should I expend energy thinking about someone who has wronged me?” she demanded. “If it’s past, it’s past. Dwelling on it just makes me a prisoner.”
This made sense to Patrick. So why should he expend energy thinking about Bronwyn Davies Theodoros? Because she’d jilted him and accepted another man’s proposal of marriage just weeks later? She’d said, “I’m marryingAri, Patrick. I couldn’t marry you because you’re still planning a future that’s incompatible with marriage— marriage to me, anyhow. You and I have different priorities, different values. Ari’s and mine are the same.”
Their values, Bronwyn’s and Ari’s? Money, money, money. When he’d said that, Bronwyn had shot back with unforgettable words. Wrong, Patrick. Ari is a grown-up. And I’m in love with him.
“Patrick, did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, Louisa.”
“I said that Megan called this morning. She and Heidi are coming up today to ride, and Dylan is coming with them. Will you have time?”
“Time for what?”
“To get to know the man your sister plans to marry.”
“I do know him.”
“Megan wants the two of you to be friends.”
Patrick made a quiet, inarticulate sound.
Louisa sighed.
“He’s fine,” Patrick said. “She can marry who she likes.”
“You know that he thought I’d covered up for the man he believed murdered his brother. When they were both children.”
“I do know it,” Patrick agreed.
“I know that must have prejudiced him against me, but it’s all in the past now. At least make an effort, Patrick. For Megan.” Then, before he could reply, she changed the subject. “There’s a stray dog around,” Louisa said, “and I’ve encouraged the son of one of our employees—a new hire—to look after him. Though I suppose he’ll be going to school. The boy, I mean.”
Patrick felt the force of all his unreasonable prejudice against Bronwyn, and he wanted to warn Louisa to watch out for the woman’s machinations. Yet he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. And how would Louisa react to having Ari Theodoros’s widow at Fairchild Acres? Surely she wouldn’t like it, and perhaps he had a duty to tell her who Bronwyn was. But it seemed unfair. Bronwyn certainly wasn’t going to dope horses.
Or was she? Was that what had brought her to Fairchild Acres, some scheme cooked up with the help of her late husband’s nefarious business associates? And had she chosen this venue because he, Patrick, was here and she hoped for more leniency? Surely her college boyfriend would never suspect her of doping—or otherwise harming—horses.
The possibility alarmed him. She’d applied for work in the kitchens, but wasn’t that an ideal place from which to influence operations in the stables? If something happened to a horse, who would think to question the kitchen staff?
But Bronwyn, hurt an animal?
“About the new hire,” he began, uncertain what he was going to tell Louisa.
His cell phone vibrated on his hip. He looked at it, recognized the number of a client, and excused himself from the table to take the call.
“Patrick,” said the man, a Sydney attorney. He and his wife had recently engaged Patrick to help them with some investment decisions. That morning, during his usual initial look at the stock exchanges, he’d seen how well those choices had paid off. “You’ve done terrifically, mate. Do we sell now?”
“I don’t think so. You’re in a very solid market. Let’s sit on it and let things grow,” Patrick replied. He knew that this client’s satisfaction would become word-of-mouth advertising and that he himself would gain more clients because of it. Yet today, it was hard to feel satisfaction about that—or about his own wealth, which certainly would never rival the empire Ari Theodoros had commanded.
It was as though Bronwyn’s arrival had changed everything, making Patrick question who he even was. It shouldn’t have that effect. Wasn’t it her rejection of him and his youthful dreams that had galvanized him into pursuing finance?
After Patrick concluded the call, he found Louisa had finished her breakfast and gone out somewhere, probably to the stables. The horses of Fairchild Acres were her lifeblood.
I can’t imagine Bronwyn hurting an animal, Patrick told himself again. Surely life with Ari Theodoros couldn’t have changed her that much. But if something happened to one of the horses at Fairchild Acres, and if Bronwyn turned out to be responsible…
He was borrowing trouble. But he also realized he was protecting Bronwyn from possible consequences of Louisa’s learning that she was Ari’s widow. She didn’t deserve his protection.
I’m going to tell Louisa, he thought. Bronwyn wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Ari, and Louisa would take his word on that.
“This should do for a collar,” said Walt, one of the grooms. He had found a leather piece of bridle, complete with a buckle, which fitted Beckham and left some room to grow. “And I know we’ve got leads you can use. Let’s see.” He sorted through the older tack hanging on the wall and pulled out a blue nylon one. “See how this suits you, mate.”
Wesley took the lead and fastened it onto the collar Walt had found him. “Thanks. It’s perfect.”
Beckham, however, obviously didn’t know the first thing about walking on a leash. As Wesley tried to lead him out of the barn, he preferred to sniff the straw and everything he could find.
“That’s a sign,” Walt said, “that he probably needs to go outside.”
“Yes.” Wesley managed to drag the puppy out of the barn. Then Beckham sat down in the dirt and scratched himself.
Louisa Fairchild walked toward Wesley, making her quick, precise way. “It looks like he’s all set now,” she said.
“His name’s Beckham.”
“That’s an interesting name.”
“For David Beckham, the soccer player.”
“I don’t know much about soccer.”
Wesley expected the older lady to move off. She wouldn’t be interested in the things he was.
But she said, “Do you like horses, Wesley?”
“I haven’t been around them much. My dad—” Abruptly he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk about his father. But that seemed so silly. Wesley knew that his father hadn’t drugged any horses himself. He knew this because he read the papers, though his mother had tried to keep them out of sight. He used to find and take them from the garage and take them to his room.
“Yes?” Louisa Fairchild arched her eyebrows.
“He knew about horses,” Wesley decided to say.
“Where is your
