one now, and it’s like reading it for the first time.”
He flipped the book over and glanced at the title.
“This is a Hercule Poirot mystery, one of my favorite characters in the Christie collection. I always wanted to play Poirot, but was told I didn’t look Gallic enough. I did have the pleasure of playing Sherlock Holmes once. Another rotten film. It didn’t follow the canon. It was just a made-up story that didn’t do justice to Arthur Conan Doyle’s genius for plot. I believe Holmes stopped the Nazis from invading England or something like that.”
“I always suspected Winston Churchill didn’t act alone.”
Hollis laughed, and the sound of it made Annie smile for the first time in hours.
“This has been quite an exciting twenty-four hours for you, hasn’t it? One motor-vehicle accident, one horse injury, a kerfuffle with a rider whom I believe was clearly out of line, and it’s not even Friday yet.”
She was glad Hollis had called out to her. He’d already made her feel better, particularly his comment that Nicole was “clearly out of line.”
“Can I persuade you to have a cognac with me on the back terrace? It’s well-known for its medicinal benefits in ensuring a good night’s sleep. I’d offer you a cigar to go with it, but my doctor made me give them up years ago.”
“I’d love to. And as I recall, Winston Churchill’s doctor often gave him the same advice, and Churchill always ignored it. Look how long he lived.”
Annie followed Hollis outside to the back terrace, which was a small, sweet pavilion tucked into the rear garden. Hollis poured two generous portions of Courvoisier into large snifters and handed one to Annie. She was seated in an antique Mission rocking chair. Hollis settled into a matching one a moment later.
“This is where Miriam and I come when even we’ve been exhausted by our guests. It’s close enough to the main patio so we can hear any scurrilous remarks they may make when they think they’re alone. But it’s hidden enough that, so far, no one’s discovered it. Now you know about it, and I’m afraid if you tell anyone, well, you know the consequences.”
His tone was humorous, but Annie replied quite seriously.
“I feel honored that you’d share your private place with me. Girl Scout’s honor I won’t tell a soul.”
“I knew I could trust you.”
A minute passed without talking, except for an occasional tree frog making its presence known in the distance. Annie took a sip of her cognac, and thought if she finished the snifter, she’d definitely sleep the sleep of the innocent that night.
“Have you and Miriam been tempted to come out here recently?” It was the most delicate way she could think of to say what she really meant.
“You mean, have our current guests driven us out here yet? Well, Tabitha’s behavior tonight certainly tested our mettle.”
“How is she doing now?”
“Better, I think. I sat her down and tried to convince her that her precious beads were somewhere in the tack room and that she’d undoubtedly find them first thing in the morning.”
“Did she believe you?”
Hollis paused. “I think not. I thought I saw her scurrying back to look for them a few hours ago. Have you seen her since dinner?”
Annie shook her head. “I got the full effect of her horse charms this afternoon, though. Her poor Friesian was covered in them from mane to hoof. It’s hard to believe she actually believes they improve their performance.”
“The placebo effect can work wonders.”
“Too bad. I mean, there are enough variables in professional competition without having to worry about whether your horse has the right good-luck charm attached to its bridle.”
“The irony is that Tabitha’s horse can’t wear most of them into the ring. Judges frown on horse bling. You’ve seen what riders wear. A flash of unexpected color and the judge might be predisposed to knock off a few points just because she disapproves of the rider’s bridle adornment. It probably hurts Tabitha’s scores more than helps.”
Another few moments passed, and Annie ventured on another topic.
“Is there any update on Betsy Gilchrist’s accident? I went out to the place where her car crashed today. I couldn’t find anything to explain why her car hit the tree. Not that I’m a professional or anything.”
“I took a good look around last night after the police and ambulance had left,” Hollis admitted. “I’m not a professional, either. But I’ll be damned if I can think of any reason for the car to go off the road.”
“What was she driving?”
“A late model Mercedes-Benz. A convertible. That didn’t help.”
“No, I’m sure it didn’t. I feel so sorry for her husband.”
“And their two grown children. I spoke only briefly with him—somehow I felt that I should offer my condolences since his wife had just been on our property—and he said she hadn’t any health issues that would cause her to lose consciousness. He said he’d just have to wait for the autopsy. Of course, people do drop dead from heart attacks and brain aneurysms every day. I suppose that’s what he’s expecting to find.”
Annie did not want to dwell on Betsy Gilchrist’s death. She was curious to know what caused it, but any more conversation just seemed ghoulish. Hollis apparently felt the same.
“Annie, I know you’ve been stung more than a few times by the rather callous remarks of Gwendolyn, and I had hoped that I could shed some light on her background to put her behavior in perspective.”
Not another attempt to placate me, Annie thought. If Hollis tries to explain away Gwendolyn’s bad manners because of a troubled childhood, I’ll implode.
Something about Annie’s body language must have clued Hollis into what she was thinking because he quickly added, “I’m not going to try to justify how she’s acted around you—and the others, I should add. I just want you to understand why she’s become the tough, brittle woman you see at the dining-room table several times a day.”
Fair enough, she thought. Fire away. She took another sip of cognac. Its medicinal powers already were making her feel quite mellow.
“Gwendolyn is the daughter of old family friends, and we’ve known her since she was a little girl. It’s not a stretch to say she is the ultimate trust-fund baby. Nothing was too expensive to indulge little Gwen. She had her first Shetland pony at three and instantly fell in love with horses and riding.”
So far, none of this was news to Annie.
“I’m not surprised. She also knows the family of my boyfriend, Marcus Colbert, and I know they’re an old San Francisco family, too.” Annie hoped she could still call Marcus her boyfriend.
“Yes, they’re all part of the same clique—memberships in several of the most time-honored business and social clubs. Compared to Gwendolyn’s family, Miriam and I are part of the nouveau riche, who’ve been thoughtfully invited to join the inner circle. Both of us grew up poor as church mice. But a career in Hollywood, especially when we were there, gives one a certain cachet, and somehow we made the A-list.”
“Who wouldn’t want you and Miriam at their party? Miriam positively sparkles in a crowd. And everyone is drawn to you. You’re the kind of people no one can resist.”
Hollis smiled. “At the
risk of sounding arrogant, I daresay you’re right. We’re both notorious extroverts and thrive on attention. But back to Gwendolyn. She wasn’t a very pretty child, not like her two older sisters, nor an outstanding student. The only thing she did well was ride, and that was through a lot of hard work. You’d think she would have had an idyllic childhood, even with these minor handicaps, but upper-class girls have a nasty habit of ferreting out the weak and making their lives miserable.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s confined to just girls from rich families.”
“You are undoubtedly correct. In any event, Gwendolyn compensated for the cruelty she experienced at school by developing a hard shell. She also learned how to give back as good as she got. But deep down, Gwendolyn is still very much that plain, chubby little girl who was always the last to be asked to dance.”
“Hollis, we all have tough childhoods in some form or another. Gwendolyn didn’t have to choose this route. Look at Lucy. She obviously comes from a privileged background and is never going to be the belle of the ball, but wealth has turned her into an insecure, emotionally fragile young woman. It’s not an ideal outcome, but she doesn’t go around biting the heads off other people. If anything, she empathizes too much.”
“Yes, but Lucy’s family is still intact, and there’s not a whiff of public scandal surrounding it.”
Annie looked at Hollis.
“Gwendolyn’s parents divorced when she was a teenager. It was fairly acrimonious, but nothing out of the ordinary. Her father had a mistress, wanted a divorce, and he got it. He paid heavily for breaking up his family, but Gwendolyn, her siblings, and their mother came out with most of the fortune, and life went on pretty much as usual.
“Gwendolyn’s father, however, resented giving away so much of his wealth to his first family and got involved in a number of financial schemes not precisely on the up-and-up. Gwendolyn only had one boyfriend in college, who did the expected thing and proposed. A week before the wedding, Gwendolyn’s father was indicted for tax fraud. Her fiancé left her flat. Of course, at this point, announcements had gone out, caterers had been hired, and gifts were pouring in. It was a terrible mess, and as you can imagine, quite humiliating for the poor girl. Her father was tried, convicted, and given a ten-year sentence in federal prison. I can’t imagine a more terrible time in her life than that period. All the stares and whispers behind her back drove her into a deep depression.”
