Chapter Two #2
No surprise there. Cheating allegations tended to spook both the clients and the staff. He looked from Joe to Big E and asked, “How bad is it?”
Big E lifted his chin and held Asher’s stare. “Folks will calm down now that one of Walter’s own is home.”
Except Asher was not one of Walter’s. That much Asher’s father had made perfectly clear when Asher refused to step into his dead twin’s place, take over the stables and pretend it was all business as usual.
You might have the Blackwell name but that hardly means I have to call you my son anymore.
Those were the last words spoken between Asher and his dad. Silent, Asher had walked out of the house for good. The memory left a sour taste that lingered even now. Asher rubbed his throat and said, “I wouldn’t be too certain about that.”
“Well, you answered my call and chose to come home.” Big E smiled at Asher, acceptance in his gaze. “That counts for something to the folks still here.”
Asher nodded even though this was mandatory time off after Asher made two uncharacteristic mistakes at work.
Big E’s phone call had given Asher a landing pad other than white sandy beaches where Asher feared his workaholic self would have been more likely to stir up a sandstorm than build a sandcastle.
“There isn’t enough butter to fix this bread and there’s more than enough work needing to get done.” Joe tossed the last of the toast into the sink and returned the butter container to the refrigerator.
“Come on, we’ll show you what we’re dealing with.” Big E waggled his eyebrows. “And if we’re lucky there might even be a donut or two left for the taking.”
Asher followed Joe and Big E out to the UTV parked behind the garages and climbed into the back passenger seat.
Joe took the trail through the forested area, kept the pace of the conversation slow and filled Asher in on which local stables hired Blackwell employees, and which stables took in Blackwell clients.
Big E hadn’t exaggerated when he had phoned Asher. The vultures were circling.
Minutes later, Joe stopped beside the main stables and glanced back at Asher then asked, “When were you last in the saddle?”
Longer than he cared to admit. Asher held Joe’s steady stare and said, “I haven’t forgotten how to ride if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s good.” Joe cut the engine. There was a challenge in his words. “Now it is time to prove you haven’t forgotten what I taught you about proper conditioning all those years ago.”
“You want me to exercise horses?” Asher climbed out of the UTV.
They should have called Nathan for help, not him.
Asher’s youngest brother was a horse breeder of all things.
Asher excelled in the art of corporate negotiations and being the first in his company to recognize lucrative investment opportunities.
Not exactly a necessary skill set around the stables. And yet, he was the only brother there.
“We’ve got a training schedule to keep and minimal staff to keep it,” Big E explained. “Joe and I agree we must keep things as normal and routine as possible. It’s good for the well-being of the horses and the employees.”
Joe adjusted the cowboy hat on his head and remained silent.
While Asher questioned how much Joe really agreed. He said casually, “Business as usual, then.”
Joe nodded, resolve in his gaze and stance.
Except there was nothing typical about Asher working in the stables.
And they both knew it. Dylan should be there.
His twin would have been able to calm the staff and their fears in minutes.
His brother always had a knack for finding the right words in any situation.
Asher often skipped the pleasantries, cut to the chase and viewed just about everything as a potential business transaction.
That meant constantly gauging the return on investment and always keeping his emotions in check.
Big E stepped into Asher’s view and said simply, “Son, we need you.”
There were those words again. The same ones Big E used when he phoned Asher not three days ago at his office in New York. The same ones Asher couldn’t seem to ignore. Big E eyed Asher as if he already knew Asher would not deny him now, either. Asher sighed. “Where do you want me?”
“The practice track.” Joe’s smile widened yet lacked any warmth as if he was not overly keen on accepting Asher’s help. Joe added, “Don’t worry. It’s slow miles today. Let me know if it’s too much. We’ll manage either way.”
The words without you left unsaid. Right. Asher understood Joe’s reluctance yet bristled all the same.
“You’ll settle right in after the first walk.” Big E lifted his eyebrows and grinned. “By the time you pick up to a trot, it’ll be like you never stopped riding.”
Joe’s indifference faltered. He reached up and squeezed Asher’s shoulder. Affection flashed in his gaze. “It’s nothing you haven’t done before on these same tracks.”
But that was a lifetime ago. When Asher completed his stable chores simply to get to his adventures faster.
The ones that included racing on horseback across open pastures and daring his twin to jump his horse over anything they could find out on the land.
These days, the adrenaline rushes came from investment risks paying off better than expected and handshakes that closed seven-figure deals.
It was custom business suits and leather chairs in boardrooms and a world away from Gold Finch, Kentucky.
Asher scrubbed a hand over his jaw, unable to shake the feeling that they’d definitely called on the wrong brother. Too late now. It was time to get to work. Besides, he was there, after all, and he suddenly wanted that to mean something.
* * *
The lunch rush was gone and her morning dance with a cowboy more like a distant yet pleasant memory when Kelley hit Submit on the inventory reorder for the upcoming weekend.
Closing the laptop, she caught sight of her sister rushing into the prep kitchen.
Kelley pushed out of the creaky office chair she was lounging in, moved into the doorway of the storage area that doubled as the back office then called out, “Frannie, please don’t tell me you got the orders wrong at your last table. ”
“Okay.” Frannie snapped her mouth closed and set the plate she was holding on the order counter ever so gingerly.
Kelley tried to keep the frustration from her words and feared she failed. “You did, didn’t you?”
“Does it help if I told you I didn’t get the entire table wrong?” Frannie countered, her hands clasped behind her back. “Just this double-decker club that should be on white not wheat.”
Hayes Stroud returned from his break and cast a look of sympathy toward Frannie. Then the retiree turned full-time cook tossed his support behind Frannie and said, “Everyone should really include more wheat in their diet. It’s good for the digestion.”
Frannie grinned and piled on. “Whole grains are recommended by nutritionists for a well-rounded, heart healthy diet.”
Kelley ground her teeth together. The benefits of whole wheat aside, this error made thirteen tables with incorrect orders in one shift.
Her little sister had collected a baker’s dozen of mistakes, which was two more than yesterday’s shift.
Kelley washed her hands in the sink and dried them.
“But wheat bread is not what the customer wanted.”
Frannie lifted her chin and argued, “Well, big sister, if you would just make your blackberry bacon grilled cheese, everyone would want that and not the same old, boring double-decker club.”
Hayes murmured something that sounded like agreement.
“It’s not my menu.” Kelley made her way to the food line and set about making the correct double-decker club sandwich. A minute later, Kelley held the plate toward her little sister, who waited at the service counter.
Frannie never reached for the plate and asked tentatively, “Can you deliver it, please?”
Kelley glanced through the pass-through window into the dining area and frowned at the two familiar twenty-something cowboys seated at a window booth.
Luke Connelly was the nephew of Sullivan Connelly of Connelly Thoroughbred.
Luke always made sure to let anyone within hearing distance know he’d recently been promoted to assistant manager, right under Sully’s son, Patrick.
Kelley glanced at her sister and asked, “What happened?”
Frannie’s chin jutted out. Irritation made her words all the more brisk. “Nothing happened. And do you know why?” Frannie leaned forward. Her gaze narrowed. Her arm cut through the air. “Because Luke laughed at me when I asked if he would talk to his family about me possibly apprenticing there.”
Her sister’s bottom lip trembled. Kelley stiffened.
“Luke told me that I’m not good enough,” Frannie added, a quiver in her chin. “And that I’m not cut out to be a jockey.” That miffed tone in her words gained momentum. “And that I will have more success waitressing.”
There were suddenly things Kelley wanted to tell Luke on behalf of her very talented, athletic little sister, who was more than capable of being a very good jockey. “What did you say to him?”
Frannie’s gaze sparked. “I told Luke that girls can be jockeys, too.”
Hayes added, “That, they sure can.”
Kelley appreciated her little sister’s mettle and said dryly, “I’m sure Luke had a response for that, too.”
“He told me that being a girl has nothing to do with it.” Frannie’s bottom lip quivered again.
She brushed the end of her ponytail back off her shoulder and avoided looking at Kelley.
“He claims I’ll never be as good as a real jockey because if it was in my blood, I wouldn’t need to ask a favor from him. I’d already be in.”