Dawn glanced from the midwife to Linda and back, waiting, waiting….
“All right, Linda. We need you to push again. You’re doing great. You are a mother. Let’s make this little one proud of you! That’s it. Push. Push….”
“Oh my God! Oh my God. Oh my God!” Linda kept saying. “Oh my God!” Her cries of motherhood mingled with the sounds of a tiny voice that had been within her for nine months.
“Waaaaaaa…..”
“It’s a girl! A beautiful little girl.” The midwife laid the baby on Linda’s stomach. “It’s a girl!”
”Waaaaaaa…..” It was the sweetest little sound - the sweetest little baby, testing her lungs and searching for her mother. Linda reached for her. “Oh, look at you,” she said, she and Dawn crying. “Look at you.” Alice Marie wiggled and squirmed. “Look at you.”
Dawn picked up the phone immediately, as promised, and dialed Harland’s cell phone. She held the phone to Linda’s ear. “It’s a girl, honey. It’s a girl.”
“Tell him you did wonderful,” the midwife said.
“I did wonderful,” Linda said, with even more tears flowing. “No, no, I’m fine. She is so precious. I love you.”
Dawn smiled, with tears running down her face like water. “I’m going to go tell your mom and Uncle Matt.”
Randy got a call a few minutes later. He left the children with Ben and Tom and stepped out of the meeting at the HBPA office to talk.
“It’s a girl. Both mother and baby are fine. She did great!”
“I told you it was a girl.”
Dawn laughed. He predicted the sex of their two children, and Ginney’s three as well. “How are things going?”
“Not good. Swingline is filing bankruptcy Monday morning.”
“Chapter thirteen?”
“No, chapter seven. According to the press release, he says he’s done.”
“Wow,” Dawn muttered. “Is Ben okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. He wants us to come to dinner tonight. He says he needs to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Buying the racetrack.”
“You’re kidding? Right?”
“Nope. He’s dead serious.”
Chapter Two
Dawn sat looking at Ben; one of the wisest men she had ever known. Yet what he was proposing was totally out of the question. Even if they could or would buy the racetrack, neither one of them knew the first thing about running one. Even more importantly, how would they run it successfully? The attendance was at an all-time low and the handle; the daily wagering, was way down. The barns were in disrepair. The grandstand was outdated. The caliber of horses was dwindling. All these thoughts ran through her mind. “And if you own a racetrack, are you still allowed to run there? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”
“Good questions,” Ben said. “We’ll have to find out.”
Years ago, veterinarians weren’t allowed to own a horse and race at the same track where they practiced medicine. How would a racetrack owner be any different? They could be accused of fixing the races when their horses ran. Who needs that negative energy? Nor would she want any association with the racetrack and her family. She was very protective of her privacy to the point of paranoia, and even more now with D.R. and little Maeve. “I don’t know, Ben. There are just too many things to consider, plus look at the time frame. How could we even come up with a proposal between now and Monday? And that’s if Swingline will even consider selling.”
“He will. I asked. The man’s bankrupt. I doubt he’ll be quibbling over price. Time is on our side.”
Dawn sat back, obsessing.
Ben smiled. “Here’s what I think you should do. Write all your questions down and we’ll go over them in the morning. I have a meeting set up with Swingline at ten.”
Dawn paused. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Only since everything I own is essentially yours and Tom’s and at my age God only knows how long I’ll live….”
Dawn shook her head, smiling. “Don’t even go there.” He was a father to her, a friend, her best friend, her business partner. When he had a stroke and almost died a few years ago, she was devastated. She couldn’t imagine life without him then and certainly couldn’t now. He was a grandfather to her children. He was their neighbor. He was family. “What does Randy think about all of this?” she asked.
“He’s all for it, but says it’s up to you.”
“Where’s Tom?”
“At bible study with George and Glenda.”
Dawn nodded and yawned. “Oh, that’s right; it’s Thursday.” Randy and the children were due any minute. Ben had a spaghetti dinner ready. He’d turned into quite the chef lately. Dawn had stopped at his house straight from the hospital and found herself too tired to leave. The home she and Randy built at the back of Ben’s property was less than a quarter of a mile away, and yet it seemed as far as another state at the moment. Oddly enough, she’d been thinking the last couple of weeks of slowing down, doing less. It had been years since she’d done any serious writing. She’d been kicking around the idea of writing another novel.
She didn’t dare tell Ben that; he’d suggest she write another book about the racetrack, this time about “buying” a racetrack. She yawned again. While Ben checked on dinner, she lay down on the couch and closed her eyes. She wasn’t the least bit interested in owning a racetrack. She didn’t want any part of it.
“Mommy!” D.R. ran through the living room and jumped on her. “Mommy! Mommy!”
Dawn wrapped him in her arms, laughing. “How’s my boy?”
Randy piled Maeve on top of them and plopped down in the chair, equally as exhausted. Dawn looked at him. “I love you,” she said.
He smiled. “No, I love you.”
“I love Mommy!” D.R. said.
Dawn laughed. Little Maeve wanted in on the act as well. “I wuv Mommy even mo’!” This was an ongoing “I love you” game, ever since D.R. learned to talk.
“Where’s Tom?” Randy asked.
“At bible study. He’ll be home soon.” Both Dawn and Randy were thrilled when Tom decided to move in with Ben two years ago. He was good company for Ben and could keep an eye on him as well.
It wasn’t long before they were all seated at the dining room table and eating. D.R. sat in a booster seat next to Randy, and Maeve, in the highchair next to Dawn. Ben definitely had an agenda. “How’s the sauce?” he asked, practically before anyone had even taken a bite.
“Delicious.”
“Here, have some bread.”
Randy laughed. Ben was so obvious. If they were drinkers, he would be plying them with booze. What a guy! He glanced at Dawn. “Have you talked to anyone since you left the hospital?”
“Yes. They’re both fine. She did so well.”
Randy smiled. He had to admit, when he first met Dawn and Linda he couldn’t imagine either one of them going through childbirth. He actually could see them hiring someone to do it for them.
“What’s the baby’s name?” Tom asked, shoveling spaghetti into his mouth.
“Alice Marie.”
“My baby,” little Maeve said.
“D.R., eat,” Randy said. He’d just stuck the tip of his nose in his plate and looked like Bozo the red-nosed clown.
“Ignore him,” Dawn whispered.
Tom laughed. “These two here are why I never had kids.”
“Excuse me,” Randy said. “You never had kids because every woman alive knows they’d end up looking just like you.”
Tom laughed again.
“Anyone ready for dessert?” Ben asked.
They hadn’t even finished their meal yet. Randy couldn’t stand it, and had to laugh again.
“Ice cream?”
D.R.’s eyes lit up.
“None for you until you finish your dinner,” Dawn said. “Randy, wipe his nose.”
“What? I think it’s kind of cute.”
Little Maeve noticed her brother�
�s red nose for the first time. She giggled, then promptly went about dipping her finger in her plate and trying to make her nose look the same. “Wow, look at that,” Randy said. “That’s disturbing.” She was trying to touch her nose, but kept hitting her cheek. “I’ll bet she gets that from your side of the family.”
Dawn smiled. “Very funny.”
“All right,” Ben said. “Listen. We all need to talk. We can talk while you’re eating, because as you can all see, I’m done.”
“Pass the spaghetti, please.” Dawn said, ignoring the suggestion.
Ben sighed and handed the bowl to her. She could be pretty stubborn when she wanted to be, such as now. “I could see where you would have some apprehensions. It would be a huge undertaking.”
“The track’s not making any money, Ben,” Dawn said.
“Right, and we’d have to turn that around.”
“How?”
“Well, for one, we can add a double-or-nothing race each day. Tell them, Tom. It was your idea.”
“It was just a thought,” Tom said, looking hesitant all of a sudden for the very first time. “I wouldn’t exactly call it an idea. It was just a thought.”
Ben sat back and crossed his arms. “How is it I’m all alone here? Are you all ready to give up racing? Because that’s what’s going to happen if we don’t step in and do something.”
Randy shook his head. “I’m staying out of this.”
“What? Are you telling me this isn’t going to affect you?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” Randy reached for another piece of bread. “Actually, it’s going to all but kill me. Sixty percent of my business is done at the track.”
Dawn looked at him. “That much?”
“I’m a racetrack vet, Dawn. It’s what I do. It’s what I love.”
“What are you saying? Do you think this is a good idea?”
“I don’t know.” Randy shrugged.
Dawn moved the butter from in front of D.R. He’d set his sights on it. “Does anyone have any idea how much the racetrack would even sell for? Or how much it takes to operate one?”
“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Ben said.
The following morning, Dawn had a list a mile long. Rudolph Swingline, the current owner, appeared ill. His two lawyers did all the talking. The selling price was three million. That alone was enough to take the wind out of Ben’s sail.
“Why so much?” Dawn asked.
“Well, if Rudolph files bankruptcy he won’t gain anything. But he also won’t be losing anything. He will essentially walk away free and clear.”
“I see,” Dawn said. She looked at Ben. “Well, so much for that.”
Ben just sat there.
Dawn sighed. There were so many other things she’d rather be doing at the moment. It had been a particularly busy training morning. She was tired; she was hungry. She glanced at her watch, ten-fifteen. There was a knock on the door, right on time. “That’ll be my Uncle Matt,” she said.
Swingline had never laid eyes on her Uncle Matt before, but his lawyers certainly had. The color drained from their faces. “Matthew,” first one and then the other said, standing to shake his hand.
Dawn’s Uncle Matt introduced himself to Rudolph Swingline. “I’m Matthew Fioritto.” He looked at Ben and nodded with a faint smile on his face. “Mind if I sit in?”
“No, not at all,” Ben said. “We were just talking price.”
“I see.” Uncle Matt motioned to his assistant, a handsome young man; all testosterone and business. “Do you have that figure we worked up?”
The man nodded, reached into his lapel pocket and handed Uncle Matt a folded piece of paper. He passed it to Dawn; she opened it, glanced at it briefly and passed it to Ben.
“So,” Uncle Matt said. “Before I get involved in this, if that figure’s higher than what’s been put on the table….”
Ben smiled. He wasn’t used to dealing in millions, but certainly had done his share of horse-trading over the years. He folded the paper and sat back. “It appears bankruptcy is the way Rudolph wants to go.”
Rudolph Swingline shook his head. “That’s not true,” he said, glancing sheepishly at both his attorneys, who did not look pleased in the least at his speaking out.
Uncle Matt motioned for Ben to hand him the paper and edged it toward Swingline. “As you can see, we have your debts listed. We have your profits. And down below….” He motioned. “That’s the figure of your mortgage.”
“I don’t have a mortgage.”
Uncle Matt paused, looking somewhat apologetic, but only for a second. There was no mistake. “You have a house in Reno if I’m correct, a condo in Tampa, and a houseboat in Seattle, plus a little-known cabin, family included - from what I understand, that’s in the Ozarks.”
Swingline looked closer at the numbers.
Uncle Matt glanced from one attorney to the other. “Time is of the essence here, gentlemen. This is going to be your call. We can go back and forth for hours and talk until we’re blue in the face, but in the end, we’re still going to come back to that same figure. It is a fair amount, the best for both sides. So what’ll it be, an early lunch or a late dinner?”
Dawn was rather pleased when it turned out to be an early lunch, Ben too. “My treat,” he said. When they sat down to eat at The Rib, they were the proud new owners of the essentially bankrupt Nottingham Downs. Purchase price: One million two hundred and thirty seven thousand dollars plus a debt of nine hundred thousand and counting.
“Salude!” Uncle Matt said.
Ben raised his glass. “Salude!”
“Dawnetta?”
Dawn looked at her Uncle Matt and then at Ben. Ben was ecstatic. She raised her glass. “Salude!”
Chapter Three
The news traveled fast. By race time Friday afternoon just about everyone on the backside had heard the racetrack had been sold and that it looked as if maybe it wasn’t going to close after all. An hour or so later, they all knew who had bought the racetrack, Ben Miller himself. Some seemed surprised that he had that much money. Others figured with as many good horses as he’d had over the years and the stable he was racing now with Beau Born the leading sire in Ohio that it wasn’t all that hard to imagine he could afford it. After all, they speculated, if the racetrack was bankrupt, how much could the asking price have been? The average guess was around a hundred thousand dollars. Some said that wasn’t nearly enough, some said it was too much.
Fortunately, the Miller barn didn’t have any horses running that afternoon. Ben and Tom were holed up in the secretary’s office. Joe Feigler, the racing secretary, sat across from them at the table. Joe was sweating bullets, as the saying goes. Losing his job was one thing. Having to fight to get it back was quite another.
“It’s a simple question,” Ben said. “Considering the status of Nottingham as is it today, tell me why you think you’re the best man for the job.”
“Well….” Joe hesitated.
Tom leaned back in his chair, a toothpick dangling from his teeth.
“I’ve done the best job I can.”
“Oh?” Ben said.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Possibly.” Ben shrugged. “But I’m more interested in what you’re thinking.”
“Honestly?”
Ben nodded.
“I think I’m the best man for the job because….” Joe hesitated again. “Because I’ve seen it all go bad. I’ve seen the absolute worst it can get.”
Ben motioned for him to continue.
Joe looked from one to the other. There probably weren’t two more respected men on the racetrack than Ben and Tom, even with Tom and his preaching the bible of late. Yet they were both known for being a little hardheaded, set in their ways. “I think because I know what we’ve tried and what didn’t work.”
Are you to blame for any of this?” Ben asked.
Joe paused. He wasn’t a bad man, in fact, quite the contrary. But he’d been a yes man fo
r years now and Ben had no use for yes men.
“I think I can take a fair share of the blame,” Joe said.
“All right.” Ben liked that answer. “It comes back down to this. If you were me, sitting in my chair, what would you be saying right about now? Now remember, I’m you and you’re me.”
“Well.” Joe leaned forward and cleared his throat. “I think I’d be saying, Joe, I’ve got no faith in you. I think you took the easy way out these past couple of years and I think you know that. I think you had your heart in the right place once upon a time, but I think you forgot you’re a horseman. I think you forgot how you got started in this business and why. I think once upon a time you loved horseracing. And that lately, it’s been just a job. I think from where you’re sitting now, pretty close to rock bottom, that you should get down on your knees and beg for another chance. Because I think this just might be your only chance to prove you still have it in you to do what’s right. I think you owe it to yourself, and I think you owe it to the horsemen on this racetrack. I think you can do a good job.”
Tom glanced at Ben and nodded slightly. It sounded sincere to him, worth a shot. And he wasn’t necessarily a big Joe Feigler fan.
Ben looked at the man long and hard. “Well now, if I were you and speaking on your behalf at the moment, I’d be saying thank you for the opportunity to prove myself.”
Joe stared at Ben for a second or two and then lowered his head, trying hard to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “Thank you.”
Ben gave him a moment, and then presented him with a list of things he needed done today. Top of the list: Damage control. “I want you to head out to the barns and talk to everyone there, the trainers, owners, grooms, hot walkers, everyone. I want you to reassure them that we’re going to do everything possible to turn this track around. And I want you to make sure they know they’re going to be part of the success.”
“How?”
“I don’t know that yet.” Ben scratched his head and chuckled. “But it’s going to be your job to convince them we have a plan.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t that a little like how it’s been going?”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 50