The Glory Game (17 page)

“Maybe you should read the letter,” she said, drawing his attention to the folded sheet of printed stationery near the package.

He scanned it as quickly as she had, but he seemed better prepared for the contents than she had been and didn't have to reread it. “There must be some mistake,” he insisted, but she wasn't about to be bluffed that easily.

“There is no mistake, Drew. I called them myself this afternoon. It seems that frothy piece of silk was found buried in the sheets at the foot of the bed. It obviously isn't mine. I wasn't there, and I don't own anything that even remotely resembles that. So whose is it, Drew?”

He wouldn't look at her. “It was a mistake, Luz.”

“You're damned right it was a mistake!” Her anger turned hot. “Who was with you? As if I don't already know. A hooker off the street wouldn't wear something like that. And you can't convince me it was some high-priced call girl. A professional wouldn't leave something like that behind. So whose is it?”

“I don't see the point in answering that,” he stated. “I'm the one in the wrong.”

“You bastard!” Her voice trembled close to a shout. “Acting so damned noble to protect that bitch! You don't want her dragged into all this, do you? Are you afraid it might hurt her reputation, ruin her good name? I'm your wife! But you don't give a damn about that, do you?”

“Luz, stop it.” Drew tried to quiet her. “You have a right to be angry and upset over this, but there is no need to inform the entire neighborhood.”

“Then tell me. I want to know whom you were with,” she demanded in a not much gentler tone.

“What good would it do to know?” he countered with his insufferable logic. “She's innocent of any blame in this.”

“Innocent!” Luz exploded. “I can just bet how innocent she is. And if you won't say her name, I will. Claudia.”

“There you go again with those jealous suspicions of her.” His continued refusal to admit she was involved drove Luz to
the telephone. “What are you doing?” Drew grabbed her arm as she picked up the receiver.

“I'm calling your precious Claudia to see what she has to say about all this.” She dialed information. “Claudia Baines, residence number, please.”

Drew depressed the switch hook within the cradle, breaking the connection. “Don't make a fool of yourself, Luz.”

“You've already done that for me, so I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.” Her gaze locked with his.

“But what would you gain?” he argued.

“The satisfaction of knowing I'm right.” She stared him down. A second later, he swung away from her, his head bowing in mute defeat.

“All right.”

“All right what?” Luz wouldn't let him off the hook with that mute admission. She wanted to hear him say it.

“All right. It was Claudia,” he impatiently shot back, and she felt physically sick. “I never wanted it to happen.”

“And Adam never wanted to take a bite from the apple Eve offered him,” she mocked sarcastically. “Am I supposed to believe that?”

“I didn't take her to New York with the intention of going to bed with her. It just happened,” Drew insisted. “I swear to you, Luz, I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

But they were just words, and he'd already shown her how little they meant to him. “How could you do it, Drew? Of all people, why did it have to be her?” Luz wasn't conscious of thinking out loud.

“I don't know if I can explain the attraction I feel.” Drew sat down heavily on the loveseat and combed his fingers through his hair. “She makes me feel young. She's fun to be with—and a joy to talk to. And I suppose I'm flattered, too, that she finds me attractive.”

“The quickest way to a man's heart is through his ego,” Luz said snidely. “And you have enough ego for two men. Can't you see she's just using you? What better way to leap ahead than to become the senior partner's mistress?”

“She isn't like that. You don't know her the way I do.”

It hurt to hear him defend her, and she lashed out in response. “No, I don't. But I'm sure what you didn't know about her before you found out when you were in bed. Tell me, Drew,
did you enjoy it? Maybe I should take lessons from her. Would you like that?”

“Stop it, Luz,” he muttered.

“Come, come, Drew,” she mocked. “Don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy a
menage
à
trois?”

“Dammit, Luz, that's enough.” He came to his feet and crossed the few steps to the fireplace, half turning his back to her. “You're making it all sound sordid and cheap.”

“But that's the way I feel!” The pain was in her throat, making it raw. “I feel cheap and used—humiliated. When I think of that night at the restaurant—sitting at the table with her—with both of you …” She couldn't finish the thought.

It was something that almost defied description. Drew and Claudia were lovers and they shared that secret. Drew had betrayed her and never let on. That night he had even made love to her. Looking back, she felt like such a fool. And now Claudia knew things about him, intimate things that only a wife should know. Somehow that knowledge debased Luz. She knew she would never be able to look that woman in the eye again without remembering Drew had lain naked in her arms. All in one blow, she seemed to lose her honor, her self-respect, and her pride.

“Luz, I'm sorry. How many times in how many ways do I have to say it?” The sincerity in his plea made an impression on her.

The anger drained back into its well, leaving her emotionally flattened when she looked at him. “What happens next, Drew?” she asked in a colorless voice.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Are you going to see her again?” Her glance absently took in the silver-tufted mane of his dark hair, the distinctive cleft in his chin, and the masculine contours of his features. Handsome, intelligent—he was all those things—but her trust in him was gone. Without it, he didn't seem to be much of a man.

“I'll have to see her at the office. I can't very well avoid that. As for the other thing”—he deftly hedged naming it—“I promise you, it's over. It was a mistake to become involved with her from the beginning, and it would be an even bigger mistake to continue that relationship. We've had a successful
marriage, Luz. I don't want to lose that any more than you do.”

She had carefully avoided asking whether Drew had continued to meet Claudia after they had returned from New York or if it had been a one-time fling. But he had just indicated the former. It made his perfidy more difficult to tolerate.

“Then you aren't going to discharge her,” she said.

“I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair to Claudia,” Drew protested.

“Do you think it's fair to me to go on working with her?” she countered blandly. “I am your wife. Why should I have to endure knowing that you're with her every day and wondering what you're doing together? If you feel you owe her some sort of loyalty, then surely you can find her a position in another law firm. I've heard you say countless times what a brilliant lawyer she's going to be. You have attorney friends all over the country. Get one of them to offer her a better position with more pay.”

“I'll see what I can do.” But he gave in grudgingly.

“Please do,” she said.

He sighed heavily. “Is that your condition?”

She hadn't thought in terms of laying the ground rules under which their marriage could survive, but she supposed that was what she was doing. Divorce had never crossed her mind until now. She shied away from the word that represented ultimate failure to her.

“Yes.”

“We'll put all this behind us,” Drew said as he came over to stand in front of her. “We'll work it out together.”

When he raised his arms to draw her into his embrace, Luz hunched away from them. “No, I—” She needed time to rid herself of the mental image of him making love to Claudia before she'd be able to respond to his touch. “Not yet.” Keeping her head down, she backed away. “I'll check on our dinner.” Food was the farthest thing from her mind, but she had to pick up the threads of their life somewhere.

The following two weeks were difficult for Luz. She attended all the meetings and luncheons on her calendar, but she always made her excuses and left as soon as she possibly could. Most of her free time she spent exercising Rob's polo string.
She claimed that she was doing it so that when Rob came home during spring break, the horses would be in top condition. But riding soothed her troubled spirits. Sometimes she had the childish wish never to stop riding, but she always did.

Drew was very attentive in the beginning. The first few days he came home shortly after the official closing hours. Then it became later and later every day. Luz never asked what arrangements he had made regarding Claudia, and Drew never volunteered. The black lace teddy had disappeared that first night. Neither of them mentioned it, nor anything else that had subsequently happened.

During the second weekend, Luz had let him make love to her. “Let” was the correct word, because she hadn't participated, merely let him use her body to obtain his satisfaction. She was stunned by how much had been lost, how totally indifferent she had become to his caress. She had never believed love could die so quickly. There wasn't even “liking” in its place—or hate. Nothing was there. She felt nothing for him or about him. She didn't understand how that could happen. It made her wonder if there wasn't something wrong with her.

She couldn't fault Drew for not trying to make everything work out. Every weekend, he'd taken her some place, almost courting her with dates. And he inquired about her activities, attempted conversations in the evenings. She made the effort, too. The difference was her heart wasn't in it.

The Easter holidays signaled the beginning of spring break. With Rob and Trisha home to enliven the atmosphere, Luz wasn't so conscious of brittlley cheerful conversations and forced interest in daily happenings. Still, a certain amount of tension was always there, just below the surface.

Sighing for no reason, she leaned back in the thickly cushioned poolside chaise and closed her eyes to savor the early-evening quiet. A lingering April sun remained in the sky, low on the horizon. Its long, golden rays were pleasantly warm, but they did little to ease the dull, throbbing pain in her forehead. She lifted the squatty cocktail glass and rubbed its cold, wet sides over her brow. Ice cubes rattled against the sides, sloshing the diluted whiskey in the bottom.

A revving motor broke the quiet as it rumbled and roared up the driveway. Unwillingly, Luz opened her eyes and glanced in the direction of the garage, where Trisha's sports car was
coming to a stop with a squeal from the brakes. Trisha climbed out of the driver's side, dressed in bright orange jogging shorts and a matching tank top trimmed in hot pink. Rob was only a step behind her, in his riding boots and jeans. They headed toward the back entrance to the house, then spied her and changed their course.

“Hi!” Trisha plopped down on a chair next to her chaise, a wide smile splitting her face.

“Hi yourself.” It was fairly easy to smile back. She glanced at Rob standing hip-locked by Trisha's chair. “How was the game?” He'd been playing morning and afternoon ever since he'd been home—friendly games made up of teams of polo-loving amateurs. Players were always needed to fill out a team roster when a regular player couldn't keep the date. So Rob was getting in a lot of practice.

“Good. We won twelve to three.”

“Good, he says. Such false modesty,” Trisha mocked. “They creamed them.”

“Congratulations.” Luz lifted her glass in a salute to his victory, then took a long sip.

“Aren't you starting kind of early, Luz?” Trisha frowned with vague disapproval. “You're drinking more lately, aren't you?”

“No, I'm not.” But she knew that her predinner cocktail had increased to two to fill the time she spent waiting for Drew to come home. “And it isn't that early. In case you haven't looked at your watch, it's seven o'clock.”

“I guess it is.” She shrugged her indifference toward the time. “When's dinner?”

“Nine o'clock.”

“Why so late?” Trisha protested.

“Your father said he wouldn't be home until eight-thirty, and you know he doesn't like to sit down at the dinner table the minute he walks in the door.” Luz stirred the ice cubes in her glass, watching the changing oily shimmer of the liquor.

“How come he always has to work so late?” she grumbled.

Something snapped inside. “Why don't you ask your father?” she flared.

Trisha pulled back in surprise, a mixed frown of confusion and injured innocence on her face. “Well, you don't have to bite my head off.”

“I … I have a headache.” It was a lame excuse even if it was true. “I'm sure your father will try to make it home sooner if he can.” Luz forced herself to smile and made a determined attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere. “I haven't told you my good news.”

“Brace yourself, Rob.” Trisha was quick to pick up the change, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes. Luz's previous stinging response seemed to have rolled off her back like so much water. “She's going to tell us she's pregnant.”

“Hardly.” But the outrageous guess surprised Luz into laughing. It was the first unguarded response in weeks. “You two are almost more than I can handle now. Besides, I don't think either your father or I would be interested in starting a second family at our age.”

“It was a thought.” Trisha shrugged while Rob just shook his head at her. “If it isn't that, what is your good news?”

“I received a letter today from Fiona Sherbourne. She has invited us to stay at their estate while we're in England this June.” Luz glanced at Rob. “She said it was only proper, since you are going to be playing on Henry's Seven Oak team for the Windsor Park Tournament. She also said he had been bragging that you were going to be his ‘ringer.'” In polo terms, it meant a low-rated player who played above his handicap.