“She didn’t yell or fuss.”
“Why would she? She’s not your mother. It’s not like you’re married.”
Gerta returned a small smile of appreciation for Grace’s defense. “Elise wasn’t angry. She looked more . . . hurt. I could have handled her anger.” She laughed curtly. “That emotion is my old companion. But this was different. She seemed hurt. Lost. I’m worried about her.” She went to retrieve her coffee and leaned against the counter, taking a sip.
“Ach,” she said with her nose wrinkled. “This tastes like black water.”
Grace could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Gerta Klug appear shaken and vulnerable. Once was after her accident, of course. Grace had flown to Switzerland and stayed with her for weeks after she lost her leg. The second was when her poor excuse for a husband divorced her. Gerta had told her then, in her inimitable style, that divorce was like a war. People had to choose sides. She’d discovered who her true friends were, and they were precious.
And this time was the third. Grace drew closer, understanding that her friend was facing another turning point.
“How can I help?”
Gerta cradled her coffee cup and blew on it. But she didn’t sip. She lowered the mug and lifted her face to Grace. Her eyes were troubled, and again Grace saw the unusual self-doubt in her expression.
“How can I be a better mother?” she asked. “I’m such a failure. I look at you with Moira, the closeness you share. The honesty. I want that with Elise.”
Grace was taken aback. What a question! She’d never thought about it before. Mothering came easily to her, like breathing. “I have to think about that,” she said with a quick smile. “First, thank you. Let me think . . . I guess I have to say I treat my daughter like I treat my friends. I hold her close, try to think of what she might need and how I can get it for her. Not big things—not always. But little things like a bouquet of flowers when she’s feeling blue. A quick hug. An ear when she needs a good chin-wag. Yes, I think that’s the most important thing: communication. We tell each other things.”
Gerta listened intently. “Well,” she said as in summary, “I can see why we are in trouble. We never talk.”
Grace pinched her lips. Dare she say what was on her mind? She didn’t like to judge or give unasked-for advice. But, she thought with a mental shrug, hadn’t Gerta just asked for her advice?
“Gerta, please know I’m not criticizing you.”
Gerta’s eyes flashed with alarm.
“Maybe you could . . . ease up on Elise.” She paused. “You hover.”
“I don’t.” Gerta looked away.
Grace’s laugh rang with skepticism. “Honey, you control her life! She’s bound to you so tightly I don’t see how she can breathe. Ease up on her—let her make her own choices. Do you even know what she’s so angry about? Because she is, all the time. She tries to mask it, but underneath there’s a simmering fury that one of these days is going to erupt.”
Gerta turned to look at her. Grace knew she was listening.
“How do I begin?”
“Just tell her you’d like to talk to her. Or rather, with her. See where that takes you. And, Gerta—let her fail. Let her fall flat on her face. Then be there for her when she gets back up. She’ll thank you for that.”
Gerta took in a shaky breath. “And I thank you. For being honest. I like that. I can’t stand people mincing about. Just tell me the truth.”
“That’s the German in you, I think.”
“No,” Gerta said with a smirk, “don’t stereotype. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Speaking of stereotypes, is Angel a Latin lover?”
“Oh, mein Gott im Himmel. I can’t believe you said that. Shame on you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Grace said, laughing. “So tell me.”
Gerta’s smile fell. “It is not going to work out.”
“Why not?” Grace challenged her.
“It’s complicated,” Gerta said sulkily. “It appears that Elise has been talking with Angel about selling Whirlwind.”
“But she can’t,” Grace said, utterly shocked. “You own him.”
Gerta shook her head. “No. Elise does. Do you remember I gave him to her for her birthday? The papers are signed.”
Grace had forgotten. This changed everything. But it still didn’t make sense. “Why would Angel get involved? What’s at stake for him?” And then, feeling indignant for her friend, “Why would he do that to you? Seems rather underhanded.”
Gerta sighed with resignation. “He tried to explain to me.”
“Please explain it to me.”
“He went on about how Elise confessed she didn’t bond with Whirlwind. He agreed. He said it was obvious to him they weren’t a good match. That she would never be the right rider for Whirlwind. And other things . . .” She waved her hand dismissively. “Just excuses. I cannot be with a man who lies to me.”
Grace realized that Angel had the strength to voice to Gerta what everyone else was thinking. “Was it a lie? This is something you and Elise have to talk about. It’s that communication thing.”
Gerta’s eyes sparked. “Do you think it is acceptable for Elise to sell Whirlwind?” She brought her frustration under control and spoke in an even tone. “Even if it is her horse, that horse represents a substantial investment by the Klug stable.”
Grace knew that tone and wasn’t having any. “First of all, this isn’t a boardroom—so you can drop the attitude. Second, you’re talking about your daughter. Not some investment. Money isn’t the issue here—or it shouldn’t be. You might be asking yourself why Elise, knowing that, still would want to sell Whirlwind.”
Gerta stared at Grace with dismay. She put a trembling hand to her head. “I feel like my world is spinning around me. Everything is happening so quickly. What I thought was grounded is suddenly up in the air.”
“It’s this hurricane,” Grace replied. “You’re displaced, worried. Even your past is pushing into your present with Razzmajazz. It’s no wonder our emotions are heightened. Darling, it’s not just happening to you. Moira is in something of a personal hurricane as well. Elise too. Hannah and Angel. Talk about a whirlwind!”
They both laughed at the double entendre.
“Honey, we’ll just have to hold on tight to each other, weather the storm, and see where the chips fall when it’s all over.”
Gerta tilted her head and looked across at her. “What about you? No whirlwind for you? You always seem to have it all together. Do you ever have problems? Come to think of it, I can’t remember you ever coming to me with a problem of the heart.”
“Oh, I’ve got my ups and downs, don’t worry about that.”
“Oh no—you don’t get to blow me off. Your turn. Tell me. What’s a downer for you?” She pointed her finger like a school matron. “Communication. This is how it works, right? Give and take, sharing?”
Grace chuckled and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” She took in a breath, considering. “If I’m to be completely honest, I’ve been worried about Charles.”