Change of Heart Read Free Page B

he was an army officer ...”
    “He was not a very popular army officer,” Cecelia said and now she looked grim. “Nor was his family supportive of the military dictatorship. Two of my cousins were among the desaparecidos.”
    “I am very sorry,” Gil said quietly.
    “What are desaparecidos’?” Jenny queried in puzzlement.
    Cecelia did not answer and after a minute Gil said, “The word means ‘disappeared ones.’ In Argentina the people who spoke out against the government were often arrested by the army and never heard from again. They ‘disappeared.’ ”
    “You mean nobody knows where they are?”
    “The government knows,” Cecelia replied a little harshly. “They are probably dead. Considering what one knows about prison conditions in Argentina, one can only pray that they are dead.”
    Jenny opened her mouth to ask another question, then stopped as she saw her father shaking his head at her. A little silence fell and then Gil said pleasantly, “Your father must be quite a horseman.”
    The grim look faded from around Cecelia’s lovely mouth. “He is,” she replied proudly. “He won the Grand Prix of Aachen, the King George V Challenge Cup, and the Olympic Gold Medal for Best Individual Rider in Stockholm in 1956.”
    “Very impressive.” Gil’s gray eyes were regarding her thoughtfully. “Do you have Olympic ambitions, Cecelia?”
    She laughed and shook her head. “I’m not eligible. Only amateurs can qualify for the USET, and because I teach I’m regarded as a professional.”
    “That’s too bad,” he said neutrally.
    “Daddy feels badly about it,” she confided, “but I don’t, not really. Daddy has to have help to run the barn and the school. And I do compete in the Open Jumper division. In fact, Daddy just bought me a gorgeous new horse. He’s going to take everything in sight, I think.”
    Gil looked at her appraisingly for a minute as they both sipped their wine. She was wearing a burgundy turtleneck sweater that beautifully set off her rose-olive complexion. Her dark brown hair, so heavy and soft and smooth, hung down her back in a shining mantle. Small gold earrings and a ring were all the jewelry she wore.
    “You look like a Renaissance madonna,” he said coolly. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
    She gave him a startled look. The sudden change of topic, the compliment delivered in that objective tone, disconcerted her. He sensed her confusion and moved smoothly to her assistance. “Do you do anything else besides ride horses and teach other people to ride them?”
    “Well, that’s all I’ve done since I graduated last June,” she said in a relieved tone of voice. She wanted to get the conversation off herself and added, “It must sound very dull to you. I imagine editing a magazine like News Report is very exciting.”
    “It’s very hectic,” he said. “When I started it eight years ago I didn’t know what I was getting into.”
    “You must be very proud of it,” she said sincerely. “In my history courses at college the professors always cited it for honest and factual reporting.”
    He looked pleased. “Did they? That’s nice to hear.”
    “What made you want to publish a news magazine?” she asked curiously. She knew from her reading up on him that Gilbert Archer had been born to millions. The Archers were one of the old New York banking families and he was the only child. What had prompted such a man to ignore banking and turn his energies to a magazine like News Report? It had not been a decision at all popular with his father, or so she had read.
    He had been asked that question often before, by women and by men, and he had a variety of answers to produce. To Cecelia he told part of the truth. She listened to him attentively, her eyes steady on his face. The wall sconce shone down on his thick hair, gilded to a gleaming silver in the soft light. There was no gray in it, she noticed. She watched his eyes, his ironic, humorous mouth, his firm chin