“I think so,” she said, her voice quivering.
Randy shook his head. “I don’t want you to think it. I want you to know.”
“Then you’re going to have to tell me what it means, Randy.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “It means I’ll play it any way you want, Dawn. But I want you to understand I’m playing for keeps.”
Dawn nodded, her bottom lip trembling.
“Happy Birthday,” he said. “Now let’s eat.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Randy talked Dawn into helping him with farm calls Thursday afternoon. She had lunch with Linda first, hurried home to change, and climbed into the truck. He’d been instructed to use his broken arm as little as possible, awkward as it was, but that didn’t, and wasn’t stopping him.
“It’s never going to heal, Randy,” Dawn said, when they’d done seven calls with three more to go. “I’m sure you’re supposed to be resting it.”
“I’ll rest it tonight,” he said, and smiled. “I’ll lay flat on my back and leave everything up to you.”
Dawn laughed. “What would it take to slow you down?”
“A lot more than a broken arm,” Randy said. “A hell of a lot more.”
The last appointment proved a challenge; tubeworming a Trekaner stallion standing over eighteen hands. Randy couldn’t maneuver the tube with his right hand and had to use his left, which meant holding the solution in a bucket higher than the horse’s head with his right. Dawn wasn’t tall enough, although she tried. The farm manager and the groom were much too short. The son attempted to stand on a step ladder, but this only spooked the horse, who held his head up even higher. So Randy struggled to do it himself, and in the truck as they were leaving, asked Dawn if she had any aspirin.
She shook her head. “No. And I have no sympathy for you.”
Randy looked at her. “None?”
She smiled and gently laid her hand on his cast. “None,” she said, and curled her fingers in his. “I think we passed a drugstore just up there. Stop and I’ll run in and get some.”
Randy nodded. His hand was trembling. In fact, his whole arm was trembling. Throbbing. After the aspirin, which he downed with a root beer, they drove to Ben’s farm since they were in the vicinity, so Dawn could visit with Beau.
“Do you think he misses me?” she asked Randy, as they pulled down the drive.
Randy glanced at her. “I’d miss you.”
Dawn smiled. “So what you’re saying is...?”
“I’m saying yes, he probably misses you.”
Dawn shook her head, still smiling. Randy didn’t believe horses cared much for people one way or the other. Feed them and take care of them, they like you. If someone else feeds and takes care of them, they like them. They’d discussed this before. Dawn disagreed, and appreciated his tactful reply.
Beau jogged over to the paddock fence when she climbed up and called him, and stood with his head resting in her lap while she, as Ben would say, “talked nonsense” to him.
“Do you think he’s happy?” she asked Randy.
He shrugged. “He’ll be happier come this breeding season.”
Dawn laughed. Ben came out to join them. “He looks a little lost, doesn’t he?” he commented to Dawn.
She nodded.
“I sure hope I did the right thing.”
“You did,” Randy said, matter-of-factly, and Ben noticed his arm.
“What happened to you?”
Randy explained, grimacing when he said he actually heard the bone snap, and Ben shook his head. “I got kicked in the chest once trying to load a horse in a trailer. I broke two ribs and bruised a kidney. I hate hospitals.”
Randy nodded sympathetically.
“The worst part was they needed a...” He glanced at Dawn. “A specimen. But nothing was working, if you know what I mean. So what do they do? They go out in the waiting room and get Meg, and asked her if she could help me.” He laughed. “God, I loved that woman! She told them that when I got good and ready I’d go, and to leave me alone and stop badgering me. Like what was she supposed to do to help me?”
“Well, she could’ve whistled,” Dawn said, and they all laughed.
“Did you two eat yet?”
Dawn and Randy shook their heads.
“Come on then, I’ll whip us up something.”
As soon as the overnight for Sunday came out, with All Together entered and no boy named to ride her, a horde of agents descended upon the barn. Ben had left it open purposely because he wanted to watch Johnny ride this afternoon, to be sure he was up to snuff before deciding. He also wanted to watch Miguel, who was scheduled to ride three today, with two of them back to back.
“All things considered, Mr. Miller,” Miguel’s agent insisted, following him down the shedrow, “Miguel is the best choice to ride her. After all, he lost the big horse when you sent Beau Born home, and he’s been very loyal.”
“Loyal?” Ben stopped dead in his tracks, the hair on the back of his neck bristling. This had been a rough morning, what with going in front of the stewards, faced with a fine and having to file an appeal. “I’ll tell you what. I ain’t never seen such a fuss over a goddamn maiden in all my life. But if I decide to ride Miguel, and if you don’t piss me off once and for all, I’ll come looking for you. All right?”
Miguel’s agent nodded and left as quickly as possible.
“A little hard on him, wouldn’t you say, old man?” Tom said. “He’s just doing his job.”
Ben shrugged, tipped his hat to wipe his brow, and sat down with an exhausted sigh. Why did everything seem to take so much energy these days? He glanced down the shedrow when something caught his eye, and promptly buried his face in his hands.
It was Johnny. “Why didn’t you name me on the filly, Ben?”
Ben drew a deep breath, hesitated, and looked up. He liked this kid, he really did. Still. “I don’t appreciate having to explain myself, son. I told you the other day how it is, nothing’s changed.”
Johnny steeled his youthful jaw.
“I want to ride you, you have to know that. You’ve been with us on that filly from the start. But you know as well as I do how strong she is.”
Johnny turned to leave.
“Now wait a minute, goddamn it!” Ben said. “You asked and I’m telling you!”
Johnny glared at the ground and slowly raised his eyes.
“She’s a tough horse to ride, that’s the bottom line. And I won’t put you up on her unless you’re a hundred percent. She’s going to be looking around, she’s going to be nervous, she’s going to be a disaster waiting to happen, and I need one hundred percent. Okay?”
Johnny nodded. “Okay.”
Dawn met Linda for lunch again. “See, I told you we’d be seeing more of each other once you moved out.”
Linda laughed, in a much better mood than the last couple of times, and seemed to be handling her parents’ separation a little better. It was a rather unusual separation anyway, as Uncle Matt was still at home, occupying the east wing.
“Maybe they’ll get back together.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve got to run.”
Gloria and Charlie’s wedding was at six that evening, with the reception immediately following, and Dawn had to go back to the track to run stalls and feed, get home and shower and dress and be ready by five, so Randy would have time to shower and change. Hopefully he’d be on time today. He’d promised. And all was well until about five-fifteen, when he still hadn’t arrived.
“Come on, Randy,” Dawn moaned, looking out the window into the street. “I hate being late.” She turned when she heard a key in the door and let out a sigh of relief. He was all ready to go, and looked so gorgeous in his gray suit and blue shirt.
“I was running late and decided just to shower and change at my place.” He lowered his eyes slowly down to her feet and back up. “Wow...”
Dawn blushed.
“Turn around,” he said.
“Randy...”
“Come on.”
Dawn held her hands out and twirled around, curtseyed, and laughed.
“You’re beautiful, Dawn. That’s all there is to it.”
“I’ll get my purse,” she said, and glanced back over her shoulder. “Did you have any trouble getting your coat on over the cast.”
He nodded. “It barely fits.” The phone rang then, and Dawn motioned she’d be right back and for him to answer it.
“Hello.”
“Why yes, hello. Is this Dawn Fioritto’s?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“Matthew Fioritto.”
“Just a minute.” Randy handed Dawn the phone when she returned. “It’s your Uncle Matt.”
“Uncle Matt. Hi. How are you?” she said, and listened. “Yes, yes, that was Randy.”
Randy traced the back of his hand down the side of her breast, felt the softness of her curves under the cashmere.
Dawn smiled and pushed his hand away, then turned, and listened more intently. “Why?” she said. “Why so soon? I thought. Okay. I’ll talk to you then. Yes, I’ll tell him.”
Randy studied her eyes as she hung up. “What was all that about?”
“Nothing,” she said, clamming up in that same way she used to. “He uh...says he’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Randy shook his head. “I hate when you do this, Dawn.”
“What?” Dawn asked, knowing full well what he was referring to. “It was nothing.”
“Oh really? Well, you didn’t see your face. It was like somebody died, so don’t tell me that.”
Dawn sighed, and when Randy looked away, put her arms around his neck. “Randy, please.”
He shook his head.
“I love you,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Some day I’ll tell you all about it, okay?”
He just looked at her still.
“I promise.”
He mellowed a little, enough to lean down and kiss her, then kissed her again.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said, and he nodded, smoothed the front of his pants, and off they went.
Gloria was radiant in her lavender dress, and Charlie very distinguished in his white tuxedo with tails. Gloria’s matron of honor wore lavender also. And Ben donned a white tuxedo as well. The house and patio had been decorated with boughs of lilac alstroemeria and baby’s breath, and the surrounding garden was a late summer mass of fragrance and color.
It was a unique ceremony in more ways than one. There were readings of poetry; Gloria’s eight-year-old granddaughter read Words of Love by Eliza Dunn in the most precious little voice. Solos were sung, one a cappella, and one with only the distant accompaniment of an acoustic guitar.
Gloria and Charlie each said their vows, which they then repeated upon changing positions, Gloria to the right, Charlie to the left, to signify equality. Their wedding rings were identical, except for their size. And Charlie was not only granted permission to kiss his bride, Gloria was told she may also kiss her groom.
The newlyweds insisted the evening’s festivities be called a celebration. “One can’t give their own reception. Come! Celebrate with us!” Lavish bowls of peeled fruit were placed at each table, along with chilled bottles of champagne and Catawba grape juice. Finger sandwiches were served, paté and caviar and imported creamed cheeses. The salads were layered with slices of Bermuda onions and Valencia oranges. Raspberry sorbet to cleanse the palate followed. Then the main course of rare beef tenderloin, parsleyed potatoes, green beans almondine. And dessert: three-tiered petit-fours in the shape of individual wedding cakes.
“Do you think it would be all right if I take my jacket off?” Randy asked Dawn, when the evening was pretty much coming to an end.
Dawn nodded. “Is your arm sore?”
Randy shook his head and took off his jacket. “No, it itches.”
Ben sat down with them a little while later, complaining about the length of the ceremony, saying his legs fell asleep standing that long, and that he was getting a headache from all the flowers.
Tom laughed, the perfect gentlemen as he’d been charming the daylights out of the single woman sitting next to him, a distant cousin of either Gloria or Charlie. He couldn’t remember which, but she sure was pretty.
“He’s got her eating out of the palm of his hand,” Randy whispered to Ben. And Ben just shook his head. Tom never ceased to amaze him. By the end of the evening, he went home with her, and at her suggestion.
Ben came back from the secretary’s office winded, and sat down to catch his breath.
“So,” Tom said. “Who’d you name on her?”
Ben just stared for a moment.
“Johnny or Miguel?”
Ben hesitated. “Martinez.”
“What?!” Tom did a double take.
“You heard me, Martinez. He’s in for the stake.”
Tom shook his head, about to say something, but Ben stopped him. “I wasn’t pleased with Johnny’s riding yesterday. He put his stick away and went to hand riding the last sixteenth. It cost him the race. A horse got up just in time to nose him out.”
“Okay. So...”
Ben held up his hand. “I’m not saying the filly has to win. I just want to make sure I get a strong ride to the wire.”
Tom sat down and sighed. He felt bad for Johnny. This filly was going to run big, there was no doubt about it. “You could’ve ridden Miguel.”
“No, I watched him ride in both the third and the sixth. He’s not right either. And then he scratched off his last mount in the seventh.” Ben paused, hoping he’d made the right decision. “And where were you yesterday? You’d have known all this if you’d watched the races.”
Tom laughed. “I was buying a suit, remember? Don’t show up if I didn’t have one. Isn’t that what you said? Well, I had to go buy one. And shoes. I had to buy fucking shoes. I’m all set for weddings and funerals now too for that matter, so there.”
“And you looked so nice,” Dawn said, in passing.
Tom bowed gallantly. “At your service.”
Dawn laughed and walked away.
Ben called after her.
“Dawn?”
She turned.
Ben drew a breath. “Fernando Martinez is going to ride the filly.”
“Who?”
“Fernando Martinez,” Tom said. “He’s in from Arlington for the stake. He’s big time.”
Dawn stared.
“He’s ridden some of the finest colts and fillies in this country,” Ben added. “He’s a strong rider and knows young horses. He’ll do just fine. All right?”
Dawn shrugged. “All right.” She glanced in at All Together, who was pawing at the back of her stripped-down stall. “Does Johnny know?”
Ben nodded somberly. “Yes, I told him.” The fact of the matter was, he’d walked halfway across the backside to tell him himself, before he heard it from anyone else.
“And?”
Ben hesitated, remembering the look of disappointment on Johnny’s face. “Like I said, it’s not a personal decision.”
“Right.” Tom wasn’t disputing that. “So how’d he take it.”
“Oh, I’d say personally.”
“Wonderful,” Tom said. “I got Son of Royalty tacked for him. He probably won’t even come down.”
Ben shook his head. “He said he’d be here.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ll see.”
Johnny arrived no more than five minutes later, right about the time Dawn started hiccupping.
“Hold your breath,” Tom said.
“I tried.”
“How’s your stomach?”
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.”
Dawn stared at him. “You don’t think...?”
What? Tom smiled. That her hiccups started because they were running the filly? Her latest nervous tick. Just like her going back and forth to the bathroom when Beau was
in. Dawn hiccupping again. And again. And again. And all through the rest of morning chores.
“At no time, when we have something in, is the barn to be left unattended on the day of the race,” was Ben’s remedy for what had happened to Cajun. “You take turns going to eat, whatever. But someone has to be here at all times, and visible.”
“Pizza,” Dawn said, looking at Tom at the mention of food.
“Everything but anchovies?”
She nodded and hiccupped. “Whose turn is it to buy?”
“Mine,” Tom said, and left.
Dawn parked herself on a chair just outside the tack room and read the racing form for All Together’s race. The filly was the only first-time starter. Six of the nine-horse field had placed second in their previous starts. One horse in particular had finished second four times already. Any one of them could win. And yet, All Together was the odds-on favorite, based on her three recorded “black letter” works, which only meant she’d worked the fastest at that distance of any horse training on that particular morning.
Dawn smiled, recalling the time Ben tried to sneak a work in on her, a practice frowned upon by the racetrack clocker. “All Together, 37.2...” he said over the tiny speaker phone by the rail. At this point in her training the man could spot her a mile away from his glass booth above the clubhouse. “Nice try, Ben. Do you want fined?”
She remembered Ben laughing. He hadn’t thought he’d get away with it. Dawn looked in at the filly, sulking in the back of her stall, not at all pleased with being drawn, and obviously having no idea why. She was in the seventh race and had hours to go. Dawn felt sorry for her. And worried. And hiccupped.
“Poor All Together,” she said soothingly.
The filly pricked her ears, stared hopefully, for food perhaps, then lowered her head and continued sulking. Dawn found herself sympathizing with Gloria’s line of thinking. What would one little carrot hurt? Half an apple?
“A lot,” she could hear Ben say in her head. “Leave her alone. It’s time she earn her keep and it ain’t all a piece of cake.”
A piece of cake. That sounded good right about now. One of Gloria’s petit-four wedding cakes. Hiccup.
When Randy stopped by before leaving the track, Dawn convinced him to stay and have pizza first.
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 32