~
“Here you are, ma’am,” Libby said to an unhappy customer who refused to be placated. This was the third time she’d assembled a boxed lamp. If this one had some imagined flaw, she’d just have to lose the sale because there were no more in stock.
“That’s it,” a voice said from behind her. “I want that lamp.”
“This one is mine.” The old biddy clutched the rod so close to her chest the lampshade almost fell off. “Ms. Edwards brought it from the stock room specifically for me.” She then took her charge card out of her purse and waved it, indicating the others off to the side. “But there are three more to choose from.”
Taking the card, Libby nodded to Bev and gave a quick wink that her customer couldn’t see. “I’ll be right with you as soon as I finish with this lady.”
Bev winked back. “No problem.” She placed one of the discarded lamps next to the register. “I like this one, but I also want to look around.”
Libby rang up the sale and watched the demanding customer leave in a self-righteous haze of happiness. “Probably to bug another manager,” she said under her breath as Mrs. Thompson didn’t like having mere salespeople wait on her. An image of Victoria and Candace in twenty years appeared in her mind’s eye. Would they become self-absorbed older women? Would she, if she married Dave? As she rushed over to Bev and gave her a hug, the thought added to all her other misgivings. “Thanks for rescuing me. How’d you know she’d buy it if you wanted it?”
“Classic human behavior of a selfish person. Think of a three-year-old who may not want a toy, but doesn’t want anyone else to have it either.”
“I wish I could ignore people like her.” Dealing with the Mrs. Thompsons of the world always put her in a funk. They seemed to come out in droves during a sale. She sighed, glancing around at a room full of lamps feeling even more down. “My group sales manager is always on me to make my displays look fresh. How in the heck am I supposed to make lamps look fresh? Put bows on them?”
“I have a solution.” Bev laughed and her oversized earrings bounced as her head bobbed slightly. “A job opportunity. Out at the farm.” Bev was a horse handler at Twin Oaks Farm, a place that was near and dear to Libby’s heart and where the two originally met. “A couple of hands just quit on Doug.”
She’d worked with Bev on the farm as a teen, until her sophomore year of college when her dad told her she needed to concentrate on her future. Trouble was, after almost four years, she hadn’t found anything she’d loved as much, especially her current stint at Dillard’s. “Do you think he’d be interested in hiring me?”
She couldn’t care less about being on the fast track for a buyer, as her manager kept reminding her at every opportunity, a promotion all the manager trainees drooled over. Every trainee but her.
“Hell, yes, he’d be interested.” Bev’s excited voice drew her focus. “He hated losing you to begin with. Besides, he really needs the help with the season starting back up. At least go and talk to him, then you can decide.”
A thrill tingled up her spine. “OK. I’ll do it. I get off early today since I came in early.” She hadn’t felt such a sense of fun in a long time, just another warning flag to add to her list of concerns.
“Awesome! I’ll set it up. You won’t be sorry.”
She left Bev full of resolve. In fact, while taking the escalator to the third floor, she decided it was time to do something just because it made her happy. Not Dave or her dad. Instead of going back to her department, she veered toward her manager’s office and asked for a personal half day. After that, she called Bev to set up an earlier appointment.
Libby spun out of Dillard’s parking lot, feeling like she’d been let out of prison. That alone made her realize it was time to make some changes in her life, and quitting Dillard’s would be the first one.
At her apartment, she quickly donned jeans and riding boots, grabbed her vest, then hurried back to her car and soon was heading east on US 60. Excitement welled up inside her, building to near-bursting proportions. She’d finally chosen a path and it felt like the best decision she’d ever made. Kismet; meant to be. She mentally kicked herself for not acting sooner. If only she could fast-forward the next few weeks, her life would be perfect.
Well, almost perfect. Thoughts of Dave sprang forth. She doubted he’d like her decision, but she didn’t want to worry about his disapproval. Not now.
She tapped the brake pedal, slowing, and turned onto the shaded gravel road leading to Twin Oaks Farm. As she drove, her gaze wandered. Various shades of green emerged everywhere. The main stables and outbuildings eventually came into view. Beyond them, open meadows and Kentucky bluegrass spread out as far as Libby could see. Overhead, giant oak trees that, even without leaves, formed a canopy across the road, hiding the sunlight behind dark branches that stretched toward the heavens.
When she spotted a group of horses in the distance, running together in the same direction, she pulled over to the side of the road. While watching the herd run with wild abandon, contentment warmed her. Despite civilization looming only eight miles away, Libby imagined herself slipping back in time.
This place was special and made her feel comfortable. She remembered her first trip to the farm like it was yesterday instead of nine years ago. She’d never forget why she came. To heal. Twin Oaks and the horses had helped her deal with the overwhelming grief of losing her mom.
I made the right decision to return, she mused happily. I belong here.
Smiling, she looked at the clock on her dashboard. “Shoot. Better get a move on. Don’t want to be late for my interview.”
She put the car in gear and, after a quick glance to check the side mirror, a couple of giant oaks grabbed her notice. The two stood side by side, about fifteen feet away from the road. They towered over the other trees lining the drive, appearing out of place. Not only that, she caught whispering in her thoughts. Like they were mentally calling to her.
Yeah, right!Giant oaks didn’t call to people in their minds. She laughed, hit the gas pedal, and peeled out. Boy, she’d escaped from the crazies at Dillard’s just in time.
Around the bend, her best friend rushed to unlatch the gate. When the car came to a stop, Bev ran over and opened Libby’s door.
“I’m so excited you made it.”
“Me too! I can’t believe I’m actually here.” The “William Tell Overture” sounded from her pocket. Libby pulled out her cell phone and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Dave.”
Bev shrugged. “Just text him and tell him you can’t talk right now and you’ll call him back later.”
“Good idea.” When the message light blinked, she typed a quick message and after sending it, turned the phone off. The thought about feeling as if she couldn’t share her excitement with him didn’t ease her anxiety any. She could already hear his words about irresponsibility and immaturity, not to mention what he’d say when he learned she’d be working with Bev. Candace and Victoria would certainly mock her choice. But none of that mattered. She’d made up her mind. Retail and messing with displays day after day, fresh or otherwise, just weren’t her thing. Horses were.
“So, where’d Dr. Bull take you last night? You never said this morning.”
She sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”
“If the name didn’t fit, I wouldn’t use it.”
“Can’t you try to get along,” she asked, tired of playing referee. “And be nice to him?”
“I have tried.” Bev’s chin lifted. “He treats me like I’m a pariah because I don’t fit his mold of what he thinks is respectable.”
Wasn’t that the truth? Still, if Bev didn’t respond to his little barbs so negatively, it would help. “Then be the bigger person and be nice for my sake.”
“OK. I promise I’ll try harder.” Bev hesitated a beat, then her eyebrows rose. “So, where’d you guys go last night?”
“The opera.” Libby exhaled slowly, blowing on her bangs. “I’m sure he thinks I’m uncultured.”
“Be still my heart.” Bev placed her hand over her chest, patting, and rolled her eyes. “How’d you get roped into doing something so fun?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It just sort of happened. You know, another surprise.”
“It seems a lot of things are just sort of happening.” Bev clucked and shook her spiky red head. Her overlarge dangling earrings followed the movement, dancing back and forth. “But hey, you’re the one who’s going to spend the rest of your life with him. Not me.”
Another truth Libby didn’t want to reflect upon as Dave’s comment about Kewpie dolls entered her thoughts. She smiled, thinking it an apt description. Her friend did tend to use makeup, clothing, and jewelry to attract attention, even when working with her precious horses.
A loud neigh rent the air. A hoof impatiently pawed the ground and the horse blew a huge breath out of her nostrils. “Is that Black Mystic?” Libby nodded at the mare Bev had been working with when she drove up.
“Yes. And as you can see, she hates to be ignored.” Bev reached for Libby’s arm and tugged. “Come on and get reacquainted.”
“I’d love to.” Libby climbed out of the car and turned a full circle, taking everything in.
Another snort erupted. Black Mystic pranced, clearly growing more impatient by the second.
“Cool your jets, Mystic. We’re coming.” Bev latched on to Libby’s hand, pulling her behind. The mare’s head rose and her ears twitched. Nostrils flaring, the mare nudged Bev when she got close enough to grab her halter. “She’s my favorite, and she abuses the knowledge.” She rubbed soothingly over her long face. “Behave, you beast. Black Mystic, this is Libby. You remember her? She remembers you.”
“It’s nice to see you again.” Stifling pure joy, Libby stroked the animal, letting her gaze wander farther.
“Sam’s added more horses and enlarged the bunkhouse to accommodate another fifteen kids.”
She nodded. Twin Oaks Farm was an unusual one in these parts. A camp for kids. A place where children came to heal. Whether from a serious illness such as cancer or from traumatic problems like Libby’s, Sam’s horses helped them.
A few grazed in the adjacent pasture.
Most of the thoroughbreds on the farm were castoffs taken in or bought after being on the racing circuit. Some were injured early on, ending their racing careers before they had a chance to become breeding champions. Others were too old to race and not good enough to breed, meaning they hadn’t won many races in their careers.
Libby grinned. “I’m glad they can bring a little pleasure to kids who need them.” All were dead broke and gentle, needing their own place to heal as they aged. “They’re proud animals and deserve to be useful.”
“I agree.”
“It feels right!” Familiar smells and sounds assaulted Libby’s senses. She spent long seconds enjoying the sensation of returning home after a long journey.
“Doug’s right over there, talking with Sam.” Bev indicated the house with a nod. “Good luck. Not that you need it. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Libby’s gaze followed Bev’s as two men stepped farther onto the porch. She recognized Doug, the farm’s manager, a balding, tall, lean man in his early to mid-forties, deep in conversation with the owner, Sam Thorpe.
Libby approached the house.
Doug Williams glanced up. “Can we finish this later?” He turned to Sam and nodded in her direction. “There’s the new handler I’m interviewing. But unless she’s changed significantly since she was last here, I think it’s only a formality. You remember her?”
Sam looked over and a smile lit his face. No one could miss his shock of snowy white hair. That and the deep crinkles around his warm blue eyes gave his age of sixty-nine years away. “Is that Libby Edwards?” When Doug nodded, Sam added, his voice full of amazement, “She’s all grown up. How many years has it been?”
“At least four.”
Libby started up the stairs, meeting Sam halfway.
“Well, well, well. It’s about time you came back.”
“Hi, Mr. Thorpe.” Libby’s smile was as wide as his when they shook hands. “It’s good to be here.” She turned to the younger man, still grinning. “Mr. Williams, I’m ready for my interview.”
“What’s this Mr. Williams stuff? You can call me Doug. If you don’t, I’ll feel old.”
“OK, Doug. I’m here to work. How about a job?” Libby replied, laughing.
Doug glanced at Sam with eyebrows cocked. “Can we finish going over the schedule later?”
“Fine.” Sam grunted. “No big hurry since we have a few days before the season begins.” He gave Libby a brief nod. “The first session starts next weekend and then we’re up and running until the end of October.” He turned toward the front door.
Doug’s eyes sparkled. “Well, little lady, I bet you haven’t lost your touch with the horses.”
“I hope not, but it’s been awhile.”
“Ha! It’s like riding a bicycle. Once you get comfortable, it’ll be like you never left. I feel blessed that you’re interested. Of course the pay’s not the main attraction, but I think you’ll love the benefits. Heck, you can even live out here. In order to attract better trainers, we’ve added a few cabins with all of the amenities—bed, bath, and kitchen. Would you like a tour?”
Libby nodded. “I’d love one.”
While they walked, memories flooded Libby’s thoughts. Besides the two weeks as a camper at age fourteen, she’d spent too many summers after that as a counselor. When she left, at the start of her sophomore year of college, she never thought to return because her father had been dead set against it. Even now, his main argument replayed in her mind. She’d never done anything else, so how could she know what she wanted. Libby had no answer at the time and quitting had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Six jobs later, she could finally answer the question more definitively.
Libby hurried to keep up with Doug, at the same time noting her surroundings more closely. At first glance it appeared as if nothing much had changed, but now, the new additions stood out.
“Twin Oaks Farm has been in Sam’s family for over a hundred years,” he said. “His great-great-grandfather started it with two horses back in the 1870s.”
Libby knew all this, but never tired of hearing it. They entered the main stable. Her gaze went directly to the third stall on the right. And there stood Thorpe’s Pride.
At their intrusion, the mare’s head shot up and her nostrils flared.
“I wonder if she remembers you.” Doug strode toward her stall.
The exquisite animal immediately nuzzled her hand when she stepped close enough to hold it out. “Hey there, Pride. It’s good to see you again.” She caressed her nose and rubbed a hand along her sleek neck. “You’re such a beauty.”
“She is that. And big too. Sixteen hands.” He nodded, absently stroking the horse. “Still, she can be stubborn at times.”
Libby leaned in close and whispered, “Are you giving these nice people a hard time, Pride?”
Doug laughed. “Sam usually does most of her handling because when she does get a burr up her butt, she’s a handful. If it were up to me, I’d get rid of her. I think she knows it, too.”
“Oh, Pride. I can’t believe you’ve become such a naughty girl.” Libby turned back to Doug. “I’m sure I can still handle her.” She’d never had trouble in the past, though, a twinge of guilt tugged on her heartstrings for never visiting the horse in all this time. The two shared something special. Libby had been present at her birth; even helped train her. Yet, as much as she missed Pride, returning would have been too painful.
“If anyone can handle her, that’d be you. She’s always had a soft spot for you.” Doug continued rubbing her neck. “She’s just finicky. She’s definitely happy to see you. It’ll be nice to have help. Hell, we both know Sam will never part with her. He loves her. Besides, Pride has also become quite the mare for breeding and too valuable. Never hurts to be a direct descendant of Aristide, the first Derby winner back in 1875.” Doug stopped talking, then looked over at Libby and blushed. “Sorry, I forgot you already know all that. Don’t know why I’m rattling on. Habit, I guess.”
Libby smiled. “That’s OK, I don’t mind.”
“Well, good, because I’m likely to repeat a lot of information. Anyway, back to Pride. Sam doesn’t race her. He quit all that back when he started the camp, but her foals add to the farm’s income. Sam runs her daily, which gives her a chance to show us she knows what she was bred for.” He let go of the horse and faced her. “Well? Have I convinced you yet?”
She indicated Pride with her nod. “Brought out the big guns, huh? You didn’t need her. I was ready to sign on the minute I drove up the gravel road.”
“Great. There’s more to see. Then I’ll need to get to work.” He turned to leave. “When can you start?”
“Not for two weeks.” Libby stroked Pride one more time and whispered good-bye before catching up with Doug. “I still have to give a notice. I can be here after work and on my days off, if that’s OK?”
“I’ll take any time I can get. Just let me know your schedule and I’ll work around it.” They walked through the stable with him pointing things out as he went. “The last ten are pregnant mares we saved a couple of months ago from a farm in Montana—that’s all we could take. We’ll sell the foals to help with finances. They’re outside right now. Since they’re used to harsher climates, we’re able to let them graze more in the open. It helps with the workload and overhead. I only bring them in when the temperature gets too cold at night.”
“They must have been the horses running free that I saw on my way in.”
“Yeah, the left pasture. Close to the road.” The two departed the main stable and headed toward a two-story building. Doug continued talking. “The good thing about having more horses is that after they foal and the foals are weaned and sold, we’ll be able to help more kids. We’ve renovated the bunkhouse. Added a few more rooms.”
He stopped and looked around. His chest puffed up with pride. “We can accommodate up to fifty-five kids at a time. Of course it doesn’t always work out that we’re full, given that some kids stay only a week and some stay the full month. It’s best if each child cares for the same horse for his or her entire stay. That always creates a few scheduling dilemmas.”
She smiled. “I take it Thorpe’s Pride isn’t one the kids practice on?”
“Hardly.” Doug grunted. “Thorpe’s Pride, Black Mystic, and Mary’s Choice are the only three mares we breed. They’re descendants from the farm’s original two horses and each has a special place in Sam’s heart. We geld the stallions. They’re easier for the kids to handle. Sam takes care of Thorpe’s Pride and Bev takes care of the other two. She works with our vet the rest of the time.”
They toured the bunkhouse. On the way out, Doug glanced at Libby. “Does it bring back memories?”
Boy did it ever! Images of the kids and the camp rushed into her head. This place was as unique as the kids who came through it, sometimes providing solace to a dying child, and at other times the means to aid in confidence-building or nurturing the healing process. Nodding, she said, “Yes. I’ve always loved it here.”
“Are you interested in seeing the cabins?”
She nodded. “I’m thinking of moving here full time.”
“They’re not too far.” He headed down the same path they’d come. Within minutes, ten small cabins came into view through the trees. “Sam wanted these built away from the house for privacy. He hates people living right on top of him. That’s why he’s out here. Come on, I’ll show you a vacant one and you can decide if you like it.”
At the third cabin, he took out a ring of keys, unlocked and then opened the door, and stepped aside. “It’s not the Ritz, but the cabins are insulated, and all have adequate furnishings.”
Libby strolled through the modest unit. Cheery and comfortable came to mind. The bath and kitchen were adequate and held possibilities. “This is nicer than my apartment.” She offered a slight smile. Dave wasn’t going to like it. For that matter, neither would her dad. Thinking of the two men, Libby wondered how she was going to tell either. “Sold.”
“Now that we have that solved, let’s go find Sam. Once you’ve talked to him, we can go over the schedule and I can put you to work. That is, if you’re willing?”
“Of course I’m willing.” She increased her gait to catch up with him.
When they neared the house, Doug slowed. “I’ll be in the rear stable. One of the Montana mares is due to foal any time now. Sam should be in his office. Go on up, I’ll see you later.” He turned in the direction of the stables.
Libby ran up the porch stairs and into the house. She’d been here before, so she knew where his office was located. Sam glanced up from his desk as she approached. He stood and smiled expectantly. “So, what’d you think of all the changes?”
“You’ve added a lot since I was last here. The cabins are really nice.”
“Have a seat.” He sat back down and motioned toward a chair across from the desk. “It helps with the bottom line. They’re very basic; believe it or not they were fairly inexpensive to build.”
“I’m impressed.” Sam had told Libby long ago that Twin Oaks was his and Mrs. Thorpe’s dream of leaving something for future generations to appreciate. This part of Kentucky had always been horse country, yet more and more farms were selling out to big developers, who in turn were chopping up the land and creating urban sprawl. The way Sam saw it, stud farms like the one that had been his family’s livelihood for generations were all too quickly disappearing.
“It’s part of my long-term plans. Since none of my kids want the hassle of running it, I’ve begun the task of putting the farm in a trust.”
Libby nodded. “So is Mrs. Thorpe around? I’d like to say hello.” She wondered why she hadn’t seen her during the tour.
“No.” Sorrow crept over Sam’s face. He shook his head, sighing sadly. “She died last year, so it’s just me and Doug now.”
“I didn’t know,” Libby said softly, wishing she could disappear. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His wistful smile replaced sadness. “She’s no longer suffering and we had thirty-nine wonderful years. Now I just need to make sure this place lives on after I’m gone, mainly for Mary. It was her idea to turn the farm into the camp once we retired. Her death taught me things happen quickly. One minute she was healthy and then three months later I’m mourning her passing.” His smile turned warmer. “I can’t believe it’s been eleven years since we helped our first camper.”
Sam stood, came around the desk, and leaned against it. “Do you have any questions? I know Doug’s pretty thorough. In case he missed something, feel free to ask.”
“Well, I do have one question. Is it OK if I ride Thorpe’s Pride?”
The edges of his eyes crinkled into deep lines when his grin widened. “Most people would want to know about the pay or if there is medical coverage.”
“I guess I should ask those questions, too.”
“You’re not going to get rich working here. Most of our hands love what they do and they love the kids, so turnover isn’t too much of a problem. We do offer a basic health policy, but we only kick in fifty percent,” he explained briefly. Then he chuckled. “To answer your question—you can ride Pride whenever you feel up to the challenge. Maybe I should go with you for your first time. She can be stubborn when the mood strikes.”
Libby’s grin stretched. “How about now?”
“I can use a break.” Sam straightened and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go.”
After saddling Thorpe’s Pride and Mary’s Choice, both riders spent time warming the horses up. Having worked the highjinks out of the mares, they headed out at a slow trot, which built until both mounts were given full freedom to run.
Libby’s laughter caught on the wind. She leaned in, urging Thorpe’s Pride faster as the mare’s swift gait ate up the ground. Libby had forgotten how energized she’d always felt riding this magnificent animal—the air rushing past her face and the countryside speeding past in a blur of green—her idea of heaven.
When they neared a stream, Libby pulled back on the reins and slowed, allowing Pride to catch her breath. Sam followed. They ambled. All the while she scanned the spectacular scenery.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.” It was still too early for the deciduous trees to leaf. But the hearty wild flowers bloomed in the meadows, adding purple and yellow to the rain-soaked bluegrass, laid out along the rolling hills like a carpet for miles. “Makes me feel alive, like I belong here,” she added fervently.
Since no job in the past four years had made her feel this way, Libby realized her sentiments spoke volumes.
Sam nodded but didn’t speak.
The two rode in companionable silence for more than a mile, still on Thorpe land. On the return trip, they traveled along the same gravel road Libby had driven in on, paralleling the same white fence that seemed to go on into infinity. While passing the trees that had caught her attention earlier, trees she’d seen a million times, Libby once again felt their pull. Strange thoughts of having been here in another era flitted through her mind, which was totally crazy.
She pointed to the oaks. “I’ve never noticed before, but those trees look so out of place out there.”
Sam’s gaze followed her hand. His features lit with amusement. “Those two trees are special.”
Libby squinted. “Oh?”
“Yep. The kids started calling them wishing trees a few years back.”
“Wishing trees?”
“Yeah, you know like a well? Only with trees.” He winked and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “According to family legend, all sorts of things have happened under them over the years.”
“I believe it.” Libby nodded. “Don’t laugh, but when I passed by here earlier, they seemed to call to me. Like right now. I have this funny feeling that I’m here for a reason.”
“Trees or no trees, that’s not so hard to figure out. You belong at Twin Oaks.” The crinkles surrounding Sam’s eyes deepened as his grin widened. “I know how you are around horses. It’s a rare gift few people possess.”
Libby glanced at the oaks again and shrugged. “They look old.”
Nodding, Sam looked in the same direction. “They are. Maybe even centuries. For over a hundred years, the number one rule in the Thorpe family has been to leave them alone. That’s what my daddy told me, and his daddy told him, all the way back to my great-grandfather.”
“And no one’s cut them down? How amazing that something lasts so long.” That right there made them special.
“About sixty years ago, my daddy planted the other trees away from those two and made the road where it is, but he left those two intact. I only know that I can’t touch them and my kids have been given the same instructions. Of course, our rule has only added to their mystique.”
Libby shot Sam a questioning glance. “Do they work?”
“Who knows? I wished for a long and happy life with Mary when we got engaged under them and my wish came true.” He chuckled. “I would’ve liked more time, but sometimes we have to be happy with what life or the trees give us.” Sam sighed. “One thing’s for sure. No one in the near future will cut them down. They’re timeless. Add continuity and peace to the surroundings.”
“You’re right,” Libby agreed. “I do feel at peace here. Time seems to stand still.” Then she laughed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been having strange thoughts all afternoon.”
“The trees have a way of making people feel that way. It’s not new. I’ve heard it before and I’ll probably hear it again.”
They approached the paddocks surrounding the stables.
“Thanks for the company.” Sam dismounted and opened the gate. “I’m glad you’re back, because I meant what I said. You belong here.”
Libby nodded and guided Pride through the gate before dismounting. Sam led his horse inside before closing the gate behind him.
In the stable at one of the crossties, Libby relieved Thorpe’s Pride of her bridle and saddle. She began grooming the mare as Sam groomed Mary’s Choice in a similar area several stalls away.
First, she grabbed a hoof pick to check each hoof for caked dirt and small pebbles, then working her way up the leg, she inspected for strains. Finally, Libby took a dandy brush and started to brush the dust, mud, and other debris off the legs in short, quick strokes, using another brush to rub down her back. Done and with everything put away, she guided the mare to her stall. Before leaving, she stroked Pride’s neck and whispered how happy she was to be back.
Libby met Sam on his way out of Choice’s stall.
“It’s a lot of work.” He stretched. “I’m just happy it keeps me in such good shape.”
Libby smiled. Her arms ached from the exertion. “I forgot how hard it is.”
“You’ll be up to it in no time. You’re young. I have to work on my scheduling, so I’ll see you later.”
“OK. Thanks for the company. I enjoyed the ride.” She turned to look for Doug as Sam started off in the opposite direction.
“I ride every day,” he said over his shoulder. “Let me know when you can be here and I’ll ride with you if I can.”
“Thanks, Mr. Thorpe. I will.”
“Oh, and Libby?”
He stopped his retreat as she halted in midstride and glanced back at him with eyebrows raised. “Yes, Mr. Thorpe?”
“Unlike Doug, I know I’m old. But I still don’t cotton to all that formality around here. I like things friendly and informal—so call me Sam, OK?”
Grinning wide, Libby nodded. “OK, Sam it is.” She left him to find Doug and quickly immersed herself in her new duties with the horses.
By quitting time she could barely move, even noted how much effort it took to turn the wheel of her car as she sped out to the main road on the way home. Libby couldn’t remember a time in the last three years when she’d worked so hard.
Inside her apartment, she turned on her cell and noticed someone had left a message. There were four. All from Dave. She connected to voice mail. The device came alive with his voice. The first two were friendly, but the last two indicated definite displeasure with her absence.
Libby sighed, then checked her text messages. Dave had sent three in all. Her shoulders slumped. She’d have to call him back, but first she needed a hot shower.