the sun reflecting off the windshield, like the car was giving off a beam of light.
He walked toward the house nodding his head at a caller on the phone he carried in one hand, a legal-size envelope in the other. A descriptive line about a mouse who’d grown up to be a rat surfaced from one of my writing classes.
Get it over with.
When I answered the front door he said, “Where’s your grandmother?”
“Not here,” I said.
“Where is she?”
“She had an appointment,” I said.
“What the hell?” he said. “Her appointment was with me.”
“Would you care to come inside?”
“I have to be somewhere.”
“Same,” I said. “But my family has decided that whatever you needed to say, you can say to me.”
I showed him into the front room, asked if he wanted coffee, at least making a pass at sounding polite.
“No coffee. No screwing around,” he said. “You know why I’m here.”
“I do,” I said, taking the rocking chair.
He sat down on the couch, tossed the envelope on the coffee table, pointed at it.
“I’ll leave this agreement for her,” he said. “I’ve already signed it. As soon as she countersigns, I’ll transfer the money into her account.” He made a snorting noise. “I can’t believe I wasted a trip.”
“Sorry,” I said, as if feeling him.
“Are you?”
“Time is money,” I said.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of smart remark?”
“Not if you have to ask,” I said.
“I know I’m supposed to be the bad guy here,” he said.
“Actually, in this case, you’re not.”
“But none of this is my fault,” Gorton said. “You had your chance and you blew it. We need to stop jacking around with the notion that you should be riding this horse. Or ever should have been riding this horse.”
“You made that pretty clear yesterday,” I said.
“The guy who tells people what they want to hear?” he said. “I’m not that guy.”
I grinned.
“So I’ve heard.”
“I’ll send somebody to pick up the signed papers,” he said.
“You can actually take them with you,” I said.
“She needs to sign them first,” he said.
“Well, see, here’s the thing,” I said. “She’s not signing. And we’re not selling.”
“We had a goddamn deal,” he said.
“And now we don’t.”
“That’s it?” he said. “Care to explain?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
I got out of the rocking chair and walked across the living room and opened the front door for him. He walked past me, close enough for me to smell his cologne, turned when he got to the driveway.
“You’re telling me that she’s walking away from a million dollars now, even though you all know I get control of the horse in a couple of weeks?” Gorton said.
“Crazy, right?”
“You really don’t care to tell me why?”
“She changed her mind,” I said.
I shrugged.
“If it’s any consolation to you, Mr. Gorton?”
“What?” he snapped.
“Shocked the hell out of me, too.”
TWENTY-NINE
The night before.
I THREW EVERYTHING I had at Grandmother, queen of the manor, if you could call Atwood Farm a manor.
I reminded her that I’d been told my whole life that we weren’t in the horse business for the money. That if it were only about the money, she wouldn’t have basically mortgaged her whole life to have enough money to get a share of Coronado. She’d done it because she loved Mom enough to give her this chance. And this horse.
No go.
“We keep talking and talking but arriving back at the same damn place,” she said. “And that means this place. Your grandfather and I built it up from nothing. It’s been the last fifty years of my life. First with him, then with you and your mom. You know how much I hate to do this. But there will be other horses.”
“Not like this one.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe not. But your mother was on her way to the Olympics with Lord Stanley before he went lame.”
By then I only had one bullet left.
“Then sell my
He walked toward the house nodding his head at a caller on the phone he carried in one hand, a legal-size envelope in the other. A descriptive line about a mouse who’d grown up to be a rat surfaced from one of my writing classes.
Get it over with.
When I answered the front door he said, “Where’s your grandmother?”
“Not here,” I said.
“Where is she?”
“She had an appointment,” I said.
“What the hell?” he said. “Her appointment was with me.”
“Would you care to come inside?”
“I have to be somewhere.”
“Same,” I said. “But my family has decided that whatever you needed to say, you can say to me.”
I showed him into the front room, asked if he wanted coffee, at least making a pass at sounding polite.
“No coffee. No screwing around,” he said. “You know why I’m here.”
“I do,” I said, taking the rocking chair.
He sat down on the couch, tossed the envelope on the coffee table, pointed at it.
“I’ll leave this agreement for her,” he said. “I’ve already signed it. As soon as she countersigns, I’ll transfer the money into her account.” He made a snorting noise. “I can’t believe I wasted a trip.”
“Sorry,” I said, as if feeling him.
“Are you?”
“Time is money,” I said.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of smart remark?”
“Not if you have to ask,” I said.
“I know I’m supposed to be the bad guy here,” he said.
“Actually, in this case, you’re not.”
“But none of this is my fault,” Gorton said. “You had your chance and you blew it. We need to stop jacking around with the notion that you should be riding this horse. Or ever should have been riding this horse.”
“You made that pretty clear yesterday,” I said.
“The guy who tells people what they want to hear?” he said. “I’m not that guy.”
I grinned.
“So I’ve heard.”
“I’ll send somebody to pick up the signed papers,” he said.
“You can actually take them with you,” I said.
“She needs to sign them first,” he said.
“Well, see, here’s the thing,” I said. “She’s not signing. And we’re not selling.”
“We had a goddamn deal,” he said.
“And now we don’t.”
“That’s it?” he said. “Care to explain?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
I got out of the rocking chair and walked across the living room and opened the front door for him. He walked past me, close enough for me to smell his cologne, turned when he got to the driveway.
“You’re telling me that she’s walking away from a million dollars now, even though you all know I get control of the horse in a couple of weeks?” Gorton said.
“Crazy, right?”
“You really don’t care to tell me why?”
“She changed her mind,” I said.
I shrugged.
“If it’s any consolation to you, Mr. Gorton?”
“What?” he snapped.
“Shocked the hell out of me, too.”
TWENTY-NINE
The night before.
I THREW EVERYTHING I had at Grandmother, queen of the manor, if you could call Atwood Farm a manor.
I reminded her that I’d been told my whole life that we weren’t in the horse business for the money. That if it were only about the money, she wouldn’t have basically mortgaged her whole life to have enough money to get a share of Coronado. She’d done it because she loved Mom enough to give her this chance. And this horse.
No go.
“We keep talking and talking but arriving back at the same damn place,” she said. “And that means this place. Your grandfather and I built it up from nothing. It’s been the last fifty years of my life. First with him, then with you and your mom. You know how much I hate to do this. But there will be other horses.”
“Not like this one.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe not. But your mother was on her way to the Olympics with Lord Stanley before he went lame.”
By then I only had one bullet left.
“Then sell my
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