Chapter 5

Grace slept deeply until about eight o'clock that same night. Upon awakening, she was surprised to see that it was still light outside. For a moment the thought came that she had slept around the clock and it was morning. But then she heard the children screaming around the pool and knew that her unconscious state had lasted only a couple of hours.

Still weary and feeling the drugged remnants of her exhaustion, she tried to analyze why the blissful unconsciousness of sleep had fled. It took only a few seconds for her to realize that her heart was pounding and muscles tense with excitement. Then she remembered the dream! She had been at the track again and a horse with the number "five" had won convincingly; in the dream, Grace was screaming encouragement to the five horse for she had two hundred dollars bet on it to win. She even saw the exact payoff figures, $21.10, which meant that her win tickets were worth $2,120.

Again, just as she had experienced the night before, there was something akin to fever in her body. Her heart beat rapidly, her throat was dry and hoarse, and her legs felt rubbery to the point where she knew they could not support her weight. Most surprising of all, though, was the sudden realization that she wanted to be at the track right now so that the glamour and excitement might be tasted once again.

"Perhaps it's my extra-sensory-perception working," she told herself. "Maybe Jim is at the track and is thinking of me." That thought, too, excited her for there was no doubt that around the turf club Jim Meloney was a king, and last night he had chosen her for his queen. He had to be fond of her; after all, he couldn't have done what he had done if he didn't love her. Of course, she would never again permit him the liberties he had taken last night, but they could be friends. She would forgive him and tell him she didn't blame him at all... only herself. She could picture the scene now. He would be so relieved, for she knew that he must feel a terrible guilt about seducing the wife of a serviceman in Vietnam.

For a moment she was so sure he was thinking of her that she was positive the phone would ring within seconds, and it would be him, and he would invite her to share dinner with him at the track. Grace was so certain that this would transpire that she got out of bed and took the phone into the bathroom so she could hear it while she showered in preparation.

About nine, partially dressed, the first pangs of uncertainty and disappointment began setting in. By nine-thirty, Grace was dressed completely. She just had to go to the track... just had to. It was a craving so strong that it was simply impossible to dismiss it. Yanking open the French doors that led to the mutual sun balcony that Judi and her apartments shared, she quickly walked over to the little blonde's windows. There were no lights on anywhere in the flat. Grace tapped softly at the balcony door; when there was no answer, she repeated the knock a bit more loudly this time. Judi apparently slept on. Feeling resentment and frustration, Grace went back to her own apartment.

"I suppose I could go to the track by myself," she said in speculation. "That way if Jim wanted to apologize and talk to me privately, we wouldn't have to worry about Judi."

The last thought triggered the decision and fifteen minutes later Grace was en route to the track in a taxi. As the car came closer to Bay Meadows, she began feeling the buildup of an almost intolerable excitement that left her weak and debilitated. Mentally she urged the driver to go faster. It seemed as if at each traffic light the idiot stopped longer and drove slower.

When they finally drove up in front of the Turf Club and Club House entrance, Grace was almost in a frenzy, and it took a determined effort on her part to appear calm and collected. Part of her enforced composure disappeared when she was paying the admission fee and heard the crowd being to shout as another race started.

"Oh, dear God, please don't let my number five win it. I'll kill myself!" she silently said, as the noise grew in volume and then faded, signifying the end of the race.

At the top of the stairs she glimpsed the tote board and saw, with sudden relief that number ten had finished first, number three was second, and a photo was needed to separate third and fourth horses. Convinced by this that tonight was going to be another lucky evening, Grace slowly wove her way through the milling throng toward the box holders section in the Turf Club. No one was in Jim Meloney's box; furthermore, there were no racing forms or binoculars or cocktail glasses there to indicate that anyone had been sitting in the box.

It was only then that Grace scanned the program and discovered that Red Rebel stables had no horses entered in tonight's races. Once again disappointment assailed her. Maybe Jim was spending the evening in another box with friends. Recognizing a trainer who had been in Jim's box as a guest the night before, she stopped in front of him and smiled brightly. "Why, hello there," she said in as friendly a manner as possible. "How are you tonight?"

The man looked puzzled; obviously, she thought, he doesn't remember me. He was completely non-committal when he nodded his head at her.

"I'm Grace Hope. We met last night. In Jim's... I mean... Mr. Meloney's box."

Recognition dawned on the face. "Oh, yeah. How you been?"

"Fine. Ah... have you seen Mr. Meloney here tonight?"

"Naw, he ain't here. He's down in Los Alamitos for the big handicap tomorrow."

Now it was impossible to conceal the disappointment, and the trainer looked oddly at her. "Thank you," she managed to stammer, then turned and walked rapidly away, feeling close to tears. Reaching the bar, she sat her purse down on the teakwood decking and tried to figure out what she should do.

A white-coated bartender moved down the bar and asked, "Yes, Ma'am?"

Grace really didn't feel like drinking, but ordered a dry martini anyway, thinking it might help her relax a bit. When it came, it tasted differently than last night's. She only then began to sense the vast and overwhelming loneliness of the track. There were almost ten thousand spectators present, but she felt completely isolated and alone. Idly, for lack of anything better to do, she ran her eye down the listed entries of the upcoming race. Suddenly her body stiffened and her heart felt as if it had stopped beating. Number five was a horse called Jim's Hopeful II. It was a message from the Gods; the name coupled with her dream was just too much to be coincidence... too much to be ignored. Obviously her extra-sensory-perception had been working. She looked out toward the tote board and was not at all surprised to discover that the odds were hovering between nine and ten to one which meant the horse would pay $21 or so if it won.

Abruptly then she felt the return of heat in her face, the weakness around the knees. She drained the remainder of her martini in one swallow and resolutely made her way toward the $50 win window.

"Bet with their money," Jim had said, and Grace had six hundred dollars of their money. That, of course, was far too much to bet; that would be sheer greediness. No, she decided, I'll bet, only two hundred dollars... that will give me two thousand.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, she shoved two $100 bills through the cage and said, as casually as she could, "On number five to win, please." The machine hummed four times and spat out four yellow tickets.

Shoving them into her purse, she hurriedly made her way out to the deck overlooking the track. A solid wall of spectators were in front of her, she couldn't see a thing.

"It is now post time," the public address system announced.

Frantically, Grace craned her neck and moved in first one direction and then the other in an effort to see the track.

"They're off!"

Like a little girl trying to view the circus parade, Grace began jumping up and down. The scream of the crowd made it obvious that several horses were battling for the lead. Then the thunder rose to one gigantic cacophony before fading away to disappointed murmurs and shrill cries of delight.

"Who won! Who won?" Grace tugged at the coat sleeve of the man in front of her.

He didn't even turn toward her, merely said, "The nine horse."

"But... but... " she felt like tears, "What happened to the five horse?"

Now the man faced her, obviously irritated at her persistent questioning. "Christ, lady, I was too busy watching my horse to give you a run down on everyone in the race." He softened when he noticed how attractive she was. "Five was back in the pack someplace." He nodded toward the tote board, "He didn't make the first four." Grace, not believing him, stood on tiptoe and saw the numbers: nine, three, two, six.