mare foaled last night.”
Mimi wiped the corners of her mouth with her index finger and politely placed the flask back in her purse. “Honey, I’m waiting for the English translation, okay, right.”
Bianca smiled as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the marble counter. “I delivered a horse’s baby,” she explained patiently, ready for the drama. Mimi didn’t fail her one bit.
She made a comical face of pain as she pressed her knees together.
Mimi didn’t have any children. Bianca didn’t know if it was by choice or not.
Deciding to egg her on Bianca said, “Pulling the foal out with chains by its legs wasn’t the hard part—”
Mimi shivered and crossed her slender legs.
“Now sticking my arm inside the horse’s vagina to turn the foal—”
Mimi pretended to gag. “T.M.I., Doc. T… M… I.”
Bianca flung her head back and laughed, unable to stop the hoglike snort that always came with her laughter. T.M.I. was Mimi’s acronym, for “too much information.”
“I don’t know what’s worse, Sweetie. The image of your arm up a horse’s ass or that laugh, Sweetie. You need to, huh, what… work on it, that’s right.”
“Shut up, Mimi,” Bianca said with a deadpan expression. “At least I’m not known for the oh-so-clever sitcom saying “You and me makes we.”
Mimi looked off into the distance—something she did whenever she was discussing the sitcom. “Oh, yes. A better time. And it kept me from being lined up to swallow the scent of horse ass, Sweetie.”
Bianca had to laugh at that one. “Listen, this is fun, but some people got a job, Mimi.”
She rose, sticking her purse under her arm. “Alright, Sweetie, I’m going. I have a save the children or feed the whales breakfast thingy.”
“Isn’t it Save the Whales and Feed the Children?”
Mimi just waved her hand before moving to the kitchen door. “As long as they can cash the check, they don’t care what I call it.”
Bianca shook her head.
Mimi opened the door and paused, turning to look at Bianca. “Listen, Sweetie, is what they say about a male horse’s… uhm, well, you know… jingy-thingy. Is that… is that true, Sweetie?”
Very tongue in cheek, Bianca answered, “Big as my arm,” with a meaningful stare.
Mimi sighed as she patted her perfectly coiffed French roll and leaned a little against the door with a soft smile.
“Mimi?” Bianca said to nudge the woman out of her reverie.
“Just made me think of Vincent, my third husband, Sweetie. Now it’s so hard to say he was good for nothing.”
With nothing to say about that, Bianca started walking out the kitchen. “Goodbye, Mimi,” she called over her shoulder.
“Toodles, Sweetie.”
The door closed behind her.
Bianca climbed the spiral wrought iron staircase to the second level of her home. As she strolled into her master suite she looked at her watch. It was 9:30 A.M. Just enough time to shower, change, and head to her clinic for a 10:30 A.M. appointment. Her next appointment after that was at 1 P.M., and she was hoping to visit Mr. Sandman as much as she could before then.
Bianca removed the scrubs she kept in her car for emergency vet calls like last night. Dressed only in the beautiful lace thong she originally put on under her evening gown, Bianca took another deep sip of her drink as she moved over to her night table to check her messages. She had a service answer work-related calls and she’d already checked those messages during her drive from Sandy Springs.
“Hi, this is Bianca. Do what you need to do.”
Beep.
Bianca studied her reflection in the oval mirror in the corner, twisting and turning to see if any new cellulite had moved onto her thighs.
“Bunny… uh, I mean Bianca—”
She paused at the sound of her father’s gravely and distinctive voice. The thought that the days of him calling her by the childhood pet name were gone pained her.
“Call me when you get a chance.”
Bianca lowered her hands from examining the pertness of her breasts—and wondering when a man would touch, tease, and taste them again—to reach out for the cordless phone sitting on its base.
Beep.
“Bianca—”
Her hand paused just above the phone and her face became confused at hearing her father’s voice… again.
“Never mind.”
The line went dead.
Beep.
Snatching up the phone she quickly dialed her father’s number.
“King Ranch.”
“Daddy, this is Bianca. Is something wrong?” she asked.
He remained quiet—and that was more telling than anything he could have said.
“Daddy?” she asked with more firmness in her voice—like she was the parent and he was the child. Bianca pressed the phone closer to her face. “What is it?”
“I need your help. You gotta come home, Bianca.”
2
Holtsville, SC One week later
Being in Holtsville was like going back in time for Bianca. Virtually nothing had changed. Even Donnie’s Diner remained the only eatery in the small “downtown” area—thank the heavens it was renovated. Donnie’s was a landmark in Holtsville, but growing up she felt eating from there was like playing Russian Roulette with your digestive system.
Yes, Holtsville was still a one gas station town. As she passed by it, Bianca waved at the grizzly man sweeping in front of the storefront. She smiled as she remembered riding with her father to the small store, anxious to spend her nickels and pennies on candy.
Good memories.
Bianca pushed her oversized shades up atop her mass of straw set curls as she turned left off the main road. Her father’s ranch was on sixty acres, just ten miles away. As she drove, Bianca looked around at the small houses that looked the same as when she growing up. Many of her childhood memories were tied to those places.
Cutting the models from the Sears catalogs to play with like paper dolls on the porch of her best friend, Patty Ann. Or her first kiss at the Walker property with Lil’ Willie Walker up in the loft of his family’s barn.
