by Toni Leland
In the thin light of dawn, Jess sifted through a stack of bills on her desk, trying to decide which ones would go unpaid as a result of the three-hundred-dollar towing fiasco. Fatigue ached through her bones, but her brain felt surprisingly clear. They hadn’t rolled into the farm until after midnight and, by the time the horses were unloaded, and Jazz Man’s hock was x-rayed and stitched, it had been almost three-thirty.
She gazed at the green accounts ledger, softly tracing the silver stamped letters with her fingertips. “Easton Ridge Equestrian Center.” A dream come true, but teetering. Telling Faith about the financial situation took some of the edge off Jess’s self-imposed isolation, but didn’t solve anything.
She flicked off the lights, and wandered out into the barn aisle. A throaty nicker drifted through the quiet air, and Jess grinned as a soft white muzzle poked through the bars.
“Good morning, Miss Casey.”
Jess gazed fondly at the hunter pony that had taken her through puberty and into high school, giving her the self-confidence to be the best jumping student at Westover. At least, until Faith Angelo showed up.
Jess slid the stall door aside and stepped into her favorite world, a universe where carrots and love were the only demands made on her. The graying chestnut mare chuckled softly, eagerly nuzzling pockets for hidden treats. Jess’s problems faded as she offered the golden nuggets.
“You are a little piggy-wig!” She stroked the mare’s smooth neck. “You know, it’s a good thing Faith was so nice, because I
certainly wasn’t about to make friends with her.”
Casey dozed off, her aged body relaxing under Jess’s gentle touch and soft voice. Jess closed her eyes tightly, remembering a scene seven years ago. Beautiful Faith with bloated face, dull eyes, unkempt hair and clothes. How could things have changed so horribly? Charm and talent dissipated into an alcoholic fog.
Now, it seemed that Faith’s demons had returned.
The young girl’s anguished wail sent a painful shot through Jess’s chest.
“Lexie, calm down. He’ll be okay, he just needs some time to heal.”
Distraught, unreasonable teenagers were Faith’s department, but Jess struggled to get the girl to stop crying and listen. A minute later, Lexie’s mother came on the line, and Jess gulped at Doris Troy’s frosty tone.
“Jessica, how could this happen? We put that horse in your care. This was Lexie’s year to go to Brandford. Now what?”
Jess fought the inclination to snarl a sarcastic reply. Doris was opinionated, intrusive, and unforgiving. But rich.
“Doris, Jazz should be fine in a couple of weeks. Lexie can ride one of our jumpers in the meantime.”
“And the vet expense?”
Jess feigned confidence she didn’t feel. “We’ll take care of it.”
Faith stepped into the office, and her optimistic expression turned Jess’s stomach to jelly. There’d be no easy way to soft pedal the financial situation. She took a deep breath and plunged in.
“We’re on the verge of bankruptcy.”
Faith’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Jess, please tell me you’re exaggerating.”
Jess shook her head and held out a handwritten letter. Faith sat down next to the desk, and scanned the sheet of paper.
Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Two weeks? Why would he do this? Three months isn’t that far behind, is it?”
“Frank’s been really good about it, but he wants the rent every month, and on time.” Obviously, Faith had no idea what being three months delinquent really meant. “He knows we’re having money problems and, understandably, he’s trying to protect himself from larger losses.”
Faith didn’t respond, and Jess leaned back in the chair. “We were doing okay ’til the bottom dropped out of the lesson program.”
“But most of the kids are back now–doesn’t that help?”
“Yes, but four months without that income put us way behind. We can’t possibly catch up ’til the end of summer.” She sighed. “And, we have to get the truck fixed or we won’t be able to take students to any horse shows.”
“How much will that cost?”
“I’m waiting for the garage to call with an estimate, but I’d guess a new engine will cost about eight grand.”
“Oh, man! How are we gonna pay for that?”
Jess shook her head, her heart heavy with sadness. “I have some old savings bonds I’ll cash in.”
Faith’s features crumpled. “Aw, Jessie. . .not the ones your grandpa gave you every year?”
“Yeah, but this is no time for sentimentality. I’ll go to Hartford first thing in the morning.” She leaned forward. “Do you think Bill would help out a little? Temporarily?”
An angry glint flashed in Faith’s eyes. “I doubt it! He’s not too crazy about me being here. Says I should stop trying to live in the past.” Her lower lip quivered. “No one’s more self-righteous than a reformed drunk.”
“Are you two still going to AA meetings?”
Faith shifted in the chair and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “Of course.”
Jess sensed a lie, but decided to let it pass. She picked up another sheet of paper.
“I’ve listed all our monthly expenses and marked the critical ones. We have to feed the horses, keep them shod, and pay for vet care. The public liability and vehicle insurance are mandatory. So is the lease payment. The only possibilities I see are canceling the mortality insurance on our own horses, and laying off the barn help–unless we can attract about six more students like Dania Mahfood by the end of the week.” She handed the expense sheet to Faith. “We could also waive our own salaries until we get caught up.”
Faith stared at the page and her voice cracked. “We spend eighteen thousand dollars a month just to operate?”
Jess couldn’t hide a grim smile. “Do the math. We have twenty-two horses here.”
Faith’s shoulders drooped and a forlorn expression darkened her face. “Jessie, we can’t lose this place. I’ve never been happier.”
Jess walked down the quiet barn aisle, thinking about her long friendship with Faith. Until recently, their “little girl plans” had been successful. Easton Ridge had the distinction of being one of the most sought-after riding stables in the area, mostly thanks to Faith’s reputation as a former show-jumping champion.
Jess flipped a light-switch, and the honey-hued knotty pine walls of the trophy room glowed warmly. A large glass-fronted disply case commanded attention. Behind the paned doors, soft light glinted off shiny silver trays, bowls, and loving cups, sparkled through crystal mugs and glasses, and illuminated myriad other prizes won by both women. Beside it, a dark cherrywood cabinet housed a riot of brilliantly colored rosettes and ribbons. At one end of the room, a photographic gallery covered the wall–a lifetime of achievement.
A yellowed newspaper clipping featured the two of them, standing proudly beside their horses, each holding a gleaming trophy. The grins on their young faces told the story, but gazing at the pictures, Jess felt the familiar childhood stab of envy, followed by guilt. Why should she deny Faith her fame? She’d earned it. But the brief stellar career had died, crushed by tragedy and, finally, obliterated with booze.
Sorrow filled Jess’s heart as she flicked off the light and left the carefree days of childhood behind.
Chapter 4
The Hartford skyline came into view, rising to greet Jess like an old friend. She cruised slowly past the former offices of Carson & Banks, the brokerage firm where she’d made incredible amounts of money with her sharp analytical skills and daredevil risk-taking. Compared to the newer structures that had grown up in the adjacent blocks, the stone walls of the Kline Building looked dingy and out-of-date. The investment company had moved to a strip mall on the upscale west side, and several small retail shops had taken up residence in the once-elegant edifice. Jess allowed herself a smug smile. Gut instincts and detailed market scrutiny had driven most of her transactions while she was active
ly brokering, and she’d felt the imminent dot-com collapse well before it happened.
The car wound upward through the concrete spiral of a parking garage, and minutes later, Jess descended the odorous stairwell, recoiling at the strong smell of urine at each landing. She emerged onto the sidewalk, and took a deep breath. The muggy, stale city air pressed against her lungs. On the corner, Old City Bank stood guard over Market Street. Jess pushed through the massive revolving doors, and stepped into the cavernous lobby. The vaulted ceiling muffled all sounds, creating a hushed and secretive atmosphere. Give me my village bank any day. She obediently moved through the empty rope maze toward the cashier counter, then presented her safe-deposit key to a teller.
Inside the vault, a mosaic of steel squares filled two walls, floor to ceiling. The heavy plate glass door closed silently behind the retreating teller, a muffled hum the only indication that the lock had engaged.
Staring at the small metal box, Jess felt like a thief. Grandpa would be so disappointed to know his gifts would be used for something as mundane as paying bills. She took a short breath, then opened the lid. A faded black velvet case lay in the bottom of the box. Tears burned her eyelids as she stroked the soft fabric before opening it to gaze at her mother’s gold retirement watch. It would be Jess’s only remaining legacy when she left the bank.
Faith stood beside the desk, arms crossed over her well-endowed chest, a frown meshing her fine eyebrows into a single line. “You have to be kidding! Can’t we wait until after the schooling show? I need the extra help.”
Jess tried to keep exasperation from coloring her tone. “I told you–if we’re going to fix this problem, we have to take drastic measures. You and I can clean stalls.”
“We could ask the boarders to do their own.”
Jess shook her head fiercely. “No, we can’t let the customers know the situation–that would really be the end. You know how rumors fly.”
Faith glowered. “Some fancy operation this turned out to be!”
She flounced out of the room, and Jess bit back a nasty retort. Faith’s aggressive attitude was completely out of character. Jess shook her head at the probability of yet another problem on her plate.
She paged through the accounting ledger. They’d had a fair month, and maybe without the expense of three stable hands, she could scrape together the rest of the past-due lease payments. A quick glance at the calendar revealed that time was not on their side.The phone shrilled and she cleared her throat.
“Easton Ridge, Jessica Rayder.”
A minute later, she wanted to disappear forever. “Thanks, Doc. See you in a while.”
She found Faith in the feed room, writing up a grain order.
“Are you ready for this? Jazz Man has a hairline fracture just below the hock.”
Faith’s jaw dropped, and dismay clouded her face. “Holy Cow! Now what?”
“You tell me. I can’t believe I have to call Doris with this news.” Jess ran her finger along the edge of a grain bin. “Any chance Lexie could ride Manifesto?”
Jess held her breath. Faith never allowed anyone to ride her show horses.
Faith tilted her head. “Why can’t she ride Danny?”
Jess exhaled slowly, controlling her temper. “Okay. Just thought I’d ask. By the way, I’ve ordered the show lunch from the A&P deli. I can pick it up at seven on Saturday morning.”
“The A&P? What happened to Anne’s Catering?”
“Too expensive. I’m skipping the tent, too.”
“You really are putting us on a budget. Maybe you should take up playing poker again.” Faith smiled sheepishly. “Sorry I shot off my big mouth a while ago. I know you’re just doing what’s needed.”
Jess nodded, but didn’t smile. “I need all the support you can give me.”
“Did you get to Hartford?”
“Yeah–did you talk to Bill?
Faith shook her head, her tone evasive. “He came home late. I was asleep.”
Jess had a brief image of the arrogant realtor Faith had met at an AA meeting two years earlier. To Jess, they’d seemed an unlikely match, but he’d provided Faith with much-needed emotional support, so Jess had reserved judgment.
She nodded, quelling the impulse to press the issue. “Maybe you can talk to him tonight.”
Faith grunted and turned her attention back to the clipboard without responding.
Jess left the feed room and headed down the aisle toward the stalls at the north end of the barn. A tall gray Anglo-Arab gelding bobbed his head and snorted.
“Hey, Danny, how’s my boy today?”
The horse whinnied enthusiastically, and Jess chuckled as she slipped a halter over his ears. Ten minutes later, she buckled her riding helmet, and led the horse out into the sunshine.
Nothing lifted her spirits quicker than a good ride. The strong rhythmic movements of Steely Dan’s body rippled through her legs, making her own body flow with his. She trotted him along the rail, feeling his energy and enthusiasm. His steady trot thumped in the soft dirt, and he snorted at the small puffs of dust. Jess urged him into a canter, and the air ruffled through his black mane. A thrill moved through her. Just like the old days. Danny picked up speed and collected himself before lifting effortlessly over the first jump. Jess became one with the horse, and all her dismal thoughts and frightening problems disappeared.
Anxiety gnawed through Jess’s gut and a band tightened around her chest. For the past few hours, she’d thrown herself into the organization and management of the upcoming schooling show, edging all other problems from her conscious thoughts. Now, the landlord’s letter lurked like a tiger, ready to pounce and tear out her throat.
She skimmed the words. “. . .hate to do this. . .can’t let more time go by. . .need full payment in two weeks. . .”
She’d have to call him and ask for more time.
Several clients were late with their board, and the monthly bills were accumulating. A cold lump formed in the pit of her stomach as she slid a letter opener along the edge of the credit card statement. She knew the balance would be high, but she gasped anyway. Over eleven thousand dollars. She’d been in denial, coasting on credit and over-confidence, sure that any day, things would change. And they certainly had.
“Frank? Jess Rayder. . .Yeah, things are starting to pick up. Listen, I’d like you to come over when you have some time. I have a partial payment for you, and I want to discuss our situation.”
The elderly man’s voice sounded warm and friendly. “Sure, Miss Jessie. I can stop by tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it. We’ll get square with you, I promise.”
She hung up the phone and stared at the stack of mail. Tap-dancing had never been her long suit, but lately she was getting awfully good. A car door slammed, and she glanced out the window. Doc Stevens opened one of the compartments on his mobile clinic truck, and began gathering what he’d need to cast Jazz Man’s leg.
Feeling like she might throw up, Jess reached for the phone to call Doris Troy.
Chapter 5
Jess pushed through the heavy glass doors of the Seven Rivers Casino, suddenly wondering if her spur-of-the-moment decision to get away for a while was just a little indulgent. A good meal and a change of scenery seemed like a good idea, but more than that, she simply wanted to do something she could control.
She sucked in a deep breath, trying to adjust to the deafening clamor of raucous laughter, hundreds of loud voices, slot machines, and money rattling into metal trays, punctuated every few minutes by an obnoxious bell clanging the news of a winner. Faith’s taunt echoed in her head. Poker playing had always been strictly recreational, and with great confidence in her skill, Jess usually came out on top. But she’d never viewed the talent as a way to make a living, or solve problems. Her father’s warning drifted into her thoughts. “Don’t play if you can’t afford to lose.” She pulled a wad of bills from her purse and stuffed it into her pocket, remembering her saucy retort. “Daddy, I never
lose.” Okay, so this idea was a little risky, but the alternative was worse.
“May I help you?”
A tall, slim black woman stepped up close, her friendly wide smile producing crinkles around her large brown eyes. She wore a tailored gray suit, and a name badge identifying her as “Elvora, Player Development Manager, Seven Rivers Casino.”
Jess squinted at the nametag, and the woman chuckled. “Sounds really important, huh?”
Jess grinned. “Yes. . .I’m looking for the poker tables.”
Elvora pointed toward the far corner of the casino. “Right over there, honey. You have a great night.”
Samir moved across the casino floor toward the café, thinking about his daughter’s excitement over her first riding lesson. Both his wife and Dania were delighted with the new adventure and, for this, he thanked Allaah. Glancing over the captive crowds at the gaming tables, he felt contempt for the lack of self-discipline that ruled gamblers. His gaze stopped abruptly, focusing on a poker table at the perimeter of the room. That is one of the riding instructors. I am sure of it.
Intrigued, he moved closer, staying well out of the woman’s line of sight. He’d thoroughly researched Easton Ridge, and knew many details about the two women, but not this. For the next twenty minutes, he watched her play–aggressive and self-assured, almost cocky. And very skilled. But something else simmered beneath her confident exterior–intensity with a nervous edge. Samir recognized the body language of a driven human being. If she had come to the casino to have fun and relax, she wasn’t doing either.
For the next two hours, Jess played carefully, keeping her bets reasonable, and winning most of the hands. Confidence took charge and she made progressively larger bets. As the stakes rose, so did her winnings.
The dealer announced a fifteen-minute break for the shift change, and Jess leaned back in the chair and gazed at the three stacks of chips in front of her.
A deep voice cut through her concentration.