"Come on," said Lance. "We've got to feed these horses."
"Yeah," she whispered. "We do." She followed him towards the hay barn. "Is everybody out here this friendly?" she managed to say.
"No," answered Lance. "If you're an outsider like we are, some of them are a lot worse."
She smiled a little. "Great," she said faintly, and got to work. "But first I'm going to let Fanny out."
It was a relief to have some hard work to do, and Alex was glad to wrestle the hay bales and bags of rolled oats into the cart and then get all of the horses fed. "Leave them all in their stalls, for now," said Lance. "We need to ride Swifty, Seaweed, and Snowflake today, for sure. And maybe Tank and Truck, too."
"Sure thing. That'll keep us busy for a while. Works for me."
They were just taking the empty cart back to the hay barn when an expensive-looking car pulled into the driveway. Alex and Lance both stopped and watched as the white Lexus rolled right up beside the house and came to a stop.
Alex stared at the car. "Is there anybody left in Argentina Shores who doesn't hate us?" she asked. "I've already dealt with two of them this morning, and I haven't even had a second cup of coffee yet."
Lance smiled tightly, though he watched the car very closely. "Yeah, I guess I'm wondering if there's anybody left around here who doesn't want to buy you out."
They put away the cart and walked over to see who it was this time. Alex frowned as the driver got out of the car. "That's no small-town filly, either," she said.
The young-looking, gray-haired man walking towards them was no taller than Alex was, and he was dressed in—of all things—a navy business suit with a red-and-purple tie that looked like it was made of real silk.
"Morning!" the man said, extending his right hand and giving them a big smile as he approached.
"I never trust that kind of friendly," said Lance under his breath, though he did shake hands.
"My name's Gray. Stuart Gray," the man said, still smiling broadly.
"Lance Donovan."
"And I'm Alexandra Byrne." Alex extended her hand, and he took it. Not much of a handshake, but at least he was being nice to them.
"I'm starting to finally feel at home out here!" he said with a laugh. "You two look like regular Yankees. I'm betting you're not from around here, either—at least, not originally."
"Well, you're right about that, Mr. Gray," said Alex.
"Oh, please! It's Stuart. All my friends call me Stuart."
"What can we do for you, Mr. Gray?" said Lance.
He paused briefly. Alex noted that the smile vanished for a second but came right back. "Oh, I think we can do quite a lot for each other! We Yanks have to stick together down here in the South, right?"
Both Alex and Lance stood in silence.
"Well, then," said Gray, still trying to sound cheerful, "let me just say it straight out. I want to buy your place."
"Never rains, but it pours," murmured Lance.
Alex found that she couldn't help laughing. "Well, take a number, Mr. Gray," she said. "I've only been here for two days, and it seems like everybody I meet wants to buy me out and get rid of me one way or another."
"Ms. Byrne, I certainly have no wish to get rid of you," he said, "but I have been authorized by my client to make you an offer for this property."
He paused for effect. "An offer of three million dollars."
Alex stared at him. "Three…million?"
"That's correct. Three million dollars for this four-acre lot, minus the horses, but otherwise just as it is."
She could hardly move. "Three million dollars," she whispered, looking up at Lance. His face was very still, and he would not look back at her. He only glanced down and away, as if he didn't want to hear what her answer was.
Gray cleared his throat. "Well, Ms. Byrne, I can certainly give you a few days to think it over." He glanced around and grinned. "This is a beautiful piece of property. It's just what my clients are looking for. That's why they're making you a top offer."
"What does your…client…want to do with this place?"
"Oh, a boutique hotel, of course. Argentina Shores has the potential to become Florida's best-kept secret—an exclusive yet affordable playground for those wanting a lovely vacation away from the crowds of the huge beach cities."
He turned and looked out over the gulf again. "Just beautiful. Oh, and look! I see there's a marina right next door. Perfect!"
Lance peered back at the man, frowning. "A what kind of hotel?"
Gray grinned back at him. "Why, a boutique hotel, Mr. Donovan." Realizing that Lance had no idea what that meant, Gray sighed and tried to explain as patiently as he could—as though talking to a child.
"A boutique hotel is small and elegant, and provides personalized, first-class service. It's the antithesis of the huge boxes run by nationwide chains with faceless employees."
"Well, most of the small motels here are run by families," Lance said quietly. "Some have been here for two or three generations, or even longer."
"Oh. No, no, no. That's not what I mean at all." He smiled patiently again. "The tiny little motels here are quite old and have no amenities to speak of. The hotel we mean to build here will have the best of everything, including direct beach access and a beautiful view of that emerald-green water."
Gray turned back to Alex again. "It's a very good offer, Ms. Byrne. You would be set for life and never have to work or worry about anything ever again."
Alex felt as though she could barely catch her breath. Three million dollars, she kept hearing in her mind. "What about the horses?" she heard herself ask.
"Horses?" asked Gray. "Oh, no problem. I'm sure there's a knacker's yard around here somewhere."
Alex stared at him in shock. Fanny growled from where she stood beside Lance. "Oh, I'm kidding. I'm kidding!" said Gray, laughing out loud. "Don't look so serious. You can do whatever you like with the horses. My clients only want the land."
The land. Of course. If she did sell the place, they'd immediately bulldoze the barns, the house and outbuildings, and the riding ring. There was no other way to put up a hotel and the parking lot that it would need.
But then she looked over at the barn—that long, beautiful, castle-like barn that had stood here for close to a hundred years and had housed so many horses for all those decades of lessons and beach rides.
She looked at the riding ring and thought of the countless children who had learned to ride in there.
And finally she saw the house where generations of just one family had lived—a family who had, for reasons that were still a mystery, left their home, their barn and their horses to her.
All of this had stood here at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico for nearly a century. Alex felt as though she had been here much longer than just two days.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Gray," she said, "but I don't want to sell. I'm staying right here." Beside her, Lance caught his breath, and she glanced up at him and smiled.
For several seconds, Gray stood motionless. Alex was sure she saw a flash of anger on his face before he once again put on the plastic smile. "Well, that's certainly understandable, Ms. Byrne. I can understand why you'd want to stay. It is a very nice place."
Gray sighed deeply and started to walk back to his car—but then stopped. "Of course, maybe you'll reconsider later on," he said with a frightening smile. "In the end, everybody has their price. Good morning."
In a few moments, he'd driven his Lexus out of the gates and onto the two-lane highway.
Alex breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone. She actually sank down to the ground and sat there, with her arms propped on her knees.
Fanny came over, wagging her tail. Lance crouched down beside her, just waiting in silence. "Lance," Alex said, shaking her head with a little laugh, "do I have any neighbors who actually like this place? Or who don't want to buy it out from under me and turn it into condos?"
"Well, Alex," he answered, "the truth is, you probably don’
t."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alex looked up at Lance, blinking. "I was kidding," she said. "I think."
"But I'm not. You just heard how much that man offered for this little four acres of sand.
"Look around you," he went on. "Thirty years ago this was a quiet little beach town that did a nice family business in the summer. People would bring their kids down from the north for a couple of weeks of beach fun, boating, and fishing. It was all small cottages and little family-run, single-story motels."
"Like the one I'm staying in now."
He nodded. "That's right. But a few years ago, the developers got wind of this quiet little out-of-the-way place, and they started buying up land."
Alex frowned, stroking the dog's soft thick coat. "It's a wonder that some developer didn't buy this place a long time ago."
"Well, they probably tried. The previous owners obviously turned them down and were willing to give their place to you, a complete stranger, rather than sell it and have everything torn down. But either way, high-rise hotels are going in right on the edge of the beach. You've seen them. Those things block the views from the long-established houses on the other side of the road. Everybody hates that, but the hotels make so much money by bringing in so many tourists that it can't be fought."
He stood up and helped Alex to her feet. "You won't be able to fight it forever, either."
She stood still for a moment, thinking. "Fight it," she repeated, and looked up at Lance again. "Maybe what we need is a different kind of a fight."
Lance frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe we should try a little sugar."
"Sugar?"
"Yes. Sugar. As in, sugar-sand beach." She grinned. "Come with me. I need your help!"
***
For the rest of the day, Alex alternated between riding a few of the horses in the ring to get them used to working again, and dashing to her car to add names to her list of locals who were about to get a very special invitation.
In the middle of the ring, Lance rode bareback on the almost-draft-horse-sized Truck, making him jog in figure eights and stop and start obediently.
Alex trotted the very tall Swifty on the rail, hoping the former racehorse didn't get any ideas about taking off at full speed while she rode him. But he stayed calm, and Alex enjoyed jogging along to his long strides.
"He seems okay at a walk and trot, but was very uncomfortable trying to canter," said Lance.
"Do you think there's something wrong with him? Should I call the vet?"
"No. I wouldn't worry about it. Most likely he had some kind of breakdown on the track and just can't run at all anymore. But he's perfectly fine taking people for rides on the beach, where we only walk anyway, or give a few lessons in here."
Lance shrugged. "A lot of ex-racehorses don't end up doing nearly as well, especially the geldings." He turned Truck away and started him on another figure eight.
Alex eased Swifty back to a walk. "Lance, don't we have a saddle that you like? Or is Truck just too big, and we have to get a new one to fit him?"
Lance halted Truck and then allowed him to walk towards the rail, until he was alongside Swifty. "We've got saddles for all of them. I just like riding bareback. It's a little more comfortable, especially on these big guys."
"Sure, sure," she said. "Whatever you like. You're a much better rider than I am. I did take lessons for a few years as a kid, but I'm not sure I ever rode bareback."
"No need to." He glanced over at her. "So your idea is to invite all the neighbors out for a beach ride?"
"That's right. A wonderful old-fashioned beach ride, just like this place used to be famous for. It's an experience that not many folks get to have these days."
He nodded. "I'll help you. That's my job. But I can tell you that I don't think it'll make any difference."
"Oh." She rode along in silence for a moment. "Why not?"
He shrugged. "Like I said, we're outsiders. Both of us. And even if we weren't, this property is worth far too much money for any little beach ride to matter."
Alex felt a little stung, but nodded. "You're probably right. But I have to do something. And right now, a beach ride is the best weapon I've got."
***
By evening time, with the horses all worked, groomed and contentedly eating their hay and rolled oats, Alex and Lance stood inside the house next to one of the kitchen counters.
"Okay. Here's my list so far," said Alex. "First, Chuck Wood and his wife."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "You sure? He was pretty nasty when he came over here this morning."
"Yes. He was. But like I said, we're going to try to use sugar to win everyone over. Riding over sugar-sand beaches, to be exact."
"Okay. Who else?"
"Well, I thought I'd invite Mrs. Jeannie Turner and her daughter Mary." When Lance looked blank, she went on. "Jeannie is the woman across the street who was yelling about the horses getting out. Mary, her little girl, is the one who fell off twice out here during riding lessons sometime last year."
He nodded. "That's four. Who else is on your list?"
"Mr. Stuart Gray. Our new best friend from this morning."
Lance looked doubtful. "He's an outsider, too. You don't need to impress him on that account."
"No, but if he goes on the beach ride, maybe he'll understand why I don't want to sell and stop pressuring us."
Lance's eyebrow went up again, but he said nothing more about Gray. "That's five. Who else?"
"Well, that's all, so far."
"Oh. Well, there's still time. What day are you planning to have the ride?"
"I thought, maybe, about a week? On a Saturday morning? That will give us a little more time to get the horses ready, and give people time to plan their schedules."
"Sure. We'll be ready."
She smiled up at him, feeling truly grateful. "Thank you. I couldn't do any of this without you."
He smiled back, and for a moment Alex forgot all about beach rides and horses and ill-tempered neighbors. All she saw were those intense blue eyes with the soft dark hair falling over them.
***
Over the next couple of days, Alex lost no time calling the people on her list. She became increasingly excited when, one after another, they all accepted her invitation to come over for a group beach ride.
Well, at least, most of them did. When she called the marina next door, she was fortunate to get Chuck Wood's wife, Sue, on the phone. Chuck immediately refused the invitation but Sue accepted. Alex was still very happy, since she hoped Sue might have some influence over her cantankerous husband.
Mrs. Mary Turner was up in arms at the suggestion that she and her daughter sign up for a beach ride, until Alex told her the ride was free for the two of them as a way to get to know her neighbors a little better. Then she was very happy to accept and would even be there early.
At first, Stuart Gray didn't seem to understand that she was inviting him to be her guest for a beach ride and thought she was trying to sell him the horses as well as the property. Eventually, she got him to understand that he was invited out so that he, and anyone else who wanted to buy the place, would understand why she was not going to sell and would stop trying to talk her into it.
Of course, that was only four riders. She had fifteen horses available—sixteen if she had a rider small enough for Starfish, the little Shetland—so she could still take at least nine more, allowing one horse for her and one for Lance.
But it turned out that she didn't have to worry about finding enough riders to go. Jeannie Turner called and asked whether she could bring three of her neighbors with her—the Lowe family—and Alex readily agreed.
And then, within the hour, the raspy-voiced Mrs. Jonni Lowe called to ask whether she could bring her 50-year-old brother and former cowboy along for the ride, too, because now that the previous Sandbar owners had left, he was another one interested in buying the property.
Alex agreed to them all.
&nbs
p; Then, around noon the next day, while Alex and Lance were turning the horses out into the riding ring for some fresh air and a little play time, a bright red Ford Fusion rolled into the driveway and pulled into what seemed to be the designated visitor parking space right beside the house.
Fanny immediately ran over, barking, but this time Alex called her back and was gratified to see that the dog responded to her as well as she did to Lance.
"Hi, y'all!"
A short, round, bleach-blonde woman got out and came strolling happily over to them. In her dress pants, white blouse and neat blazer, Alex thought she looked like a real-estate agent. Well, that was to be expected—she probably had a buyer for this place, too.
This was getting to be a daily routine.
CHAPTER NINE
"Good morning," said Alex. "Welcome to Sandbar Stables."
"Oh, thank you, honey! What a great place this is, right on the beach. Is it yours?"
"Yes. Yes, it is. I'm Alexandra Byrne."
The woman held out her hand. "So nice to meet you! I'm Lisa Bell."
"Hi, Lisa. What can I do for you?"
"Well, dear," said Lisa, looking around at the place with a big smile, "you can let me buy this property!"
Alex sighed and couldn't help but smile. "Well, Lisa, if you want to buy Sandbar Stables, I'm afraid you might have to take a number. I just got here a few days ago, and it turns out that just about everyone wants to buy this place, for one reason or another."
"Well, now, that's certainly understandable," said Lisa Bell. The woman was Southern through and through. "It's a great little piece of property in the perfect location. My clients were thrilled to learn that the former owners had moved away, and sent me out here right away to see if it might be for sale."
"I'm afraid it was a wasted trip," said Alex. "I have no desire to sell this place. It was left to me as an inheritance, and I intend to keep it."
"Oh, I see." Lisa looked around again, especially out at the beautiful view of the gulf. "How long did you say you'd been here?"
"Just a few days."
"And you're not from around here, are you?"
"No. I'm from Ohio."
Small Town Filly (Sandbar Stables Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 4