by Joan Wolf
“Shit,” I said. “The police have no case against Liam. This kind of thing shouldn't be allowed.”
“They only said that he was one of the people questioned in regard to the murder,” my mother pointed out. “They didn't say he did it.”
“They didn't show any of the other people who were questioned.”
“The other people aren't the son of a U.S. senator and didn't just win the Kentucky Derby.”
“There's Kevin. He's bigger news than Liam. They only mentioned him in passing.”
“True.”
“This case is horrible, Mom. It's like a curse that you can't get rid of.”
“I don't think they're ever going to solve it, Anne. It was too long ago.”
I sighed.
My mother stood up. “I'm tired; I'm going to bed.”
I got up to kiss her goodnight. “I won't be long after you,” I said. “I just want to get the weather.”
“Goodnight, honey.”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
She stopped at the staircase and looked at me. “You know, this is the worst, knowing that I have to get into that empty bed and sleep alone.”
“I know.”
Tears filled my eyes as I watched her go up the stairs. She was still young and pretty, my mother. I wondered if someday she might marry again.
“Everything just stinks,” I said out loud.
Then I thought of the Kentucky Derby and the upcoming Preakness Stakes. Well, perhaps not everything, I corrected myself.
The weather was over and I stood up, turned off the television and went upstairs to bed.
On Saturday and Sunday Midville held its annual Hunt Country Stable Tour. A selection of local stables opened their doors from 10 to 5 for those who had bought a ticket to benefit Trinity Episcopal Church's outreach programs. Newstead Farm, which belonged to Bertram and Diana Firestone, would be shown, as well as the Mellon barn, Rokeby; Pine Tree, which was owned by the Michael-sons; and Andy Bartholomew's barn, Blue Ridges. Wellington always took part in this charitable endeavor and this year was no exception.
All the hotels and B&Bs in Midville were booked for the weekend. Midville itself was a tourist attraction, with its quality shops, art galleries, fine restaurants, and legendary inns. The village had been named for its location as the midpoint stagecoach stop of the Alexandria-Winchester Turnpike; today it was the midpoint of the Virginia horse industry.
Wellington did not open all of its barns to the tour; it opened the broodmare barn, which was built around a courtyard with the statue of On Course in the center. The visitors could also view the acres of rolling fields and horse paddocks populated with mares and their babies.
When I drove up to the barn at nine o'clock I had to pass a girl standing in the driveway checking tickets. There were already some tourists walking along the stalls, reading the names on the brass plates and standing in front of the monument to On Course, Wellington's biggest star until Someday Soon had come along.
I stayed for an hour, answering questions and trying to project an air of welcome. At ten o'clock I was surprised to see Senator Wellington appear. He was dressed in chinos and a blue knit shirt, with brown loafers on his bare feet, and he carried a cup of coffee in one hand.
“Good morning, Senator,” I said. My voice must have given away my surprise because he gave me a charming grin and said, “We politicians never miss an opportunity to press the flesh, Anne.”
He was a very good-looking man, almost as slim as Liam, with a minimum of gray in his thick blond hair. He exuded charisma. I don't know why I was so uncomfortable around him, but I was. I responded to his smile with a forced one of my own and said, “It's starting to get crowded now. You'll have a better audience.”
“Senator Wellington!” A woman came up to us. “How wonderful to meet you. Your office helped me out with an immigration problem last year. They were wonderful.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” Senator Wellington replied. He began to talk to the woman and I turned away.
A young girl came up to me and asked, “Where is the mother of Someday Soon?”
“She's out in the paddock with her new baby,” I said.
“Can you point out which paddock?”
“Sure. Come along with me.”
I took the girl out to the paddock and pointed out Pennyroyal, with baby by her side.
“She's beautiful,” the girl said. “It must be so exciting having a Kentucky Derby winner.”
“It certainly is.”
The girl was about fifteen, and I stood talking to her for a few minutes. We then walked back to the barn and the girl said, “OhmyGod, it's Kevin Wellington.”
It was indeed Kevin, who had come down to the barn to look for me. “Oh there you are, Anne.”
“Yes.”
The girl next to me sounded as if she were hyperventilating. I suppressed a smile and said to her, “I'm so sorry but I don't know your name.”
“Sarah,” she breathed.
“Sarah, this is Kevin Wellington.”
“I love your movies,” Sarah said. “I've seen them all.”
Kevin gave her his professional smile. “Thank you. That's always nice to hear.”
“Do you… would you …” She held up her Stable Tour program. “Would you mind signing this for me?”
“Not at all.” Kevin took the program and scribbled his name.
“Thank you!”
“You're welcome.” He looked at me. “I'm going to the driving range to hit some golf balls. Do you want to come?”
“Thanks, but I can't. I promised Liam I would sort of monitor the stable tour for him.”
“Why can't he do that himself?”
“He has a breeding appointment for Thunderhead this morning.”
Kevin lifted an eyebrow. “Don't you think you're getting old to be Liam's little errand girl?”
I smiled. “Old habits die hard.”
A group of people had formed next to us, obviously waiting to ask Kevin for his autograph. “I'll leave you to your fans,” I said.
He nodded at me, his blue eyes chilly, and his fans moved in. I went to get a bottle of water from the cooler I had in my car. Kevin signed for all the autograph-seekers, then left, and I took another group of people out to see Pennyroyal.
CHAPTER 12
At noon, Liam put in an appearance at the broodmare barn. “How are things going?” he asked me.
“Very well. I've answered a ton of questions and pointed out Someday Soon's mother to an assortment of people.”
“Thanks a million, Annie. I don't like to leave the barn unattended on days like this. Some idiot might just decide to light up a cigarette.”
“Everyone has been very well behaved.”
A woman came up to us. “Excuse me, but is it possible for us to see Someday Soon?”
“He's at the racetrack, ma'am,” Liam said. “He won't be coming back here until the season is over.”
The lady moved away and Liam said to me, “Do you want to come back to the house for some lunch? Chip promised me he'd keep an eye on things here.”
Chip Owens was Liam's farm manager, the one who saw to the maintenance of the farm: the mowing, fencing, trucks, tractors, and manure spreaders. He arrived at the barn within fifteen minutes and Liam and I were free to go to lunch.
There were two dogs in the truck with Liam, and I had to sit in the middle of the seat so the dogs could look out the window. “How did the breeding go?” I asked as he drove along the farm road in the direction of the house.
“Very well. The mare was a good girl. We got it on the first try.”
“What are you charging for Thunderhead's stud fee?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars. If Buster wins the Triple Crown I can quadruple that.”
“And think of the price Buster himself will command.”
“I know. As long as the farm stays intact, I'll be sitting pretty. I don't need Dad's money to keep going; the farm will be able to pay fo
r itself.”
We reached the house and the dogs piled out of the truck and went to lie down on the front porch. We went into the house, through the hallway and the dining room and into the kitchen. It was empty. Liam went to the refrigerator and opened it to look inside.
“It looks pretty bare,” he said.
“Maybe Mary hasn't gotten around to shopping this week.”
“There are eggs. Do you want scrambled eggs?”
“Not really. How about tunafish? Is there any tunafish?”
He opened a tall cupboard and looked inside. “Not that I can see.”
“Do you feel like going into the Coach Stop?”
“Good idea.”
We got back into the truck. I watched his hands on the steering wheel as we turned onto Wellington Road. They were slim and long-fingered. I imagined one of those hands touching my breast and my breath quickened.
He said, “I hear you had dinner with Kevin last night.”
I decided not to mention the presence of Michael and Kevin's agent. “Yes. We went to the Spinning Wheel. I haven't been there in ages.”
“What is this anyway, going out with Kevin? Was it a date?”
“It was a man and a woman who like each other having dinner. Is that so surprising?”
He scowled. “I hope you're not going to start dating Kevin, Annie. That would be a big mistake.”
“Why?”
“Kevin's not your type.”
“And pray tell then, who is my type? Michael Bates?”
“Bates is a divorced man. You should stay away from him.”
“Is there anyone you would approve of my going out with?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. This was looking promising. “Not Kevin,” he said. “Kevin is like your brother.”
“Please don't start that stuff again. You choose to think of me as a sister, and I can't help that, but I can assure you that Kevin has no such hang-ups. Nor do I.”
“I thought you were interested in me!”
“I was, but you squashed that pretty fast. I'm not going to become a nun because of your phobia.”
“All right. Go out with whomever you want. But stay away from Kevin.”
“Why?”
“He really isn't your type.”
“You have no idea of what my type is.”
“It's someone like me.”
I said soberly, “There is no one else like you.”
We pulled up in front of the Coach Stop and, miracle of miracles, there was a parking space. We got out and went into the restaurant.
I saw Brent Walker in the corner with another man. He waved to me and I waved back.
“Isn't that my father's flunky?” Liam demanded.
“He is your father's aide,” I corrected.
“Have you gone out with him?”
“We had dinner one night.”
“Jeez, Annie, do you ever stay home with your mother?”
“Yes, I do,” I said hotly. “What a rotten thing to say.”
“I'm sorry, but it seems to me you're dating every eligible guy who comes your way.”
“And if I am, it's none of your business, Liam. Do I ask you who you're dating?”
“I just broke up with Dotty Carmichael,” he said stiffly.
“Lucky Dotty,” I said.
“There's no need to get nasty.”
“Do you know something, Liam? You're a real dog in the manger. You don't want the bone but you don't want anyone else to have it either.”
His splendid arrogant nose quivered.
Good, I thought. That one got him.
I stared into his cobalt blue eyes and I liked what I saw there. There was anger, but there was also confusion.
Excellent. Clearly I had to keep on dating Kevin. Kevin was the one who had exacted the biggest response.
The waitress came to our table and I ordered a tunafish sandwich. We spent the rest of lunch talking about the upcoming Preakness and how Buster was training for it.
I went back to the farm with Liam because I had left my car there. He had another breeding session that afternoon and I asked him if I could watch. He was agreeable, so I tagged along with him.
The breeding shed was a large square building with a high steel roof. Because the walls were unpadded, mare and stallion mated in the middle of the floor, instead of pressed against the wall the way they did it in Kentucky.
The breeding team had assembled in the shed and the men were talking about last night's baseball game when we came in. The mare was brought in first, after she finished her session with the teaser stallion. The teaser is a gentle horse, usually a quarter horse, whose job it is to stroke the mare's libido by his own interest. He gets the mare ready for the stud, in other words.
Quickly the men prepared the mare. First her genital area was scrubbed with disinfectant. Then one of them wrapped her tail in gauze, a precaution that prevented a long, sharp, stray hair from working its way into the act, getting stuck and causing lacerations to the stallion. A leather strap was attached to one of her forelegs. This would be used to hold her leg off the ground so she couldn't kick the stallion. For the safety of the stallion, she was also fitted out in padded booties on her hind feet. Finally, a leather mantle was placed over her shoulders, for protection in case the stallion tried to bite her.
Thunderhead came in on two legs, roaring loudly enough to shake the roof. The mare moved a little uneasily and the man at her head murmured reassuringly. Thunderhead roared again and began pawing at the ground, arching his neck and flailing his tail. He knew what he was here for and he was ready for action. The man holding his chain lead shank brought him closer to the mare.
The four men in the barn prepared to facilitate the action. One of the men put a twitch on the mare's nose, to keep her standing quiet. The leg strap man lifted her foreleg off the ground. The tail man held her tail out of the way, and the fourth man guided Thunderhead to the place he was looking for.
The thirty most expensive seconds in sports took place.
Before he dismounted, Thunderhead made a little nickering sound and pressed his face to the mare's covered shoulder.
“How sweet,” I said.
The much quieter Thunderhead was led away and the mare was taken back to her stall. “Where is she from?” I asked Liam.
He gave me a triumphant look. “She's from Kentucky.”
“Wow. Her owner is getting in on the bargain basement price.”
“I have five more Kentucky mares booked this month. I booked them the day after Buster won the Derby.”
“Did you boost your price?”
“I doubled it.”
“That's great.”
He nodded.
I said, “Thunderhead seems to enjoy his work.”
“He does. Which is why I'm giving him the time off when breeding season is over and not shipping him to South America.” He was referring to the practice pioneered by the Irish stud Coolmore, of sending stallions to the Southern Hemisphere, where the seasons were turned around, so that they could double their bookings.
“Good for you,” I said.
We were walking back to his truck. “Where did you leave your car?”
“Over by the broodmare barn.”
“Okay.”
We both got into the truck and Liam began to drive. A Jeep Cherokee was coming up the road in our direction and I recognized Kevin at the wheel of his rental. I waved. “Look, it's Kevin.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Kevin held up his hand indicating that we should stop. Liam did and Kevin got out of the Jeep and came over to my window. “There's a concert in Washington tomorrow night at the Kennedy Center and I've been invited. Would you like to come with me? The president is going to be there.”
“Wow,” I said. “How fun.”
“It's formal. Do you have a gown with you?”
“I don't, but it's not too late for me to nip into Tyson's Corner and buy something.”
�
�I'll drive you if you like. I'm very good at judging evening gowns.”
“That would be wonderful. Thanks a million, Kevin. I'll take my car home right away. Can you pick me up?”
“Certainly. I'll see you at your house in a half an hour.”
“Great.”
Kevin drove off and Liam, who had listened to our exchange with a stony countenance, said, “Didn't I just tell you to stay away from Kevin?”
“You did and, as you can see, I have absolutely no intention of listening to you.”
“He bribed you and you fell for it.”
“Liam, he asked me out and I accepted. Get over it.”
He stopped driving and turned to look at me. “Why are you doing this to me? I was so happy to see you, and we were getting along just fine, and then you started this business with Kevin.”
“How on earth can my going out with Kevin hurt you?”
“I worry about you with him.”
“What do you think he's going to do? Rape me?”
“No. But Kevin has his own agenda, Annie. And that agenda might not coincide with yours.”
“All I know is that I was just invited to a great concert by the most handsome man in Hollywood, and I'm looking forward to going. So please don't say another word.”
“Okay, okay. But I think you're making a mistake.”
“Fine. That's your prerogative. Just don't tell me about it.”
He pulled into the parking area for the broodmare's barn, stopped the truck and waited for me to get out.
I flipped my hand in farewell and climbed down.
“If you get hurt, don't say I didn't tell you so.”
“Stop being such a doom-sayer. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I collected my car and drove home. I had changed my clothes and was just coming down the stairs when my mother came in from school.
I felt a pang of guilt. Liam was right. I never seemed to stay home with her.
I'll be here with her tonight, I thought. I went to kiss her. “How was your day?”
“Okay. What about yours?” She put her bookbag down on a hall chair.
“I watched Thunderhead cover a mare this afternoon.”
She gave me an amused smile. “How nice.”
“And Kevin invited me to a concert at the Kennedy Center tomorrow night. The president is going to be there. I said I'd go. Is that all right with you?”
