The window was open. I briefly imagined what had been such a nice morning flying out of it, down over the barn and away.
I snorted as loudly as one of the horses. Of course Gorton was talking on his phone as he walked across the driveway wearing a crimson cap printed HARVARD BUSINESS SCHOOL. As he got closer, I heard him say, loudly, “I’m telling you, I don’t care what he says, he’s lying out his ass.”
Then he nodded and said, “How do I know? Because I do it all the time myself.”
His disappearing act after the Grand Prix had stretched into a full week. The last person I knew who’d talked to him was Dad, when he’d whispered that heartfelt message in his ear.
Gorton put his phone away when he got to the ring.
I dried my hands and went out the kitchen door to meet him.
“Hey,” he said.
“Good morning, Mr. Gorton,” I said sweetly, all fake sincerity.
“Listen, I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you since you won the thing,” he said.
One way to do it without actually doing it, I thought.
“You saw the best part of the night,” I said. “No need to stick around for the after-party.”
“Including Tyler Cullen’s little shit show,” he said. “Heard about it, though.”
“That was a little different,” I said.
“I like Tyler,” Gorton said. “Guy’s a great rider. But he didn’t do himself any favors with bullshit like that.” He smirked. “You want a different result? Ride faster, am I right?”
“He still nearly beat me on a day our horse was perfect,” I said.
Our horse. Smiling. Now I was Rebecca of Atwood Farm with him.
“Listen,” he said, “I might not be the best loser in the world myself. But you won the thing, fair and square. Didn’t just beat Cullen. Even beat my friend Mike Bloomberg’s kid, too. Don’t think I didn’t call the former mayor of New York first thing the next morning.” He paused. “Anyway, a deal is a deal.”
He put out his hand to me. I hesitated at first, but then shook it.
“You stay on the horse,” he said.
That was it. Meeting over. He walked away from me, got into his car, drove away, not pulling out like a lunatic for once. I watched the sleek blue car make the turn onto Stable Way, heading for Palm Beach Point.
I stood on the front lawn and watched him go.
“He is lying out his ass,” I said to myself, and then went to ride Sky.
FORTY-NINE
Gorton
TYLER CULLEN’S VOICE over the speakerphone filled the interior of the new Maserati. Gorton had treated himself to it the previous Monday, using his share of the goddamn horse’s winnings. Why not?
“Did they buy it?” Cullen asked.
“Who gives a shit?” Gorton said. “I actually kind of like Maggie. Might have tried to hit that under different circumstances. It’s the kid and the old lady who piss me off. The kid especially. She looks at me like I’m some old loser trying to hit on her.”
Gorton was taking his time driving back to the island. Blaine would probably just be getting up. He’d never seen anybody sleep like this girl. But the sooner he got back to the house, the sooner he’d have to talk to her.
“Tell me the truth,” Gorton said. “Do I have the best horse?”
“We’ve gone over this.”
“I want to hear it again.”
“Yes, you do,” Cullen said. “But that kid will never be as good as she was the other night. Just because she got hit by lightning doesn’t mean she’s still not over her goddamn skis. No chance in hell she’s good enough to ride like that over the next three or four months and make it to Paris. But I am. One hundred percent.”
“You screwed up the other night,” Gorton said.
There was a pause at the other end of the call.
“Totally on me,” he said. “Got ahead of myself because I wanted to beat her ass too much. Won’t happen again.”
“Better not.”
“It won’t.”
“And the kid isn’t good enough to get the points she needs?”
“No,” Cullen said. “She’s good. She is. She’s got potential, if she doesn’t let her arrogance get in the way. But she’s not her mother.”
His voice dropped for a couple of seconds and then Gorton heard him say, “And that kid sure as hell isn’t me.”
“Can you make the Olympics on your horse?” Gorton said.
“Probably,” Cullen said. “But put me on yours and we don’t just make it to Paris, we ride off into the sunset with a gold medal.”