Рита Браун - Full Cry

“I’m starting to think of you as my insignificant other.” She pouted. “And how you can think of another horse when you know I am dying, dying for that new 500SL convertible. I want it in brilliant silver with the ash interior.”

“That car costs a hundred and six thousand dollars with the options you want.”

“I’m worth it,” she coolly replied.

He shifted gears. “How could any man put a price on such a beautiful woman? Of course you’re worth it, baby. However, it is a big hit at this time.”

“Oh, pooh.” She suddenly became flirtatious. “You’re making money hand over fist. My birthday is coming up and,” she rubbed the back of his neck, her lips now very close to his, “you will never regret it. I’ll do anything you want whenever you want it.”

He swallowed. “Honey, let’s talk about this later.”

Sister tried to get beyond these two, but the crush of people was so great, the din of conversation so loud, she was pinned.

Izzy stood on her tiptoes to kiss her husband. She bit his lower lip. In doing so, she saw the master.

“Sister!” She quickly reached around Clay to grab Sister’s hand. “I need you to weaken Clay.”

More power to you, Sister thought to herself. At least you aren’t denying what you are. She then spoke out loud. “Isabelle, I think you can weaken Clay all by yourself.”

“But I’d love to be between two beautiful women.” Clay rolled his eyes heavenward.

Izzy, in a studied breathless voice, crooned, “I must have that 500SL. I mean I am dying for that car. It’s the sexiest thing on the road. Sexier than a Ferrari or Porsche Turbo or the redone Maserati. I’m nearing forty. I need a boost.” She now held both of Sister’s hands as the crowd pressed them bosom to bosom, and both ladies were well stacked.

Sister found the situation comical. “It is a spectacular car, and you’d make it even more spectacular. Mercedes-Benz ought to pay you to drive one.”

“You say the sweetest things. I want to grow up to be just like you. You’re so beautiful.” Izzy waxed enthusiastic.

“She’s right.” Clay seconded his wife. “Except for your silver hair, you look just like you did when I was in Pony Club. I don’t know how you do it.”

“She has a painting in her attic,” Izzy recalled the famous plot from Oscar Wilde’s The Portrait of Dorian Gray.

“Thank you. You’re both outrageous flatterers, but it does my heart good to hear it.”

Clay leaned down, his face serious. “I do mean it. You’re beautiful, Sister.” He smiled then. “And your arms are more muscular than mine, and I work out like a demon.”

She cocked her head a bit sideways while looking up at him. “I don’t know about that, but I do know farm work sure burns the fat off your body.”

“Oh, Clay, guess you’d better buy another hunter, and I’ll take care of it.” Izzy laughed, a pleasing musical laugh.

Walter spied Sister pressed between Clay and Izzy. He pushed his way toward her.

“You can’t have her all to yourselves. It’s my turn.” Walter kissed Izzy on the cheek, which she rather liked, then used his body to make a path for them through the people.

“You’re a hero.”

“You say that to all the boys,” Walter teased her.

Once out of the worst of the press, she took a deep breath. “Well, Walter, it’s been my privilege to watch how a woman works a man for her gain. Whew. I never could do it.”

“You never needed to do it.” His slight grin enhanced his rugged handsomeness.

“Walter, you are a true Virginia gentleman.”

“I mean it. Guile, throwing yourself at a man, deceit, and that sort of thing. It’s not you. You could never do that.”

“Maybe that’s why Ray found other women attractive. I didn’t play the game.”

“Ray found other women attractive because he needed conquests to feel like a man.” Walter, Ray’s natural son, said this with authority.

Both Walter and Sister had learned of this old secret a year ago. Everyone knew but them, and Walter was the spitting image of Ray Arnold Sr.

“It’s all water over the dam, honey. We’re still here, and life is wonderful.”

“Life is wonderful because I have you in my life.” He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “You’ve given me foxhunting, understanding, and more than I can express.”

“Walter, you’ll make me cry.”

He hugged her. “That would shock everyone here.”

“Have you been drinking?”

He laughed. “No. One cold beer. No, my New Year’s resolution is to tell the people I care about how I feel. I’m overcoming WASP restraint.”

“Is there a class for this? I need to sign up.”

They laughed together, then Walter said, “Did you hear on the news? Found one of the alcoholics dead down at the train station.”

Walter could have said winos, but, being a physician, he looked at alcoholism with a scientist’s eye.

“What a dreadful way to squander a life.” Sister shook her head.

“Yes,” Walter replied. “It’s an insidious disease in that it’s both chemical yet voluntary. In my darker moments I wonder if they aren’t better off dead. Medicine can’t reach them. Perhaps God can reach them.”

Sister considered this sentiment. She truly believed that people could be redeemed.

Xavier bumped into her, back to back. “Pardon me. Oh, Sister, if I’d known it was you, I’d have bumped you harder.”

Walter kissed her again on the cheek and moved away. “Any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Lose forty pounds.” He grimaced. “Damn, I don’t have a spare tire, I’ve got enough to put four Goodyears on a Camaro.”

“It’s all that sitting at work.”

“If only I had your discipline,” he moaned.

“Not sure it’s discipline. I don’t sit at a desk. I’m in the stables, in the kennels, out on the land. I burn it right off. Humans weren’t meant to sit still for hours. Apart from the pounds, think what it does to your back.”

“Damn straight.” He leaned over to her, speaking softly into her ear. “Is Sam Lorillard going to be hunting with us a lot?”

“I don’t know. It’s up to Crawford.”

“I’m not the only one with a big grudge against Sam. Edward’s not overwhelmed with him. Jerry Featherstone either. Ron. Clay. Actually, if you went down the hunt roster, there are a lot of us who gave him a chance over the years. He either seduced our wives, stole money, lied about horses, or smashed up trucks.”

“I know, Xavier, I know. But in the hunt field, all that is left back at the trailers. What you all do or say when we’re not hunting is your business.”

“I’m not going to make a scene in the hunt field, but I might rearrange his face if he looks at me cross-eyed.”

“You don’t think people can change?”

“Hell, yes, they can change. I’m gonna be forty pounds changed. But inside? Their character? No. Sam was born weak, and he’ll die weak. He’ll probably die dead drunk, forgive the pun.”

“I hope not, but I appreciate your feelings. If he’d lightened my wallet, I think I’d turn my back on him, too. I’d like to think I wouldn’t, but I reckon I would.”

The swirl of gossip and laughter and the running feet of the children filled the Bancroft house. A group of men and women, standing in the corner of the dining room, were discussing why the state of Ohio produced great college football teams but rotten pro teams. The discussion was raising the rafters.

Everything Tedi and Edward did, they accomplished with great style. Before leaving with Betty Franklin, Sister thanked her host and hostess as well as Sorrel Buruss.

“Great day. The snow has picked up.” Outside Betty squinted at the deep gray sky.