The boy was adapting nicely, and the two children were inseparable. For that, Nealy was grateful. Yes, he grieved, and yes, he cried, but at the end of the day he had Nealy to hug him, tuck him in, and kiss him good night, and it was Emmie he had breakfast with and Emmie he rode with on the school bus, and together they helped in the barns and did their chores cheerfully. Time would heal his wounds the way they'd healed hers and Emmie's. For now she had a son, and she was growing to love the ginger-haired, freckle-faced boy almost as much as she loved Emmie.
She should be thinking about Christmas and maybe decorating the house. A party of sorts for the employees if she could find the time. Presents to be bought. A tree to set up and decorate. Last year, she and Emmie had agreed not to bother with Christmas. They'd gone to church, though, said their prayers, visited the stallion cemetery, eaten dinner, then slept the rest of the day away. This year she had to be concerned with Buddy and what he would expect. Just the thought of what the holidays entailed made her shoulders slump.
Back in Virginia, Christmas had been little more than another day. Work still had to be done, the horses seen to. There was always one gift, usually an article of clothing, for each of her brothers and herself. Now that she understood the financial workings of Blue Diamond Farms, she had to wonder what her father did with all his money.
Nealy hopped off the fence and found herself suddenly caught in a pair of bright headlights as a car stopped within inches of her body. Her heart started to pound as she tried to see past the blinding light. She moved quickly to the side of the road at the same moment the occupant stormed out of his car, his arms flailing, his voice angry and blustery. “You trying to get yourself killed! I could have killed you, you know! Who in their right mind is bouncing off a fence at two o'clock in the morning? Are you some kind of weirdo? Never mind, of course you are; otherwise, you wouldn't be out here in the middle of the night. You almost gave me a heart attack. Well, aren't you going to say something? Stupid female. Why do I get them all?” the man said, throwing his hands in the air.
“And you are . . . ? You're trespassing. I'm not a weirdo, but I can see how you might think I am one. My mind was someplace else. I didn't see your lights, and I didn't hear the sound of your car. I apologize for that. I'm glad you didn't have a heart attack, but you almost gave me one, so that makes us even. I'm also glad you have good brakes. I repeat, you are trespassing.”
“Hunter Clay. Danny Clay is my father. He works here. I'm on Christmas break.” He removed his baseball cap to run his fingers through a shock of dark curly hair. “I've been driving for two days. This car is worth about two hundred bucks. I have eighty dollars in the bank and a fortune tied up in law books thanks to my dad and Maud. I have one more quarter to go and then the bar. I grew up here. I was sorry to hear about Maud and Jess. They were like grandparents to me. Never saw you before, so I jumped to conclusions. Guess you're the new owner. Why don't we start over. I'm Hunter Clay. My friends call me Hunt.”
“I'm Nealy Diamond,” Nealy said, extending her hand. “I didn't know Danny had a son.”
“Dad's like Jess. Never says two words if one will do. I lived with my mother in Syracuse until she died when I was ten. I came here then. Mom didn't like horses and refused to live here. They never got divorced. Dad came to see us twice a year. Listen, do you think we could continue this discussion tomorrow? Today really. I'm dead on my feet and need some sleep.”
Nealy stared at him as he moved closer to the car door and stood outlined in the light from the headlights. For one wild, crazy moment she thought she was looking at Emmie's father. She blinked, and the vision vanished. Solid was her first thought. Spectacular, muscular body. Dark chocolate eyes and a cleft in his chin. He smiled then. There the likeness to Emmie's father disappeared.
“Did I pass?”
“Yes. How long are you going to be here?”
“Six or seven weeks. Is that going to be a problem?”
“How would you like to work for me while you're here?” She rattled off an obscene amount of money and wondered where the numbers came from and why she was being so generous with someone who had almost run her over. It was his turn to blink.
“You got yourself a new groom, lady.”
“Good. Be in the stallion barn at five. I'll see you then.”
“That's in . . .
three
hours.”
Nealy turned. “You lawyers are soooo smart. You can count, too. Better get cracking. Five o'clock rolls around real quick. Don't even think about being late. I just fired the last guy who showed up late.
And
his father.”
“That must have been Wylie and Jack! Okay, you just impressed me. That had to take some guts!”
“You could say that.” Nealy grinned as she walked away.
Hunter Clay watched as Nealy sashayed her way over to the house and up the steps into the house. “Uh-huh,” he mumbled as he settled the baseball cap more firmly on his head. “Five o'clock it is,” he said as he climbed back into the rickety car.
Nealy walked into the kitchen to hang up her jacket. Hunter Clay. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of soda pop. Hunter Clay. She shivered when she remembered how much he looked like Dillon Roland. Dillon Roland, who had threatened to kill her if she ever accused him of being the father of her child. He'd said other things, too. Ugly, hurtful, threatening things. In the end, when her father threatened to beat her within an inch of her life, she'd said she'd fallen asleep in the barn and some vagrant had wandered in and attacked her.
Dillon Roland, whose father was very wealthy, was married now to the daughter of one of the town's most influential citizens. He also fancied himself a country squire and owned two magnificent horses he had bought at Keeneland two years ago. He'd been quoted as saying when the time was right he'd run the Derby.
All good things come to those who wait,
Nealy thought as she climbed the steps to the second floor.
Hunter Clay.
9
Nealy sat in the truck at the end of the driveway, the engine idling as she waited for the school bus to discharge Emmie and Buddy. She craned her neck to look upward. It was going to snow. She could feel it in her bones.
At breakfast that morning she'd announced that it was only one week until Christmas and time to get a Christmas tree. Emmie had been enthusiastic, but Buddy showed little emotion. She crossed her fingers and hoped the boy would get into the swing of things and join whatever festivities she could conjure up.
Today, a weekday, she'd taken the entire day off and gone into Lexington to shop for gifts, wrapping paper, and Christmas decorations. She still couldn't believe that she'd actually played
hooky.
Usually when she had shopping to do, she waited until Sunday, but this time she'd made an exception. It was a first. And it felt good. So good, in fact, she was looking forward to doing it again.
Tonight, after tallying up the receipts, she wondered if she would still feel good. She'd purchased two bicycles, a blue one for Buddy and a lavender one for Emmie, fishing poles, Rollerblades, a motorized scooter with a sidecar for Buddy and a sleek custom-designed motorcar that resembled a golf cart for Emmie. They would be delivered tomorrow while the kids were in school.
With the last of her purchases in hand, she'd headed for the truck only to stop short in front of a store window to stare at a dress. In her life she'd never seen anything so glamorous, so rich-looking, so elegant, and so trashy all at the same time. Maud would have loved it. She had marched into the store and asked for a size 2, praying they would have it. They did.
She had been on her way to the dressing room when she checked her watch and realized it was later than she realized. “Can I return this if it doesn't fit?” she asked the salesclerk.
“Of course. Just save your receipt.”
She had the clerk take it up to the register and whipped out her checkbook. Where was she going to wear such a dress? she wondered. She never went anyplace. And even if something did come up, would she have the guts to wear it? It was so . . . so . . .
sexy and slutty-looking.
While the salesclerk slid the dress between layers of tissue paper, she pointed out a pair of silver shoes with three-inch heels and two straps across the instep that she thought would complement the dress. Nealy agreed and said she'd take a pair. She grinned all the way home.
What fun she'd had. While Carmela was preparing an early supper, she could write out the Christmas bonus checks just the way Maud had done for years and years. Then, when dinner was over, they could go hunting for the Christmas tree. It was more or less a tradition Maud had started the first year she and Emmie had come to Blue Diamond Farms. A tradition Nealy hoped to continue forever.
Christmas was a time for giving, and Maud and Jess had been generous with all their employees. Nealy had no intention of discontinuing the tradition in spite of recent difficulties. Each of the employees would receive the same bonus they'd received last year. Carmela would get a round-trip plane ticket to Seattle to visit her elderly sister along with her usual bonus. “This Christmas thing isn't so hard,” Nealy mumbled.
She climbed out of the truck the moment the school bus pulled to a stop. She held out both her arms to the children and hugged them. “There's nothing like the last day of school before Christmas vacation,” she said, signing at the same time for Buddy's benefit. “And guess what! This evening after supper we're going to have us a big adventure. We're going to cut down our very own Christmas tree!” She hated the pinched look that came over Buddy's face. “Listen, honey, your mom and dad wouldn't want you to be sad. They would want you to remember them with love and joy.”
But I miss them,
he said, his fingers slow to form the words.
“I know you do. Emmie and I miss Maud and Jess, too. But we're happy for them because they're in heaven with the angels.”
Are my mom and dad with the angels, too?
he asked, his face brightening with hope.
“You bet they are, Buddy.”
How do you know there are angels?
It was Emmie who replied.
Because I've seen them,
she said, then smiled up at her mother.
Nealy smiled back. “Come on, last one in the truck is a rotten egg!”
The youngsters climbed into the back of the pickup, their arms waving in excitement. The resiliency of youth, Nealy marveled.
After supper and with only an hour left until sundown, Nealy loaded up the children, a tarp, and saw, and drove to the pine grove on the north end of the farm. It took them all of fifteen minutes to find the perfect tree, another fifteen minutes to cut it down, and a few more minutes to drag it back to the truck. All in all it had been much easier than Nealy had anticipated.
I think,
Nealy said, her fingers moving rapidly,
the challenge is going to be getting this monster into the house and into a tree stand. Emmie, fetch Carmela. We're going to need all the help we can get. Buddy, get the tree stand out of the back of the truck. I'm thinking we should put the tree in the stand out here and then drag it by the stand into the house.
“It's too big to go through the door, Nealy,” Carmela gasped.
“Nonsense. We just have to . . . shove it. You and I will pull from the kitchen and Emmie and Buddy will shove from this side. Maybe we need to take the door off,” Nealy muttered twenty minutes later.
“What we need is some men to do this,” Carmela grumbled.
“No, we do not need men to do this. We are going to do it ourselves. I will get this tree in the living room if it kills me. I'll just saw off some branches from the bottom. No one looks at the bottom anyway.”
“Why did you choose such a big tree, Nealy?”
“It didn't look that big in the field. Actually, it looked kind of puny. Okay, okay, I'm sawing. There, I took off four branches. Now
push!”
“It still won't go through the door,” Carmela gasped.
“So I'll cut some more branches. There, four more off the sides. Now dammit,
push and pull.”
“I quit!” Carmela stormed. “I have to get back to the kitchen. My advice is shove this tree back outside and go to Masons and buy an artificial tree that comes in a box.”
“I will do no such thing. Carmela, you can't quit. You're an institution at Blue Diamond Farms. This is a mission now. I am going to get this tree into the living room. I mean it.”
They watched, their jaws dropping as Nealy hacked and sawed, sweat dripping down her cheeks. “There! Now,
shove!”
A moment later, Nealy and Carmela tumbled backward, pine needles and bits of branches flying everywhere. Emmie and Buddy grinned down at her from their perches inside the tree.
“Didn't I tell you this was going to be an adventure? See, we got it into the house. We didn't need a man to do it either.”
No offense, Buddy,
she signed. “What we're going to do now is
roll
it into the living room, at which point the four of us will somehow manage to stand it upright. We can do this. I know we can,” Nealy said.
“There are pine needles in the vegetable soup,” Carmela shouted from the kitchen.
“You should have put a lid on the pot. Pick them out. Flavor is flavor,” Nealy said as she struggled to roll the tree into the living room. “We need you now, Carmela!”
“It's too tall,” Carmela said, disgust rising in her voice.
“I can see that, Carmela. I'll just cut the top off.”
Buddy, fetch the ladder from the pantry.
“It's a simple matter. I'll just saw off that big part up there at the top.”
“That leaves you with a bush,” Carmela snapped. “There's going to be sap in the soup. I don't like sap in my soup.”
Nealy gritted her teeth. “Yes, you do. We all love sap in our soup. Not another damn word, Carmela, until this tree is up and decorated. This is not a bush,” Nealy said grimly. “Hold the ladder while I saw.” The moment the top of the tree thumped to the floor, Nealy hopped off the ladder.
“Nice bush. I don't think I ever saw a Christmas bush before. Most people have Christmas
trees
in their houses at Christmas. Do you decorate a bush the same way you decorate a tree? I find this very interesting,” Hunt Clay said, amusement ringing in his voice.
“Shut up! How did you get in here? Do you want something?”
“The kitchen door was open. I really had a hard time making my way in here. Your kitchen looks like a bomb hit it. My father wants you to come down to the stallion barn. He said Stardancer is acting strangely. Do you need some help here?”
“You can pick the needles out of the soup or you can start cleaning up the kitchen. Which do you prefer?” Carmela snapped.
Nealy looked at her hands, which were sticky with sap. “Of course he's acting strangely. I didn't take him to visit his partner. I'll do it as soon as I clean up.”
“It's a fat pine bush.”
“It's a tree! See, there's the top. I had to saw it off. Don't use that word around me ever again.”
You kids put the lights on, just connect the strands and be careful on the ladder. I won't be long,
Nealy signed, stomping her way to the kitchen, Hunt Clay on her heels.
Nealy surveyed the kitchen. Clay was right, it did look like a bomb had hit the entire room.
“Why didn't you just get a smaller tree?” Hunt asked as he stepped over a pile of branches.
“Because I cut this one down.
I
cut it down. That's
I
as in
me.
I do not like to cut down trees. It takes years and years for trees to grow. So, why would I do that? I accomplished my mission. I now have a Christmas tree in my living room. This is the end of this conversation. If you clean up the mess, you can stay for supper.”
“I don't much care for pine needles in my soup. Thanks anyway. This is your project, you created it; therefore, you should clean it up. That's the way it works.”
“Smart-ass,” Nealy seethed as she rubbed soap on her hands at the kitchen sink.
“Takes one to know one,” Hunt chuckled as he made his way over the debris to the door. “Do you want me to close the door? Oops, it can't close. I think you knocked it off its hinges. Yep, that's what you did all right. The door is cracked. All the way to the base. You might have to get a new door. Yeah, yeah, you're going to need a new door.”
“Will you just shut the hell up. Go on, do whatever it is you were doing before you got here. I've had all the advice I can handle for one day.”
“Testy aren't we? I'm going. Good luck with the door.”
Nealy reached for her jacket, stuffing her arms into the sleeves as she walked through the door.
“Cranky, too,” Hunt said, his breath fogging the air as he walked ahead of her.
“No, I'm not, but if you keep it up, I'm going to get real pissy.”
They made their way to the stallion barn, side by side in complete silence. The breezeway between stalls was well lit. Nealy looked into each stall as she passed and received soft whickers of greeting. She knew each and every horse by name as well as pedigree.
Danny Clay came out of the tack room carrying a bucket of white oats, his special “feel better” blend. “I can't find anything wrong with him, but he looks kinda down . . . sad . . . if you know what I mean. So, I fixed him some oats, thinking that would cheer him up.”
“Dancer doesn't need oats,” she told him, unlatching the stall door. “He just needs me to visit him. I did something today I've never done before. I took the whole day off. I should have come out to see him as soon as I got home, but I had stuff to put away before the kids got out of school.” She went into the stall and closed the door behind her. “Hey, big boy. I hear you're feeling kind of sorry for yourself.” Stardancer nickered. “Well, I'm here now, so everything is all right.” Nealy stood in front of him, rested his chin atop her left shoulder, and placed her hands on either side of his head, then rubbed his face. He immediately closed his eyes. “There now, feel better? Sure you do.” Even when she moved her hands up to his ears, his eyes remained closed.
Danny and Hunt waited patiently outside the stall, talking softly.
“I dunno what she's got, but I sure wish I had it,” Danny said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't disturbing her.
“What do you mean?” Hunt asked.
“With anyone else that stallion is bad news, spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e. But with her . . . Well, look at him. She's got a special way with him . . . with all animals. It's almost like she can read their minds, know what they're thinking. On top of that, she can make them do damn near anything she wants them to.”