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Jo could remember clearly that Frankie had been the one to tuck her in bed that night, kiss her forehead, and reassure her that although Amy had left her behind, Jo’s mother still loved her. Earl, following Frankie’s lead, had done the same.
Throughout her childhood, Jo had been awakened by Earl in the morning, served a home-cooked meal for breakfast by Frankie, and then escorted by them both to the end of the driveway to be helped onto the school bus. The pattern had remained the same over the years until Jo reached middle school and then, her junior year of high school, after she’d worked as a groom in Earl’s stables for five years, she’d asked to be homeschooled in order to apprentice with Earl as a trainer. Though Frankie still maintained her own home five miles away from Lone Oaks Crossing, she’d still been there for Jo every day: cooking breakfast with Jo every morning, helping Earl lead her through her school lessons, and then assisting Jo with her duties as an assistant trainer.
Jo knew Frankie loved her as much as she would have loved a daughter of her own—had she been blessed with a family. And Frankie had always loved Earl.
“Earl knows I’m a patient woman,” Frankie said. “He’s never been interested in marriage—he’s always been upfront with me about that—and I’ve always given him the space he needs. Not my ideal relationship, but I’ll take it over not having him at all. I love that damned man too much to give him up. Just means my future looked different than I imagined it when I was a younger woman with pretty family portraits dancing in my mind.”
Jo nodded. Her mother, Amy, hadn’t been the only one to abandon Earl. Decades ago, when Amy had been around twelve years old, Gena, Earl’s childhood sweetheart and wife, had tired of eking out a living on the farm and had left Earl, too, leaving him to raise Amy alone.
Like mother, like daughter, Jo mused. No wonder Earl had developed a fierce disdain for commitment.
Frankie drummed her fingers against the shot glass in her hand, her nails tinkling against the glass. “Tell me, Jo. What’s your next move?” she asked. “You got a lot of years ahead of you, God willing. What’s your plan for ’em?”
Sighing, Jo leaned her head back against her chair and stared up at the sky again. The heavens stretched out before her, a vast sparkling canvas of possibilities. Her stomach dipped as a dizzy sensation spiraled through her, and the world swirled slowly around her, out of her control.
“My plan?” Jo rolled her head to the side and met Frankie’s inquisitive expression. “The Big Guy frowns on those things, doesn’t He? Has plans of his own?” She tipped her head back again and breathed deep, embracing the messy swirl of emotions and liquor-induced buzz moving through her, giving in to the weightless floating sensation that drew her eyes to the sky. “I’m quite tempted to wallow. To just lie down and let my misery smother me.”
She stared up at the stars and forced her gaze to focus on the small visible sliver of the moon protruding from behind the wispy cloud.
“But that’d mean wasting the air in my lungs,” Jo said. “The only valuable thing I still have besides my time. So, I’m staying. I’m going to find a way to revive our business, make Lone Oaks Crossing a welcoming place for Earl to heal . . . maybe even others who need a quiet, peaceful retreat to find themselves again. And I’m going to do it under my own steam—not someone else’s.”
Lord knew, her ideas and ambitions had been stifled for long enough under the heavy weight of regulations, politics, and restrictive scrutiny that had permeated Stone Hill High School.
“Earl will need help when he gets home.” Jo glanced around at the silent fields that sprawled around them in all directions. “More help than I can give, and still clean this place up at the same time. I’ll need extra resources—an extra set of hands, materials—to breathe new life into this place so I can support Earl. But I’d need money to pay for the extra set of hands to take care of the grunt work, and right now, between what I owe Stone Hill school district for breach of contract and breaking my apartment lease, I’m beyond broke.” She shook her head. “I’d need time to earn money boarding horses so I can pay a farmhand . . . but I’d need a hand to clean up the stables to get more boarders. So, you see, it’s a vicious cycle. A conundrum, if you will.” The word conundrum sounded funny on her slow tongue. She smiled. “A conundrum.”
Frankie sighed, staring into the flames, watching the embers scatter toward the heavens. “I could call in a favor or two. Maybe bring someone in to take a look at our finances, prepare a strategy, and tell us wh—”
“No.” Despite the alcohol-induced fog swirling in her mind, Jo answered immediately. “No one does anything for nothing nowadays and I don’t need a boss,” she said. “I need a loan. Unfortunately, that means going to where the money is, and I can tell you right now, there’s no bank in the state that’ll take a chance on me in my financial situation.” She looked down, unfolded her fist, and watched the firelight flicker over the pristine white business card in her palm. “I assume Brooks has money?”
Frankie hiccupped. “A butt ton.” She hiccupped again. “And a mighty fine butt, I might add.”
Jo grinned, the drunk, dreamy look on Frankie’s face even goofier than she’d expected. “His butt, I’m not interested in. His money . . . now that’s another matter. I’m assuming he’s got connections along with the money and, hopefully, some influence over owners needing to board. He might have the ability to send some new business our way.”
Frankie’s brows lifted. “And the training he wants? How you gonna talk him out of that?”
Jo shrugged. The combination of Brooks’s scintillating bourbon in her blood, Frankie’s comforting presence beside her, and the soothing Kentucky night sky made any obstacle seem surmountable. Or, at the very least, gave her the gumption to tackle it head-on.
“He called himself a neighbor,” she said softly. “So, I’ll give him a chance to be neighborly.”
* * *
“May I see your guest pass, ma’am?”
Jo, seated behind the wheel of Earl’s truck, nudged her sunglasses higher on her nose and studied the security guard who stood beside her truck. “I don’t have one.”
His eyes narrowed on her face then traveled over the beat-up truck she drove, his nose wrinkling. “A reservation and guest pass are required for entry, ma’am.”
Jo glanced at the gated entrance to Brooks’s impressive estate. The twenty-foot-wide wrought-iron gate, complete with custom Western Red Cedar inserts and a decorative emblem (OS, for Original Sin, she assumed), practically screamed money . . . and more than likely remained closed to anyone who didn’t have a hefty share of their own.
She grimaced, the thought of asking anyone for financial help turning her stomach even more than the lingering aftereffects of her bourbon-induced hangover. But after visiting Earl in the hospital earlier this morning and reviewing with his doctor the steps involved in Earl’s long road to recovery, she’d found herself in deeper debt than she’d estimated last night. Earl, she’d discovered, had no health insurance. He’d sacrificed it years ago to save the money he would’ve used for premiums to help keep the farm from going completely under. Earl was scheduled to be released from the hospital in three days and physical therapy needed to begin immediately. Without insurance, Earl’s medical costs would far exceed any amount she’d be able to secure on her own in such a limited time frame.
Twenty thousand and two boarders. Jo sucked in a steadying breath. Just get twenty thousand for Earl’s physical therapy, two new horses to board in the stable, and figure out the rest later.
“I’m here to see Brooks Moore, please,” she said.
The security guard raised one cynical eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but if you let him know I’m here, I’m sure he’ll see me.”
