She answered his question with one of her own. “How did you happen to show up at my barn the other day?”
“Got lucky with the timing,” he said. He shrugged. “It happens that way a lot. It’s another reason why I’m richer than shit.”
She looked around and saw some of WEF’s biggest riders and trainers, a lot of them still in their riding clothes. She imagined herself yelling out, Who wants to ride Coronado? and seeing hands immediately shoot into the air all over the back room.
“I’m acting in Coronado’s best interest,” Caroline said.
Gorton had finished his drink. He yelled “Hey!” at Oscar and then pointed at his glass.
“Not to push too fine a point,” Gorton said, “but that’s not your call, Caroline.”
She looked discreetly at her watch.
Hang in there.
“Becky can win on Coronado,” she said. “They both like to go fast.”
“What? The other top guys want to go slow?”
“She’s watched her mother win on this horse,” Caroline said. “She knows how to do it.”
Gorton leaned forward now.
“I asked you to take care of this,” he said. “Maybe I don’t just need a new rider. Maybe I need a new partner, too.”
She could no longer contain herself.
“Good luck with that,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“Our contract gives me the right to choose the rider,” she said.
“The hell it does.”
She knew right away that he didn’t know. And probably hadn’t cared when he signed the contract because he never assumed anybody except Maggie Atwood would ride the horse. Caroline had checked what was boilerplate language in most standard partnership agreements involving horses. Even though Daniel actually trained the horse, Caroline was listed as the trainer of record in the contract. Her lawyer had done his best to bury it. But the language was in there—she’d checked after talking to Daniel. Caroline was sure Gorton’s eyes had gone right past it, or his lawyer’s did.
“That’s the way you want to play this?” he said. “Seriously?”
“I want us to be on the same page,” she said.
“Well, that’s not going to happen, is it?” he said. “You don’t need to saddle up, Caroline. You need to lawyer up. Not that it will matter, because my lawyers are better.”
Not with this contract, she thought, and checked her watch again.
Come on.
“Do you really want to be that guy, Steve?” she said.
“And what guy is that?”
“The new guy who wants to take a horse away from a rider who just ended up in a wheelchair,” she said. “At the end of the day, this is a small community. Word gets around.”
“And what would happen then? People would stop thinking I’m a nice guy? News bulletin. I’m not a nice guy.”
“But you’re a dealmaker,” she said. “So let me offer you one.”
“You’re in no position to make a deal,” he said, “whatever you say the contract says.”
Now Caroline leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands.
“Give Becky one month,” she said. “If she falls on her ass, literally or figuratively or both, you can pick whatever rider you want and I won’t fight you.”
“You’re not listening to me,” he said. “This fight is over already.”
Oscar showed up with Gorton’s second martini just as Caroline heard the sound of applause in the back room. He saw some of the riders in the room standing as Caroline couldn’t help doing the same.
It was all because Daniel Ortega was wheeling Maggie Atwood through the crowd toward their table.
“Sorry I’m late,” Maggie said. “Did I miss anything?”
FIFTEEN
Maggie
MAGGIE HAD BEEN discharged from the hospital that morning.
“Knowing this guy,” Caroline had said to her daughter before leaving the house for Oli’s, “I may need you to be the cavalry.”
Now Maggie, with an assist from Daniel, was making her entrance at Oli’s. Hoping she was riding to the rescue.
Gorton tried to act casual, sliding his chair to the right and making room for hers. Daniel quickly excused himself to the bar.
“Two of you, one of me,” Gorton said. “So the sides are even.”
“Nice to see you, too, Steve,” Maggie said, flashing her biggest smile.
She was watching his face for signs of anger or annoyance, but he seemed mildly amused at the guest who’d unexpectedly shown up at the party.