If Wishes Were Horses. Carolyn McSparren

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СКАЧАТЬ a pony like this. But an inexperienced rider on an inexperienced horse is a recipe for disaster.”

      “No, it’s not, it’s not.” Pat stamped her foot. “Daddy, buy him for me. Please,” she wheedled. “If we give these people enough money they have to sell him to us.”

      Mike heard Liz Matthews’s quick intake of breath at the same instant he felt all his plans to get Pat away from this place disintegrate under the force of her hazel eyes—her mother’s hazel eyes—bright and earnest and intelligent and about as movable as Mount Kilimanjaro.

      He actually looked forward to handling infuriated business rivals. He knew half the investment community called him a ruthless bastard. So how come he couldn’t handle one eleven-year-old girl?

      “I think Traveller is a lovely name for him,” Mrs. Jamerson said. “Much better than Iggy Pop, which is the name he has now.” At the sound of his name, the pony raised his head and looked inquiringly at Mrs. Jamerson. She reached over and stroked his nose. “But you said your father promised you a pony for your twelfth birthday, and that’s not for a while, right?”

      Suspiciously, Pat nodded.

      “So, there’s plenty of time to find out whether you even like to ride, and meanwhile you can come over and pet him anytime you like. Who knows, you may fall madly in love with another pony.”

      “I won’t.”

      “Possibly not And he is a truly lovely pony. He’s a registered Connemara—that’s a rugged little breed from Ireland. You have good taste. Still, Liz is right. He doesn’t know much about his job yet. So we’ll take it slow and see what develops, all right?”

      Pat took a deep breath, glanced from Mrs. Jamerson to Liz and back again. “Okay,” she said. and Mike heard her whisper, “But he’s mine.”

      Mike’s relief that a full-blown tantrum had been avoided was tempered by the realization that now there was no way he could keep Pat out of the riding program. His only hope was that Liz and Mrs. Jamerson would be able to show Pat how little she knew. Surely she’d realize that she had a long way to go before buying even an experienced pony became an option. By then maybe she’d have discovered video games or tennis or shopping malls.

      “Fine,” Mike said, wanting to get Pat out of there before this fragile truce disintegrated. He turned to Liz. “You’ll have that complete syllabus to me by Friday morning? I want it on my desk early.”

      “We’ll do our best,” Mrs. Jamerson said when Liz didn’t answer immediately.

      Mike turned on his heel and walked back to his car. Pat followed silently. He knew damned well she’d start her campaign for that blasted pony the minute they were on their way. This was one time he’d have to put his foot down.

      He felt an unreasoning resentment toward both Liz and Mrs. Jamerson. They were only trying to make a living, he knew, but they were complicating his life. Not their fault that they’d played into Pat’s obsession or his worries as a parent. Still, he fervently wished they’d chosen some other day school to solicit for their stables.

      As he drove away he watched Liz, standing beside one of the paddocks with all her weight on one hip. Damn! He certainly planned to come here for as many of Pat’s lessons as he could. He’d arrange his schedule to get into the office late so that he could drive Pat every morning. That meant he’d be spending too much time hanging around Liz Matthews. Why couldn’t she be as old and as wrinkled as her riding boot? And did her legs have to be that long? And that face. He tore his eyes away from his rearview mirror and concentrated on his driving.

      He could find Liz Matthews sexier than Scheherezade for all the good it would do either of them. They were on completely different wavelengths. He glanced over at his daughter, who was completely preoccupied—no doubt planning her campaign for the gray pony.

      At least Mrs. Jamerson seemed to understand children. He had a suspicion that Miss Matthews adhered to the drill-sergeant school of instruction. Pat didn’t like to be corrected.

      He smiled grimly. Liz might turn out to be the best ally he could have. A couple of days of her bullying in the July heat might well convince Pat to take up knitting.

      

      “I’LL STARVE FIRST,” Liz sputtered as she watched Mike and Pat drive away.

      “The animals can’t starve,” her aunt said. “If a summer riding program for Edenvale is what it takes to pay the feed bill, we have to do it.”

      Liz threw up her hands. “That is a dreadful child, and her father isn’t much better.” She snorted. “He may be a big muckety-muck in business, but he’s not doing that kid any favors by letting her get away with that kind of behavior in public.”

      “Well, we’d better keep her safe,” Mrs. Jamerson said. “It’s clear that Daddy will crucify anybody who hurts his little darling. We only carry half a million dollars in liability insurance.”

      “And you expect me to spend five mornings a week in ninety-five-degree heat with six or eight like her?” Liz said. “I cannot do it. I’ll sell my body first.”

      Mrs. Jamerson looked her up and down. “It’s a nice body, but it is thirty-seven years old and extremely dirty. I doubt anybody would pay five dollars for it.”

      “Oh, thank you so much for that vote of confidence.”

      “You could always marry a rich husband.” She cocked her head in the direction of Mike’s retreating Volvo.

      “Pul-lease. I’ll take the five dollars first,” Liz said with a grin.

      “That’s your choice. But you’d better make believers out of Edenvale School and their little darlings, my dear niece, or we’ll both be clerking at some discount mall before Christmas.”

      “If Trusty and I win the grand prix on Labor Day, we can add five thousand bucks prize money to the till. And maybe entice some of our old clients back. Besides, we haven’t lost all our adult clients.”

      “Yet.”

      “Think positive. A couple of shows where Valley-Crest brings in championships and we’ll be beating off new customers with a stick.”

      “We need a full barn and a full slate of lessons now, darling Liz. You’ve looked at the figures.”

      “I know, I know. But isn’t there a better way than teaching half a dozen Pat Whittens to ride?”

      “Come on, Liz, you’re good with children.”

      Liz gaped at her. “What lifetime are we talking about here?”

      “We could sell Mr. Whitten that gray pony for his Pat,” Mrs. Jamerson said.

      “No way! Edenvale has never been that sort of sleazy trader. We even kept Uncle Frank honest.” She caught the look in her aunt’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Aunt Vic. I know he was your husband, but he cut deals fine sometimes—or he would have if you and I hadn’t been there to remind him where business stopped and horse-trading started.”

      Vic laughed. “He could have gotten away with a whole heap more, and the clients would still have loved him. I sometimes СКАЧАТЬ