by Judith Gould
Lolo set down his drink and slid an arm around her shoulders. "Come here to me," he said, pulling her toward him. "Don't look so sad, Arielle," he said. "Your Lolo is here for you."
His lips brushed up her neck, and he began nibbling her ears. "I know he's a real prick," he said in a near whisper, "and he's messing everything up now. But it won't be long before the lawyers will tell him he can't stall anymore."
Arielle took a long sip of her drink, then sighed again as she set it down. "I know," she said, "but in the meantime it really is making things difficult. I can hardly afford to pay the help, and I can't afford to entertain. Thank God I can charge everything at the shops and the club."
He pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh," he whispered. "Don't think about it now, Arielle." He began gently kneading her neck and back.
"That feels so good, Lolo," she said with the hint of a smile. "I've been so . . . tense about all of this. I mean, what the hell are we even doing here tonight? We shouldn't even be here."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's summer," she said. "We should be having fun in Southampton or Europe or at least the place up in the Adirondacks. Anywhere but here in the summertime. Nobody's in Palm Beach in the summer."
He took both of her hands in his, kissing them tenderly. "At least we're together, Arielle."
"Thank God for that," she said. "If it weren't for you, I don't know what I'd do."
"I wish I could do more," Lolo said, looking into her eyes. "But you know they don't pay me that much for riding. If I had my own money and a stable it would be different—"
"No, no, no!" Arielle said earnestly. "That's not what I mean, Lolo. I don't expect financial help from you. That's the last thing in the world I would expect. I know that Palmer Johnson's just like Wyn and all the rest of the rich bastards that play polo. They practically starve their star players." She looked into his dark eyes. "Like you," she said, "the best of them all."
He grinned, his white teeth flashing. "Well," he said, "one of the best anyway."
"I think you're the best," she said with pride in her voice, "but it's your being here that's even more important. It's what keeps me going from one day to the next."
His face became serious. "You really do feel bad tonight, don't you, Arielle?" he said. "Much worse than usual." He reached over for his drink and took a sip, waiting for her to speak, knowing that she needed to talk a while.
She sighed again. "I never would have imagined that my life would go this way. I wouldn't have believed— not in a million years!—that Wyn could be so cruel and spiteful and selfish. He wasn't like most rich men I knew. Money was never an issue. He wasn't a tightwad like most of them, you know? God knows, we threw it around like there was no tomorrow."
She reached over and shook a cigarillo from the pack on the table, and Lolo picked up her lighter and held its flame for her. "Thanks," she said, exhaling a streamer of blow.
"Go on," he said. "Tell me what's on your pretty mind."
"Well," she said. "That was one thing I liked about Wyn. He didn't really care about all that money and let me spend whatever I wanted to. That's what it's for, he always said. He's got so much he doesn't know what the hell to do with it." She took another drag off of her cigarillo and looked at Lolo, her eyes suddenly flashing anger. "But, Jesus, has the son of a bitch ever changed his tune. And there's no reason on earth he should be so horrible and mean."
"It'll all be over soon," Lolo said, not knowing what else to say. "Maybe . . . maybe I could get some kind of job or—"
"No way!" Arielle said. "No fucking way!" Then she laughed. "I can just see that. No more clubs, no parties. No trips. Early to bed, early to rise. No, Lolo." She poked his chest with a finger. "You and I weren't meant to live like that. That's for all the losers out there." She reached over and stroked his handsome face with her hand. She felt much better now, having talked about her woes. "Somehow we'll make out," she said. "At least I have you all to myself. And it's fun to see you drive all the horny divorcees around here mad with jealousy." She kissed his nose.
Lolo grinned. "YQU make the men a little crazy yourself," he said. "I think every man in Palm Beach wants you, Arielle."
She tossed her head and laughed. "You think so?" she asked.
"You know it," he replied. He reached over then and pulled her to him. "And that includes me," he added. He began kissing her roughly, passionately, and hungrily, his hands exploring her body. Serious talk was over, and it was time for some serious play.
Arielle responded immediately, the fires of her desire rekindled by the feel of him against her. She ran her hands over his hard-muscled shoulders and arms, down his tight stomach, and slid one between his thighs, feeling the tumescence straining at his jodhpurs. She moaned with pleasure as Lolo began licking her breasts with his tongue, teasing her nipples between his teeth. She gasped aloud when she felt his hand between her thighs, fingering her wetness.
In one furious movement, Lolo jerked her shorts and panties down and off her legs and unzipped his jodhpurs, releasing his throbbing manhood. He mounted her then, entering her up to the hilt suddenly and quickly, and began pumping away at her.
Oh, God, Arielle thought in an ecstatic swoon, her entire body shuddering against his. Just when I thought it was all over for me, the man of my dreams comes waltzing into my life. And what a man he is! Not like that beast, Wyn Conrad.
Chapter Eight
Colette!" Valerie exclaimed, looking up from her desk, where she was filling in a chart. "It's good to see you." Elvis, who was in his bed, wagged his tail furiously.
Colette Richards, Valerie's elderly neighbor, swept into the office, her exotic perfume preceding her. She snatched off her sunglasses, and Valerie could see that her bright blue eyes were wide with alarm.
"Oh, Val, darling!" Colette cried, her voice at once whispery and throaty. "I'm so glad to see you, too. You've no idea, my darling." She spied Elvis in his bed and blew kisses in his direction.
Valerie rose to her feet and gave Colette a kiss on the cheek, then motioned her to a chair. "Here, Colette, sit down," she said. "Is it my imagination, or are you upset?"
They both sat down, Colette putting a large, expensive-looking straw tote with leather handles in her lap, then placing her arthritic hands, which were bedecked as always with huge jeweled rings, delicately across the top.
"Oh, Val, darling," the old woman gasped, "where to begin?"
Colette's habitual manner was so dramatic, Valerie thought, that she wasn't especially distressed by the elegant and arty woman's histrionics. Then it suddenly occurred to her that Colette didn't have Puff Puppy curled across an arm, yapping and snarling and otherwise making a nuisance of himself. How odd, she thought. Colette took the petite snow-white Maltese everywhere with her, as if he were a fashion accessory.
"Colette," she asked, "where's that little scoundrel, Puff Puppy?"
"At home, darling," Colette replied.
"Then what's the matter?" Valerie asked. "I saw your name on the list and assumed that something was wrong with him."
"Oh, Val, darling," Colette said, tears springing into her large eyes. Valerie grabbed the box of Kleenex she kept on the desk for distressed pet owners and pulled out a couple. "Thank you, darling," Colette said. "I'm sorry to be such a blubbering old nuisance, but it's . . . it's Hayden!" Tears began to roll down her rouged and powdered cheeks.
Valerie quickly grabbed more Kleenex and handed them to her, then got to her feet and put a hand on Colette's shoulder, stroking her gently. "Who's Hayden?" she asked softly.
She blew her nose with the Kleenex. "Oh, Val, darling," she said, looking up at her with watery eyes. "I didn't tell you?"
"No, Colette," Valerie replied.
Colette looked momentarily perplexed, then patted Valerie's hand. "Oh, do sit down, darling. And thank you for your moral support. I need all of it I can get these days." She dabbed at her tears with a fresh Kleenex.
Valerie sat back down in
her chair and looked over at her old friend. She was clad all in white today, white artist's smock, white pants, even white shoes, and wore several strands of large pearls at her throat with matching bracelet and earrings. On her head was a huge straw sun hat. One glance was enough to see that the woman had been a stunning beauty in her youth, and she still had about her an air of youthfulness and vitality that belied her advanced age. Absorbed by everything around her, she found life endlessly wondrous and exciting. She was also coquettish and accustomed to having attention lavished on her. Her white hair, always perfectly coiffed, appeared to be in slight disarray beneath the sun hat, and makeup was now streaked down her cheeks.
"I simply can't believe I haven't told you about him before, but then I haven't seen much of you lately." She caught her breath before continuing. "Hayden, my darling, is right here with me, and it's high time you met." She opened the straw tote on her lap and carefully lifted out a tiny bundle.
A towel? Valerie thought. What in the world?
Colette delicately held the bundle in one hand and opened the towel with the other. "This is Hayden," she announced, holding her hands out for Valerie to see.
Valerie got out of her chair and stepped over for a closer look at the tiny creature Colette cuddled in her hands. "Oh, my God, Colette," she exclaimed, "he's tiny. And so precious." She slowly extended a hand toward the creature and stroked his coat of quills, very lightly with a single finger. He made a ball of himself and trembled all over, his eyes blinking suspiciously.
"He's an African pygmy hedgehog," Colette said. "Isn't he divine?"
"Oh, he's adorable," Valerie said, stroking him some more. "What does Puff Puppy think of him?"
"Puff Puppy adores him," Colette replied, "but I'm afraid the feeling isn't mutual. I can see that he likes you, though," she went on. "I can hardly believe it. Normally he has a fit if anybody touches him but me."
"Well, he doesn't seem too happy with me," Valerie replied. "May I hold him?"
Colette held her hands out, and Valerie took him into hers, careful not to drop him or let him escape. "Where on earth did you get the name?" Val asked.
"Why, he's named after Sterling Hayden, the actor, of course," Colette said, her eyes wide and her eyebrows arching in surprise. "The love of my life that man was, though I never knew him personally. Soooo romantic, you know. So handsome. Sun-bronzed. A sailor. A real adventurer. Not like these men nowadays who spend fortunes playing at being adventurous. You know the sort. Always have a safety net. Not so, Hayden. He sailed the seven seas. Oh, Val, my darling, he was of a dying breed. Sooo sexy!"
Valerie laughed. She didn't find it surprising that Colette Richards, who she knew was in the neighborhood of eighty, was still consumed by romantic notions at her age. She was a woman with quite a past.
"Well, what seems to be the problem with our little adventurer here?" Valerie asked.
"I'm not certain," Colette said worriedly, "but he hasn't been himself lately. Not at all. He has a lovely cage with a heating pad to sleep on—they love heat, you see—and I play with him every night before my bedtime. They're nocturnal, you know, and after we play for a while, he gets on his wheel and spins, spins, spins! He adores the pocket of my bathrobe and my smocks, so I carry him around the house with me."
"Has he been eating properly?" Valerie asked.
"Funny you should ask, Val," she said. "Now that I think about it, Hayden went off his food a few days ago, so I make him this delicious turkey soup that I found out they like."
"Did he like it?" Valerie asked.
"Adores it," Colette cried. "Gobbles it right up. Broth, turkey, vegetables, and all."
Valerie carefully turned him over, examining Hayden's tiny body. He was no more than five inches long. She delicately felt along his entire body. It wasn't an easy task, considering his quills. After studying his eyes for a long time, she carefully opened his mouth and searched there for any clues. She was just about to abandon her examination when she stopped.
"What?" Colette asked.
"Look, Colette," Valerie said quietly. "I think we've found the culprit."
Colette held a wrinkled hand to her heart. "Oh, dear, Val. What?" she gasped in a whisper.
"His teeth," Valerie replied.
"His teeth?'' Colette exclaimed.
"Yes," Valerie answered, nodding her head. "I'm fairly certain that I can see the beginnings of gum disease."
"Oh, darling Val," Colette exclaimed. "What are we to do?"
"We'll have to clean his teeth," Valerie responded, still absorbed in studying the creature's tiny mouth.
"Clean his teeth? Imagine!" Colette said. "But can you do that, Val? I mean, how—"
"I'll have to administer anesthesia," she said, "but it can be done. I'll have to be very careful adjusting the dosage."
"Oh, my goodness," Colette said. "Val, darling, you're a marvel."
"In the meantime, we'll have to start him on a course of antibiotics," Valerie said.
"Antibiotics," Colette echoed. "And when can you do the cleaning?" she asked.
"The sooner the better," Valerie replied. "Let me look at the schedule. I definitely want to do it in the next few days."
"Oh, Hayden," Colette cooed. She reached over and stroked him with her fingers.
"Here," Valerie said, "take him for a minute while I check my schedule." She gently transferred him from her hands to Colette's.
Valerie looked at her date book, then rose to her feet. "I'll be right back, Colette," she said. "I'd better check at the desk and see what's scheduled on the clinic book."
She returned quickly and stood observing Colette and Hayden. "Friday it is, Hayden," she said. "You'll have to have him here around seven o'clock."
Colette looked up. "In the morning?" she asked.
Valerie nodded.
"Oh, Hayden," she said, looking at the tiny hedgehog, "we'll have to have an unusually early night, won't we, darling? And we're both such night owls." She carefully bundled him back up in his towel and placed the bundle in her tote, closing the leather strap over the top. "Thank you, Val, darling. I don't know what we'd do without you."
"It's my job," Valerie said in her self-effacing manner.
"Ha!" Colette exclaimed. Then in a near whisper she added. "If only your colleagues cared half as much as you, the world would be a far better place. I wish my own doctor cared as much as you do, but I'm old so I don't matter. One foot in the grave, you know ..."
Valerie laughed and patted her on the back. "Not quite yet, I don't think."
Colette turned and started out with Hayden. "Anyway, dear, we'll be here bright and early Friday morning. In the meantime, don't be such a stranger. I've missed our little talks lately."
"Me, too," Valerie said. "I've just been so busy."
"I know, darling," Colette said with a wink. "Teddy's been away on weekends, so you've been catching up in the garden and around the house."
"Yes," Valerie said. "Anyway, I'll see you Friday, and maybe we'll be able to visit beforehand." She held the door open for her.
"Ta-ta," Colette said, and she swept through the lobby area on her impossibly high heels, trailing heavy perfume in her wake, waggling the fingers of one hand at Annie and Tami, who were seated behind the reception desk. At the front door she stopped and blew kisses at Valerie, who'd stepped into the reception area.
Valerie waved, and Colette headed out the front door.
When she was gone, Annie looked over at Valerie. "I don't know how you put up with that crazy old bat," she said.
"She's not crazy, Annie," Valerie said in Colette's defense. "And she's not an old bat, as you so unkindly put it. She's just different, that's all."
"Could've fooled me," Annie said, giggling.
"Dr. Rochelle," Tami piped up from behind the reception desk, "you've got a call on line three."
"Who is it?" Valerie asked.
"It's somebody at Stonelair Farm," Tami replied. "You want to take it or have them call back?"
"I'll take it now," Valerie said. She retraced her steps to her office and closed the door, then looked down at Elvis, who was snoring quietly. She punched line three on her telephone. "Dr. Rochelle."
"Dr. Rochelle," the man's voice said, "this is Santo Ducci at Stonelair."
"Yes, Mr. Ducci," she said. "What can I do for you?"
"All of our dogs—four Irish wolfhounds—need checkups, and their Lyme disease vaccinations," he said. "Plus, there's the cat. The sooner the better because they're behind schedule. We were hoping you could make a house call. It's sort of a problem to bring in four big Irish wolfhounds, you know."
"I understand," she said. And she did. Irish wolfhounds were like small ponies. It wasn't at all uncommon in the country to make house calls for big animals. That's why she usually spent half her days on the road, ministering to everything from horses to llamas.
"Hold on just a minute, Mr. Ducci," she said, "and I'll see what's scheduled and exactly when I'm scheduled to do house calls. They may send somebody else, you know."
"Either you do it," Ducci said, "or skip it."
Valerie was stunned by his bluntness, then said, "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Ducci."
She put him on hold and pushed the button for reception, where Tami picked up. "Tami, can I fit in a house call either this afternoon or tomorrow afternoon? Say, an hour at the most?"
"Let me see," Tami said.
Valerie waited patiently while Tami looked at the schedule.
"You can do it today between three-thirty and four- thirty, but you'll have to be back before four-thirty for sure for clinic appointments," she said.
"Great," Valerie said. "Put me down for a house call at Stonelair Farm."