Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-five
Even after a shower the next morning, Iris felt ragged.
Her undereyes were puffy from tears and lack of sleep.
She tried dabbing concealer but that only made it look worse, so she decided that fresh-faced (with mascara) was the best she could do.
She applied sunscreen to her nose, already freckling, and plaited her hair in two short braids to combat the frizz of another hot, humid day.
And lastly, she put on her real armor: the perfume.
When Iris entered the dining room, Allegra sat alone at the grand granite table with her back to the panoramic view of the bay and bright morning.
The tween was absorbed in her iPhone, which sounded with rapid-fire pop song snippets and AI narration.
Iris noticed she had done her makeup that morning, a wobbly line of blue eyeliner and some sparkly lip gloss.
On her wrists were many bracelets, a Cartier Love bracelet mixed in with colored bead and woven ones like camp friendship bracelets.
Her fingernails were half-covered in chipping blue polish.
She was a particular type of privileged Manhattan preteen, precocious and sophisticated but still a kid.
“Good morning.” Iris had directed the greeting at Allegra, who didn’t look up; instead, an attentive member of the kitchen staff replied in kind and quickly took Iris’s coffee order.
But Iris didn’t blame the girl for not acknowledging her.
It must be strange for her that her dad’s employees and work colleagues were crashing her weekend with him.
Iris took a seat at the table, which was cold under her arms. The chef had already laid out a beautiful breakfast spread, plates of fresh fruit, a stacked bread basket, fresh-squeezed orange juice and green juice, an electric hot water carafe and a coffret of teas.
Through the windows, she could see Jonathan pacing outside on the balcony, talking on the phone. She reached for a croissant.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Allegra asked, suddenly regarding her.
“Oh, um, Gabe had to go back to the city early. He’s, he’s—” Iris had rehearsed explaining this to Jonathan, not his preteen daughter. “He had to go home early.”
“I like the thing he made.”
It took a moment for Iris to understand what she was talking about. “Oh, the prism.” Jonathan had already regifted it to his daughter.
“This morning it made my bedroom full of rainbows. It’s awesome!”
“Oh really? Good, I’m glad.” Iris felt a pang of guilt for diminishing it. “I’ll tell him you liked it.” If I see him again, she thought miserably.
The sliding door opened and Jonathan reentered the dining room.
He was dressed in a white linen shirt and khaki shorts, and his freshly showered hair had only begun to dry at the edges, curly from the salty air outside.
He greeted Iris, and Pilar wordlessly traded him his empty espresso cup for a new one.
He put his hands on his daughter’s narrow shoulders. “Al, you want waffles? Chef can do bananas Foster, I told him it’s your favorite.”
She dropped her head back to look up at him. “That was my favorite when I was like, ten.”
“Well now you’re like, twelve, so forgive me for missing the memo. What’s your new fave?”
“I want an egg-white omelet with spinach. No cheese.”
“What is this, your mom’s order? C’mon, sweetie, you’re too young to be on a diet.”
“It’s not a diet! It’s what I like now.”
Jonathan sighed and looked stumped. It was funny to see someone give him attitude, and to see him rendered just another helpless dad.
“What about you, Iris? Eggs, waffles, pancakes?”
“Actually, waffles sound amazing, if it’s no trouble.”
“Not at all. I’ll tell him.”
Jonathan had just crossed into the kitchen when Allegra looked up. “Dad?”
He poked his head back in. “Yeah?”
“Okay, I’ll have one bananas Foster waffle—on the side.”
“You got it.” He smiled, and his eyes flitted to Iris in a glance of gratitude.
When he returned from the kitchen, Iris beckoned him. “Jonathan, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure. Coffee tastes best on the balcony. Join me.”
They closed the sliding door behind them. Iris squinted from the sunlight as much as the discomfort of what she needed to say. She took a deep breath. “I just wanted to apologize for last night if the dinner conversation got at all…uncomfortable.”
“Don’t worry about it. Peter and Art’s egos are bulletproof. They like someone to spar with them. Gives their wives a break.”
“All right, but sparring certainly wasn’t my or Gabe’s intention, and I’m sorry if that’s how it came off. It was inappropriate.”
“Iris, something I teach my daughter is, never apologize for a man. Where’s Gabe now?”
“I asked him to leave.”
Jonathan looked surprised but impressed. “Ah. Well, Bill and Lindsay aren’t up yet, but we arranged for Bill to have a day at the golf club, and Esdras is driving Lindsay into town to do some shopping, whenever she gets up. I’m sure Lindsay wouldn’t mind you joining her.”
Her answer must have shown on her face, because Jonathan chuckled.
“Point taken. Believe me, nobody’s thinking about your guest’s behavior after Lindsay’s.”
Iris lowered her voice. “That’s another thing. If I may, I have some concerns about Bill.”
“You’re telling me. Why do you think I’m paying for him to get out of the house all day?” He sipped his espresso. “I can’t stand the guy, personally, but dealing with him is a necessary evil. He’s the gatekeeper to public housing.”
“I overheard him being pretty rough with Lindsay last night, in a way that makes me question his character. And earlier she said that he’s newly flush, spending extravagantly. He told her it had something to do with a recent deal…”
He frowned and shook his head. “Not one with me. We’re at the earliest possible stage, it will be six months before we break ground.”
“No, I know. But what else might he be up to? Maybe he’s leveraging his connection with you somehow. I just wanted to flag it for you. I wouldn’t want his shady dealings to derail the work you’ve put into this project.”
“I’ve had some of the same doubts myself, but hearing you validate them…” He nodded. “Maybe we do need to distance ourselves, at least put in a firewall between him and us. Thanks for looking out for the team.”
“Of course.”
Jonathan opened the sliding glass door to let her back inside. As she passed, he added, “And you know, if you’re a free agent today, you might join Allegra and me to check out this pony prospect. Allegra’s trainer can’t make it, but you could lend your expert eye.”
“Oh!” Horses always made Iris’s heart leap.
“Unless you’d prefer to have the day to yourself, which I totally get.”
“No, I’d love to. How fun and exciting!”
“Good attitude. We’re a little nervous.” Jonathan rolled his gaze to his daughter.
“Aw, I was always nervous riding a new horse. I’d be happy to come along.”
—
Everything about Daley Equestrian Center evoked a happy nostalgia for Iris.
The sweet smell of hay and shavings, the swirls of dust kicked up from the indoor arena footing as a rider schooled a chestnut horse over crossrails, the visceral sound of the horse’s gut as he cantered by, and the trainer’s shouted instructions echoing through the lofty space.
While they waited for the seller to get the pony, Allegra read Iris the listing on Facebook, and although the ad was full of sales jargon, Iris could tell this was a top-notch show pony with a better résumé than her own:
“Piano Man ‘Billy’ is an eight-year-old, fourteen-point-three-hand Connemara x Welsh Pony cross. Competed at the Hampton Classic and Devon Horse Show, Pony Club, fox-hunted, and games—always in the ribbons! Fancy mover with scopey jump and auto changes. Personality plus, bomb-proof, hacks alone, no vices. Sadly outgrown. $75,000 OBO. Will go fast!—What’s ‘OBO’? ” Allegra asked.
Iris translated, “Or best offer.”
Allegra brightened. “Like if there’s a bidding war?”
Jonathan smirked. “Can you tell her parents are in real estate?”
Iris’s first pony at her grandparents’ farm was “free to good home.” The sort of equestrians at Allegra’s riding barn would have likely looked down on young Iris’s humbler horse girl, one that showed horses in 4-H alongside prizewinning sows.
This was the elite hunter-jumper circuit where Allegra would learn alongside the daughters of rock stars and billionaire mayors.
But what did it say that a twelve-year-old had the power to intimidate her at thirty-five?
Then the seller’s trainer entered the arena leading one of the loveliest ponies Iris had ever seen.
“Pretty animal, isn’t he?” Jonathan said.
The pony was out of a fairy tale. A beautiful dapple-gray gelding, snowy white with silvery gray shading on his legs, rump, and the points of his face.
Iris could do the horsewoman’s evaluation, taking in the animal’s superlative conformation, good feet, lovely head with curved ears, delicate nose, and large, well-set eyes of a striking hazel-gold instead of the typical brown.
But the assessment by the little girl inside Iris was much simpler: She wanted to throw her arms around his neck.
Which is exactly what Allegra did. “He’s sooo cute!”
“Remember we have to make sure he’s safe and you like riding him,” her father warned.
Allegra mounted up and Iris helped adjust her stirrup length and checked the girth tightness.
Iris put a comforting hand on her shiny new tall boot. “You feel okay?”
Allegra nodded and gave a gentle kick to walk off.
She and Jonathan leaned over the fence of the arena watching Allegra walk the pony around the perimeter, her back ramrod straight and gloved hands hovering stiffly over the pony’s withers. Iris could tell the girl was nervous. She willed the pony to behave.
“Does your ex-wife ride?”