When he met John at the entrance to the dining room, John suggested he take a look out the front window. Frank walked into the Pecan Room and peered out, then quickly pulled himself out of view. The yard was swarming with media reps brandishing mics, TV vans clogged the parking lot, and twelve reporters huddled impatiently on the front entrance stairs. Most of the cameras were trained on a reporter speaking next to the front door.
Frank stepped back toward the fireplace, noticing the chessboard as he did. It finally happened. Checkmate. The maple queen, assisted by a rook and knight, pinned the rosewood king to the last row before the edge of the board. A spot from which he could not move.
Frank shoved the board off the table, sending the pieces clattering onto the hearth.
* * * * *
“Next is number thirty-eight, Art D’Argenta, ridden by Lucinda Tyne Beck,” squawked the public address system. Lucinda trotted the mare around the outside of the dressage ring past the small white tents bordered by potted bronze mums sheltering the judges and their scribes, although the day was fine and crisp, if cool.
“Art D’Argenta is a six-year-old thoroughbred mare and former racehorse owned by Ms. Beck.”
There was a smattering of applause to the left, along the H, E, and K side of the ring, the edge of the open-sided but roofed pavilion. Someone in one of the judge’s tents rang a hand bell, indicating that the judges were ready for the ride to begin, and Lucinda could enter the ring at any time.
Scores were posted on an electronic scoreboard for the rider before her — mid and high sixties, not bad, but Lucinda only let them go in one ear and out the other when the announcer read them off. There weren’t many casual spectators this early. It was riders, trainers, family, and friends. The diehard. It was too bad Holly couldn’t be here this morning, but she had a pony club event starring her daughter.
The sun rose higher, and warmer, thank God, to the east, in the direction of the A letter, where Lucinda entered the ring. There was no wind this November morning, answering another of Lucinda’s minor prayers. She’d been praying a lot this past year without really intending to.
The mare trotted down the centerline in her energetic and balanced trot and halted in the center at X, spot on, no fuss. Lucinda saluted to the judge at C — the end of the ring — a nod of the head and a crisp out swing of the left arm for her. Male competitors had to doff their hard hats.
“This will be fun,” Lucinda said in the direction of the mare’s ears. “No one shoots at us, and you can show off all you’ve learned.” The mare’s ears swiveled back and then straight forward as Lucinda gave her a firm but soft rein and pressure from both of her calves for a working trot straight forward.
Just as Lucinda pressed the mare into a trot toward the judge at C, she heard a high-pitched whinny from the trailer area by the hill. Peter had been tasked with walking Nanogirl around the grounds within sight of the mare so she didn’t turn herself inside out. She insisted on coming, and Lucinda thought she would help settle the mare in transit. Lady Grey did not answer, bent as best she could for a left turn, a little stiff, and then began a large circle at E, at the middle of the left side of the ring.
Lucinda was pleased to feel the mare loosening up in the shoulder and neck on the circle and headed on toward K where she asked for a canter on the left lead. Sometimes this was dicey because the mare preferred the other lead, but she got it after popping up a little off her forehand. She would be marked down in her transitions for that, but Lucinda was pleased to be on the correct lead. She worked on stretching the mare out and moving her forward.
She caught a glimpse of Peter on the hill with Nanogirl, grazing now that she could see the mare at work. There was a man standing half way down the hill, taking her picture with a digital camera. Was it Bart? She didn’t have enough time to identify him because she needed to circle left, drawing her eye away and on task.
The test continued through walking and then changing reins down the diagonal to reverse direction. The mare was loose now, her transitions smooth, and Lucinda felt free of anticipation and just rode as she did when she was twelve, no expectations, only enjoyment.
She began to feel the magic of disappearing into the mare’s rhythm. Walk, trot, canter, circle, trot, walk, circle, halt — the simple elegance of the ground floor of the grand dance of dressage. Lucinda knew as she finished up her last canter circle that she’d take the mare as far as she wanted to go to, all the way to where a horse actually does dance once it learns how to balance and move through basic gaits without a thought or much effort.
Lucinda ended up the test trotting back down the centerline to halt at X and salute. Standing there at X in the bright November chill, she couldn’t help but smile and drop a few tears onto her riding gloves as a vision of the mare when they first met flashed through her mind. What a transformation, she thought, as she walked out of the ring to louder-than-she-expected applause. Many people had gathered as the test progressed to watch this delightful former racehorse, new to the game, who had obviously found her ideal job.
Tori, the first one to the entrance gate, beamed. “I got here just in time to watch you trot in at A. That was fantastic. The best first test I’ve ever seen!” Tori hugged Lucinda after she hopped down off the mare.
“You don’t think you’re just a little biased?” Lucinda asked.
“Absolutely not.” She winked at Lucinda.
Lady Grey’ s score of 70 appeared in orange on the scoreboard.
“I’m in it, Tori. I got the bug. Take me on to First Level,” Lucinda said. “Who knows how far we’ll go?”
“Prix St. Georges,” at least, Tori said. Lucinda stared at her. That’s only a couple of notches below what the world famous Lipizzaner stallions do.
“I’m serious.”
“You think?” Lucinda asked.
“You work hard enough. Yeah.”
Lucinda returned to the trailer for a short break before the next test. Nanogirl was grazing next to the trailer, and Peter was talking to two women with three kids in the trailer parked next to theirs.
“How’d it go?” Peter asked. “I saw most of it, but Nano G was a handful. And then these kids wanted to pet her and someone walked by with a Newfoundland dog that was taller than her, so they insisted on pictures. And then the kids wanted to be in the pictures.”
Lucinda laughed. “It was great. She was fantastic. She’s got a great head on her shoulders. After a little stiffness, she really loosened up and dazzled me. We got a seventy!”
Peter’s eyebrows leaned toward each other. “Oh! Is seventy good?”
“Yes, much better than I expected, and — ”
“Second place, Art D’Argenta, ridden by Lucinda Tyne Beck,” bleated the PA system on the utility pole by the trailer.
“And good enough for second place!” Peter said. “Way to go!”
“I need to get back on for my next test.”
Test two was a slightly harder version of test one, the trots and canters in different directions alternated. The mare was even better on the second go.
“You’ve won that class, for sure,” said a man from behind her as the numbers popped up on the scoreboard. Familiar, that voice, but she was too eager for her score to turn away from the board. They watched the scoreboard together. Art D’Argenta Total score: 73. She turned to the man. Blond, navy down coat.
“Aden! When did you get here?”
“Eight-thirty. Tori gave me your ride times. I thought I’d stay out of the way. Figured you didn’t need any distractions.”
“Come let’s walk her around so she doesn’t get a chill. I never mind you as a distraction.”
Aden smiled. “Well, it’s not just me. The shit hit the fan this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re looking at P-H’s interim VP for Institutional Advancement. I was anointed by Honor between your first and second rides via cell phone.”
Lucinda looked into Aden’s face. “What on
Earth happened? Not that you’re not the best one for the job — ”
“The best of those still there,” he said. She smiled at the compliment.
“Frank’s skipped town for a week or more. Who knows?”
“Huh?”
“Warren’s arrested, out on bail, and suspended from campus by Honor. Half the media outlets on the Eastern Seaboard are on Frank’s front lawn, according to John Pringle. Frank claims he had a family emergency and has to leave town till Thursday. He didn’t think it would look good to leave Warren in charge of Development while he’s gone, given his shaky legal status, and he couldn’t reach you.”
“That’s because I wasn’t answering. Tit for tat. Tit for text is more like it. He wants to faux sweet talk me back, no doubt, solely because Chester won’t talk to him if I’m out of the picture. I think Frank needs to squirm a bit more, don’t you? And meet conditions?” She winked at him.
“Yeah, like him resigning.”
They looked into each other’s eyes.
“You know right when to come back, don’t you?” Aden said.
“They haven’t just about hung themselves quite yet. Frank’s getting close. I’m enjoying my unexpected vacation, after my near brush with death last week. Do you realize I haven’t had a vacation day for over 18 months?”
They sat on a low stone wall facing east, part of the old section of a steeplechase course that had been abandoned. Lucinda wriggled her boots in the fallen maple leaves and unconsciously ran her index finger through the bullet groove at the top of her left boot. The mare stood in between them, a few feet out from the stone wall, holding her head at the level of her chest, her hind leg cocked. Relaxing after her victory.
“Look, Aden. She slouches on the hoof like an old pro.”
“You’ve worked your magic with her. With me,” he added, more softly.
“Aden,” Lucinda said. “Things are changing so fast. What happened last week in the orchard. Your promotion. Bart showed up last night… .” Her mind was jumbled, but she was trying not to dodge and run.
Aden stiffened at Bart’s name, as if bracing himself against a chilly wind gust. She put a gloved hand on his coat sleeve.
“No. Listen. Last week. I wanted to tell you this last week. But then I had to catch Lady Grey. So you let me go. But I wanted to come right back into your arms and tell you.”
Aden turned, his face brightened by more than just the morning sun.
“I better say it now while I’m not your boss. I love you.”
His face broke into a smile that extended like some energy force out through his eyes and another two feet around him. Like an aura.
“I have since last winter but I didn’t realize it. Or wouldn’t admit it.”
Aden slid his arm around her waist. “I’ve loved you since spring 1999, give or take a month.”
“That’s only four months after you started at P-H!”
He nodded.
The mare shifted weight onto her other hind leg. Lucinda felt a little nervous, vulnerable, like it feels to be next to the one you love, when you both just found that out.
“I needed to know it was over with Bart before… no, not true! I knew it was over with Bart. I just couldn’t get used to the idea, and then you being — ”
“A younger man,” he said, kidding.
“What four years?”
“Three and a half.”
“No, the fact that you report to me and we both love our jobs. Well, when I had one I did.” There was a tinge of regret in her voice. “But you’ll do fantastic, better than me I bet.”
“Yeah, right. You know I’m just a placeholder,” Aden said.
A few strands of hair escaped Lucinda’s hairnet, and Aden, removing his glove, ran his thumb and forefinger along the long loose hairs and tucked them back in. Lucinda was watching Aden’s eyes, a clear mid-blue. She’d had him in front of her all these years and only saw what she thought she wanted to see. Something opened deep in her soul as she sat on the rounded cold stones that November morning that hadn’t happened when she fell for Bart, something that brought her closer to herself instead of flinging her off into someone else’s dream and desire. She put a hand along Aden’s cheek and he covered it with his own.
“So what do we do about us when you are back as VP?” Aden asked. “Which you know will happen. Honor will twist your arms and legs and leave you no choice. You’re too conscientious to just walk away.”
“Worry about it when it happens.” Her face was two inches from his. Then they made up the difference between them.
Between Orchard and Sea
“I find it curious that Cliff takes such an interest in his London office the past two weeks,” Honor said to Bomi. They were sitting at Frank’s vast glass desk. “Right after Frank fired Lucinda. I called him home for backup, but he claims he has larger fires to fight in the UK.”
Frank told Honor he needed to fly to Brazil for his son’s health. And no, Sean couldn’t be flown back to the United States to take care of it. Honor would fill in for Frank’s duties during the week.
The door opened, and Lucinda appeared in her cobalt blue suit.
“Well!” Honor said. “The guns did not scare you off.” She rose and rushed over to Lucinda, giving her a hug. Lucinda nodded to Bomi in greeting, returning his generous smile.
“I’m returning strictly as a civilian, former employee, actually, since that’s what I am.” She looked pointedly at Honor, who could have prevented her dismissal. “To help with the investigation. Aden’s filled me in on the most recent stuff.”
“Lucinda, we’re so grateful. For everything you’ve done,” Honor said. “After we sort Frank’s messes out, we’ll get you right back here.”
“We’ll certainly talk,” Lucinda said lightly, smiling at Honor, who returned her gaze, knowing, Lucinda was sure, that Lucinda would have conditions for her return. “But this is not the time.” She felt sure, watching Honor’s sly smile, that all conditions would be met.
“Now!” Honor said, shifting back into lawyer mode. “We’ve accessed his work e-mails. As his employer, of course, I can do that.”
“And I’ve found a tangle of rather unconventional correspondence with Fargill and Dover, but mostly Fargill,” Bomi said, his undisguised glee belying the fact that he was enjoying himself. “And another missing $2.2 million as of today. Not to mention a pot of about $4 million or so that stays at the same level, but has frequent deposits and withdrawals.”
A sharp knock on the door made them all jump. Honor opened it.
John Pringle rushed in, chef apron still tied around his waist. “A call just came to the mansion,” he said. “You all ought to trace it if you can. They want more money. Now that they got Frank down there they want more money.”
“What!” Honor said. Bomi stopped pushing the down arrow on Frank’s keyboard.
“It seems some thugs in Brazil were trying to get ransom money for Sean Wickes. Now they got Frank, they want another million.”
“Lucinda, Fargill? You know the number?”
“I imagine it’s in RaiseSmart,” Lucinda said. She punched in Aden’s log-in information. “Here it is. Roger’s number.”
Honor punched in the number Lucinda pointed to on the screen. Honor hurried to the conference table and sat down.
“That explains the $2 million gone. What about the $200,000?” Bomi asked.
“My guess is that’s someone’s commission too. Frank likes that kind of thing. I suspect that Hal Denton person you brought up at the Executive Committee meeting?” Lucinda suggested.
“Most likely,” Bomi said.
Honor returned to Frank’s desk. “Fargill’s on his way down there and already knows the score. He’ll cooperate with anything we need, first to save Frank, then to put him away, if necessary.”
“Very accommodating,” said Bomi.
“This is beyond weird,” said John.
“John, don’t talk about this to anyone else,” Honor sai
d.
“Aden already knows.”
“That’s ok, but no one else.”
“Who else would believe it?” said John. He nodded and left.
“Getting the authorities onto Denton?” Lucinda said. Honor gave her a thumbs-up with her right hand as she punched numbers on the cell with her left.
* * * * *
“I didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing Frank deplaning at Logan in handcuffs with Sean by his side,” Lucinda said. “I am glad they got Sean out of that hideous situation. Ironic that he told me he thought Fargill Tech would be his ticket to better opportunities in South America.”
The fire snapped loudly when the birch log landed. Peter straightened up from the hearth. “More eggnog, anyone?” he asked.
Tori and Aden passed their cut-glass cups — from Aunt Jean’s set — and Peter refilled them from the bowl on the coffee table. Gretel put her front paws on the table and peered down her long nose toward the half-filled bowl.
“Down! He wasn’t asking you,” Aden said.
Gretel hopped back to the braided rug and sat down, creating a ninety degree angle between her long back and her hindquarters. She lowered her nose slightly, which somehow made her eyes look darker and wetter and rather as if she had been insulted. It must have something to do with the firelight, Lucinda concluded. She exchanged glances with Aden, and they both grinned. Gabriel did not approve of the whole atrocious idea of Gretel in his house and spent the evening emitting periodic guttural growls from the top of the sofa, behind Martin.
“Most sane people would have bailed long ago,” said Tori. “The fact that you stayed through the whole mess is amazing. And stood up to him.”
“She’s true to her school,” said Peter. “So’s that Nanogirl. I hear she got herself a nano-sized official commendation plaque from the Sheriff’s Department? That true?”
“We riveted it onto her purple halter,” Tori said, turning her head toward the fire, her gold horseshoe earrings, the nail heads in emeralds, flashing in the firelight.
Halt at X: A North of Boston Novel Page 35