by Belle Ami
Adelia was determined not to think about Miles and his precipitous proposal. Prince and Roxy deserved her utmost attention. The horses were saddled up, and she took each to the practice ring for a leisurely warm-up to blow off a bit of steam, not only for them but also for her own jumpy nerves. She knew that no matter how hard she prepared or how accustomed she was to competing, this was a dangerous and unpredictable sport. All of the top riders were present, and each would be vying to bring home the purse and the blue ribbon.
She exchanged greetings with some of her competitors who were warming up in the ring while she eyed their mounts and they eyed hers. As always, Roxy moved with beauty and grace as she stretched her limbs in a steady rhythm around the ring, her black mane and tail flying. Her large stride easily ate up the ground beneath her, giving the impression that she was barely moving when, in reality, she was covering immense amounts of turf. She was dependable and made everything look easy. On the other hand, Prince, a dazzling white, gray, was smaller and had a short stride that required him to be ridden quickly to the jumps; then he propelled himself over, clearing what looked to be insurmountable obstacles. He never failed to arouse applause and admiration from the crowd. He was a little horse with a mighty heart.
The Grand Prix contenders were stabled in a separate barn in order to observe quarantine. All of the horses had been drug tested that morning for banned stimulants and pain suppressants that might affect their performance and endanger them. In this rarefied world, with so much money on the line, some competitors would do anything to gain an advantage over the rest of the field. There were bad apples in every sport. Money and fame had a way of corrupting, as did ego. After checking on her horses and finding them contentedly munching on hay, she left Roxy and Prince in the capable hands of Rodrigo, who would bathe and groom them until their coats shone and their manes and tails hung like silk.
Instead of mingling with the VIPs and having lunch with Miles and Karolin, she decided to wander about the booths and lose herself in the crowds. She bought a white, woven straw hat to protect herself from the sun, which shone brilliantly on this clear summer day. She knew she must eat, so she bought a burrito from a gourmet food truck and stationed herself under a tree, where she could watch a class of young jumping competitors while she ate. She needed this quiet time to recharge her batteries and prepare mentally for the arena. She and her father had developed the routine together to deal with the jittery nerves that had plagued her as a child.
After eating, she closed her eyes and took deep abdominal breaths to relax and center her body and focus her mind. She visualized riding her horses, hearing their breathing and pounding hooves, feeling the power beneath her, timing her distance to each jump, and balancing her body so as not to inhibit the horse from its task when it soared free of the earth, sailed through the air, and finally landed, balanced and ready to explode to the next fence. Her strategy was always to become one with the horse. In this state of communion and seeking of excellence, she opened herself to the positive energy of the universe, letting it fill her spirit. Of course, this deep, inner search could only lead her back to the beginning and the two people who had made her. Lars and Faye were with her now as much as they had ever been, and her heart filled with the knowledge that she was not alone. It was time to ride.
She walked the course with Chet, her trainer, counting out the strides from fence to fence, planning her turns and strategies, which differed for each horse. Only if she rode clear would she be allowed to return to the ring for the jump-off. There must be no rails, no stops, and no refusals. Out of thirty-seven riders, the best from around the world, only about seven would make it to the jump-off, and her goal was to be one of them.
The order of the lineup was predetermined, and each rider was given a time slot. She would ride Roxy third and Prince last, which gave her plenty of time to reorganize and catch her breath. As she walked back, she could see that the grandstands were jam-packed with several thousand aficionados and the VIP tables were filled with people ready for the spectacle. She returned to the barn to get on Roxy and warm up in the warm-up ring.
After a thrilling rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the FTI World Cup qualifying event began. The first rider was a well-known professional on a tried and true Olympic horse. He went clean, with no time faults, and laid down an impressive gauntlet for the rest of the field. Like all masters of their craft, he made the impossible look easy. Adelia waited at the gate on Roxy, watching the second rider tackle the course. With a refusal at fence six, the massive square oxer, her bid ended. Circling, she rode toward the jump again, clearing it, and finished the course with four faults plus two time faults. Technically the course was challenging, designed specifically to produce failure. Every rider knew that only a perfect ride would produce a winner today.
Adelia, on Roxy, entered the ring with a powerful canter and halted. She breathed deeply, allowing herself a moment to go over the course again in her mind. Then, picking up the canter, she galloped to the first fence, a meter-five triple-bar vertical, four feet eleven inches in height and the easiest fence on the course. She rode the course in complete control; Roxy was as smooth as silk. Her only moment of worry was when Roxy’s hind hoof ticked the last fence, which produced a sympathetic gasp from the crowd and a sigh of relief when it miraculously stayed up bouncing in the support cups. Better to be lucky, she thought. However, she had one time fault, which would cost her a return for the jump-off. Disappointment filled her, but she knew that she must quickly mentally dispense with the loss. Positivity was paramount to achieving success. Now her hopes were pinned on Prince of Flight. She had at least an hour before her return to the ring, and she would spend that time watching her competition go for the gold.
When all was said and done, six riders rode clean, with the first rider still in first place. Many of the money players had hit a patch of ice; between rails down and time faults their luck had run out, and they were out. Adelia exploded into the ring on the feisty gray as the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome back Adelia Ann Lindstrom on her second entry, Prince of Flight, a ten-year-old gray Belgium warmblood, and our last entry in the ring before we reset the course for the jump-off.” The applause was filtered through her concentration and barely registered in her consciousness. She fired Prince at the first jump, and he soared above it, rolling through a short turn and reversing direction to the next jump. She could feel him pulling and straining against the reins, anxious to run. He would need that fiery energy for the jump-off; she held the reins firmly, she didn’t want him racing at the jumps just yet. His performance through the triple combination was poetry in motion as he cleared the jumps with room to spare. He finished clean within the time allowed, prancing as he circled to the gate to appreciative applause. Adelia patted Prince, and when she exited the ring, she gave him a peppermint candy to reward him for his perfect performance. She had made it through the first hurdle of her bid for glory.
The course was now reset for the jump-off, and she studied its layout with the six other competitors. With only six jumps, the riders would all go for broke. This part of the competition was about taking risks; the only way to win would be with unbridled speed and a devil-may-care daring. This was where Prince held a slight advantage. He was masterful at turning on a dime. She would definitely take the inside turn, saving precious seconds. Others would attempt the same shortcut, but not all would make it without a refusal or dropping a rail. Aside from skill, she knew that the unknowable providence of luck would determine today’s winner.
The order would be reversed, and Adelia would have to go first—an unenviable position, which was nerve-racking and often costly. If she went clean, hers would be the time to beat, and you could bet that they all would try to do just that.
The master of the hunt, dressed in a scarlet hunt coat, high boots, and a top hat, strode to the center of the ring and blew the trumpet tha
t commenced the jump-off.
The crowd seemed to hold its breath as Prince galloped to the first jump, a ramped oxer where the first pole was lowest and each successive pole slightly higher. Coming off the jump, Adelia, in balance with Prince, rolled left in a tight turn and, at an impossible angle, cleared a wall, a solid obstacle that was visually formidable to both rider and horse. Adelia’s heart was racing rapidly as adrenaline flowed through her body, and her breath was ragged in her chest. But she was aware of none of this as horse and rider, in eight strides, flew over the massive box oxer adorned with greenery and flanked with two wishing wells planted with a rainbow of flowers. Now she turned and galloped Prince at full speed across Hampton Field toward a meter-six vertical so delicate that it seemed a breeze might bring it down. Adelia landed left clear and flew through a short turn toward the triple combination that had been reduced to a double combination for the jump-off. Again, making it look easy, the little horse flew over the vertical bars, tucking his hooves beneath him and leaving inches of blue sky between rail and horse. Prince brought the crowd to its feet, applauding as horse and rider raced to home and cleared a massive square oxer. A slight tick could be heard as crowd and rider held their breaths. The rail vibrated slightly but remained up, and everyone exhaled a breath of relief.
Thrilled and exhilarated with her performance, Adelia again circled the dancing gray to the appreciative audience. The scoreboard flashed an impressive 32.96. The next six riders would chase that time while she watched and waited.
As she walked Prince to cool him down, she kept her mind blank and trained one eye on the field as each of the six gave his or her best effort. As she had expected, the inside turn to the triple combination defeated two of the contenders. The third had a refusal to the combination, eliminating his bid, and the fourth had the last rail down, which would put him in bronze-medal position. The final rider was the first rider who had qualified for the jump-off. His years of experience and mileage in the ring served him well; he beat her by two-tenths of a second. Adelia smiled and applauded with the crowd who had certainly gotten their money’s worth of excitement.
For Adelia it was a huge accomplishment to take second, and this ride brought her closer to her goal of making the American World Cup team. She was still a force to be reckoned with, and with two majors under her belt, she was bound to be noticed and lauded.
Adelia waved to the crowd as she circled the field in the victory gallop, with her second-place red ribbon pinned to Prince’s brow band. Scores of well-wishers and colleagues congratulated her as she exited the ring and dismounted from the saddle. Rodrigo hugged and congratulated her as he took Prince’s reins. Patting Prince, he repeated over and over, “Muy bueno caballo! Si, señorita Delie, muy bueno caballo! Yo le permitira volver a la granja. Estabas esplendida.”
“Gracias, Rodrigo. Tener buen cuidado de los caballos.”
“Si, si, señorita!”
The proud groom whistled a melody to Prince, who seemed to dance as he was led back to the barn. For a moment, Adelia stood alone, watching Rodrigo and Prince depart. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, filling her with elation. Then she heard her name being called. Looking in the direction of the voice, she saw Miles walking toward her, beaming.
“I can’t believe it. You were magnificent. Two-tenths of a second. Are you kidding me? That was incredible!” He wrapped his arms around her, possessively kissing her. “Come on; let’s get out of here.”
“But, Miles, where are we going? I really should mingle and do a bit of horse-world politicking.”
“You don’t need to do that. You just wrote your name in lights across the industry with that ride. Everyone is going to be talking about you. Let them wonder where the mysterious California girl disappeared to. Come on!” Grabbing her hand, he began pulling her along with him.
“Miles, please—I have to go back to the barn and check on the horses first and get my things, and I need a shower. Why don’t I meet you?”
Miles furrowed his brows. He wasn’t used to not getting his way, and he didn’t intend to start now. He looked at the girl quizzically as he tried to fathom how far he could push her. “OK. I’ll compromise with you, Princess. I’ll send the car for you at the inn in two hours, and you’ll be perfectly on time for your guest-of-honor role at Karolin’s party. Oh, and let’s not forget that you made a bargain with the devil—and the devil never forgets.” He kissed her firmly on the lips and walked away, holding up two fingers. “Two hours!”
When Adelia returned to the barn, a reporter for one of the major equestrian magazines was waiting for her. She wanted an interview, and Adelia felt obliged to do it. It seemed Miles was right; her performance was being talked about. The reporter kept asking her how difficult it was to continue with her riding dreams after the devastating loss of her parents.
“It’s funny that you should ask me this, because today, before I rode, I spent some time meditating and thinking not only about my ride, but about my good fortune of having had the support for so many years of the two extraordinary people who were my parents. I felt their presence here today, watching over me. You see; it isn’t hard to continue to pursue this dream of riding without them, because not only was this my dream, it was theirs. Each time I ride I feel them with me, urging me on and believing in me. In many ways the riding keeps their memory alive.”
By the time she returned to the inn, she was running late. She took a quick shower, French braided her wet hair, and put on a white chiffon cocktail dress with a tight, heart-shaped bodice and full skirt. She really wasn’t a fashion plate, but in this dress, another Montecito indulgence, she felt like her favorite movie star, Audrey Hepburn. She looked at herself in the mirror and could feel the glow of success reflected back. She couldn’t imagine that her day could get any better.
She was just finishing her lipstick when the phone rang. It was the front desk calling to tell her that the car was waiting for her. Grabbing a white cashmere shawl and her purse, she flew out the door.
When she arrived, the party was in full swing. Miles embraced her and whispered, “You look beautiful, and I’m mad about you.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Karolin staring at them with catlike eyes. Something about that look sent a chill down her spine. Surely she was mistaken, but she sensed both malevolence and fascination.
Like a cloud passing over the sun, Karolin’s face changed from darkness to light in an instant. Whatever had been revealed was once more safely locked away. Karolin greeted her with a warm kiss on both cheeks. “Our guest of honor! You were awesome today, Adelia. The entire audience seemed to hold its breath while you were on course…and then the last ride and losing by only two-tenths of a second! It was brilliant!”
With his arm about her waist, Miles nodded, beaming at her, completely unaware of Karolin’s penetrating gaze that continued to vacillate from him to Adelia as she sought to decipher what lay between them.
“Come on, Adelia,” Miles said. “Let’s get you a glass of champagne and some food.”
“Yes, go, brother dear. I can see that Todd’s looking a bit forlorn without me. See you in a bit. Ciao!”
Miles led Adelia through the crowd to the ice bar loaded with frosted bottles of vodka and buckets of chilled champagne. “For you, champagne.” He handed her a glass. “I’ve moved on to vodka.” He clinked her glass. “To us and to you, Princess, and your day of glory!”
“To us!” She sipped the bubbly beverage. Over her shoulder, she heard someone call out to Miles. His eyes quickly sobered, and he breathed in her ear, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
His absence provided her with a moment to observe her surroundings. The house was a massive, modern structure of steel and glass, softened by creamy-white furnishings and simple white-orchid-and-moss arrangements that contrasted with the industrial, human-made structure. The owners of the home were avid collecto
rs of David Smith, and several welded Cubis sculptures populated the rooms. The brushed stainless-steel giants looked at home in this cage of steel. She wondered what it must look like from the shore, this skeleton of bones with no skin, like a carapace of naked armor. She guessed that the windows must be see-through only from the inside out, or else there were hidden window treatments that magically disappeared into the ceiling. Otherwise, there would be no privacy, and every movement within would be revealed. It wasn’t her style, but she certainly could appreciate the architect’s vision of simple form and function.
The crowd, mostly a hip, avant-garde New York set, was dancing, drinking, and mingling to the repertoire of the overactive deejay. The sliding walls of glass had been thrown open to the decks that meandered down through the sea grass and dunes to the sand, where waves pounded rhythmically to the amplified bass. She felt happily light-headed and carefree from the champagne, ambience, and weariness of her day. She was completely absorbed in the sensory overload of the music when a stranger caressed her arm and whispered in her ear. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Edward Vanderbilt. Didn’t I see you come in second in the Classic?”
Adelia turned to the handsome man, extending her hand and smiling. “Adelia Lindstrom. Yes, that was me today. Nice to meet you.”
“Congratulations, stunning ride. Are you friends with Miles or Karolin?” His eyes glittered with questions as he held firmly to her hand. Edward Vanderbilt exuded charm, sophistication, and self-possession. He was also judging from his attire and self-confidence, wealthy, and devastatingly handsome.
“Both.” She pulled her hand away, averting her eyes from his magnetism.
“Leave it to Miles and Karolin to add the most breathtaking, interesting people to their menagerie of guests.”
Adelia blushed from Edward’s attentions as she glanced around the room for Miles. “Thanks for the compliment, I—” A male arm encircled her waist, pressing her to him possessively. She looked up in relief to see Miles.
