The Cinderella List (8 page)

“He’s beautiful. I think I’m in love!”

“That’s Shaker, as in Keeps Them Shaking in Their Boots. Good breeding, nice form. He’s quite a boy.” Randall was suddenly the profoundly proud papa of this handsome four-legged prize. “I have great hopes for this one. His bloodlines are impeccable.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, Dad. You once had high hopes for me, too.” Jake beckoned the groom over, and when they neared, he offered his hand, palm down, to the horse to sniff.

His grandfather Samuel chuckled, but Randall gave a snort that startled the horse.

“It’s only lately that I’ve been questioning you,” Randall said bluntly. “Since you got this cockamamie notion to haul little kids here and let them ride our horses. What if one of the horses were to get hurt…or even one of the kids? Our animals aren’t big dogs for kids to play on.”

Marlo caught the clear indication that Randall’s concern was for the horses first and the children second. It wasn’t lost on Jake either.

“We’ll only use older riding horses, not show animals. Just a couple of the bomb-proof ones to start.”

“‘Bomb-proof?” Marlo queried. “What is that?”

“Experienced horses that have had a lot of riding time, like retired police or show horses. ‘Bomb-proof’ means they can tolerate firecrackers and police sirens in a parade, walk over a
sheet of tin or see a small animal jump out of the grass in front of them and not shy. I consider them reliable and dependable. Nothing flighty or restless.”

“There are horses like that?”

“The fact remains that they are still animals, so there are no hundred-percent guarantees, but in the atmosphere of an enclosed riding arena, the likelihood of one of them spooking is little to none.”

“Maybe even
I
could ride a horse like that. For my first time on a horse, I’ll probably need a bomb-proof—or perhaps comatose—animal.”

“Of course you can ride. Most of the riders will be very young and have disabilities. You’ll be fine. If not, I’ll help you.”

Marlo would have pondered that pleasant idea for a moment longer, but Randall made a sound in his throat like that of an angry bull. “Do you have an idea what kind of liability insurance we’ll have to carry for a half-baked idea like this?”

“It’s already in the works.” Jake’s voice was utterly calm.

Randall’s complexion grew ruddy beneath his tan, and Marlo saw how upset he was.

“What happens on the back of a horse that can’t happen in a physical therapy program?” Obviously, Randall didn’t entertain the notion that this might be a success. “You got this do-goody stuff from your mother,” Randall said, in a tone that bordered on disgust. He turned on his heel and stalked off toward the sprawling house. Samuel said nothing, but followed him, shaking his head.

When he was gone, Jake turned to Marlo and grinned. “Now you see where I got all my innate charm.”

“I do see where you got your good looks. I suspect your charm is a direct inheritance from your grandfather.” Even as she said it, Marlo realized that she’d been far too blunt. “I didn’t mean that your father doesn’t have charm, exactly…he just didn’t
have it on display today…I mean…. I’ve put my foot in it now, haven’t I?”

“And a rather pretty foot it is. Don’t feel badly. Deep down inside, my father has a genuine streak of compassion and generosity. I’m counting on it. This project is too important to stop now. Like I said, the Hammonds are blessed with wealth and good fortune. It’s time to give some of it back. I’m meant to do this. I believe God’s hand is on it. Once Dad sees how well the program does and the goodwill it generates, he’ll begin to realize that instead of hurting Hammond Farms, it will give it a new dimension. Perhaps it will be one that may even enhance our reputation.”

“So if it buys goodwill and good advertising, he’ll like it?”

“It’s not exactly the way I’d like him to embrace it, but if that’s what it takes, okay. He’ll come around eventually. My dad would lay down his life for friends and family,” Jake said softly, as if compelled to explain his father to her. “Especially for Alfred. They’ve always had each other’s backs. They’d do anything for each other. It was Alfred who helped him back to solvency many years ago. Dad would—and did—promise him anything, including his first born, if necessary.”

“How about you? It doesn’t appear he’ll do just ‘anything’ for you.”

Jake grinned. “Oh, my dad would die for me, if necessary. It’s just that he’s not all that willing to
agree
with me.”

C
handeliers in a barn?

Marlo trailed Jake inside a vast cavern that smelled like fresh hay and leather polish. Above her was a series of crystal chandeliers. Soft music played in each of the roomy wood and metal temperature-controlled horse stalls. The floors were covered with interlocking stall mats. Air-conditioning…elegant accoutrements…Mozart and Bach…these horses lived a lifestyle more stylish than she did!

“What’s wrong with this picture?” she blurted.

The corners of Jake’s eyes crinkled in amusement. He, of lean frame and tanned good looks, appeared right at home in this unexpected opulence. “The animals like the temperature and the padding under their feet, but the chandeliers are for the clients. We could have the same fine horses in a ramshackle barn, but potential buyers would turn up their noses. Think of it as marketing.”

“Horse snobbery?”

“Just don’t say that in front of my father. He’s a master snob when it comes to Hammond Stables. He has an eye for horse-
flesh like no other, but he gave up mucking stalls and building fence a long time ago. That’s left to the hired hands.”

“They are your cleaning service for barns, then.”

“You could say that. And my father is as fastidious about how the barns are kept as my mother is about her house.”

“You don’t seem particularly excited about your own business.”

“I share a passion for horses with my father and grandfather—especially now that I’ve decided to build the therapy center. I, however, am just as happy on the back of a horse purchased at an auction without a pedigree as on a stallion with a lineage to rival that of Queen Elizabeth.

“I’ve had two calls this morning, both from therapists with hippotherapy experience. They have agreed to work with us as much and as often as they can. By next Saturday we should have a few kids here to ride.” Marlo could almost feel the excitement vibrating within him as he spoke. She was drawn to his passion like a moth to a flame.

Then a shadow crossed his features. “Between now and then I have to convince my father that my plan isn’t going to send Hammond Stables spiraling out of its hard-won stature.”

Marlo was about to respond when she felt a firm, warm pressure between her shoulder blades, which sent her stumbling toward the middle of the barn aisle. “Hey!” She regained her balance and turned toward her assailant. An inky black mare with soft brown eyes peered at her curiously, her finely shaped head framed above the half door to her stall.

“Don’t mind Twisty, she greets everyone who gets close to her stall that way.” Jake walked over to scratch the beautifully shaped nose. Twisty pushed it deep into his palm. “Don’t you, sweetheart?” he purred. He stroked the finely curved neck and scratched beneath her forelock as if he knew exactly where the animal liked to be touched. “What a beautiful girl
you are.” His voice was little more than a purr as he whispered to the mare.

Marlo soon realized she was envious of a horse.

The sound of an approaching car and a commotion outside short-circuited their tour. A familiar little girl suddenly bolted into the stable. She was dressed in a riding habit, jodpur breeches, high black boots, white shirt and a black velveteen helmet. Long blond curls tumbled randomly down her back. “I came for my riding lesson,” she announced imperiously, and tossed her head. “Grandpa brought me.”

“Hello, Cammi.” Jake sounded amused by the haughty little princess. “Do you remember my friend Marlo?”

“Yes.” Cammi stalked over on her tiny, booted feet to shake Marlo’s hand. “Not a
girlfriend,
I hope. Auntie Sabrina wouldn’t like that.”

Jake swallowed a chuckle. “A
friend
friend, Cammi, not that it’s any of your business. Mind your manners.”

“Is my granddaughter bothering you?” A tall, slender man walked through the barn door. Framed in the sunlight behind him, Marlo was unable to see his face, but she still recognized Randall’s friend Alfred.

“Alfred, this is Marlo Mayfield.”

“Yes, we met at your party. Nice to see you again, Marlo.” He gave a courtly hint of a bow before turning to Jake. Alfred turned to the little blonde princess beside him. “And of course you know Cammi, who is not the least bit shy.”

Cammi gave the sparest hint of a curtsy before grabbing her grandfather’s hand. “I want to ride now, Grampy. Now.”

He sighed. “Honey, your mother and Sabrina should be here shortly. Then you can ride. Randall and I are going golfing.”

A petite storm cloud appeared to form on Cammi’s face, but Jake, obviously aware of the pitfalls of allowing this to happen,
interjected, “Cammi, we just put a new flat-screen television in the office between the round pens. Seems to me there are a couple video games hooked up if you want…”

The little girl was gone in a flurry of flying blond curls.

Clever. Check.

Marlo sighed as Cammi disappeared out the door. Sabrina was about to arrive at any moment. The day had taken a decidedly discouraging turn.

“Maybe we’d better get going,” Marlo hinted. “Looks like everyone has places to go.”

“I’m not done showing you the stables.” Jake’s words were barely audible over the sound of a car coming to a screeching halt in front of the barn doors.

Too late,
Marlo thought. Competition for Jake’s attention arrived before she had time to escape.

Sabrina posed dramatically in the doorway of the barn for her grand entrance. Her eyes found Jake’s immediately, and she glided toward him, smiling coyly. She was dressed in jeans more costly than Marlo’s entire outfit, and a pale orange sweater that draped casually off one shoulder. The color was highly flattering to her peaches-and-cream complexion.

Sabrina caught a glimpse of Marlo and her step faltered. Then she recovered her poise and attached herself to Jake like a bug to flypaper and kissed him on the cheek.

Why does Jake buy into this nonsense?
Marlo wondered. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was as accustomed to wealth and privilege as Jake was. Suddenly, Marlo felt as out of place with Jake as one of her aunt Tildy’s lawn ornaments in the Queen’s gardens.

Jake noticed the quicksilver change of expression on Marlo’s face. She didn’t look entirely pleased. Sabrina’s spectacular
beauty had that effect on women sometimes. Sabrina had nothing over Marlo in the beauty department, he thought, the lovely caterer probably just didn’t realize it.

“So you are still going ahead with that project of yours?” Alfred asked.

“My father hasn’t talked me out of it, if that’s what you mean,” Jake said genially. “You can admit that he’s told you that’s what he wants to do.”

“Maybe you can talk some sense into him, Alfred,” Randall said. “Disabled kids learning to ride while show horses are being trained? In my mind, they just don’t mix.” He turned to his son. “Jake, you don’t even know what you’re getting into!”

“And you do, Dad? At least give me a chance. It’s going to work out.”

“If you like kids so much, why don’t you settle down, marry Sabrina and have some of your own? I don’t know why you’ve waited this long. I suppose you’re too much like your grandmother. All heart, no common sense.”

This was an old conversation between them. Randall had expected Sabrina to be his future daughter-in-law from the day she was born.

“Let’s not be unpleasant.” Startling him, Sabrina hooked her arm around Jake’s. “Jake is a smart businessman. If he thinks this will work, then it will.”

“I’m not starting a
business
exactly. Just…”

“Charity, then.” She waved a manicured hand. “Whatever. If my Jake is in charge, it will work out.”

He noticed Marlo cringe at the word
charity.
He would have to have a private conversation with Sabrina about her choice of words and the careless way she and the others were discussing his plan. Sadly, none of them except Marlo seemed to have any idea what he was trying to do. There were too many children who
could be helped by hippotherapy for him to sit silently on the sidelines doing nothing. What was more, he’d prayed for direction, and this was what God had given him. It had been put in his heart, and he was not about it ignore it.

Sabrina moved closer to Jake and tilted her head upward to gaze soulfully into his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, honey,” she said, effectively marking her territory with a huge
Keep Off, He’s Mine
sign directed unswervingly at Marlo.

Still thinking of the challenge his father might present to the success of the program, Jake didn’t notice.

“S
o, you are going to see if Brady can ride, even though his mother wants nothing to do with it?” Lucy asked, as she and Marlo worked side by side in the Divas kitchen.

“She wants nothing to do with it so far, but I’m not done asking yet.” She had suggested that Brady might try Jake’s program. “Maybe he’d receive some real benefit from riding, Jenny,” she’d told her sister. “Imagine Brady on the back of a horse! He loves animals. You know he’s crazy about your neighbor’s dog.”

“That’s a dog, Marlo, not a horse,” Jenny had responded tersely.

“It’s the size of a horse. What is it, half Great Dane and half St. Bernard?”

“Don’t be flip. He’d be terrified. You know how fragile he is, Marlo.”

It wasn’t Brady who would be terrified, but his mother, Marlo thought. Jenny guarded her son like he was a Fabergé egg. She wasn’t convinced that her sister was doing her son any favors by keeping him wrapped in cotton batting. He was a little boy who deserved to live as normal a life as possible. Then again, she’d never walked in Jenny’s shoes.

“So Jenny wouldn’t go for it?”

“She almost hung up on me.”

“Then that’s that. Now tell me what else is wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Tired, that’s all. I couldn’t sleep last night.” Marlo piped frosting onto cupcakes to make them look like clown faces for a child’s upcoming birthday party.

“It’s been over two weeks since you’ve heard from him, right?” Lucy sipped her tea. Then she looked at Marlo with compassion. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I hardly know him, but, yes, I do like him—a lot. And unfortunately, he’s so totally taken.”

“Does he act as crazy about Sabrina as she is about him?”

“It seems pretty one-sided, but everyone speaks openly about the two of them being together.” She recalled Randall’s admonition to Jake to hurry up and marry Sabrina. “Their families are so tightly connected that it feels inevitable. Randall and Alfred have clearly been planning this union since Sabrina was in the cradle.”

“He’s a big boy. He can decide for himself who he wants to marry. He may be interested in you, too. After all, he asked you to volunteer in the program.”

“I will probably never know. I refuse to throw myself at him. It’s inappropriate.” She hadn’t dreamed she’d meet someone with the qualifications of Prince Charming. Ironically, she had, but he was taken.
Now what?
she wondered.

“You are seeing Bryan soon, aren’t you?” Lucy asked.

Marlo gave her a dirty look and Lucy made a gesture of zipping her mouth shut. Marlo and Bryan were the perfect un-couple. He was a blond and she was dark, he was as tanned as she was pale. They shared athleticism, the same alma mater and a slightly skewed sense of humor. Bryan had been one of Marlo’s best friends ever since he’d rescued her shovel and bucket from
a bully in the sandbox. The idea of being romantically inclined toward Bryan—or Bryan toward her—was ludicrous.

Besides, he was currently enamored with Marlo’s cousin, Kelly, a pretty young thing who had enlisted in the army and was off at boot camp. Kelly had left behind instructions that Marlo was to watch over Bryan for her, knowing that Marlo’s were the safest possible hands in which to leave him.

“He’s hardly a date. I’m his suit of armor while Kelly is away. My job is to deflect women who find Bryan appealing, remember?”

“No one needs to know that. In fact, it might do Jake Hammond some good to see you with Bryan. Maybe he’s the jealous type.”

“You’ve got this entire thing out of proportion, Lucy. I’ve agreed to work with the program he’s developing. That’s it. Don’t try to make something out of this that it isn’t.”

Lucy didn’t even blink. “But you’re falling for him, I can tell. I’ve seen you through every boyfriend you’ve ever had, but there’s something different about this.”

“There certainly is.” Marlo was becoming annoyed with the conversation. “He’s taken. If I learned just one thing in the debacle over Jeremiah, it’s that women need to learn to keep their hands to themselves. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Okay, be that way, but mark my words, the electricity between the two of you will only grow. I see sparks already.” Before Marlo could protest, Lucy added, “I’m leaving for a dental appointment. While you’re alone here, think about what I’ve said.” She slipped quickly out the back door and was gone, leaving Marlo to consider the very thing she wanted to ignore.

The bell rang, signaling that someone had entered Dining with Divas. Marlo, wiping her hands on her apron, poked her head around the corner. “May I help you… Jake!”

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, suddenly feeling
schoolboyishly shy. “I thought you might wonder if I’d dropped off the face of the planet by now.” Even with flour on her nose and her hair appearing to have been combed in a wind tunnel she was incredibly appealing. He wanted very much to think she hadn’t forgotten him.

“It has been a few days.”

Sixteen, actually…and fourteen hours,
Jake thought.

She ambled into the front office, unaware that she had flour dusting her clothes as well as her face. Jake found it utterly charming, as he did with most things about her. “I’ve been waiting for a call to come to Hammond Stables and work with the horses and children.”

He hoped it had felt as long to her as it had to him…an eternity. “There’s been a holdup. I hate to admit that my father was right, but the insurance has been a sticking point. I thought we had it covered, but everything was put on hold until we could work out a couple details.”

“When do I start? Side-walking with the kids and horses, I mean.”

“I’ll have to let you know. By Monday at the latest.” He felt foreign in his architect clothes today, very crisp and professional in a charcoal-gray suit and red-and-gray power tie. He wanted to be in denim.

“Oh.” Her face fell and the animation in her eyes dimmed.

“You look disappointed.”

“I am. Even though we are plenty busy with the business, I’ve thought about the horses a lot.”

“That reminds me. My father has investors coming in next weekend that he wants to impress. He asked me to arrange for you to cater the meal. Can you do it?” Jake pulled a slip of paper from an inner pocket in his jacket. “Here are the details. Note that these men are bringing their families—much to my father’s dismay.”

Marlo looked puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Dad is of the old school—children should be seen and not heard—or, better yet, left at home with a sitter. I hope you can accommodate the kids, too.” He moved close enough to notice that she smelled wonderful, like almonds and vanilla. It took everything in his power to keep from wrapping her in his arms and inhaling the sweetness.

She took a step backward and he mentally berated himself for moving too quickly. He should have known better. She was skittish, like a colt.

“And after this is over I’d like to spend a little time with you and the horses, so you feel comfortable when the children come for therapy.” He liked the way her blue eyes lit at the suggestion.

“Let’s check the calendar. It’s in my office.”

Jake trailed her into the small room which housed the Divas’ cookbook library. “If you made every recipe in every one of these books, how long would it take?” Jake asked, examining the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

“A couple of lifetimes, probably.”

“Then why have so many?”

“I’m addicted. I write fan letters to cookbook authors.” She looked up from the calendar and grinned. “You’re the first person to whom I’ve ever admitted that.”

“I can understand why,” he said, teasing, but liked the idea.

“Don’t you collect anything?”

Jake thought for a moment. It had been a long time since he’d had Matchbox cars or autographed baseballs. “Horses, I guess.”

“And you think
my
collection is odd? I can buy a cookbook more cheaply than you can feed and house just one of your collection for a day.”

“I also have photos of the greats—Triple Crown winners like Assault, Affirmed and Kincsem, the European racehorse that
won all fifty-four of her races. Does that count? But your point is well taken. We’re both quirky in one way or another.”

He had the good sense not to add “but you’re far more quirky than I am.” It was probably true, since he was often accused of being a “straight arrow,” but he was glad he hadn’t said it. For some odd reason, he felt the urge to protect this intelligent, capable woman—from
what,
he had no idea. She was just the kind he might lay his coat over a mud puddle for, or gallop in to rescue on a big white horse. He couldn’t explain it, but it was the sense he had. She made him feel like a knight in shining armor. Odd. Very odd.

“Okay,” she said, as she scrawled on her calendar. “That day is all yours. How many are coming? Should we do a sit-down dinner?”

“No, they’ll be there for lunch. There are four in the group. If they bring their wives, that makes eight. I’m nine and my father makes ten. My grandfather and grandmother are leaving for a three-month-long cruise, so they won’t attend.”

“I’ll plan for extra. That way you can invite others at the last minute. If no one else comes, you can have seconds. Now, about those children…”

Jake’s cell phone rang. “Jake here.” He listened to one of his foremen and frowned. “Okay, I’ll be right over.” He folded the little phone and put it into his pocket. “Trouble on a building site. I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later. Maybe over dinner. I’ll trust you to figure out something for the kids.” He grabbed her hand, squeezing it as he smiled at her, then tore himself away and strode for the door. He could feel her eyes on his back, watching him go.

Marlo told herself to get over it as she got into her car and headed for her sister’s house. Jake wasn’t the man for her. That was wishful thinking, a true fairy tale. Besides, the Divas’ general
rule was not to mix business with pleasure. She didn’t dare let too much pleasure intrude. Both the Divas’ financial bottom line and her integrity demanded it.

Jenny and Brady were in the front yard when Marlo pulled into their driveway.

“Auntie Marlo!” Brady’s face beamed like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

She scooped the child into her arms and he clung enthusiastically to her neck. Gently, she pried one arm away so she could breathe. “How’s my favorite boy?” she asked.

“Good.” He put a small hand on each of her cheeks, squished them together and giggled. “You look funny.”

“Thanks a bunch.” Marlo put Brady down on the grass and he meandered off to pick up the large blue ball he and his mother had been rolling across the lawn.

“We’re working on Brady’s coordination,” Jenny said. “It’s coming along.”

“What would you think if I told you there might be another way to help with that?”

“Are you bringing up that horse thing again? Give it up, Marlo. I won’t put my child on the top of some huge beast!”

“Horses are hardly
beasts,
Jenny.”

“If Brady were yours, you’d have a different opinion.” Jenny’s soft features hardened, the mother lion in her surfacing.

“In a way, he
is
mine, sis. You know how much I love him.”

Some of Jenny’s ire dissipated. “I know. You’ve been his protector as long as I have, but I’m so terrified that he’ll be hurt.”

“What if you hurt him by sheltering him so much? You’ll make him as afraid for himself as you are for him. You’ve got to give him an opportunity to grow.”

Jenny laid a hand on Marlo’s arm. “If I change my mind you’ll be the first to know. Until then…”

Her sister would never agree, Marlo thought. Not in a million years.

Marlo’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me, Jen, I’d better take this.

“Dining with Divas. Hungry? Let’s dish!” Lucy insisted that they say something clever each time they answered the phone. Marlo felt as witty as a stump, but the clients seemed to think it was endearing.

“It’s Jake Hammond.”

She winced. “Ignore what I just said.”

His chuckle rolled across the airwaves. “Why? It’s kind of cute.”

Coming from him, she almost believed it.

“Dad wanted me to be sure that you’d thought of something to ‘do’ with the children on Saturday. He doesn’t see how he can conduct business with kids running around.” Jake chuckled humorlessly. “If he doesn’t want
clients
to bring kids to the stables, you can see how enthusiastic he must be about my ‘lunatic idea.’”

“Tell him I’ll make it work,” Marlo murmured, her mind whirring. “If I can’t think of a solution, then I don’t deserve to be a Diva.”