Simpatico's Gift Page 8

  CHAPTER 14

  By the time Kent got cleaned up and back out to the driving competition festivities after the runaway pony fiasco, it was pretty much like nothing had ever happened. Carriages circled the ring in front of the judges while spectators, sitting in lawn chairs, watched and applauded for their favorites. He was making his way back to the veterinarian station and waiting for the last of the adrenalin to wash out of his system, when he came upon a group of locals. They were leaning on the rail, watching the show, and making small talk.

  Fred Jenkins, Jefferson’s mayor, saw Kent first. “Hey, Doc. Finished sewing?”

  Kent gave him a thumbs-up. “Little rascal looks like new, if I do say so myself.”

  “That-a-boy. What did you do for the Lexus?”

  “Euthanized it.”

  “Would never happen to a beat-up old Ford, would it.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  “You could have gotten killed.”

  Kent held out his bandaged hands and smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me that beforehand.”

  “No. I mean it,” Fred said. “Great job, Kent. Really.”

  “Thanks. So what’s up with you guys?”

  “Just shooting the breeze. Charlie St. Pierre is the current juicy topic.” Fred nodded toward the heavyset, rosy-cheeked woman next to him. “Beth was just telling us he’s broke.”

  Kent gave her a questioning look. “Being Town Clerk, you ought to know. He file any papers with you?”

  “No. Nothing that bad.” She, in turn, nodded toward the Ichabod Crane look-alike next to her. “Lester, here, was the one that told me.”

  Lester McCarthy was one of Jefferson’s current lawyers. For over twenty years he was Jefferson’s only lawyer.

  “We invited Charlie to talk to our investment club,” Lester said. “The more he talked, the more apparent it became that he lost his shirt last year.”

  Kent shrugged. “So is Charlie in financial trouble or did he just lose a pile of money?”

  Lester sipped on a straw stuck down in a tall drink with lots of ice. “He said he lost a lot, for sure, but I guess he stopped short of saying he was in trouble.”

  Kent detected a note of malicious satisfaction. “It better not be true. VinChaRo goes under, we’re all up shit creek.”

  “A big farm like that does pump a lot of money into the town,” Beth said. “Equipment, supplies, employment, services.”

  “To say nothing of taxes,” Fred added in agreement.

  “I was thinking more about the prestige,” Kent said.

  Beth’s face fell into a look of accord. “There’s a lot of history there, no doubt.”

  “Damned right, there is!” Kent said. “VinChaRo has one hell of a reputation. How many times have you been traveling and you told someone that you were from Jefferson, New York — What did they say? ‘Jefferson. Isn’t that where that big horse farm is?’”

  Several heads nodded.

  Kent waved a hand toward the activity around them. “And having VinChaRo in our backyard certainly hasn’t hurt the driving competition. If you remember, it was the year that Charlie chaired this thing that the governor saw fit to make an appearance.”

  “It was an election year.”

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Kent, we get your point. None of us want to see anything bad happen to VinChaRo.”

  “Good.” Kent felt his belly growl. “I’m going to find Emily and get something to eat.”

  Beth nodded toward the mansion, “I saw her over by the mansion house a while ago. Wow, is she ever growing up, Kent.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He strolled past an arrangement of perfectly white patio tables, each shaded by a yellow umbrella and surrounded by four or five people who had returned from the buffet line. There was boisterous chatter and lots of laughter. Kent was just starting to feel more lonely than hungry when he was saved.

  “Kent. Kent, over here.”

  He turned to see Aubrey coming toward him, her muscled vibrancy unconcealed by her flowing skirt and patterned vest. She beamed. “I was looking for you. What do you say we get something to eat?”

  “My plan exactly. I was going to find the girls and hit the buffet line.”

  “They are way ahead of you, Dad.” Aubrey pointed to a table along the hedge where Maria, Emily, Barry Fairbanks, and several others in that age bracket were half eating and half clowning around.

  “I guess they can do without me for a while.”

  “Nothing personal, but I’d say they’d rather do without you for a while.” Aubrey took his elbow. “Elizabeth is holding a table. She wants us to join her.”

  He followed her gaze and saw Elizabeth watching them, Charles next to her concentrating on his food. He waved hello across the crowd, and said, “Sounds good to me.”

  At the buffet tent a queue of plate holders treaded impatiently and craned for a view of the line ahead. At the other end, a trickle of people exited with laden plates.

  “Kent?” Aubrey held him back with a gentle tug of his arm. “Let’s wait a few minutes. The line is too long.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Want to walk the woods path? We can ... “ her voice dropped to a tongue-in-cheek whisper. “We can check out the flowers.”

  Together, they descended into the coolness and shade of the woods. To his delight, the mansion’s groomed forest path was deserted.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Aubrey said. “Maybe it’s time for you and me to step up the pace a little. You know what I mean?”

  Kent’s brow furrowed. “No. Not really.”

  “Come on, Lover-boy. Help me out here. I’m not all that good at throwing myself at a man. What I’m saying is, I think it’s time we make it official we’re a couple. Fish or cut bait as they say. Both of us are way past our divorces. And I’d say we’ve got a pretty good feel for each other. Pardon the pun. Right?” She leaned forward to study Kent’s face as they walked.

  In that moment, Kent no longer felt his scrapes and aches. A warm glow filled his chest. It grew and spread through his body. He smiled inwardly, but kept his eyes forward, his stride steady, and his expression neutral.

  When Aubrey felt she had given him adequate time to respond, and he had not, she pulled him to a stop, stepped in front, and locked eyes with him. “Don’t make this one of my all-time biggest embarrassments, Kent,” she said, with an edge on her voice. “Are you with me here?”

  “I don’t know, Aubrey. It’s a busy time for both of us. Foaling season and all that.”

  Aubrey threw her head back and groaned loudly. “Kent, no!”

  He let a silent pause hang as long as he dared. Then, slowly, he twisted his face into the mother of all dumb looks.

  “On the other hand, you are the most wonderful woman I have ever known.”

  It took her a moment to catch on. When she did, her eyes glistened with a mix of relief and anger. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I should wring your neck!”

  “Absolutely.”

  He took her in his arms, held her tight, and gave her a long, slow kiss. She leaned into him.

  “You were great out there today,” she whispered between kisses.

  He pulled back just far enough to give her a questioning look. “What?”

  “With the pony crash, I mean.”

  “Oh, that. No big deal.”

  “Heroism turns me on.”

  “Like I was saying, I could have been killed. Extremely daring on my part.”

  They kissed again.

  Finally, Kent said, “Leave it to you to say what I’ve been thinking for a long time. I love you, Aubrey. It’s time for you to know that. For everyone to know that.”

  They
kissed one last time then headed back to the buffet line.

  Kent and Aubrey took seats next to Elizabeth as they greeted Charles and the couple sitting across from them.

  “Elaine and Arthur,” Kent said. “Nice to see a Keuka View contingent.” He held up his bandaged hands. “I’d shake, but I’m currently under repair.”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you both, too,” Arthur said, rising slightly from his chair. “Yeah. It was amazing the way you handled that pony. Everyone’s calling you a hero.”

  Kent felt Aubrey’s foot tap his shin, even while she maintained polite eye contact with Arthur.

  Arthur Kelsey was the gray-haired, third generation owner of Keuka View winery-turned-horse-farm. His eyes were warm and playful and, after a half-century of chewing on his pipe, his smile displayed a mouthful of teeth, worn and yellowed like corn kernels.

  “It wasn’t that big a deal,” Kent said. He flicked a glance to Aubrey, and then said to the Kelseys, “I trust you are having a prosperous year.”

  The silence that followed was palpable.

  “What?” he said, finally.

  “Well, as I was mentioning to the others here at the table, we’ve had a terrible thing happen at the farm,” Arthur said, and he was no longer smiling. “Solar Wind is missing, to put it briefly.”

  Kent instantly lost interest in his food. In pin-drop silence, the others let Kent and Aubrey absorb the news.

  Solar Wind was Keuka View’s top stallion and the one who had transformed the tiny winery into a full-fledged Thoroughbred farm. Solar Wind boasted a stellar racing record. His lifetime earnings were off the charts. But most important, he had that ever-so-rare genetic ability to transmit his talent to his progeny. He, like Simpatico, was an elite member of New York’s breeding program.

  A shudder worked its way up Kent’s back. “What do you mean missing?”

  “He disappeared almost two weeks ago, during the night, pure and simple.” Arthur said, as if he were announcing the loss of his best friend.

  “How could that have happened? How come we haven’t heard about it?”

  “The working theory is that he was stolen. The police have asked us to keep it quiet, for now.”

  “Stolen!”

  “At least the police are looking at it that way. Actually, theft, call it horsenapping, is probably the best of the possibilities. At least he could still be alive.” Arthur pulled his pipe from his coat pocket and stared into its black bowl. “There are still a lot of unanswered questions. I’m keeping an open mind. Why would anyone steal him? The only plausible reason would be for ransom. Yet, we’ve received no ransom demand. Every day we expect one, but nothing happens. There’s no other reason for someone to take him. Without his papers and a sale registered with the Jockey Club, he’s worth no more than a backyard plug, dog food price, six hundred dollars.” The thought caused Arthur’s voice to crack.

  “That’s true,” Aubrey said, thinking aloud. “Without a ransom note, the kidnapping — horsenapping — theory doesn’t make much sense. Unless, maybe they chickened out.”

  “That’s what the police suspect. I guess there’s no way to disprove that.”

  Arthur performed the ritual of tapping, packing, and lighting his pipe. “The other frustrating thing is the insurance investigation. A dead end there, too.”

  “Same as the police?”

  “Right. I’m sure they consider Elaine and me suspects.”

  Aubrey rocked back in her chair. “What? Idiots!”

  “Whatever. They won’t settle the claim.”

  “Corpus delicti,” Kent said.

  “You got it.”

  “How long can they hold out?” Elizabeth asked.

  “According to our lawyers, there are legal limitations. At least, technically. But by tangling the thing up in court, they could hold out for years.”

  Kent remembered how Elizabeth’s insurance company’s handling of her Simpatico claim had been hassle-free. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Obviously, the best solution is to find Solar Wind.”

  Elaine leaned over and nudged her husband gently. More to change the subject than as a point of information, she said in her soft voice, “Dear, now may be a good time to ask Kent if he can come over to Keuka View to ultrasound those mares.”

  Arthur took the hint. “Yes, right. Kent, would you be willing to do the same thing you did last year — Come over for a long weekend, spend a half-day scanning mares, then spend the rest of the time goofing off? Maybe we could discuss Solar Wind more then.”

  “Emily told me she’d love to come see us again,” Elaine said. “I ran into her in the food line. Maria, too. But Barry said he’d pass.” She flashed Aubrey a quizzical look. “Said he had to work.”

  Aubrey scrunched her face. “Don’t blame me.” She jerked a thumb at Kent. “It’s all his fault. He’s got my son all caught up in the CVC. Barry absolutely loves the place. Spends every minute there. Hardly takes time out to eat, which is really something for Barry. I had to twist his arm to get him to help out at the around here today.”

  “What about you, Aubrey?” Elaine said. “We’re hoping you can come, too.”

  Kent brightened at the possibility, but his hopes evaporated when he saw Aubrey’s expression.

  “No. There’s too much going on at VinChaRo right now. Wrong time of year for me. I’m going to have to pass. Thanks.”

  “Like mother, like son,” Kent said.

  She nudged his leg with her toe.

  Kent sighed. “Well, I’m in. It was a great little getaway last year.”

  “Except for a few hours of hard work,” Arthur reminded him.

  “Maybe you could call Sally at the office next week and line up a time. I’ll let her know we talked.”

  “Excellent. Elaine and I look forward to it.”

  “I know Emily will be delighted to see Keuka View again and it will be a real treat for Maria.” He also knew Keuka View’s lavish accommodations would only heighten the loneliness he’d feel without Aubrey there to enjoy it with him.

  He took a mouthful of Jell-O salad and let its summery flavor melt over his tongue. Solar Wind made three. Our top three stallions out of commission. He swallowed, then tossed his fork onto his plate. Come on, man. Get your head out of the sand.

  “Yeah, Arthur. A visit to Keuka View sounds like a real good idea.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The sun was just rising in the east as Kent’s mobile unit rumbled west on Route 20. He had scheduled himself out of the CVC for Friday. Three days of R & R. He’d get Arthur’s mares ultrasounded first thing, then enjoy a Finger Lakes mini-vacation. Arthur and Elaine had a huge home and they were gracious hosts. It would be great. One of these times he’d have to find a way for Aubrey to join them.

  Kent sat behind the wheel and the girls shared the passenger seat. Lucinda hung her head over from the back seat as they chatted about the rural New York scenery that flashed by.

  Going through Cardiff, Emily told Maria the story of the Cardiff Giant hoax, and how, in the 1800s, a clever farmer and his sculptor brother-in-law egged the faces of the world’s greatest archaeologists by convincing them that they had found a petrified giant man.

  They rounded the north end of Skaneateles Lake and wound through Auburn. They crossed through the Montezuma Wildlife Refuge which brought on a philosophical discussion of whether or not the animals that lived there were truly wild.

  Route 20 paralleled the Erie Canal, and as they drove through Seneca Falls, their conversation turned to whether a boat could get from Seneca Lake to the Atlantic Ocean. Kent cataloged that trip into his long list of things to do with Emily.

  They turned south onto Route 14A toward Penn Yan and the conversation waned for half an hour. Emily was first to see Keuka View’s sign looming ahead.

  “There’s t
he farm,” she said.

  Kent turned into the driveway and eased to a stop adjacent to a watchman’s cubicle.

  “Pretty tough to sneak in here,” Maria said.

  Kent suspected she was thinking about their Thoroughbred stallion problems as much as he was.

  An elaborate iron gate spanned the driveway. It was anchored at each side into the thickest, thorniest hedge of multiflora rose Kent had ever seen, an impenetrable wall of vegetation running in both directions and surrounding the farm.

  A white-haired attendant in a pressed gray shirt stepped from the booth. He leaned toward the window and did a slow take of the mobile unit. A faint smile cracked his otherwise straight face when his eyes hit Lucinda who was staring back with equal intensity. “Welcome folks. Mr. and Mrs. Kelsey are expecting you,” he said. As he pushed a button and the gate rolled open, Kent saw him speak into an inconspicuous intercom.

  “I was about ready to show him my visa,” Maria said.

  “Don’t take it the wrong way,” Kent said. “The people at Keuka View are all very friendly. You’ll see. It’s like a summer resort.”

  Maria pointed to a gigantic wooden barrel. “What’s that?”

  The barrel stood as a centerpiece in the lawn, varnished brown, displayed in a bed of flowers. It had the volume of a good-size hot tub.

  “That’s a hogshead.”

  “A what?”

  “An old fashion wine barrel. That stone building behind it is the original Keuka View winery. Arthur’s grandfather started it over a hundred years ago.”

  “Do they still make wine?”

  “A little. For their own use, mostly. In the mid-seventies, the wine industry got hit by several corporate take-overs. They were big on quantity and didn’t give a damn about quality. At least that’s what Arthur thought, so he opted not to go with the flow. That’s when the Kelseys got serious about the Thoroughbred business.”

  The driveway curled to where they could make out the red bricks of the main house’s federal-style architecture. Elaine waved from the porch as they pulled up to one of several stone hitching posts that designated each parking place. Seconds later, Arthur’s wine-red Mercedes slid in next to them.