Read Online A Three Day Event by Barbara Kay - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Kay
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that’s another reason Roch doesn’t want to know–he wants Guy to stay happy. He isn’t like most vets. He doesn’t have a practice or anything, so he’s like always around. And Liam acts like he’s the official assistant. It makes me crazy, he’s like two different people.”
“Do you want me to speak to Michel?”
“No!” she said sharply. “No, I can’t stand…I think we got to let Michel work it out. But I really appreciate you listening to me. I feel better.” She added wistfully, “I don’t get to talk to anybody like you very often.”
“Like me?” Polo was genuinely puzzled.
She squirmed self–consciously and twisted at a ring. “I mean, someone who–it’s hard to explain–someone who’s in horses, but isn’t–like–doesn’t need to suck up to anyone?” she ended on a note of query, as if asking him to substitute a more comprehensive and articulate thought.
Polo smiled sympathetically. “That’s a nice thing to say, Joc. And I’m glad you think of me as independent. It’s the answer to your question, by the way.”
“My question?”
“You said before you always wondered why I quit the circuit when things were going so great.”
“Oh. Yeah. I see what you mean.” She nodded, frowning, trying to look smart.
No you don’t, you poor sucker. You don’t know what freedom is. You don’t want to know, either.
She sighed. “Maybe I’ll take a few days off to get my head together. I should visit my parents, I haven’t seen them in more than a year…”
“Where do they live, Chibougamou?”
“No,” Jocelyn said morosely, “just in Valleyfield…”
Cristi! Just a two–hour drive away. And she’s not the only one. They’re like slaves, only they make their own chains …
On the way out, Polo passed a stocky young man mucking out stalls, who stood up at his approach and followed his progress from dark, hooded eyes. With his full, sensual lips, doughy baby face and carefully molded fifties’–style pompadour, he had the air of a youthful Elvis Presley. That must be the unsavoury Benoit, Polo thought to himself. Further on a bit, Liam was wheeling fresh shavings down the aisle. Polo nodded curtly to him.
“Hey, wait,” Liam said as Polo moved briskly to the exit, “you didn’t say who I should say was here.”
“Tell him Polo was here,” he said, his hand reaching for the door, “Polo Poisson.”
CHAPTER THREE
“ P olo Poisson!” exclaimed Marion Smy indignantly. “ What do you mean you’ve asked Polo Poisson to be your co–chair! I just told you Rob Taylor has very graciously agreed to help us. You can’t possibly imagine the committee would prefer to have Polo Poisson when Rob Taylor is willing to join us!” As she pronounced Rob Taylor’s name, the internationally renowned nickname ‘Canajun, eh?’ seemed to tremble silently, reverentially, in the air beside her She glared fiercely at Roch, the unhappy surprise–spoiler.
Roch appealed mutely to Hy, who had leaned back and crossed his arms with satisfaction at having Marion’s anger deflected onto someone else. And Roch deserved to twist in the wind a bit, Hy thought. Although overwhelmingly gregarious, Roch avoided “situations.” Hy was starting to recognize this conflict–avoidance as characteristic of many people he was meeting in the sport. He couldn’t help comparing horse people to businessmen–and women too, of course–for whom conflict came with the territory. In business you developed strategies for dealing with problems, and dealt with them. This lot wouldn’t last a year if they were running a business, he mused.
In the end, exerting all of his considerable charm, Roch smoothed Marion’s feathers, explaining that Polo was going to be on the site in any case as Hy’s contractor, that Hy was footing the bill for his accommodation in the ski condos nearby (at which point Stuart murmured encouragingly to Marion), that he was more than competent in all the areas needed:
“Do you want me to speak to Michel?”
“No!” she said sharply. “No, I can’t stand…I think we got to let Michel work it out. But I really appreciate you listening to me. I feel better.” She added wistfully, “I don’t get to talk to anybody like you very often.”
“Like me?” Polo was genuinely puzzled.
She squirmed self–consciously and twisted at a ring. “I mean, someone who–it’s hard to explain–someone who’s in horses, but isn’t–like–doesn’t need to suck up to anyone?” she ended on a note of query, as if asking him to substitute a more comprehensive and articulate thought.
Polo smiled sympathetically. “That’s a nice thing to say, Joc. And I’m glad you think of me as independent. It’s the answer to your question, by the way.”
“My question?”
“You said before you always wondered why I quit the circuit when things were going so great.”
“Oh. Yeah. I see what you mean.” She nodded, frowning, trying to look smart.
No you don’t, you poor sucker. You don’t know what freedom is. You don’t want to know, either.
She sighed. “Maybe I’ll take a few days off to get my head together. I should visit my parents, I haven’t seen them in more than a year…”
“Where do they live, Chibougamou?”
“No,” Jocelyn said morosely, “just in Valleyfield…”
Cristi! Just a two–hour drive away. And she’s not the only one. They’re like slaves, only they make their own chains …
On the way out, Polo passed a stocky young man mucking out stalls, who stood up at his approach and followed his progress from dark, hooded eyes. With his full, sensual lips, doughy baby face and carefully molded fifties’–style pompadour, he had the air of a youthful Elvis Presley. That must be the unsavoury Benoit, Polo thought to himself. Further on a bit, Liam was wheeling fresh shavings down the aisle. Polo nodded curtly to him.
“Hey, wait,” Liam said as Polo moved briskly to the exit, “you didn’t say who I should say was here.”
“Tell him Polo was here,” he said, his hand reaching for the door, “Polo Poisson.”
CHAPTER THREE
“ P olo Poisson!” exclaimed Marion Smy indignantly. “ What do you mean you’ve asked Polo Poisson to be your co–chair! I just told you Rob Taylor has very graciously agreed to help us. You can’t possibly imagine the committee would prefer to have Polo Poisson when Rob Taylor is willing to join us!” As she pronounced Rob Taylor’s name, the internationally renowned nickname ‘Canajun, eh?’ seemed to tremble silently, reverentially, in the air beside her She glared fiercely at Roch, the unhappy surprise–spoiler.
Roch appealed mutely to Hy, who had leaned back and crossed his arms with satisfaction at having Marion’s anger deflected onto someone else. And Roch deserved to twist in the wind a bit, Hy thought. Although overwhelmingly gregarious, Roch avoided “situations.” Hy was starting to recognize this conflict–avoidance as characteristic of many people he was meeting in the sport. He couldn’t help comparing horse people to businessmen–and women too, of course–for whom conflict came with the territory. In business you developed strategies for dealing with problems, and dealt with them. This lot wouldn’t last a year if they were running a business, he mused.
In the end, exerting all of his considerable charm, Roch smoothed Marion’s feathers, explaining that Polo was going to be on the site in any case as Hy’s contractor, that Hy was footing the bill for his accommodation in the ski condos nearby (at which point Stuart murmured encouragingly to Marion), that he was more than competent in all the areas needed:
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