by Nancy Loyan
“Albert Collingsworth cannot buy me. I’m not for sale.”
“He’s giving you an amazing wedding gift. A gift. Your mother and I think it’s wonderful that you are engaged to a beautiful woman with such a generous father. I’ve known Albert for years, and I’ve never seen him offer anyone what he’s offering you and Pen.”
“That’s why you’re withholding your donation to Culver?”
“ Oh, that. I just want the Academy to know what you’ve been offered, and to prepare for your resignation.”
“You’re holding your donation hostage until I resign?”
“No, no. I’m not pressuring you to resign. I just know that you will, because managing a thoroughbred stable and racing program is such a perfect fit for you.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
“Travis, think about it. Give it some serious thought over the holidays. The Board meets again in January. Give them your decision at that time. Damn, you are as headstrong as your mother.”
Travis had to chuckle. His father may have run the business, but his mother was CEO of the house and their lives.
“Okay, okay. I’ll have my answer after the holidays.” Joy to the world!
6
Shelby was out riding her beloved Romeo, while surveying her property. She wondered how long the farm would remain hers. She inhaled the crisp, frosty air as if wanting to record it for posterity, much as she wanted to capture the moment. The bank had declined her an equity line of credit, since she didn’t have a steady job or income. With the I.R.S breathing down her neck, she had run out of options. Seeing the “For Sale” sign planted on her property made her heart sink. Everything she had worked for, struggled for, and suffered for was being torn apart, and there was nothing she could do about it.
This was just one more stake pounded through her heart, a heart that was breaking in pieces. Again, it was because of Abram.
“Damn you, Abram,” she said aloud, voice cracking, the frost of her breath steaming the air.
Wasn’t it enough that he stole from her when he was alive? To steal from her in death was inconceivable. If he had paid the I.R.S. as he was supposed to, she wouldn’t be losing the only home she ever had, and the little bit of happiness she had ever known.
Petting Romeo’s mane, she wondered when she would lose him to a new home, and a new life. Having to part with her animals would be like selling her children. Yet, she wouldn’t have a place to stable her beloved horses, nor the income to pay for their feed and vet bills. Tears formed in her eyes and they stung in the cold. Snow was beginning to blanket the property in a sheet of pristine white. Her last winter, her last season in the only place she had called home.
The silver BMW gliding up her drive made her stomach turn in knots. It was probably a prospective buyer, and she really didn’t feel like discussing real estate, and the sale of her home so close to Christmas.
When the car parked, and Travis Harrington emerged from the driver’s seat, she had to blink twice. What was he doing in her driveway?
He waved his gloved hand. She waved back, nudging her ride and grasping the reins to trot toward him. Romeo snorted and obliged. In moments, she was looking down at Travis from atop her mount.
“You’re quite the vision on that horse. Two beautiful creatures,” he said.
“What a surprise to see you. What are you doing out in these parts?”
“Made the trip just to see you.”
“Really?” Now she was even more surprised. No one had ever gone out of the way to visit her.
“Actually, I was missing that amazing chili and cornbread.” His smile was effervescent. She hadn’t noticed the dimples before, or the way his eyes twinkled, wrinkling at the corners in the bright daylight.
“I bet. Let me get Romeo stabled, and see what I can feed you.”
“Just your company and conversation would be good enough.”
Those weren’t the words she expected. He surely had enough company and conversation at Culver. Certainly more stimulating and enlightening than any she could offer. He was a curious man.
After settling Romeo in the stable, she met Travis at the house. He joined her in the kitchen.
“What gives with the ‘For Sale’ sign out front?”
She was waiting for him to mention it, yet still hesitant to offer the lengthy explanation.
“I couldn’t believe it. You seemed so content here,” he continued, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
He was staring.
“I don’t want to sell, but I haven’t a choice. Being short of money has its consequences.”
“How much do you owe?” he blurted out. “I really don’t want to pry, but I am concerned.”
She forced a smile. “More than I have, thanks to the I.R.S.”
“Shit.”
“Shit is right, and I’m deep in it, I’m afraid.” She placed her hands on her hips.
“I have some eggplant parmesan in the oven, and spaghetti boiling on the stove.”
“That’s what smells so good.”
“It should be ready soon.”
“No hurry.”
“Would you like some wine? I opened a bottle of Chardonnay.” She walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and removed a corked bottle.
“And there’s still some left?” He winked.
“Huh?” She set the bottle on the table and went to retrieve two stemmed glasses.
“I mean, after the I.R.S. and all.”
“Trust me, when I got the letter awhile back, I hit the tequila.”
He chuckled.
“What happened?”
“Long, sordid story.” She poured the wine into the glasses and handed him one.
“I have the time,” he said, taking the wine and brushing her hand slightly enough to make her step back.
She sat across from him.
He raised his glass in a toast and clinked it against hers. “To our reunion.”
“Abram didn’t pay some taxes, and the I.R.S just caught up, with interest.”
“The amount?”
“Almost thirty grand.” Her lips trembled when she stated the amount. The sound of it made her shiver with foreboding.
“Thirty thousand?”
She nodded.
“Shit.”
“That’s what I said with a few extra choice expletives. The bank wouldn’t give me a home equity loan, so the only choice I have is to sell. I only have $2,500 in savings. I run a lean operation, and a simple life, but I don’t have that kind of money at hand.”
The boiling water with spaghetti began to burl and spill over on to the burners. The hissing sound made Travis dart from his seat to the stove to lower the heat, and stir the pot. Her mind had been so foggy lately over the news, and talking about it made her forget about what was going on around her. He seemed to understand.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. You have a lot on your mind.” He stood at the stove, stirring the pot. He looked at ease by the stove, just as he had when making pancakes that morning weeks ago. She wasn’t used to men cooking. Abram never cooked. He only ate.
“What about your animals?” he asked.
“Well, I’ll have to sell the horses somehow. The barn cats will probably go with the property, as will the chickens, hopefully. If I can find a small home to rent, I may be able to keep the dogs. If I end up in an apartment, they will have to be adopted out as well.” Her voice broke just thinking about leaving her pets, and letting them down. They were her children and her life. As much as she tried to keep from crying, her eyes began to tear up.
He turned off the stove and poured the spaghetti into the colander in the sink. Steam rose. Leaving the sink he walked toward her, standing behind her chair. When he placed his hands on her shoulders, she froze. He gently squeezed her shoulders, the touch of his hands surprisingly warm and comforting.
“There has to be a better solution than selling your home,” he said in a voice that was as gentle as his caress, and ge
nuine.
“I’m open to any and all suggestions.”
He stared at her, and she could almost see the gears turning in his head. She was out of solutions and if he had any, she was eager to hear them.
“I’m going to give this some serious thought, and see what can be done to get you out of this mess.”
She wanted to believe him.
“In the meantime, I think we’d better eat,” she said.
* * *
After dinner, she poured two mugs of steaming coffee to which she had added some Kahlua, handed him one and led him into her living room. Earlier, she had started a fire in the hearth. She set down her mug, and bent to add another log to the dwindling fire.
“Let me do that,” he offered, bending down beside her. He drew open the fire screen, took a log from the holder and placed it on the fire. She met his gaze, and saw the flickering of sparks in his eyes, but assured herself that it was merely a reflection.
She stood, retrieved her mug, and took a seat on the sofa. She padded the spot next to her, and motioned for him to join her. He grabbed his mug and sat beside her.
“Thank you for a lovely evening. The snow falling outside, the firelight, a wonderful dinner, and coffee with you. This deserves a toast.” He tapped his mug against hers.
“An unexpected pleasure. I wasn’t expecting company today.” She wasn’t, but was actually grateful that he stopped by. He lifted her gloomy mood and offered some assurance that maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought.
“I was thinking about you, and thought I’d just take a drive to find out.”
“You definitely found out. Enough about my problems, how’s life treating you?”
“I’d like to say that I’m as content as your dogs.” He pointed to her pack that stretched out before the fire in quiet slumber. “Unfortunately, I’m not.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I can use some ‘Real Life 101’ advice.”
“I can try, though I can’t solve my own problems, so I don’t see how I can solve yours.”
“You’re a reasonable and normal person.”
“I don’t know about the normal part.” She smiled for the first time in days.
He took sip of coffee and set the mug down on the end table. “I have a very unusual situation, and by your being a woman, I’d really appreciate your perspective.”
“I can try. Shoot.”
She listened intently as he told her about his racing stables dilemma. Wasn’t it ironic that she was close to losing everything due to a lack of money? Yet, he was set to make more money than necessary, and was as unsettled and unhappy as she? Funny how money could save her farm, but couldn’t buy his happiness?
Thoughts swirled through her mind as he explained issues with his fiancé, Penelope and her father. Fiancé? How could he agree to marry a bitch and allow himself to be manipulated by her father? If this was how the Upper 10% lived, she preferred her poverty.
Travis seemed different. After all, he spoke of Penelope and her family with disdain. Though he had been born and raised into that lifestyle, he seemed to prefer to be outside, and not inside their circle of materialistic greed.
But he was engaged to Penelope. The fact that he was engaged at all was startling enough, but the description of his betrothed was far from flattering. The woman sounded beautiful, but the physical masked a childish and selfish demeanor. Travis and his fiancé seemed to be polar opposites. How could love be so blind?
“So, her old man offered you the gold mine?” She chuckled, forcing herself to make light of this situation that seemed more suited to a reality show than real life.
“It’s not funny.”
“Oh, it is. From what you’ve said about Penelope, you didn’t see this coming? Seems to me she’s a girl who won’t settle. A girl of her upbringing wouldn’t be content with someone who has a ‘real’ job, no matter how fancy the private school.”
He sighed. “I thought that marriage was about two people, and not occupations.”
“In her social sphere?” She scoffed. “Sort of like mergers and acquisitions. You both merge. She acquires you, and you acquire Daddy Warbucks.”
“My plan was to marry Pen, not her father.”
“When you marry a girl, you marry her family. Like it or not.”
“I’m doomed.”
“Face it, if you don’t accept her father’s generous offer, you’re history.”
“You think so?”
“Yep.”
“You believe that Pen won’t marry me if I decline her father’s offer?”
“I’d bet on it.” Did leopards have spots? What was wrong with men?
“Hmmm … that would be an interesting test. If she truly loves me, she wouldn’t care about her father?”
Duh? “That’s how I see it.”
“I knew you’d offer some common sense.”
“Common sense is not that common.” Didn’t she know?
He took another sip of coffee. “Now tell me, why haven’t you remarried?”
He caught her off guard.
“If I ever remarry, I’d make damn sure that I’m marrying the right person for the right reasons.”
“You’re a very special person, Shelby.”
Catching her off guard, he placed one hand on the small of her back, the other behind her neck, and he drew her face to his, and he kissed her on the lips. For a moment, she was too shocked to respond. When he kissed her again, it felt so right, that she kissed him back. She hadn’t been kissed in so long, she almost forgot how good it felt. This was a man who knew how to kiss. Just enough pressure to have her lips quivering, and set her body tingling. When he released her, she just met his gaze in stunned silence.
“I just couldn’t help myself,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I liked it.” She smiled, being honest.
“I liked it, too.” He stood. “You know, I really should be heading back before it gets too late.”
Why was she disappointed? After that kiss she had some irrational and warped fantasies about them making love in front of the fire, proceeding up to her bedroom, and spending the night wrapped in each others arms.
“Thank you for a lovely dinner, and the best conversation I’ve had in ages,” he said. “Oh, and thank you for that kiss.”
The way he said it, made her face flush. “I’ll get your coat.”
* * *
After Travis left, she took the mugs to the kitchen. She fingered the rim of Travis mug, thinking. Travis was an educated man who seemed sensible and reasonable. What the hell was he doing considering marrying that Penelope creature? Apparently the upper crust had a set of standards that she just didn’t understand or relate to.
Penelope was a thoroughbred. It was no wonder that she and her father wanted to multiply and race the breed. Pure bloodlines, linage, entitlement, comfort, luxury, and the best of everything applied not only to the racing scene, but to their lives as well. In their circle, winning was everything. Wasn’t it? That’s why Penelope’s father was so determined to secure Travis as his lackey. Winning over Travis would be yet another notch on his personal prize wall. Another trophy.
She stretched, and went over to the refrigerator. Opening it, and removing a bottle of beer, she twisted off the cap, and took a swig. Looking at the label, she chuckled. Blue collar beer. Penelope probably drank Merlot of aged vintage. She so not cared about the trappings of wealth or “keeping up with the Joness.”
Her pack came to her, as if sensing her mood. She crouched down and petted each on the head.
“We’re all mutts and that’s fine with me.”
7
“Hey, Paul, I need a favor,” Travis said after telephoning his friend in Chicago.
“What’s up?” Paul asked.
“I’m buying a horse farm.”
“So, you decided to give in to Mr. Collingsworth III? Moving to that big plantation in Lexington to join the horsey set?
” Paul asked, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Not that horse farm.”
“Is there another one?”
“Actually, yes.”
There was a long pause. “And you need legal advice?”
“Not on the purchase, but for the purpose.”
“Travis, you lead one interesting life. What’s the deal?”
“I’m buying a horse farm in Michigan, and want it to be set up as a non-profit horse rescue and therapeutic riding center. I also want to establish an endowment to help with operations.”
“Whoa. Using some of grandpa’s trust fund money?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Why are you doing this? Do you need a tax write-off, or have you acquired a new hobby?”
“I want to help someone.”
“Is this someone female?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’m sure that Pen will be impressed.”
“This has nothing to do with Pen, or her father.”
“Hey, buddy? What have you been hiding from me? I didn’t know there was another woman in your life. Especially one you want to buy the farm for.” Paul chuckled.
“It isn’t what you think. Shelby needs help, and if anyone deserves a break, she does.”
“Ah, she has a name … Shelby.”
“Shelby Shane, and I want her name as owner of the farm, and CEO of the non-profit. It is to be her project, and not mine.”
“That’s quite a gift.”
“I have the money. If I can help someone in need, why not?”
“I guess spending your money isn’t such a bad idea when you will soon be rolling in the green stuff when you marry Pen.”
“Paul, I just want you to handle this, and not to mention it to anyone, especially Pen. This is between you and me, period. Hey, and Shelby is not to know that I’m her benefactor.”
“I’ll get right on it, but the paperwork may not be ready until after the holidays.”
“Just as long as it gets done.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
* * *
The Collingsworth’s annual Christmas party was as ostentatious and pretentious as the hosts, and the guests as chilly as the outside temperature. Travis dreaded the evening. Penelope clung to him, flashing her one-caret engagement diamond ring like found treasure. She did glare at him when other ladies made their diamonds visible, since the size of the bling advertised one’s social status. For a Collingsworth, her stone did not denote her worth, and was taken as a sign that she was marrying down. She wasn’t pleased, and hadn’t been when he presented the ring to her. The fact was that hers was a unilateral move. The Harringtons equaled the Collingsworths in wealth. However, Travis’ family didn’t flaunt it, and Travis didn’t believe in showing off.