Winter Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 2)

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  Each farm had its own fence, often beautifully sculpted hedges surrounding it, and its own stately gate. Some of the gates were made out of rich cherry-colored wood, others were a mix of wood and black wrought-iron. Still more had metal shaped intricate patterns.

  Chris turned into a driveway, pulling up to a giant castle-like gate with two bronze lion faces on each side. The corresponding bronze sign read MORADA BAY FARM.

  “Do you know the code?”

  I scrolled through my emails to find the four-digit code Linda had given me. Chris typed it in and the giant gate swung open.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed as we pulled into one of the most amazing barns I’d ever seen. Every blade of grass glowed bright green and had been coifed to golf-course perfection. As we got out, I bent down to touch the grass, certain that it was fake.

  “It’s real,” Chris said.

  There were smaller, sculpted hedges and rows of pink flowers. In front of the barn was a giant hedge horse on its back feet with its front knees up in jumping form.

  “Do you want me to go in with you?” Chris asked.

  “What do you think?” I said, suddenly slightly nervous. I wanted to make a good first impression on Linda. Did that mean coming in with my grand prix rider boyfriend, or not coming in with him?

  “I think I should see you later,” Chris said.

  I felt for a split second like he was less my boyfriend and more older trusted advisor. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I had the inkling he was right. This was my job. I didn’t need him coming in with me.

  He pulled my bag out of the car and kissed me. “Text me later.”

  I waved as he pulled out. I took out my ponytail and redid it to buy myself a little time. I was nineteen and about to start my first job. I didn’t feel ready at all.

  Chapter 10

  The barn was stucco with a red roof. I picked up my bag by the handle and rolled it over the cobblestones into the barn. To my left an artfully distressed antique table stood against the wall with two large tasteful urns poised on either side of it. Two decorative, vintage pairs of dress boots, a huge gilded mirror, and two glass lamps completed the picture. Down here, it appeared, people used decorators for their barns.

  I rolled my bag further into the barn.

  A groom with a blue heeler dog following at his hip walked by leading a gorgeous horse with an impeccably banged tail.

  “Hi,” I said, feeling dumb standing there with my bag.

  He nodded and smiled.

  The barn was a semi-circular shape with stalls on each side, all opening to a courtyard with more manicured grass and cobblestone paths. It was open and airy, the complete opposite of the New England barns I was used to that were built sturdy and nearly claustrophobic to withstand the snow and wind. This barn felt more like a spa for horses. I even thought I detected a slight smell of lavender, mixed with the usual thick smell of manure and fly spray. A pretty fountain bubbled in the middle of the courtyard. The aisles were matted and the stall doors were all that rich cherry color again. Each stall had a V-shaped screen so the horse could hang his head out but wouldn’t scrape an eye on the halters or the hooks they hung neatly on. A wrought-iron stairway led from the courtyard up to what I assumed was where I’d be living.

  I looked around, wondering where Linda might be. I should have asked the groom with the dog where she was.

  I abandoned my bag and walked down the aisle, looking in at the horses. Their stalls were large and filled with loads of clean shavings. Each stall had a window that looked out the back so the horse could hang his head out either way—into the barn aisle or outside to get some sunshine. At the end of the aisle I came to a few doorways. I peeked inside the first and saw a petite blond sitting at a desk that looked like it belonged in a corner office rather than in a barn office. Sunglasses were propped on her head.

  I knocked on the side of the doorframe, which gave off the appealing, deep thwock of knocking on quality wood, and then felt stupid for knocking and just opened the door.

  Linda pushed out her chair from the desk and spun—the chair was on wheels—to face me. On the broad desk sat a laptop, a large printer, and a bunch of horse-supply catalogs. A small, furry dog with a bejeweled collar looked up from its dog bed.

  “Hi there, you made it!”

  Linda’s friendliness put me right at ease. I will be fine working for her, I thought to myself. I bent down and patted her dog, Taffy. She showed me around the barn, pointing out different horses of Dakota’s. Soon enough I’d know each one by sight and know nearly every little thing about them—what tack they wore, what supplements they got, how they went in the ring—but right then it all seemed a bit of a blur. Should I have been taking notes? One of the horses had an adorable miniature donkey as a companion. The donkey lived in the stall with him.

  “He used to destroy his stall, his blankets, injure himself,” Linda explained.

  She strode around the barn with her shoulders back and chin slightly jutted out, the sunglasses propped on her head. “Now he’s happy as a clam.”

  I took in everything she said, nodding I was sure too often and too eagerly, and hardly saying anything. I figured it was preferable to talking too much. She showed me the tack room with its bridles and saddles neatly organized on their racks. There was a stack of sparkling white saddle pads, a stack of half pads, and a rack of fleece girths. Everything was in perfect order. The horse boots, ear plugs, extra bits and other miscellaneous tack were stowed in floor to ceiling dark wood cabinets, like those you’d see in someone’s mansion. She showed me the laundry room, complete with four industrial washers and dryers. She smiled as she said, “I’m a clean freak.”

  Even the barn bathroom was spotless and fancy, with a marble countertop, tile floor, and monogrammed hand towels. The barn opened onto a good-sized ring with colorful jumps surrounded again by gorgeous hedges. Adjacent to the long sides of the ring were paddocks. At the end of one of the barn aisles was a patio area with wicker lounge furniture, a bar, and a grill.

  Linda asked me where my stuff was and I told her I’d left my bag in the front of the barn. She said she’d ask Fernando to bring it over to the house. I assumed Fernando was the groom with the blue heeler.

  “I’m not staying above the barn?” I asked.

  “That’s the grooms’ apartments. You’re in the main house… since you’ll be taking care of Dakota when her parents aren’t here.”

  “Right,” I said. “Where do you live?” I was surprised Linda didn’t live in the house too. Or somewhere nearby.

  “Over in Bedford Mews. I own a condo there. Wanna see the house?”

  “Great,” I said.

  If the barn had impressed me, I was blown away by the house. It wasn’t so much the size, although it was plenty spacious, but it was how it was decorated. Gorgeous, bright colored wallpaper and tile in hues like pink, clementine, and turquoise. Funky sconces and light fixtures that looked like birdcages. Transparent kitchen stools and abstract art on the walls.

  My bedroom was good-sized—especially compared to my dorm room. It had white furniture with a little desk in one corner and a queen bed with an ornate headboard and a lime colored bed skirt and matching accent pillows that just screamed Lily Pulitzer.

  “Nice, huh?” Linda said.

  It was all very nice. Incredibly nice. And this was just a home that the Pearces spent some time in during the winter months. I couldn’t imagine what their real home was like. Linda showed me the sliding glass doors that opened to the oval-shaped pool. As we walked back through the house, I was a little worried about what essentially amounted to me living with the Pearce Family. I had just assumed I’d have my own separate space. I hoped I’d like the Pearces. I didn’t really mind living with a kid but living with Dr. and Dr. Pearce might be kind of odd. I shook off the thought—it would work out. And plus, I could spend most nights they were here with Chris if I wanted to. I glanced around the kitchen with its gleaming gourmet appliances o
ne more time—this was not a house to bemoan having to live in.

  “So when do the Pearces get here?” I asked Linda.

  “Probably next week. So you can just settle in, get used to things.”

  “Great,” I said. “Do I, um, have to stay here, or can I stay with my boyfriend some nights?”

  She shrugged. “Fine if you don’t stay here when Dakota’s not here. Just as long as you’re here in the morning when I need you.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  The last thing Linda showed me was the car and golf cart at my disposal. The car was a black Jeep. She handed me the keys and told me to keep my receipts for gas to get reimbursed.

  “Okay, take the rest of the day to settle in. Tomorrow morning you can start getting up to speed on the routine with the horses and I could use your help running errands.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Great.”

  I texted Chris that I was through for the day and that I’d love to come over to see his barn. He gave me directions via golf cart. His barn was not in Grand Prix Village, a fact I was slightly surprised by.

  I found my way, passing other golf carts, cars, and a few riders on horses. I went slow, looking at every gorgeous barn I passed. There were paddocks by the road and occasionally I could see through to a ring or grass jump field. There was one huge jump field that I had a good view of with the fences set incredibly high. A few riders were cantering around and a very famous trainer that even I recognized from afar was standing in the middle teaching. His voice reverberated over a microphone system.

  Once out of the back gate of Grand Prix Village, the farms didn’t look as impressive. They didn’t have formidable gates and weren’t as landscaped. I felt sort of like I’d crossed the proverbial tracks to the place where the other half lived. I knew I had found the right barn because Jasper came running out barking. I would have been scared of him if I hadn’t known it was all bluster.

  “It’s just me, Jas,” I told him.

  He gave me a small tail wag and slight nuzzle, which was a pretty warm reception for the dog whose sun set and rose on one person only: Chris. At least he remembered me.

  To be honest, compared to the Pearces’, Chris’s barn looked pretty shabby. It was just a simple one aisle barn with ten stalls and a ring. There were patches of sand where there should have been grass and the ring itself had only a calf-high fence around it—no impressive hedges. A giant mirror stood on one side of the ring, which seemed odd. But, of course, the barn was still immaculate. Chris ran a tight ship. It might not be a fancy ship, apparently, but it was still a tight ship with blankets folded neatly on stall doors and the aisle swept clean.

  As excited as I had been to see Chris at the airport, I was almost equally as excited to see Logan. I hadn’t seen him since he’d gotten on the trailer in Vermont. The horse I had almost detested at the beginning of the summer circuit had become my greatest friend.

  Dale was organizing a tack trunk that probably didn’t need to be organized. But Dale didn’t sit still. Ever. I tried to be cheerful, hoping he’d give me even half as warm a reception as Jasper had. “Hi, Dale,” I chirped and then wished I’d sounded a little less chipper.

  He moved his chin a millimeter in my general direction. Didn’t even speak. I didn’t warrant enough breath to make words. Why did Dale hate me? Was it because I was a complete outsider to this sport? Had he been as chilly to Mary Beth?

  “What’s with the mirror by the ring?” I asked.

  He shook his head like I was a total idiot for not knowing. “Used to be a dressage farm.”

  Chris must have known I’d want to see Logan because he took me right to his stall. Jasper followed us faithfully. Logan was eating his hay. I opened his door and said his name. He swung his head to look at me as he chewed. Did he recognize me? If only horses were like dogs and could wag their tails, do happy dances, or lick you. But that was the enigma of the horse. You weren’t ever truly sure how they felt about you. It wasn’t like I’d spent my whole life caring for him, either. Before Vermont, I’d only ridden him a few times a week. Then in Vermont I’d been his sole caretaker and from my end I’d felt we’d formed an amazing bond. We’d come together in the ring and around the barn and I’d grown to love him like I’d never loved any animal before. But now I didn’t even know if he remembered me.

  I’d heard stories of horses remembering their owners years after they’d last seen them and certainly all horse movies made it seem like every horse would gallop up to the pasture fence, whinnying, when its owner came. But how many horses really did that?

  “It’s me,” I told Logan, as if that would jog his memory.

  His ears flicked at my voice but that was it. He kept chewing.

  I put my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. I breathed in his wonderful smell. Maybe it didn’t matter if he remembered me. Maybe all that mattered was how much I loved him.

  Chris poked his head over the stall door. “I have to call Craig back. I’ll be in the office.”

  I knew Craig was Lily’s father.

  I had no idea where the office was but I was fine hugging Logan for a while longer. I ran my hand over his neck and stepped back to take a look at him. Then I ran my hands down each leg and picked up each hoof. His legs felt tight and cool, not at all puffy or hot. His hooves looked strong too. Wow. He looked amazing. He was more muscled along his topline and hind-end, and his coat gleamed. Under Chris’s care he got things I couldn’t have given him—time on the treadmill for fitness, time spent standing on the vibrating pad, and wearing the magnetic blanket. Most of all, though, he looked happy. I was so lucky Dad had agreed to send him with Chris.

  I stayed in his stall a few minutes longer. As I was closing the stall door behind me, I turned and found Dale blocking my path. We stood closer than I had maybe at any other time before. Abnormally and uncomfortably close. I could see the lines around his eyes and mouth. For someone who rarely smiled, he had a lot of laugh lines. Probably from too much sun exposure and squinting. I wished I could go right back in the stall, or that Logan would swing his head over and save me.

  “This is a big winter for him,” Dale said.

  At first I thought he meant Logan, and I was confused because I didn’t think Dale cared that much about Logan. But then I realized he meant Chris. Dale had a quiet voice—he never talked loudly. But it was a serious voice. He continued, “Losing Harris was huge but he’s making out okay. He’s recovering from it. He’s got a few clients. This is the big stage here. It doesn’t get any bigger. Do you get that?”

  I nodded, even though I hadn’t really thought about it. To me, Florida had always seemed like just another horse show. But judging from what I’d already seen in terms of the farms and the pure wealth, it was very different.

  “This is where he lands another sponsor and gets a number one horse. This winter is when he gets back in the game.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to Dale. I wanted all that for Chris too. We were on the same team—Team Chris.

  “He can’t have any distractions,” Dale added.

  “I’m a distraction?” I said.

  “Before you he had Harris.”

  “That wasn’t because of me,” I said. “Or we don’t know it was just because of me.”

  I knew Chris had told Dale about Harris’s wife making a pass at him and Chris rejecting her. Chris told Dale everything. They were more like uncle and nephew or big and little brother than rider and barn manager.

  “Don’t ruin this for him,” Dale said.

  “I’m not going to,” I promised him. “I want everything you want for him.” As much as I felt like Dale was out of line, his intentions were good. He wanted Chris to be the best in the sport and I didn’t get the sense it was because it would promote Dale or get him something he wanted. Sure, if you’re the barn manager for an Olympic Gold Medalist you get more attention and accolades. But I’m not sure your pay gets any higher really. Dale loved Chris and wanted
him to reach his fullest potential. Which was what I wanted too, but Dale couldn’t see that we were actually aligned in that goal, and I didn’t hold out much hope of convincing him. At least not today, my first day in Welly World.

  Dale turned and walked off. I leaned back against Logan’s stall door and let out a breath. I hadn’t even been in Florida a few hours and things were already more complicated than I had thought they’d be.

  Chapter 11

  That first night we went out to dinner at a place Chris liked called Oli’s. Apparently you couldn’t go anywhere in Wellington without running into people you knew. Or people Chris knew, anyway. On the way to our table, we passed Tommy Kinsler and his girlfriend. Chris stopped and chatted innocuously. Instead of talking about the weather, they exchanged thoughts on the footing at the show. Maybe footing was the horse show equivalent of weather for a common conversation piece. They were civil to each other, but not as chummy as they’d been in Vermont and Chris cut it short by saying we’d better go sit down.

  “What’s that like?” I asked Chris when we were seated. “You and Tommy?”

  They had been close until this past summer when Harris had pulled his horses from Chris and given them to Tommy.

  “We’re both professionals—we can still be civil to each other,” Chris said, picking up a menu.

  “That’s it? That’s all you feel about it?” Sometimes Chris could be almost too controlled in his emotions. He was always so levelheaded. But underneath it seemed impossible that he wouldn’t have the same emotions that we all did.

  “Are you still friends?” I asked.

  “Definitely, but I’m not going to lie… it’s hard to watch him ride my horses.”

  “Just hard?”

  Chris placed the menu to the side. “No, it nearly kills me. Each time I watch him go into the ring on Titan I think I might die.”

  He said this with a straight face and little emotion and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. I gave him a confused look. “Are you serious?”