He felt as though
some transformation was about to happen between them, some new
level of communication.
"...right there," she said, pointing to the high hills and valley
a half-mile in the distance, to the east.
He had been daydreaming. "I'm sorry?" he said.
"My horse. That's where I keep my horse."
"At Woodside Ranch?"
"Yes."
"That's where my wife keeps hers, too." He remembered Greta for
the first time since leaving the house that morning.
"They have a new trainer who recently came to the States to start
a new polo club. He's fabulous."
"Maybe that's Greta's trainer."
"It is," Laurence said, then, quickly: "I mean, he knows her,
mentions her horse. He said Mighty Boy is the most beautiful
horse he's ever seen."
"He's something, all right," Matthew said, changing lanes.
"I'm happy to be riding again. I've missed it so. In school I
rarely got home to see my parents in Los Angeles. My father
sponsors polo players, did I already mention that? I'm sorry, I'm
rambling."
"Not at all. I want to know more."
"Well, a couple of years ago my father spent a year in North
Carolina, opening a new company. While he was there he got hooked
on polo. That was just when I had gone east for school. I felt
like I needed a break from La-La Land, and Philadelphia seemed
like as good a place as any, and the school was one of the best
for liberal arts.
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