30. Georgina
— ? —
Georgina
The morning begins with chairs.
Max carries two from the dining room while I arrange the terrace, shifting the cane chairs with their green cushions to make space around the round table. Four places instead of two. It feels strange and right at the same time, this small act of expansion.
“Where do you want this one?” Max asks, pausing with the second chair in his hands.
“Opposite your mother’s. Deus will want the shade.”
“And me?”
“Beside me, if you behave.”
He sets it down and draws my cane chair a little closer to his. “I prefer to negotiate from a strong position.”
“You haven’t earned that much room.”
“I carried furniture.”
I laugh and let him leave it where it is. He straightens, brushing dust from his palms, and surveys the table.
“What else?”
“Rosa has the food. Felicity’s bringing something sweet. We just need plates and glasses.”
“I’ll get them.”
He goes, and I stand for a moment in the morning light, looking at the table I had refinished weeks ago, the chairs I’ve sat in alone and with company, the terrace that has become the heart of this house.
The time has passed in the way good time does, full of small things that add up to something larger.
From the paddock, I hear Luce whinny. She’s been more vocal lately, calling to Sovrano, calling to the groom, calling to anyone who might have carrots. The sound makes me smile.
Max returns with plates stacked in his arms, Rosa following with glasses and a pitcher of water.
We set the table together, the three of us moving around each other with the ease of people who have done this before. Rosa adjusts the placement of a fork, gives me a look that says she approves of this gathering, and retreats to the kitchen.
The sound of a car on the drive interrupts us. Max goes to meet his mother while I take a last look at the table, then follow him toward the front of the house.
Felicity emerges from the car with a box in her hands and a smile on her face. She’s dressed simply, the way she always is, elegant without effort. When she sees me, her smile widens.
“Georgina.” She hands the box to Max without looking at him. “You look wonderful.”
“So do you.” I accept her embrace, feeling the familiar warmth of her arms around me. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for having me.” She pulls back and looks at my face with the particular attention of a mother examining someone she loves. “You’re sleeping better.”
“I am.”
“Good.” She touches my cheek briefly. “I worried.”
“I know.” I take her arm and turn toward the house. “Come see the terrace. I’ve been wanting to show you what I’ve done with it.”
We walk through the garden together, Felicity asking about the roses, the herbs, the new plantings along the wall. I answer her questions and find myself relaxing into the conversation, the easy rhythm of talking to someone who is genuinely interested in the answers.
On the terrace, she examines the table, runs her hand along the refinished surface, and nods with approval.
“Your father would have loved this,” she says.
“I wish he could see it.” I smooth the edge of a napkin that doesn’t need straightening.
“So do I.” She leaves her hand beside mine for a moment before looking out at the garden.
Max has disappeared with the box, presumably to deliver it to Rosa. I pour water for Felicity and myself and sit down across from her.
“Where’s Deus?” she asks.
“Checking on something in the stable. He’ll be up shortly.”
“He’s been helpful?”
“Very.” I turn my glass in my hands. “He’s good with Luce. Patient.”
“The new filly.” Felicity’s eyes brighten. “Max told me about her. He said you chose her yourself.”
“I did.” I can’t help the smile that comes with the words. “She’s two. This is the first time I’ve had a youngster to bring on myself. I keep thinking of things I want to teach her, then reminding myself she’s only been here a fortnight.”
“That sounds like the best kind of project.”
“It is.” I look toward the paddock, though I can’t see it from here. “She’s curious about everything. Yesterday she spent ten minutes investigating the wheelbarrow and then looked offended when the groom took it away.”
“Clever girl.”
“Very sure everything is her business.”
Felicity laughs, and the sound reminds me of Max, the same warm timbre, the same easy pleasure. I’ve always liked her. Even during the worst of things, when I wasn’t sure I liked anyone, I liked Felicity.
“May I see her?” Felicity asks. “Before lunch?”
“Of course.” I stand. “Deus can introduce you. He’s been handling her morning routine.”
We walk down to the paddock together, where Deus is leaning on the fence, watching Luce investigate a patch of grass with intense concentration. He straightens when he sees us and greets Felicity with the quiet courtesy I’ve come to expect from him.
“She’s settling well,” he tells her. “Eating everything in sight.”
“She’s two,” I say. “She’s supposed to eat everything in sight.”
“She’s inspected enough of the fence to send us a report on it.”
I look toward the neighboring paddock, where Sovrano is standing at the fence, watching the filly with an expression of dignified patience. He’s been remarkably tolerant of the new arrival, calling to her when she whinnies, watching her antics without apparent alarm.
“He’s curious about her,” Felicity observes.
“He’s curious about the carrots she keeps getting.” I produce one from my pocket. “He thinks she’s been receiving preferential treatment.”
I walk to Sovrano’s fence and offer him the carrot, which he takes with the gentle precision I love. His soft breath warms my palm as he chews.
“There,” I tell him. “You’re not forgotten.”
Luce, seeing the transaction, abandons her grass and trots to her own fence, ears pricked with interest. I laugh and dig another carrot from my pocket.
“You’re spoiling them both,” Deus says.
“I’m maintaining diplomatic relations.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
I offer Luce the carrot and watch her take it with the enthusiastic imprecision of youth. She’s still learning manners, still figuring out how to accept treats without mouthing the entire hand. We’ve been working on it.
“May I?” Felicity asks, and I hand her a carrot.
She approaches the fence slowly, the way someone does who knows horses but doesn’t assume they know her. Luce watches her come, ears swiveling, then stretches her nose toward the offering.
“Gentle,” I murmur, and the filly, miracle of miracles, actually listens. She takes the carrot from Felicity’s palm with something approaching delicacy.
“Good girl,” Felicity says softly. “Clever thing.”
Luce chews her carrot and looks at Felicity with the bright curiosity that makes her such a pleasure to work with. She wants to understand everything, this filly. Wants to know who each person is and what they might offer.
“She likes you,” I tell Felicity.
“She likes carrots.”
“She likes both.” I lean on the fence beside her. “She’s going to be something, when she’s trained. I can feel it.”
“How long will that take?”
“Years.” I watch Luce wander back to her grass. “For now, I want her confident with the basics.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her. “I should have said that earlier.”
“You said it by inviting me.” She touches my arm. “That was enough.”
Max appears at the stable entrance, shading his eyes against the sun. “Rosa says lunch in fifteen minutes. If we’re late, she’s giving our portions to the horses.”
“She wouldn’t,” Felicity says.
“She would,” I tell her. “She’s been threatening it for weeks.”
We make our way back to the terrace, where the table is now fully set, Rosa having added bread and wine and a bowl of olives in our absence.
Deus joins us a few minutes later, having paused to check something with the groom, and we settle into our chairs with the ease of people who are glad to be together.
The meal is simple and good, the way Rosa’s meals always are. Pasta with vegetables from the garden, bread still warm from the oven, wine from a vineyard down the valley. We eat and talk, the conversation moving easily between topics.
“So,” Felicity says, turning to me with the particular attention that means she’s about to ask something real, “what are you planning? Beyond Luce?”
I set down my fork and consider the question. “I want to compete again. Eventually.”
“With Sovrano?”
“Yes.” I glance toward the paddock, though I can’t see him from here. “We’re enjoying the work again. I want to give us something to aim for.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m thinking about the regional calendar. Small shows, nothing ambitious. I want to enjoy it before I start worrying about results.”
Max reaches over and takes my hand, a brief touch that says more than words. I squeeze his fingers and let go.
“I’d like to watch,” Felicity says. “When you decide on something.”
“You’re welcome anytime.” I mean it. “Both of you.”
“I’ve already told her I’ll be there,” Max says. “She’s stuck with me.”
“Stuck is a strong word.”
“Committed, then.” He smiles at me. “Enthusiastically committed.”
“To carrying my equipment,” I clarify. “And staying quiet during the course.”
“I can be quiet.”
“You’ve never been quiet in your life.”
Deus makes a sound that might be a laugh. Felicity is definitely smiling.
“He talks to the horse on the television,” I tell her. “As though it might hear him. I’m concerned about what he’ll be like at the rail.”
“The horse needed encouragement.”
“The horse was in another country.”
“My support is international.”
Felicity laughs outright, and even Deus’s mouth curves into something approaching amusement.
“To good company,” Felicity says, raising her glass. “And new beginnings.”
We drink to that, the wine warm on my tongue, the afternoon stretching golden around us. Rosa brings out the cake Felicity brought, a dense almond thing that crumbles perfectly, and we eat it slowly, savoring each bite.
After lunch, Felicity and Deus walk together in the garden while Max and I clear the table. We work side by side, carrying plates to the kitchen, wiping down the surface, moving the extra chairs back inside.