by Laura Moore
“It’s a shame Mrs. Kline doesn’t have your heart or your generosity. Come on, let’s get out of here. You need to take me home before I break a cherished rule of etiquette here in Virginia and throttle our hostess.”
28
S he snuck out of the house silently as a shadow before even the dawn had shown its face. The quiet darkness soothed. All she needed was an hour alone. An hour to gather her thoughts, to prepare herself mentally for the trip ahead, for the chaos and excitement to come.
This was it.
They were leaving at six-thirty sharp, barring any unforeseen delays. Loading Orion and Limelight and heading off to the Hamptons. To the Classic.
She thought they just might be able to pull it off. And she wanted it so badly, it was scary.
Oh, she didn’t necessarily expect that they were going to go out and win the Grand Prix. Orion was still young. If he didn’t get it this year, she knew in her heart that his day would come. He was destined for great things. But she was hoping to do right by him. To give him that fighting chance, to shine brightly amidst the glitter and sparkle of what was one of the most prestigious shows in the Northeast. She wanted it for him, for Caleb, for Hank. And, yes, for herself, too. As of yet, she hadn’t met the new owners who had purchased Orion, didn’t know when they’d put in an appearance. But they had given her the chance to take an incredible horse to the Classic and she wanted to prove to them what she could do.
For Cassie, the Classic was different from any of the other shows they’d competed at this summer. She was going home. Riding at a show where she’d literally cut her baby teeth. She’d never mentioned it to Hank or Caleb, but some of her earliest moments of glory had occurred at the Classic. Before her father had died, there’d been a box that Cassie’s mother had stored in the attic of her parents’ home with all of Cassie’s childhood ribbons that Cassie occasionally enjoyed rummaging through. Way down at the very bottom were the faded ribbons she’d received in the lead-line class at the Hampton Classic, won when she must have been all of five years old. No older than Sophie and Jamie, she thought with a smile.
There were the memories. And now in the present, there were her fellow rivals. She knew them well. Sam Waters would be there, among many others. Truly great riders, truly great horses. As competitive as she was, Cassie couldn’t help but want Orion and herself to be in top form, pitting themselves against some of the best equestrians in the country.
As a team, she and Orion had come a long way in an exceedingly short period of time. She’d been lucky things had clicked so well between the two of them. With each passing day, she was understanding the horse’s temperament better and better. He was an intelligent animal. When he didn’t like something, he made it abundantly clear. This season, Cassie had worked hard, building his confidence, showing the horse that he could handle just about anything a course designer threw at them. Even so, the Hampton Classic’s Grand Prix course was renowned, not only for its beauty but also for the difficulty and challenge of its fences. Oxers, walls, ditches, windmills. And one couldn’t forget the water jumps.
The water jumps alone had been the literal downfall of many a rider. Getting a horse to clear a twelve-to-fourteen-foot expanse of water could be a lot trickier than simply getting it to jump up and over a formidably high obstacle. Better riders than she had been stymied by the Classic’s water jumps.
While she sat, staring blindly at the mirrorlike surface of the frog pond, a symphony had begun all around her birds chirping and warbling loudly from the treetops. It played on, unnoticed by Cassie, her thoughts still on the days to come. She remained there, at the water’s edge, striving for calm, equally determined to keep it. At least until she made it to Grand Prix Sunday.
Route 27 was a nightmare. After leaving the exit on the Long Island Expressway, Route 27 served as the main artery to eastern Long Island. It cut a straight path through the Hamptons right out to Montauk, the Island’s eastern tip.
But with Route 27, straight didn’t mean fast. During the summer months, traffic became so congested with vacationers, summer renters, and day-trippers, that cars were forced to slow to a crawl, inching along the two-lane road. While Cassie was familiar with a few of the back roads the locals used as short-cuts to avoid the horrors of 27, unfortunately the horse van was simply too big to negotiate the smaller roads or the train overpasses that crisscrossed above them.
So they sat. Stuck. Sweating. Staring at the back of Five Oaks’s van which they’d been following for the past four-hundred miles or so. Cassie could only thank God that she’d been smart enough to send Thompson, Jamie, and Sophie by plane to New York to rendezvous with Alex. She could just imagine how major, how monumental a disaster it would have been, having two fidgety five-year-olds stuck in the back seat for this long a drive. Most likely Cassie would have thrown in the towel, insisting they turn around somewhere in southern New Jersey.
Even without Jamie and Sophie antsy and bickering at each other, the trip was incredibly frustrating. It was cruel, mental torture, knowing that you could probably walk to your destination faster than these cars pathetically slithering along with all the speed of a dying snake. Their car was just a tiny metallic dot along the endless line of traffic into the Hamptons.
“What are all these people doing here?” Caleb’s patience, too, was wearing extremely thin.
“They’re escaping from New York,” Hank responded, with far more equanimity. He had the plum seat—stretched out along the back, legs up, a pillow for his neck, a can of soda propped against his stomach. “Just like in the movie. Don’t you remember that film with what’s his name— Snake Plisken?”
“Naw, Hank, I’m pretty sure what we’re seeing here is Deep Impact, but the dumb clucks are all going in the wrong direction. This . . .” Caleb said, waving a hand at the potato fields sprinkled liberally with expensive, oversized summer homes, “all this is ground zero.”
“Well, in that case, we can just hope that a tidal wave is gonna come real soon and put us out of our misery. Cassie, keep your eyes peeled.”
“No problem. I’ll just look out for the only thing moving at a decent speed.”
Inch by inch they rolled through the town of Watermill, and then finally into Bridgehampton, home of the Hampton Classic. Cassie sat forward expectantly, her eyes scanning the highway. “Caleb, the turnoff’s going to be up on your left, Snake Hollow Road. I hope Raff sees it.”
“Slim, at the speed we’re rolling, Raff would have to be sitting with his eyes shut tight to miss it.”
Cassie needn’t have worried. A police patrolman was directing all the horse vans, indicating the road with a practiced flick of his forearm. Since the opening day at the Classic, there had been such a constant stream of trailers coming through that in order to accommodate the surplus traffic, select roads leading to the show grounds had been closed to all other traffic.
It was like being newly sprung from jail, Cassie thought, stretching, raising her arms high above her head, twisting her torso left and right, taking it all in.
All around, the Classic was already in full swing, the show having started the previous day. The hustle and bustle of activity, riders coming and going, vans moving in and out, the enormous, brightly striped tents—all added to the feeling of a wondrous carnival come to town.
Cassie’s first classes with Orion and Limelight were scheduled for the following morning. But before then, there was tons to be done. Hours would pass spent unloading the horses, walking them, longeing them lightly, then watering and feeding them. That was the easy straightforward part, dealing with the animals. The show coordinators also had to be contacted, vaccination records and other paperwork presented, exhibitor passes for the show grounds procured.
Then the stalls had to be checked and prepared, bedding, hay, and bags of grain unloaded. For the two horses, Limelight and Orion, they’d been obliged to reserve four stalls. Limelight would get one. Orion would be placed in the middle stall, an empty one on either side.
Hank and Caleb had wanted to minimize as much as possible the chance for Orion to kick up a fuss. Isolating him was their best guarantee.
“Cassie, you and Caleb deal with the horses. Raff, you come with me. We’ll find out where our stalls are, make sure there are no screwups with the arrangements. Tony and Mike, stay with the van and help unload. Raff and I will come back as soon as we can.” Hank was in his military mode, with everyone following his orders as quickly and efficiently as they could. Knowing it was the only way they’d ever get through the myriad of chores.
Cassie and Caleb got down to work. Caleb went for the stallion first, unloading Orion and then handing him over to Tony so Cassie could unwrap his bandages. Then repeating the process all over again with Limelight given to Mike.
That much accomplished, Caleb held both horses’ leads while Cassie ran to fetch the longe lines stored away in the tack box in the back of the van.
After threading the longes through the horses’ halters and eyeing the way Orion was refusing to keep all four hooves on the ground, Cassie suggested, “You should probably take Orion, Caleb. He’s really wound up right now. This place is pretty busy.”
“Good idea. I don’t want him tossing you around.”
Cassie watched as Caleb held the line tight beneath the stallion’s halter keeping him under firm control. Sometimes being six-foot-two had definite advantages.
Limelight was feeling perky, too. The long ride in the van had affected even the gelding’s more mellow disposition. Both horses were in sore need of exercise to release all that energy.
They spent the next hour walking, longeing, then walking the horses some more, letting them work out their extra energy and high spirits as much as possible. That was the biggest drawback to these week-long horse shows. The horses were deprived of their normal pastures to run in, where steam could be blown off naturally.
Horses needed freedom in addition to the exercise that longeing and riding offered. Cassie knew that by the end of the week, they were all, humans as well as horses, going to be longing for Five Oaks’s acres of fenced pasture.
For their own accommodations, Hank had picked a place called Cozy Cabins. A convenient location, the motel was located about four miles from the showgrounds. And they’d advertised kitchenettes. Having a snack at midnight or breakfast before dawn was an essential criterion, one Cassie had insisted on.
Hank was sharing a cabin with Rafflael. Tony and Mike, the two grooms, would remain on the show grounds, sleeping on fold-out cots in the van, near the horses in case of emergency.
Cassie and Caleb would be staying at Cozy Cabins, too, sharing a cabin of their own. Because of their recent argument over the topic of sleeping arrangements, Caleb had been uncertain how Cassie would react to the idea of sleeping together rather than Caleb bunking with Hank and Raffael. So he’d approached her with a certain amount of trepidation. He’d been thrilled, though a bit baffled, when she’d merely smiled and said, “Of course,” offering no further explanation.
He wished he could figure out how women’s minds worked.
But he certainly wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. This way he’d have a better chance at stealing her away to the beach one night, the engagement ring nestled in its velvet-covered box, snug in his front pocket, and he could pop the question.
Moonlight and diamonds for Cassie, that’s what he wanted.
It was close to eight at night by the time they carried their duffel bags in from the Jeep. Cassie had extra stuff too. A garment bag loaded with riding jackets, breeches, and pressed rat-catchers: those button-down, cotton shirts with collars that looked similar to a cleric’s worn by the female competitors at horse shows. Another bag carried her field boots and hunt cap. Hank had reserved their cabins next door to each other as everyone’s comings and goings would often be synchronized.
Before he disappeared into his own cabin to unpack and wash off the day’s grime, Hank paused, addressing Caleb. “I’ve got to call Melissa. Let her know we got here safe and sound.”
Melissa had volunteered to stay and supervise the running of Five Oaks. Although she was sad not to see Cassie and Orion compete, she knew how worried Hank would be, were someone else left in charge.
“Give her my love. Tell her we miss her already. Cassie’s going to call her brother, too. They’re out here, somewhere nearby.”
“You guys interested in grabbing something to eat a little later?”
“Sounds good. I’m starving.”
“Well, just give a knock when you’re ready, then.”
“Sorry it’s so late, Alex, I hope you weren’t worried. The traffic was a disaster we didn’t get in until midafternoon. Then we had to get the horses settled. How are you doing? The kids behaving at Aunt Grace’s?”
“They’ve been super. Great-aunt Grace is completely charmed. The kids spent all day at the beach, had the time of their lives.”
“I’m so glad. They would have been just miserable, sitting in that car all day.”
“So when’s your first class tomorrow? When should the fans arrive?”
“Tomorrow morning. But come when you like. I’ve gotten passes for all of you, Diana included. Keep an eye open for Hank, he’ll give them to you, if I’m not around. And don’t forget those wrist bands for the Grand Prix tent. I tend to doubt Diana would find it amusing being bounced from the tent by one of the security guards.”
“Don’t worry about us, or Diana. You’ve got enough on your plate . . .” Cassie heard Alex sigh heavily into the phone. “But speaking of plates, that reminds me. There’s this party Diana’s all fired up about.”
“The exhibitor/patron party?”
“No, I think it’s another, even swankier party. It’s at some director’s house. But apparently, coming with a rider from the Classic puts you at the top of the heap. Would you mind, Cass?”
Cassie sighed in return. “Sure, I’ll go, but you’ll have to count on including Caleb and Hank. They’re my excuse to duck out early.” Alex’s laugh came over the line. “When is this party anyway?”
“Saturday night.”
“What? Before the Grand Prix!” Diana certainly had nerve. What did she think, that Cassie typically partied all night before an event like this? What had she gotten herself into? “Listen, Alex, I’ll agree to go for a drink at the cocktail, but then I’m ditching you. By that time I’m sure Diana will have found loads of people more interesting than us lowly equestrians.”
“Fine by me, Cassie. You’re a love to do this. I’m not into this stuff, either, but Diana’s been talking about it for the past month. She’s convinced there’s a certain cachet walking into this bash with one of the top competitors.”
At Cassie’s snort of disgust, Alex said, “I know ridiculous, but take it as a compliment. At least Diana has recognized what a good rider you are.”
“Alex, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
He laughed. “Don’t be a brat, sis. Anyway, I want to enjoy myself with the kids this week. I’d never hear the end of it if she misses out on the big party of the season.”
“So this is like a preemptive strike, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to hang around there too long, either. If I can’t drag her away at a reasonable time, I’ve told her she’ll have to find her own way home.”
“Oh, you mean, who you leave with is different from who you show up with?”
“Now you’re catching on. You’ll be a socialite in a few short lessons.”
“Oh, please, save me.”
“Good night, Cass. And good luck. We’ll be cheering for you. Love you.”
“Love you, too. ’Bye.”
Alex Miller dropped the receiver back in its cradle, grimacing. Christ, he hated roping Cassie into these sorts of events. It shouldn’t be her problem, too, that Diana was becoming increasingly tiresome, doing her level best to manipulate him as often as possible.
These days, Alex simply didn’t give a damn what kind of a pai
n in the neck Diana was. Maybe he was suffering from some sort of delayed shock, a numbing grief. When Tom and Dad and Lisa had died, he’d thrown himself into work, his only concern making piles of money and taking care of Cassie and the twins. He guessed he’d succeeded there.
He’d made more money than he had use for and now Cassie had a stallion most breeders dreamed about. And Cassie seemed to be doing great. She sounded happy and the twins were obviously thriving. Yes, he’d succeeded just great: they didn’t need him anymore.
So what was he left with? An intense love for his family. Piles of money that hadn’t diminished even after the purchase of Orion when Alex transferred a small fortune into Pamela Ross’s open hands. He also had a job that symbolized power and control. And a mistress, a lover or whatever she wanted to call herself, who was becoming increasingly stale—no matter how imaginative she tried to be in bed.
So why not give Diana her walking papers? He was good at that. After all, he’d more than enough practice.
It all came back to that numbness inside him. If he couldn’t feel anything, why should he possibly care one way or another about Diana’s manipulations? And while his soul might be frozen colder than Antarctica, his thirty-year-old body seemed to be functioning just fine. In that respect, Diana served those needs admirably top of the class. Besides, she was easy to understand. Indeed, they understood each other only too well. He used her body, she used his money and social position. Yeah, thought Alex cynically. He simply was a traditionalist, following a triedand-true exchange that had existed for centuries between the two sexes.
No way was he going to trouble his little sister with the mess his private life had become.
29
