Inside her childhood home, Luz paused and glanced about while Mary wandered into the foyer that ran the depth of the house. An Oriental rug, softly colored in rich cream and sea-foam green, covered most of the hardwood floor, stopping short of the curved freestanding staircase, which was wide enough so the hooped skirt of the Southern belle wouldn't touch either side. The fourteen-foot-high ceiling was outlined with frieze-work, and an ornate medallion anch.o.r.ed a crystal-and-bronze chandelier.

"It's different somehow, isn't it?" Mary's glance roamed the walls as if seeking what she sensed. "Maybe it's because no one is waiting."

"Only the house itself." It was completely furnished, lacking only vases filled with flowers to give it that finished touch-like an orphaned child dressed in its best clothes waiting for someone to love it.

Her sister crossed the foyer and paused in front of the long antique bureau. Its mirrored back reflected the Oriental urns and porcelain figurines on the polished wood top. "Would you look at all this?" Mary touched the fragile china model of a pair of goldfinches. "We have ourselves quite a project. Everything will have to be catalogued before we pack it away."

"How many rooms are there?" Luz couldn't remember, but all were like this, ready to live in.

"Fifteen. Or is it sixteen? Either way, that's not counting the bathrooms." Mary looked at her. "Or the attic."

"Two weeks, eh?" Luz smiled wryly.

The front door opened and Stan Marshall trudged in, a suitcase under each arm and one in each hand. He looked as broad as he was tall. "Where shall I put these?" He paused in the foyer, puffing and trying not to show it.

"Shall we sleep in our old room, Luz?" A gleam appeared in Mary's eyes.

"Why not?"

"The top of the stairs, the last room on the right." Mary directed him to the bedroom they had once shared.

"Last room." He shifted the heavy baggage for a better hold and set out to climb the stairs.

"Let's look around." Luz didn't wait to see if Mary agreed as she crossed to the cypress doors leading into the formal dining room.

Their tour of the house was a combination of reminiscences and discussions about where and how they would begin their task. When it was over, they were back at their starting point in the foyer. Stan Marshall came out of the study.

"All your luggage is upstairs, and I've got a fire burning in the study fireplace. Any time you decide you want to go riding, Luz, just call the stables and I'll have Sequoia saddled and ready for you. And I've got some other nice hunters for you, Mary. You're welcome to take your pick," he said. "Mrs. Osgood and her daughter will be here in the morning to help you. When you need some men for the heavy lifting and crating, the stablehands are at your disposal."

"You've covered just about everything, Stan," Luz declared.

"I hope so. Welcome home, ladies." He tipped his hat to them and left by the front door.

Late in the evening, Luz sat in front of the fireplace, sipping a superb aged brandy from Jake Kincaid's private stock. A cranberry wool sweater and charcoal slacks replaced the traveling suit she'd worn earlier, and she was curled comfortably in the oversized leather armchair, her feet tucked under her. Mary was on the floor, leaning against an ottoman and gazing into the yellow flames, her dress changed as well to slacks and sweater.

"This is my favorite room." Luz let her gaze wander over the cypress-paneled study, its walls adorned with paintings by Brown, Snaffles, and Golinkin that captured the color, action, and excitement of polo in a single moment in time. Silver trophies were interspersed with the leather-bound books on the shelves, and gold-framed photographs of people and horses-polo ponies, racers, hunters-were displayed in front of the books.

"Not mine," Mary said. "I like the music room best."

Luz absently shook her head. "Every time I think of that room, I remember the look on Audra's face when I asked her what 'a.s.signation' meant and why Daddy was keeping one ... and who was Sylvia Shepler. I was eleven."

Mary turned sideways, frowning curiously. "What did she say?"

"She said that Sylvia Shepler was a friend of my father's and he was meeting her. That was what 'a.s.signation' meant." Luz paused and swirled the brandy in her gla.s.s. "And she ordered me never to speak of it again."

"He was a philanderer."

"I wonder if we'll ever know why she put up with it." She stared into the dancing flames.

"Who knows?" Mary settled back into her former slumped position.

"Let's leave this room till last," Luz said.

"It doesn't matter to me."

CHAPTER VI.

On Sat.u.r.day, Trisha arrived to spend the weekend. The day was sharp and clear, the air brisk and the sun bright. After being cooped in the house all week sorting and packing, Luz welcomed her daughter's visit as an excuse to go riding. Together they tried to talk Mary into coming with them, but she was adamant in her refusal.

"My idea of a horseback ride is a gentle canter across the meadow. I know you, Luz. You plan on tearing across the countryside, jumping fences and leaping ditches. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll stay here and fix some of my special spaghetti sauce instead."

"There goes my diet," Trisha moaned, but with a telltale gleam in her dark eyes that more than approved of the choice.

Stan Marshall had two hunters saddled and waiting when they reached the stables. Luz climbed onto her favorite mount, a golden chestnut Thoroughbred called Sequoia, and waited for Trisha while she swung onto the saddle of her horse, a rangy pinto of a mixed breed, brown with white spots.

"You two look more like sisters than mother and daughter," the stud-farm manager declared.

"That's a compliment, Luz." Trisha's laughing breath vaporized when it hit the nippy air. "It means neither one of us looks her age. You appear younger and I older."

Luz was aware that when you're seventeen, you can hardly wait to be twenty, but when you're twenty, you discover no magical change has occurred. You don't feel twenty or thirty or forty. Age has nothing to do with the way you feel, think, or act. Luz had yet to learn how being old was supposed to feel, but she had a strong hunch that you never feel age. All you ever feel is yourself.

"Such flattery is likely to turn a girl's head, Stan," Luz said, smiling absently. "Ready, Trish?" She glanced at her daughter to be sure she was settled in the saddle, the stirrup length properly adjusted.

"Whenever you are." She nodded.

"Enjoy yourselves!" Stan backed away and lifted his hand.

"We'll try to make it back in one piece," Luz promised with a wave as she reined her chestnut hunter toward the pasture beyond the stable barns and paddocks.

Fresh and eager, the two horses broke into a rocking canter with little urging from their riders. Luz breathed in the invigorating crispness of the air. Her heavy Irish sweater of hand-knitted wool kept her from feeling any of its chill. The colts in the paddocks raced close to the fence, gamboling and frisking as they rode by. An older group of horses in the adjoining paddock took little interest in their pa.s.sing, barely lifting their heads to look.

Luz slowed her horse to a dancing walk to look over the bunch. "Stan mentioned there were two four-year-olds in that group that he felt were ready to go into training. A roan with a blaze face and a sorrel with four white stockings," she explained to Trisha while she tried to locate the animals in the small herd. Their dull, heavy winter coats didn't make the task easy. "Rob could use some younger horses on his polo string. Of course, it will take a year or more to train them. Still, it might be worth the time and trouble."

"Rob doesn't have the patience to work with a green horse. He wants everything now. That's his problem." Trisha stated an observation more than a criticism.

"I can do the preliminary training and let Rob take over when the pony is ready for slow practice games." She voiced the alternative that occurred to her.

"You have the patience for it, that's for sure."

"I should." A smile broke across her face. "I raised you two."

"Ah, but can you keep up with us?" Trisha challenged and kicked her horse into a gallop.

With a touch of the heel, Luz gave chase on Sequoia. Both riders angled away from the pasture gate and took aim on the low rail fence. Two lengths in front of the fence, Luz collected the chestnut, preparing it for the jump. As its hindquarters bunched to catapult it into the air, she leaned over its neck, rising slightly in the stirrups. Then they were airborne, arcing over the fence with a free-floating sensation. Luz shifted her weight back to aid the horse's balance as they came down on the other side a stride behind Trisha's pinto, but not for long.

Neck and neck, they raced across the pasture, scattering surprised cows. The whip of the wind in her hair and the thunder of galloping hooves in her ears, Luz exulted in the wild and free sensations. When they neared the wooded end of the pasture, Trisha let her take the lead. Upon entering the trees, the horses slowed to a fast canter to follow the trail wending through the woods. Well familiar with the hunt course, Luz dodged the bare branches of low-hanging limbs and jumped the Thoroughbred over the fallen logs across the trail.

A low stone wall cut across the clearing in front of them. Beyond it lay open fields, winter-brown and gently rolling. The chestnut hunter cleared the wall easily and set out on the cross-country run at a steady gallop. The pinto came up to range alongside, Trisha's face showing the same eagerness Luz felt. All that was missing was the bay of the hounds following the false fox scent laid down for them, and the summoning call of the huntsman's horn to signal the chase was on.

On top of a gra.s.sy knoll, Luz slowed her mount to a walk and let it blow, and Trisha followed suit. This spot was roughly the halfway point on the hunt course, and a favorite of hers. The exhilaration of the run left her puffing slightly, her blood heated and racing fast. She stroked the chestnut's arched neck while she gazed at the rolling Virginia countryside, dotted with the dark skeletons of winter-bare trees and patched with plowed fields.

"This is a beautiful view in the autumn," she told Trisha. "All the fields are golden and the trees are brilliant reds and oranges. It looks all afire."

"I'll bet it does, but right now it only looks like so much kindling," Trisha remarked wryly. "We were never here much in the fall. Rob and I were always in school when you came."

"I wish I'd brought you both with me to experience the thrill and the tradition of the hunt. It always seemed there was plenty of time." She sighed ruefully. "The annual blessing of the hounds was always done at Hopeworth. Then after a bracing toddy to warm the blood we'd all start out in search of the fox. It's quite a sight with everyone gathered on the front lawn, dressed in proper attire-white ascots, black hunt jacket and hat, and white breeches-except, of course, for the huntmaster and the master of the hounds, who wear scarlet jackets. And off we'd go on a harum-scarum ride through cornfields and over fences and ditches ... after the fox."

"It all sounds fun right up to the last part, then it turns a little bloodthirsty. I think I'd root for the fox."

It was so like Trisha to root for the underdog. "Actually, there aren't many foxes around anymore. It's rare for the hounds to start one. Mostly, they follow a drag, which is the scent of a fox dragged over the ground ahead of the hunt. That was true even when I was your age. As a matter of fact, I wasn't blooded until I rode to a hunt in England."

Trisha grimaced in distaste. "That's the disgusting tradition of smearing the blood from the fox onto the face of a rider partic.i.p.ating in his first kill, isn't it?"

"It was rather gruesome," Luz conceded. "I remember that I had trouble eating when we all went back to the manor for the big hunt breakfast. The tables at those affairs are always groaning with food. It always reminds me of that scene from Tom Jones."

A thoughtful frown claimed Trisha's face as she eyed her mother. "You really love the life here, don't you?"

"Yes." It was Luz's turn to grow thoughtful. "I used to wish your father would open an office in Washington or Richmond so we could live here. But he already had an established practice in Florida, so it didn't make much sense. He used to talk about the possibility of expanding his practice, but he never mentions it anymore."

"Maybe he will in a few years."

"I doubt it." Luz knew that Drew didn't share her love for this part of the country and possessed only a tolerance for what he called "the horsy set," an att.i.tude he had carefully concealed around Jake Kincaid. His support of Rob's desire to play polo for a year was obviously given to please her-or, at least, to avoid arguments.

"He might," Trisha insisted. "Especially when he takes on a new partner."

"A new partner?" Her spine stiffened as Claudia Baines flashed through her mind. The steady clop-clopping of her horse's hooves suddenly sounded like a hammer pounding in her head.

"Yes." Her dark eyes were agleam with some secret knowledge when she glanced at Luz. "Me."

"You?" Behind her confusion, there was immense relief.

"Yes. I've just received notice that I've been accepted at Harvard this fall." A proud smile of satisfaction curved her wide mouth.

Surprise and shock traveled through Luz. She was suddenly at a loss to know what to say. Her two children were so different. Rob always talked to her about his problems, told her his hopes and aspirations, but Trisha was a mystery. Half the time, Luz couldn't guess what she was thinking, let alone what she wanted. She'd always had the impression Trisha took the world lightly and never cared much about anything. This sounded very much like an impulsive decision, made without thinking things through.

"Trisha, are you sure that's what you want to do? Do you realize what it entails?" Luz doubted it. "Four years of college, plus another three years of law school. Clerking for other attorneys and pa.s.sing the bar. Do you seriously intend to do this or is it just a pa.s.sing fad of yours?"

"It's what I want. It's what I've wanted for a long time," she stated firmly. "Luz, I can't be like you and just do nothing all the time. I want my life to have some purpose and meaning beyond planning this year's charity auction or a ski trip to Switzerland."

Luz had always wondered what Trisha thought of her. Now she knew, and that knowledge hurt, more deeply than she had ever thought it would. But she successfully hid it, aware that Trisha hadn't said it to wound.

"Then I'm glad you've been accepted. Your father will be pleased when he finds out you'll be attending his alma mater. We'll have to call him tonight and tell him the news," she said and managed a smile. "I think the horses are rested now. Are you ready to head back?"

"Lead the way. I hope Mary has the food on the table when we get back. I'm starved," Trisha declared as they urged their horses out of a walk and posted at a trot.

All the way back, Trisha's words were a weight on Luz's shoulders that she couldn't shake off. It dulled her enjoyment of the ride and took the edge off her previous high spirits. But she was careful not to let on to Trisha that anything was wrong. When they reached the house, she made a point of telling Mary the news and insisted they raid the wine cellar to celebrate the occasion.

After an early dinner, Luz telephoned home to talk to Drew. But it was more than Trisha's unexpected announcement that prompted the call. She had an inexpressible need to hear his voice and know that she was missed. Emma answered the phone.

"h.e.l.lo, Emma. It's Luz. Let me speak to Drew."

"I'm sorry, but he isn't back yet," the housekeeper replied.

Her wrist.w.a.tch indicated it was only a little after seven. "I suppose he's just coming off the golf course. Did he say when to expect him?"

"Not until tomorrow. He's still in New York," Emma said, vaguely startled that Luz hadn't known.

"But ... I thought he was supposed to return on Friday."

"He called yesterday to say that he was going to have to stay over another day. The earliest flight he could get on was Sunday morning. Is anything wrong?"

"No. Trisha is here." She glanced at her daughter, curled cross-legged on the floor watching her. "We just thought we'd talk to him."

"I'm sure you could reach him at the hotel," Emma said.

"We'll try there." She hung up, then dialed the hotel number.

"He's still in New York?" Trisha guessed from what she had gleaned from the one-sided conversation.

"Yes." Luz listened to the telephone ring and carefully avoided glancing at her sister. When the hotel operator came on the line, Luz asked for Drew's room. In her mind, she kept wondering whether Claudia was staying an extra day, too, but she didn't want to see that question expressed in Mary's eyes. Instead she kept telling herself the matter must have been very important, because Drew wasn't in the habit of setting meetings on Sat.u.r.day when he was in New York.

After the fourth ring, the phone was picked up and she recognized Drew's voice on the other end of the wire. "h.e.l.lo, darling. I just talked to Emma and she said you were forced to stay a day longer. How's everything going?" Luz rushed her words, not giving him a chance to explain things for himself.

"Fine. How are you doing?" he sounded distant, but Luz blamed that on the connection.

"Mary and I are tearing our hair out, but otherwise fine, Trisha came for the weekend. She has some news. I'll let her tell you herself." She pa.s.sed the receiver to Trisha and kept a smile on her face while she listened again to the announcement and heard the rest of the hurtful a.s.sertion in her mind-"I don't want to be like you, Luz."

"Since Rob isn't likely to keep the family tradition, I decided to follow in your footsteps, Dad. I've been accepted at your alma mater." There was a short pause, filled by his response, then Trisha said, "I received my acceptance notice this week. It's official." That was followed by another break in which Trisha grew quieter, some of her exuberance fading. "I am happy. And I'm glad you are, too." Then she glanced at Luz as she listened to the voice on the phone. "Sure, I'll tell her. Bye, Dad."

As Luz reached to take the receiver so she could talk to Drew, Trisha stood up. Instead of handing it to her, she set it back on its cradle.

"He had dinner reservations, so he had to go," Trisha explained. "He said to tell you he'd call next week when he got back home."

"Oh." Luz regretted not talking to him longer in the beginning. "What did he say when you told him?"

"He was glad ... proud of my decision. And he didn't sound as surprised as you were," she remembered wryly, then frowned. "When you talked to him, Luz, did you have the feeling someone was there with him?"

She hadn't been on the phone with him long enough to get any definite impression. "There probably was. More than likely his client." Or Claudia Baines, but Luz didn't say that. She didn't want Trisha to get the wrong idea about Drew's relationship with the young female lawyer.

Trisha left early on Sunday afternoon to return to the private girls' school she attended. With her departure, Luz no longer had to keep up a pretense of cheerfulness. When Mary suggested tackling the trunks in the attic, Luz readily agreed, grateful for any activity that might keep her morose thoughts at bay.