The Glory Game (16 page)

“Why did you have Mary and me close the house, Audra? You should have done it yourself. Maybe then it would have been accomplished to your satisfaction.”

A second later, she was leveled by a long steady look. “When are you going to learn to control your temper, Luz?” It was an autocratically tolerant query posed many times before. “It isn't my fault you and Mary didn't do a proper job.”

“But we did.” Luz managed to speak evenly, but her voice trembled with the effort. “However, we did it the way we felt it should be done. Since you assigned the chore to us, you'll have to be satisfied with the results.”

“That's quite true.” Audra's agreement surprised her. “Ultimately, I am responsible for your actions.” She turned away, signaling an end to the discussion. “We're having lunch on the glass porch today.”

Never had she been permitted to have the last word in any conversation with her mother. Smothering a sigh of frustration, Luz followed her into the ocean-facing room, walled in tinted glass on three sides. Raindrops splattered on the glass, blurring the palm trees swaying in the wind. Leaden clouds drooped low over the stormy green Atlantic, waves churning and frothing and throwing the sea's wrack onto the beaches. The gray, angry turbulence outside seemed to match the mood Luz had been in for days.

They crossed to the rattan table set for two, and she sat in the chair opposite her mother. As she smoothed the linen napkin across her lap, the maid brought a fresh avocado salad to the table and spooned a serving onto their plates. Luz picked at it, her appetite lost in the restlessness that pushed at her.

During lunch, Audra talked about the family, catching Luz up on all the things that happened while she was away. Little response was required from her. Which was just as well, since she hardly listened to any of it. At last, the dishes were cleared away and she no longer had to keep up a pretense of eating. A teapot and warmed cups were placed in front of Audra.

“Really, Luz. You could show some interest in what I've been saying.” She poured tea from the ceramic pot into one of the cups and cast a reproving glance across the table.

“I was thinking.” Luz took the cup and saucer her mother passed to her.

“Thinking or sulking?” Audra filled the second cup.

“Thinking,” she repeated firmly, and stirred a spoonful of crystallized brown sugar into her tea.

“About what? Are you and Drew having problems?” Shrewd dark eyes studied her with a wondering look.

“We're getting along fine. Why would you ask that?” It was a subject that made Luz defensive.

“All couples have problems at one time or another. It's part of marriage. And I know his law practice has been taking a great deal of his time lately. It's natural that you might feel slighted.”

“Well, I don't,” she insisted. “That isn't the problem. Not directly, anyway.” She was reluctant to confide in her mother, but Audra had a way of ferreting out information.

“Why don't you tell me what it is? I may not be able to help, but sometimes it's enough just to talk a problem out.”
She settled deeper into her chair, her shoulders squared and her back straight, one hand holding the teacup and the other the saucer.

“It isn't anything earth-shattering.” Luz attempted to diminish its importance. “Now that Trisha and Rob are grown, it's only a matter of a year or two before they'll be living away from home permanently. So I need to decide what I'm going to do with my time. I can't continue to do nothing all day while Drew works.”

“It seems to me that you have plenty to do.” Audra frowned. “You're involved in so many activities now—”

“I'm not talking about social clubs or local charity organizations,” she interrupted impatiently. “I want to do something that matters. Sheila Cosgrove has that smart little dress shop and Billi Rae Townsend has opened an art gallery.”

“What nonsense is this?” her mother demanded.

“I should have known you wouldn't understand.” Luz pushed out of the chair and stiffly crossed to the glass-paned wall looking out to the ocean.

“Perhaps you would care to explain exactly what it is that I don't understand.” The command was calmly issued, but a command all the same.

“That I want to do something with my life.”

“Something that matters,” Audra said, repeating the phrase Luz had used earlier. “And you believe that expensive boutiques and art galleries matter?”

“Yes.” She thrust her hands into the deep pockets of her gored skirt, doubling them into fists, and hunched her shoulders, fully expecting to hear a lecture on manners. Sometimes it seemed they never talked as one adult to another, always mother to daughter instead. “Although I'm certain you don't believe I'm intelligent enough to operate a business of my own.”

“Now that is not true.” The teacup rattled in its saucer as the pair were firmly placed on the table. “You are a very capable woman, a good manager and excellent organizer. Your household is smoothly and efficiently run. No small credit goes to your assistant, Mrs. Sanderson, but I'm also aware that you closely supervise everything yourself.” Luz slowly turned to face her mother, stunned to hear such praise coming from her lips. “And how many social functions and benefits have you
successfully organized? I couldn't begin to count them myself. I may be old, Luz, but I'm not blind.”

“You've always treated me—”

“—as a mother treats a child,” she admitted freely. “Surely you have learned by now that in a mother's eyes, a child never grows up. You never see them as quite ready to leave home, or to marry, or to have children.”

“I suppose not.” But Luz was still slightly dazed by what she was hearing.

“And as for doing something that matters, what could possibly matter more than your family?” Audra demanded. “Simply because your children are grown does not mean that they will stop having problems—that they won't continue to need you. What about when your grandchildren are born? Don't you want to be there when they come into the world? How can you do that if you're running a business? Luz, you are the anchor pin that holds the family together. Without you, they'll drift apart. They'll lose the closeness that made them special. It's the family that matters, Luz. The family.”

She shook her head slowly as she was drawn back to the table. “I wonder if I'll ever know you, Audra.”

“I'm your mother. It isn't important for you to know me. And you'd do well to remember that. Now sit down and drink your tea before it gets cold,” she admonished.

Smiling, Luz did as she was told.

Halfway home from her mother's, it stopped raining and a spray of sunlight glinted through a break in the clouds. The smile she'd been wearing for most of the drive was still on her face when she pulled in front of her Spanish-styled home. She left the car parked by the steps and glided up the two steps to the carved entrance door.

“Emma!” she called cheerfully as she swung into the foyer. “I'm home. Have there been any phone calls?”

The day's mail was stacked on the side table in the foyer. Luz stopped to sort through it, skipping the various bills and invoices in her search for a letter from Rob or Trisha. At the bottom of the stack was a slim brown package, addressed to her.

Curious, she picked it up and glanced at the return address, conscious of Emma's footsteps coming from the dining room.
The package came from the hotel in New York where they always stayed. Wondering what it contained, Luz hooked a finger under a folded end of the brown paper and ripped it loose from the packing tape. Inside was a slim box.

“How was lunch?”

Luz half turned at the question, smiling absently at her plump gray-haired secretary, while she finished pulling the paper away from the box. “Actually, it was more enjoyable than I expected. Any calls?”

“Mrs. Randolph phoned to remind you of the luncheon meeting next Tuesday. I assured her that it was listed in your appointment book. She asked you to call her later so she could discuss the order of the meeting with you.”

Luz lifted the lid of the box. Tissue paper rustled softly as she pushed it aside to reveal the contents. A folded letter lay atop a silky black garment trimmed in black lace. It looked like a teddy. With a bewildered frown, Luz flipped open the letter. Emma was still talking, but Luz was no longer listening as she quickly scanned the typed note, then read it again, more slowly.

Dear Mrs. Thomas
,

Enclosed is an item of lingerie one of our maids found when she cleaned your suite after your recent visit to New York. We took the liberty of having it laundered before returning it to you and hope this delay hasn't caused you any inconvenience
.

We appreciate your patronage
.

Respectfully yours
,

A signature was scribbled across the bottom. Luz glanced at the black undergarment again and lifted an edge of the black bodice. It didn't belong to her. She didn't own any black lingerie.

“Is something wrong, Luz?” Emma's question finally penetrated her consciousness.

Something stopped Luz from saying there had been some mistake. “No, of course not.” She quickly put the lid back on the box. “Did you say Drew called?” She had a vague recollection of his name being mentioned.

“Yes.” Emma eyed her uncertainly, not fully believing that nothing was bothering Luz. No matter how long and closely they had worked together there was still that fine line between employer and employee, and Emma didn't cross it. “He called to say he'd be a little late and suggested that you plan to serve dinner at eight.”

“Thank you.” She moved away from the foyer table, clutching the box in her hands. “See to the rest of the mail, will you, Emma?” She walked to the stairs.

“What about Mrs. Randolph?” Emma asked as Luz's hand gripped the banister. There was a pounding in her head. “She wanted you to call.”

“Later,” Luz replied without even turning her head, and climbed the long set of steps to the second floor.

Upon entering the master suite, she closed the door behind her. Quick, reaching strides carried her to the loveseat in front of the tiled fireplace. She removed the letter, put the box and its wrapping paper on the coffee table, then turned to the telephone sitting on the end table. She dialed the number listed on the hotel's letterhead. She had to find out whether there'd been some mistake before her imagination ran rampant.

“Yes, this is Mrs. Drew Thomas calling from Florida. I would like to speak to—” Luz paused to glance at the signature in the letter. “To Mrs. Nash.”

“Would you hold one moment, please?”

“Yes.” But it seemed much longer than that before a woman's voice identified herself as Mrs. Nash. “I'm Mrs. Thomas … Mrs. Drew Thomas,” Luz began.

“Yes, Mrs. Thomas. I've been expecting your call. We found the undergarment you left when you were here two weeks ago. It has been mailed. You should be receiving the package any day now.”

“I … I wasn't aware I had left anything. Are you certain it's mine?” Her fingers were gripping the receiver so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

“I'm quite sure. As a matter of fact, our maid called us from your suite when she found it to ask what she should do. We decided it would be best to have it cleaned and sent to you in Florida.” The woman began to sound worried. “It was a black silk teddy with a lace bodice.”

“Really.” Luz glanced at the offensive garment in the box,
aware of the brittle quality in her voice. “I hadn't even missed it.” She shut her eyes, trying to block out the first splinters of pain. “Where did she find it?”

“I believe she said it was between the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed. Which is probably why you didn't see it when you packed.”

“Yes… Thank you, Mrs. Nash.” She pushed the receiver onto the cradle.

She felt sick inside and hugged her arms about her middle, her body rocking slightly in pain. Tears started running down her cheeks, their taste wet and salty on her lips. Her mind seemed numbed by the shattering discovery, but somehow she knew that wouldn't last.

B
y the time Drew arrived home that evening, late as usual, her pain had given way to an anger that moved from raging hot to icy cold, and back again. Luz stood facing the French doors that opened off their private sitting room onto a sun deck. The darkness outside gave the glass panes a mirrorlike quality. She stared at her reflection, seeing the ravages the tears had wrought, and smoothed the straggly ends of her blond hair into place to repair some of the damage before Drew saw her. There was nothing she could do about the puffiness around her eyes that made the tiny age lines more noticeable. Luz stiffened when the door opened and Drew breezed into the sitting room. She didn't turn around, keeping her back to him.

“Emma said you were up here. Sorry I'm late.” His reflection approached hers in the mirroring panes. “It'll only take me a minute to wash up, then we can go down to dinner. How was your day?”

The touch of his hands on her shoulders felt revolting, and the thought of his lips against her cheek was equally repugnant. Luz moved out of his hold before he could kiss her, conscious of his startled reaction.

“Hey, what's the matter?” he chided.

She swung around to face him, her arms crossed while her hands agitatedly rubbed the taut muscles of her upper arms. “That … came in the mail today.” With a nod of her head, she indicated the unwrapped package on the coffee table.

Puzzled, Drew glanced at the box, then back at her, but Luz knew her expression was too frozen to tell him anything. At the moment, she felt very cold and very hard. He hesitated,
then walked over for a closer look. She watched him part the folds of the tissue paper and had the satisfaction of seeing him visibly blanch at the sight of the lace teddy. Something flickered in his eyes when he glanced at her, and Luz guessed that he was wondering where she got it and how much she knew.