Stable Hill

by Jodi Payne

  He’d tried to explain that she should feel free to come and go as she pleased, that he only needed to know so he could make sure to be home if she couldn’t be, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “I’m here for those girls,” she’d told him time and time again. “Sundays are lovely.” It was a load off his mind to be sure. It meant he could focus on providing for them and paying the bills, and it kept his career as a compliance officer on track. He’d managed a promotion since she’d moved in, with a significant financial gain that had gone a long way toward making up for the loss of Emmett’s salary.

  Emmett had been an accountant, and he’d worked at home. Rose used to help out a lot from January to April but otherwise he’d been a hands-on dad, driving the girls to school, making lunches, helping with homework, coaching soccer. He’d been an equally devoted husband. A love that had caught Oscar completely by surprise. No promotion of any kind would ever make up for that kind of loss.

  “I’ve got the dishes.” He stood up, needing to snap out of that train of thought.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. Maybe you’d like to tuck the twins in tonight? They’d love that.”

  Rose gave him a smile, the look in her eyes knowing and compassionate without pity. They’d created a whole silent language of knowing looks between them, every one of them full of things that were hard to say.

  “I’d love that as well.” She kissed his cheek and gave the other one a pat, then headed for the stairs. Sixty-five wasn’t that old, and the girls were pretty well-behaved, but they still took energy, and he knew that by Friday, Rose was tired. Sending her upstairs early meant she could turn in early too.

  He washed every single dish by hand, even though he had a perfectly good dishwasher, letting himself reminisce a little in his mind. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about Emmett, but the crushing grief that had left him breathless for so long had slowly, subtly subsided. Lately the thoughts had been more in passing, and more often brought a smile.

  He was trying to remember the last time he and Emmett were in Dad’s house. There was nothing terribly remarkable about it. They’d gone for a trail ride, Dad leading with Emmett in the middle as he brought up the rear. It had been a long one because the day was gorgeous, and then after the ride they’d come home, watched a ball game, and made dinner. He couldn’t remember specifically what it was, but it was probably something simple and hearty like spaghetti and Dad’s famous homemade meatballs. Emmett had probably made a blueberry pie for dessert, which was always Dad’s favorite.

  Emmett had been pretty sick even then, but the treatment hadn’t totally wasted him yet. It wasn’t long after, though, that Emmett really wasn’t able to leave the house anymore. Oscar held on to the picture in his mind of Emmett sitting awkwardly on horseback, smiling happily, framed by trees and blue sky.

  Good night, Emmett. He shut off the kitchen light and headed for bed.

  Chapter Two

  OKAY, THEN. Jeffrey leaned back in his office chair. He had a new client. Sweet.

  Last month had been a slow one, but this one was picking up. Jeffrey hung up with Mr. Ken—with Oscar, and made sure to put their appointment down on the calendar for Saturday morning. He took a minute to fill in the few details he had in the notes for the appointment and also to make a short list of what he needed to prep and to bring with him.

  He was about to take another look at the property when a knock at his door interrupted him. He looked up. “Come on in.”

  “Hey, Jeff.”

  “Hey….” S. An S name. “Stacie, is it?”

  “Stephanie.” She smiled at him.

  “Stephanie. Right. I’m so sorry.” Because that wasn’t embarrassing or anything. In his defense, he didn’t spend a lot of time actually in the office. This wasn’t even his own desk; he shared it with two other Realtors.

  “No worries.” Stephanie struck a flattering pose in his doorway that showed off her hips and stretched her blouse across her chest. Pretty. He wasn’t interested tonight, but she was lovely. “How’s your month going?”

  “Oh. Good. Much better than last month. I just landed a new client.”

  “Yeah? Nice. What is it?”

  “It’s a working horse farm.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. I always hate to see those go.”

  “Go?”

  “Developers, you know? Housing developments, condo complexes, shopping malls? You lucked out. That’s good money.”

  “Oh, I think he wants to sell it as a farm. To farmers.” Bob had given him the name after all, and he knew why.

  “Huh. Well, that’s possible too, I’m sure.” She sounded doubtful or incredulous. He wasn’t sure which.

  “Sure it is.” Of course it was possible. He’d sold two other working farms, and Bob Keller’s was less than a year ago. He’d found a great buyer for Bob, and he knew that was how he ended up with Kennedy’s place. What had Bob called it? Stable Hill Farm. He hoped it lived up to its name.

  “Not the same money, though.” She grinned at him. He’d been told Stephanie was one of the top earners at the agency, so she knew what she was talking about. He’d already planned to pick her brain at some point. He had a face to go with the name now at least. Assuming he remembered it.

  “I’ll land something high-dollar soon too, I’m sure. I just want to do right by this client.”

  “You’re a good guy, Jeff. I’d heard that about you.” She stepped into his office, brushing her blonde hair to one side. “You have plans tonight? I was thinking of getting some dinner and a glass of wine.”

  He’d expected that. And, truthfully, if she were his type, he’d have totally taken her up on it. “I do have plans,” he lied. “I’m sorry.”

  His plans were to find a man. Hopefully a hot one. If he had to pick a label, and he really didn’t like labels, he’d say he identified as bi. But he only ever went out looking for men. The relationships he’d had with women were far fewer and less casual. He’d even had one serious one as the boyfriend of a married couple. Amy was lovely, and no question he’d been attracted to her. To them both.

  “Mm. Shame.” Stephanie straightened up, giving up on her seduction.

  “I liked the whole doorway pose, though. You looked hot.”

  “Thanks.” She made a face at him. “That’s one of my signature moves.”

  He laughed. “Don’t lose it. It works for you.”

  She headed for the office door. “Whoever you have plans with is very lucky.”

  He winked at her. “Thank you.”

  “Good night, Jeff.”

  “Night, Stephanie.”

  He watched her leave his office.

  Good Lord.

  Okay, back to work.

  Selling a big farm in the current market wasn’t going to be easy. He’d already figured that out. But he’d done his research after his conversation with Bob Keller. It was a nice place, built from the ground up by Oscar’s father, who owned it until the day the man died. Only one owner in its history was a big deal, and they still kept horses. Should be a decent price point, but he’d know more after he saw it.

  Jeffrey sat down at his computer, googled the farm, and found a workable aerial view of the property. Rough forest, a creek or something along one side of the property line, a bunch of good-size buildings. A couple of fields that looked to be growing hay, though it was hard to tell how old this picture was. Nice. Assuming it was really in decent shape and this Kennedy guy had a little bit of cash to throw at it, they should be golden. And if Kennedy was broke, well, there were ways to get a spit shine for a song.

  It sure had taken the guy a long while to call, though. Bob said he’d passed on Jeffrey’s info weeks ago. Hopefully that just meant Kennedy was disorganized or busy, and it wasn’t a bad sign.

  All right, it was time to head out. He needed some dinner, maybe a drink or two. He locked up the little office right on Main Street and got into his car.

  Did he want to go out or stay in
? Weeknights the bars were easiest because he could get home early enough to be worth something the next day. He enjoyed the clubs, but he usually saved them for weekends so he could dance, people watch, find a hookup a little more organically, or at least in person, and stay out late. Or all night.

  Maybe tonight he could stay local. He pulled out his phone and opened Grindr to see who was nearby and looking, and set his display to “Top 31.” He scrolled through the grid, flipping right past “SugarDaddy4u,” “Bruh,” and any numbers under twenty-five, no matter how hot, finally clicking on “Visiting 29.” Great body shot, online now, presumably leaving town in the near future. That would do. He tapped the flame and then the chat icon.

  Hi. U looking for casual tonite?

  Hey Toppy. Yes. Like ur pic. Hot. What are u up for?

  Drink at the bar, penetration, no flip. Pretty much the same thing every time.

  OK

  Limits?

  No kink, no power play

  No problem. That works

  Drink sounds great. Play safe?

  Oh good. He often ended up asking that question first. Always. Interested? Got a room?

  Marriott on Dempsey. Meet in the lobby.

  He sent his deets so the guy would know how to spot him. Dark suit, blue tie, clean shave. See u in 20

  Okay, then. A little close-to-home fun. Worked great for him. He turned up the radio and headed for the Marriott. Jeffrey used to have guilt about doing this, meeting random men, enjoying the night together. He really preferred to meet guys in person, but it had been forever since he’d met someone he was into. He was kind of interested in this one guy he’d met at the River, a bar outside town. It wasn’t a gay bar, and it was just shy of being a dive, but the drinks were cheap, the music was good, and there was always a game on. One night he’d been in the right place at the right time.

  He’d run into the guy there a couple of times since, but Jeffrey wasn’t interested in giving out his cell number, so that was hit-or-miss. It was nice when it was a hit, though. They’d park someplace and rut like goats in the back of the guy’s pickup. Something about the possibility, however unlikely, of being caught was a huge turn-on, and the guy was lovely, young and wild, and it made him feel that way too.

  But hitting the River and waiting the guy out required a patience he didn’t have tonight. He had a new client to celebrate, and he wanted some contact. Going home disappointed wasn’t going to sit well.

  The Marriott was lit up and busy. Clearly a wedding was going on, judging by the women in matching teal dresses and all the men looking hot and handsome in gray suits and matching cravats. The white rose boutonnières were a nice touch too. He waited in his car as they disembarked from the shuttle that had brought them all, and watched them laughing and smiling as they headed inside.

  He found a parking spot off in a corner, far away from other car doors, and pulled his Mercedes across two spaces. It was a dick move, but he was far enough out of the way that hopefully no one got their nose out of joint.

  He straightened his tie and pulled his jacket back on, then headed inside. Finding him might prove a challenge in this lobby full of people, so he stayed kind of out in the open and let himself look like he was looking for someone.

  “Dark suit, blue tie, clean-cut?”

  He smiled at the handsome man in jeans and a designer T-shirt, who approached him. “That’s me.”

  “I’m Nate.”

  They shook hands. “Hello, Nate. I’m Jeff. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “You can. Hotel has a nice bar. Thanks for showing up.”

  “My pleasure.” Sometimes these meetings started out awkward. Nate was obviously not a first-timer, and the easy way they just headed for the bar was refreshing. He smiled, thinking about Stephanie and hoping she was lucking into someone hot tonight too.

  Chapter Three

  SATURDAY MORNING, Sophie and Emily were both still asleep, as he’d predicted, and the twins got invited for a playdate, so Oscar took the trip out to Stable Hill Farm alone. The drive from Ardmore out to his dad’s farm in Lancaster County took about an hour, and he sang along with the radio and played the drums on his steering wheel to keep himself entertained. Once he got close, it was amazing how quickly civilization just fell away and the land turned green. The last bit of road before his father’s driveway was lined with some mix of grass and alfalfa that would soon be cut down for hay and sold.

  The driveway at Stable Hill had never been paved. It was a stubborn mix of hard-packed dirt, gravel, and metal grating that ran over drainage gullies, and it wound its way from the hayfields up a little hill to the main house in a wide S pattern.

  He’d texted Russ before he left home, so he wasn’t surprised to see the blond-haired barn manager out on the porch when he pulled up. Russ looked as good as ever—tan and fit from working outdoors.

  “Hey, Russ.”

  “Oscar.” They shook hands, Russ’s fingers rough in his grip.

  Oscar fondly recalled the day he met Russ. It was just over two years ago now, before Dad got sick, when Dad was still full of plans for the new barn and the indoor ring. Lamont, the previous barn manager and a longtime friend of his father’s, had decided at the age of nearly seventy to retire to Florida with his wife. Dad hired Russ to replace Lamont, and all Oscar knew before they met was that the new guy was young. He remembered the way Russ rode up on horseback to meet him and slid right down to shake his hand. Russ rode like a cowboy born in the saddle, and Oscar had been struck by the way Russ’s smile lit up the overcast day.

  He’d been struck by Russ’s green eyes too. It was the first time he’d really noticed anyone that way since he’d lost Emmett, barely six months before. He remembered that little spark, like something in him had struggled to come alive but lost the fight to his still-grieving heart.

  He looked at Russ but looked away again as soon as he caught those green eyes—as stunning now as they’d always been—and glanced out over the hayfield instead. “So how have things been going here?”

  “Fine. Horses are all healthy at the moment. Can’t ask for better.”

  “Good.” He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Good,” he repeated just to fill the dead air. Why did conversations with Russ always feel so awkward?

  Dad’s fight had been fierce but short. After his father finally moved to rehab, Oscar pretty much stopped coming out here, except to place orders with Russ and pay the bills once a month. He told himself it was because he was plenty busy with monitoring Dad in rehab, working full-time, and parenting the girls, but deep down he knew it was really that he couldn’t bring himself to deal with another loss. Russ never complained, never said a word, just kept on very capably taking care of the horses and the rest of the property.

  Russ was young, that was true, but also smart and experienced with the animals. Oscar discovered he wasn’t as good with managing the farm itself as Lamont and Dad had been. It wasn’t that the man couldn’t do it—no, Oscar was sure Russ was more than capable. But the money end of things wasn’t Russ’s interest; he didn’t want to sit with books and ledgers. He was more of a hands-on guy.

  It hardly mattered now, Oscar supposed, since they were selling anyway.

  He felt bad putting Russ out of work, along with the few guys who were still keeping the farm going, but he didn’t have a choice. It was too expensive to run the place, keep up his and Emmett’s house, and provide for the kids at the same time. Stable Hill was barely breaking even with the hay sales, and Dad had known that; that’s what the half-built indoor ring was about. Dad had planned to start boarding, giving lessons, making that a business. But when Dad couldn’t manage it, all of that fell away.

  Oscar was going to have to help Emily pay for college next year. Sophie was going to need a car and wasn’t too far off to plan for collegewise either. The farm couldn’t sustain itself, and he just didn’t have the money to keep the property up, let alone finish what his father had started. He regretted having t
o sell, but hard decisions had to be made. None of the options were easy.

  Have to be practical. Right? He sighed, resigned. Right.

  Russ coughed, bringing him back to their conversation. “So… we’re meeting a real estate guy?”

  “Yeah. His name is Stokes. Jeffrey Stokes. Have you heard of him? Bob Keller, you know him, Dad’s tractor guy? Stokes sold Keller’s farm about six months ago.”

  Russ shook his head and squinted down the long driveway. “Nope, don’t know the name. Stokes, I mean. I know Keller, of course.”

  “Keller is straight up. Should be a good recommendation.”

  “Yeah.”

  This time when the silence fell between them, Oscar tried to let it be, but Russ seemed way more comfortable with it than he was. He watched the waves of grass blowing in the hayfield and examined the porch railing, which Russ must have painted recently because it looked great. He did pretty much anything but look at Russ; if he were honest, he was a little intimidated. The guy knew the farm inside and out, as Oscar had once when he’d lived with Dad, but didn’t anymore. Russ also knew damn well that he hadn’t spent any real time out here in, well, years really, the last year especially. Russ and Dad had become friends, and sometimes he worried that Russ was closer to Dad than he was.

  “I tried to get the girls to come out here with me today.”

  “Yeah? Bet they’re getting big. Been a while since I seen ’em.”

  “I know.” The last time they were here, the twins were fascinated by Russ’s tour of the barn, and Russ let them ride Lollipop, Dad’s ancient pony, walking them each around the ring on a lead. That had been a nice day for them.

  They’d buried Dad that morning, so it wasn’t his best day, but it was great to see the girls enjoy the property.

  “Car.”

  He looked up. “Sure is.” It was a hell of a car too. A sleek black Mercedes coup. He’d never seen anything so shiny in his father’s driveway before. Stokes parked it alongside his incredibly not-sexy, seven-year-old minivan, and not far from Russ’s old dusty, rusty, red pickup.