Nacho Figueras Presents (19 page)

W
aiting for his daughter outside the school, Alejandro reflected that it was about as far from the simple little
escuela
he had attended as a child as one could get. The building had a vast Palladian design; it looked more like a mansion than a school. Like so many of these developments, it had been named for the trees cut down to build it—Oakwood.

God, he had hoped that Valentina had permanently lost interest in riding. She had naturally recoiled in the immediate months after her mother's death, staying away from the barn, and that had made it easy for him to declare that she should take a break from the horses.

It had been one of their favorite things to do together, before Olivia was gone. He had loved being out on the field with his talented daughter, teaching her every trick he knew. But after Olivia died in her jumping accident, it made him physically ill to see Valentina anywhere near a horse. And she was too numb to care. She holed herself up in her room, listening to music, surfing the Web, avoiding as much human connection as she possibly could.

Afraid that she'd eventually want to ride again, and yet, not wanting her to be shut away, he had booked her solid with extracurriculars the following year. He'd steered her toward dance, and music, the endless ballet lessons and reluctant clarinet recitals. He'd hoped to wear her out on other fronts while all passion for riding expired.

And now—despite all his distractions, despite him outright forbidding her—she was riding again. He shuddered, imagining it. On Storm, no less—a horse as bold as she was.

He knew he was being hypocritical. Of course, he put himself in the same danger every day. But he was the adult. Polo was his job. There was no reason that Valentina should have to ride. She did not have to follow in his footsteps.

He closed his eyes, willing away the vision of his daughter getting thrown, of her lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. If he lost his daughter, there would be nothing left.

Valentina seemed surprised to find her father waiting for her after class, something he hadn't done in the longest time. For a moment, she smiled—and Alejandro remembered how he used to show up unannounced and take her for ice cream when she was younger.

She climbed in the car and fastened her seatbelt and then looked at him questioningly when he didn't start the car right away.

Alejandro smoothed his daughter's hair from her brow. “You've been seen riding, Valentina,” he said quietly. “You endangered your life, the life of the horse—and you lied to me. Tell me what you think I should do.”

She jerked back beyond the reach of his hand. “How did you find out?”

He shook his head. “Does it matter? Someone saw you. Night riding, no less. In the covered arena with no light. And on Storm, of all horses.”

“You ride at night all the time.”

This stopped him for a moment. He hadn't realized she knew. “This isn't about what I do, Valentina. This is about what you've been doing. It's too dangerous. You know that.”

She stared out the window, refusing to meet his eyes. “If riding is so dangerous, why do you keep going?”

“To pay the bills,” Alejandro said. “Who else is going to keep you in shoes?” He regretted the facetiousness as soon as he'd spoken.

She finally looked at him. “So it's my fault you're out there risking your life every week? Polo players die on the field all the time, even the best. Is it on me if you get hurt?”

“
Hija, por favor
, of course not. I make that choice. It's on me. But we're not talking about me, we're talking about you.”

“And you think if you get hurt or”—she wiped away a rogue tear, her voice shaking—“something happened to you, that it wouldn't matter to me?”

“You're purposefully changing the subject.”

“I'm not, actually. I'm just trying to understand why your life is somehow worth less than mine—or maybe why your need to ride is somehow more important than mine. I love riding,
Papá
. And I'm good. You know that I am.”

“You have some talent, but that's not the point.”

“The point is, you don't get to decide. I'm not some pony you can control. Or employee you can fire at will. You might have missed this,
Papá
, but I'm pretty much grown-up.”

“You are growing up,
niña
, there's a difference. You're still under my roof, still under my care. Anything happens to you, that's my responsibility.”

“But you know that you weren't responsible for what happened to
Mamá
,” she whispered.

There was a long silence while Alejandro rubbed his hand rapidly over his eyes. “I wish that were true,” he finally said. “I desperately wish I could believe that. But if I had been paying more attention, if I had given your mother more of my time…maybe, it all could have been avoided.”

“That's ridiculous,
Papá
. It was a freak accident!”

He looked away. She couldn't understand. And in the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, he had to draw a line. “You're grounded, Valentina. I want you on the property and out of the barn for the next month. If I hear about you riding again, we will be talking about boarding school.”

He started up the car and drove her home, unnerved by her silence. When he pulled up outside the house and unlocked the doors, he was devastated by her cold tone.

“You know, being hard on me doesn't mean you're paying attention. You talk about how you weren't paying attention to
Mamá
? I wish you gave me half the attention you gave her. You can take away everything but that doesn't change the fact that you haven't really been there for me,
Papá
. You haven't been there for years.”

She slammed the door behind her. Alejandro wanted to run after her, turn back time, and scoop her up like the small child she'd been. But what would that do? He couldn't change his rules, and she would just push him away even further. Nothing was solved either way.

For a brief moment, he actually prayed—prayed to Olivia—asking out loud, “What should I do, Liv? What should I say?”

Nothing but silence answered him.

A
ttending a practice match the next day, Georgia couldn't stop thinking about Valentina and the idea that Alejandro had unwittingly deprived the girl of yet another important thing in her life.

Why shouldn't Valentina get to ride?
she wondered. Valentina had lost her mom, the man her dad had been, and the solace of horses. It was simply too much to take from someone.

Georgia thought about the months after her own mother had left. How much worse it had been that she'd taken all the horses with her. Not being able to ride had hurt Georgia almost as much as the abandonment itself. She honestly didn't know which she had mourned more—her mother or the horses.

She watched Alejandro as he wheeled around his teammates. “Hey, Rory!” he shouted. “I told you a thousand times! The golden rule in polo is go to the man first, then the ball!”

The men laughed as they rode, shouting out good-natured insults and instructions. “Hit it! Hit it!”

“Count your men!”

It didn't seem fair that Alejandro should get to play like this while his daughter stayed earthbound.

She turned as Pilar and Cricket came arm in arm to the field and leaned over the fence beside her.

Pilar greeted her warmly, and Cricket gave her a kiss without interrupting her monologue, which, as far as Georgia could gather, involved a new sponsorship opportunity with Veuve Clicquot.

Alejandro slowed to an easy canter as he passed the fence.

“I thought you'd call me,” Cricket pouted.

Alejandro shrugged. “Things have been busy.”

Pilar shaded her eyes as she looked up at her son. “Cricket's come to invite us all to a party being given in her honor next week.”

“So unnecessary, but sweet of them,” Cricket said. “But it's Veuve Clicquot, and I heard they're looking for a new team. So I thought we best get you boys in there.”

“That's very good of you,” said Alejandro. “Can I send Rory?”

“You should at least make an appearance,
querido
,” Pilar said.

“Yes! Thank you!” Cricket laughed, and Georgia had the feeling that she and Pilar were pretty much in cahoots.

“Georgia, you could come, too,” Cricket said, as if the idea were a blast.

“That's okay,” Georgia said. “Really. I'm so worn out at the end of the day. Bed is all I ever want.”

“No way. I'll get you on the list,” Cricket said.

“The opportunity does sound wonderful, Jandro,” Pilar said. “There certainly can't be any harm in meeting them. See what Hendy thinks.”

Alejandro looked down at them and met Georgia's eyes. “I'll go if you go,” he said and then galloped back onto the field.

Georgia blinked. “Oh.”

Cricket looked at Georgia, a strange little half smile on her face.

L
ate that night, Georgia was going over some medical records for one of the ponies when a sharp knock came on her door. She looked up to see Valentina standing there, looking extremely pissed off.

Georgia opened the door, puzzled. “Valentina?”

“It was you, wasn't it?” said Valentina, entering the pool house without waiting for permission. “You're the bitch that told him.”

Georgia shook her head. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea you weren't supposed to be—”

“I knew it!” said Valentina, furiously flinging herself onto Georgia's couch. “You got me into the worst kind of trouble! Why not just say something to me instead of sneaking off to my dad?”

“I wasn't sneaking,” Georgia insisted. “I was raving about how much I liked watching you ride. I was saying you ought to get on the polo field with him.”

“Well, maybe you should have asked me before you said anything to anyone!”

“How was I supposed to know you were banned from riding? I just thought you didn't like horses.”

Valentina looked at her for a second, and tears welled up in her eyes. She sighed. “I love them.”

“Of course you do…Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Can I have wine?”

“No.”

“Okay, then tea. With five sugars and milk.”

Georgia smiled as she put on the kettle. More sugar than tea. Despite all appearances, Valentina was still a child.

“So, what happened?” Georgia asked, after handing Valentina a steaming mug.

“I'm grounded,” said Valentina glumly. “And he says that if he catches me riding again, he'll send me to boarding school.”

Georgia blinked in surprise, “Oh, surely he wouldn't do that.”

“Who knows what he'd do? He's completely unreasonable when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“But if he knew how important it was to you—”

“He's not going to listen to me. He's got like, PTSD. It's because of my mom. He's freaked out that I'll die, too.”

Georgia sipped her tea and nodded, not wanting to spook her by saying too much.

“And you know what the stupid thing is? I feel pissed at Mom as if it was her fault,” Valentina admitted. “Like, you know, I miss her—I miss her a lot—but sometimes I just think, you bitch, if you hadn't died, I would still be riding. And
Papá
wouldn't be so crazy.”

“Huh.” Georgia smiled gently. “I guess it doesn't make a difference, whether it's death or desertion. Feels like abandonment either way.”

“Aren't you still mad that your mom left you?” Valentina said.

“Oh,” said Georgia, “how did you—”

“I was bitching to Cricket after she told me it was probably you who told Dad about my riding. She filled me in.”

Georgia tried to ignore her annoyance at the idea of Cricket sharing her personal situation with Valentina and considered. “I don't think my mom could be who she needed to be at home. And we managed.” She straightened her back. “I'm grateful she didn't take me with her. She knew that my dad needed me, I think. And I'm glad I was there for him.”

She topped up the cup Valentina held out. “So what are you going to do with this time now that you're grounded?”

“I dunno,” Valentina moaned. “I'm not even allowed in the barn, which is actually fine since it would totally suck to be around the horses and know I couldn't ride anyway. But it's shitty because, with all the staff at the house, and Wellington being so small, I just feel like there's no place I can go, you know? Even when I'm in my bedroom, the maids wander in and out and
Abuela
is in there every ten minutes wondering what I'm doing.” She looked around the room. “I actually used to come here when I needed some space. You know, before you moved in.”

“Oh, Valentina, you can come here anytime,” Georgia said. “Whether I'm here or not. It's your place. And your pool, too. Don't run for the hills every time you see me. Really. You'd be doing me a favor.”

Valentina smiled shyly at her. “Thanks,” she said. She snuggled back on the couch. “I'm sorry I called you a bitch,
Doctora
.”

Georgia smiled ruefully back. “That's okay, Valentina. Just don't do it again.”

W
hen she learned by text that Billy and Beau were back in town for Cricket's Veuve Clicquot party, Georgia didn't stop grinning all day.

She was dressed and ready to go by the time they came by for her, and she greeted her friends with warm hugs. They were full of exclamations about how fantastic she looked.

“Peaches, I barely recognize you!” Billy cried. “Are you actually wearing blush?”

Beau cooed over how toned she was from the swimming and how her hair was streaked gold from the sun.

They insisted she take them on a tour of the barn, and it was fun to see it all through their eyes. Of course, they were used to the lux accommodations for horses. So the opulence was no surprise, but they admired the ponies and were properly impressed by all the little methods and ideas that Georgia had brought to the place. And they were especially delighted to see several of Beau's saddles proudly displayed among the richly polished tack.

And Beau and Billy were clearly going great guns with their new business. Georgia teased them that they were like an old married couple already, but she was happy to see the partnership was really kicking in.

They, in turn, were amazed by Georgia, seeing how easy and friendly she was with everyone and how comfortable she was in the barn.

“Look at the way they follow your beck and call,” Billy stage-whispered after Georgia instructed a couple of grooms to take some ponies out to the paddock. “You've got it going on, Fellowes!”

They arrived at Cricket's Palm Beach party around nine. Georgia was stunned by the incredibly sleek and modern space with its gorgeous view of the water.

The vibe was cool and edgier than the Wellington club scene. A beautiful female DJ spun disks, and Veuve Clicquot ran like rain. The guests looked different. No farmer tans on display, not so very young and drunk. They weren't competitors, Billy explained, so much as investors and financiers. People, he said, who thought nothing of dropping a million dollars on a Wellington season.

There was a celebrity set, too. Georgia had to avoid whiplash a couple of times when she spotted famous actors and musicians in the mix.

Sebastian and Rory showed up to complete the gang's reunion, and when Cricket made a spectacular entrance around ten, wearing a draped white mini-dress and six-inch heels that showed her long, tan legs off to perfection, there was only one person still missing.

“Where's Alejandro?” Cricket pouted, looking around.

“It's fine if he's late,” Rory assured her. “Good if he only materializes for five minutes, actually. Kind of cool. Rarity gets the sponsors begging.”

Georgia retreated with Beau and Billy to the balcony, where they could lean down and take everything in. The guys shared a joint like teenagers—Georgia sticking to her wine—and they all giggled as they people-watched from afar.

They observed Cricket spending a lot of time flirting with some kind of balding financier. She'd let him nibble her ear but then do a quick sidestep to avoid a hand on her ass. She obviously wanted him close, but not too close, and had one eye permanently on the door.

Georgia could see this was an occasion where Rory came into his element. He worked the room brilliantly, showcasing Sebastian and Lord Henderson. He looked as if he was somehow making the champagne marketing people feel they'd entered a fabulous rarefied world.

Everyone was talking about the team's recent wins, and Rory confidently assured them all that La Victoria were building to a glorious season finale.

Sebastian, too, was in good form. He looked conspicuously happier, Georgia thought, when away from the barn. He was telling great stories about the early days of polo and the lineage of the team—and talking persuasively about the synergies and strategies the players were achieving.

Hendy was talking statistics with sports reporters; it was all hitting ratios and spread bets, and which ponies would be in the line, and Georgia was thrilled to discover that she understood almost all of the lingo at last.

The only one who looked actively unhappy was Gus. The man's forehead was beaded with sweat, and his eyes were staring wildly at everything other than the person he was talking to. After politely introducing him to Beau and Billy, Georgia watched him tip back a glass of whiskey and drain it.

“That's my nemesis,” she whispered to Billy.

“He doesn't look very happy,” Billy said.

“Well, he's the only one here who's not,” said Beau in his soft Southern drawl. “Cricket really knows how to throw a bash.”

Finally, Georgia felt her stomach leap as Alejandro himself entered, turning every head with his long stride and broad shoulders. He already looked bored out of his mind, but it seemed to Georgia that every woman in the room, and quite a few men, went into high alert at his appearance.

Cricket immediately moved in to tour him round the room to meet the Veuve Clicquot team.

“He looks different,” said Billy. “Not as miserable.”

“Grief's lifting,” Beau said. “Maybe he's getting laid on the regular. Do you have something to do with that, Fellowes?”

“Beau!” Georgia said.

“Oh, don't act all innocent, Peaches,” said Billy. “We know what you've been up to.”

Georgia saw Alejandro glance their way before heading over in their direction. He warmly greeted Billy and Beau and then turned to her.
That's the first genuine smile I've seen from him tonight
, thought Georgia. He leaned in close to make himself heard over the music.

“So, you came, after all.”

“Well, you said you would if I would. And it's for the good of the team, after all.”

He nodded. “Listen, I'm sorry I was such a prick to you about Valentina riding.”

“That's okay,” she said. “You were worried. I understand.”

He leaned in even closer. She could smell his warm, spicy scent. A little shiver shot down her back. “This is my idea of hell,” he admitted, gesturing at the party.

Georgia laughed. “A very well-catered hell. It's not so bad. The sponsors seem interested.”

“God knows. It probably won't come to anything,” Alejandro said. “Listen, maybe later we can—”

He was interrupted when, out of nowhere, Cricket descended on him, insisting that there were at least a dozen more people he just had to meet. She swept him away with a passing air kiss for Georgia.

“Oh my God, Georgia,” Billy teased her, “you must be a good influence! He's still ridiculously serious, but at least it's like he's enjoying being gloomy these days.”

“And what about that wattage when his eyes met yours?” Beau shouted.

They waved away all of Georgia's protests about his history with Cricket.

“She might as well be his sister for all the interest he's showing in her,” Beau insisted as they watched Cricket help him work the room. “He looks like he wants to throw himself out the nearest window.”

“Not like when he was over here,” said Billy, elbowing Georgia in the ribs, “when all he wanted was to throw himself at you. You know it, and I know it. Don't play dumb with us, G.”

“Fine. Maybe some stuff happened at the very beginning. But we've been total professionals ever since, and anyway, he likes his women rich. For his team's sake, if nothing else.”

“Humph. We'll see.” Billy winked. She gave him an exasperated look and excused herself.

In the line for the restroom, she found Gus clearly in trouble, arguing with the cloak room attendant about his jacket. He seemed to be accusing her of stealing but he was only semi-coherent and staggering about as if he were navigating a listing ship.

For a moment, Georgia considered catching Alejandro's attention—and letting him see his head vet falling to pieces—but then she couldn't help feeling sorry for the old goat.

She rapidly summoned Beau and Billy and asked them to convince Gus to let them give him a ride home. As they solved the coat mystery (Gus had been wearing it all along without realizing), Georgia found Cricket to say thanks and good-bye.

“So soon, darling?” asked Cricket as she posed for a selfie with a young pop star.

“Something's come up,” said Georgia, hoping that Gustavo wouldn't stagger back in.

Alejandro frowned to see she was leaving and raised his arm good-bye.

Outside, Beau and Billy helped her manhandle a very drunk Gus into the car despite the vet's best efforts to pick a fight with everyone they encountered.

Georgia was worried he might vomit in Beau's pristine interior so they kept the windows down and a bag handy.

Gus was just coherent enough to direct them to his address—an apartment not too far from the hacienda—and between the three of them, they got him upstairs and through the door. Georgia went to bring him water and found a bare fridge, a hell of a lot of empties, and a sink full of dirty dishes.

She hesitated a minute to look around at the sadly empty interior of his traveling bachelor pad—it was odd to see how few possessions such an accomplished vet would have—and to consider just how lonely and unhappy he really seemed to be.

She and the boys guided Gustavo into his bedroom, and she wondered out loud whether they should go so far as getting him at least partially undressed.

“Ugh,” said Billy. “I'm sorry, but there is no version of this where I take off this guy's pants.”

“Just the shoes then,” said Georgia, and knelt to untie the laces.

“You,” Gustavo slurred, watching her through eyes he could barely keep open, “you think you're so
importante
—”

“Okay then,” said Georgia, tugging his shoes off and deciding she didn't want to touch the socks, “you're ready for bed now, Gus.”

He jerked his foot away, almost kicking her in the face. “I can do it!” he said. “I don't need your help in any way!”

“Yes, you've made that abundantly clear many times, both here and at work,” she muttered to herself.

Beau and Billy were all for returning to the party, but Georgia, with work the next morning and the match so soon, was ready to turn in. They made plans to meet up tomorrow. She thanked them for helping with Gus and kissed them good night after they dropped her off at home.

Approaching the pool house, Georgia saw the lights blazing and music on. Outside, fast asleep and fully dressed on adjacent sun beds by the pool, she found Valentina and Javier, one of the grooms, a sweet kid from Mexico.

Javier was a good-looking eighteen-year-old with skin like polished mahogany. When Georgia could get him to stop shoveling muck for five minutes, he'd revealed that most of his family were back in Mexico. His father was a bus driver there, which, given the gang activity, was much more dangerous than it seemed, and Javier sent most of his check to his parents on a monthly basis. His diligence had caught the eye of a local riding instructor, and he'd worked his way up from a local stable. He always wore a look of happy surprise, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

Georgia shook him gently awake and, seeing his panic on being discovered out with the boss's daughter, grilled him gently on what Valentina had had to drink. He admitted they had each had a bottle of wine to themselves.

She sent him back to his digs—a trailer on the far side of the property he shared with four others—and promised she'd take care of Valentina.

As soon as Valentina sat up, it was clear she was going to vomit. Georgia held her hair while the girl was sick and thanked her stars that it was Valentina she was helping this way, and not Gus.

She led Valentina to her own bed, not wanting to wake up Pilar in the big house, and tucked her in for the moment.

Valentina was fixated on her worry for Javier's job and insistent Georgia understand the evening's sneaky drinking had been all her idea.

Georgia reassured her over and over she'd make that clear and finally settled her down. And then she picked up her phone and called Alejandro.

“I'm so sorry to drag you away from the party,” she said, “but there's a little situation with Valentina.”

Instantly, she could hear the alarm in Alejandro's voice. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, yes, I should have led with that. She's fine. She's just…well, drunk as a skunk, actually. And pretty much passed out in my bed. She got into the pool house wine, I'm afraid. And now she seems to be paying the price.”

“Ah, no,” groaned Alejandro, the worry instantly switching over to annoyance. “
Lo siento.
I'm so sorry, Georgia. You shouldn't have to deal with that.”

“It's fine. I think the worst is over. And of course, she's welcome to stay the night. I can sleep on the couch. But I just thought you should know what's going on.”

“Absolutely. Thank you. And of course she will not stay over. I will be there.”

After checking Valentina one more time and establishing that the girl was sleeping deeply and breathing evenly, Georgia collapsed, fully dressed, on the sofa.

Georgia woke as Alejandro's headlights swept up outside.

She approached the door in sleepy confusion and stood back to let him in as if in a dream.

“I'm sorry to disturb you so late,” he said.

“
Mi casa es tú casa
,” Georgia said. “Literally actually—” She immediately wanted to kick herself for speaking so foolishly, but instead, she opened the door to the bedroom. “She's in here.”

Valentina was groaning but asleep. Alejandro went to lift her, but then hesitated a moment. “You know, my wife, she once told me never to wake a sleeping baby. Let's leave it a minute, if you don't mind,” he said. “See if she wakes on her own?”

“Good idea,” Georgia said, and went to make some tea.

After a few minutes, Alejandro came in and pulled up a stool at the counter. “I don't know how angry to be, honestly,” he said to Georgia. “I'm just relieved she's okay.”