Eight

Luz’s voice, higher and sharper than the others, prevailed. “My God. Thirty-two million dollars. Gabe, is there anything to discuss?”

He didn’t answer.

Pilar pushed her plate away. “None of us would have to worry about anything again.”

“Do you worry about much now?” her brother asked.

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” he said, piercing her with his diamond-sharp gaze. “Exactly what do you mean?”

“Ma wouldn’t have to rent out rooms, for one thing,” she replied. “Ramona could open her own restaurant. You wouldn’t be dependent on the approval of your medical insurance to find the best doctors for Claire, and Luz—” She stopped.

“What about Luz?”

“Luz doesn’t need anything,” his sister muttered.

“You haven’t said anything about yourself, Pilar. What do you need?”

She looked at him defiantly. “I’m in some debt, if you really want to know. Where is it written that the oldest son inherits the family business?”

“That isn’t fair, Pilar,” Mercedes interrupted. “No one else was interested in working the business except Gabriel.”

“It could have been sold.”

“You should be grateful he didn’t sell it,” her mother countered. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be entertaining an offer in the millions from the Austrian government.”

“If Gabriel will entertain it. It’s not looking that way.”

Gabriel spoke carefully to his sister. “I didn’t know you were in trouble, Pilar. If you needed money, you could have said something.”

Pilar sighed. “I know that. But you don’t have money to give, Gabe. You’re always worried about making ends meet. How could I ask you for help when your financial problems are bigger than mine?”

“We have enough to get by.”

“Do you?” She challenged him. “Do you really?”

He felt the burn in his chest and cheeks. “If that’s how you feel, all of you, then we’ll sell.”

His mother frowned. “What is it, mijito, that you aren’t telling us? Why are you resistant even in the face of this opportunity?”

Collectively, they leaned forward, in a gesture of solidarity, to understand him. He felt a rush of love for them: his mother, his sisters, his late father, his first family.

“I’m not sure this will make any sense to you,” he began, “because I haven’t really thought it through, but I’ll try to explain.” To give himself another minute, he reached for the coffeepot and poured himself another cup. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t know if he wanted to turn down Whitney Benedict’s extremely tempting offer. What he did know was that he was bothered by selling off his Lipizzaners even for such an enormous return on his money. He needed time to analyze both sides, but apparently he wasn’t going to be allowed that luxury. How often did they get together like this, just the five of them without husbands and children? He had to make them understand.

He looked around the table making eye contact with each one of them. “It’s like this. Two of those horses were born the year I went to kindergarten. They’re the result of a lifetime of training, Dad’s and mine. They’re all I have left of him. He died before his time. He was my best friend. I know we all miss him, but he and I had a bond, the only males in the family.” He summoned a smile. “I wasn’t ready to let him go when he died. Every time I walk into Lorelei’s stall, or Damien’s, or any of the horses he personally trained, I can picture him there with them.” He drew a long, deep breath. “I’m afraid that if I send the horses back to Austria, I’ll lose Dad altogether. Maybe it isn’t fair to all of you. Maybe six- and-a-half-million dollars apiece is reason enough to move on. I’m not going to make that decision on my own. It’s up to all of you, too. Together, if you vote the same way, your interest is greater than mine. Money, no matter how much, isn’t worth losing my family. But I have to tell you, six million dollars will be different for you than for me. This is my life. I’m forty years old. I’m too young to retire and I don’t know anything else besides horses. Six million will be about what it takes to start over again.”

Tears spilled down Luz’s cheeks. Ramona’s eyes were brighter than usual, and Pilar blew her nose, hard. Mercedes reached out, gripping Gabriel with one hand and Pilar with the other. They were all her children. This was not the time to take sides. “Everyone here feels the same way, Gabriel,” she said gently. “We are a family. We’ll keep at this until we reach a compromise.” She looked around the table. “Is everyone agreed?”

Together, they nodded.

She sat back, satisfied. “I propose that we wait one week and see where we are after we’ve thought about this. Until then, Whitney will stay with us. We’ll assure her that she’ll have an answer at the end of the week.”

“She’s a busy woman, Ma,” Gabriel protested. “She isn’t going to want to stay here with us. Besides, it isn’t necessary. We’ll call her when we’ve made a decision.”

Mercedes frowned. If Gabriel didn’t want a beautiful, intelligent woman around him for a week, he’d been hurt harder than she thought. Instead of arguing, she shrugged. “You may be right. I’ll ask her. She mentioned something about a vacation. Maybe she’d like to explore Southern California.”

The girls were uncharacteristically silent. Finally, Gabriel stood. “I have to get back to work. I have a show this weekend.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t stay away too long,” he said to his sisters. Then he left the room.

Pilar swallowed. “I guess I was a little tough on him.”

Mercedes squeezed her hand. “You told him how you feel. He needed to hear it. We’ve been walking on eggshells around him for a while now. He’ll be fine.”

Luz sipped her coffee. She looked thoughtful. “Has he heard from Kristen?”

Her mother snorted. “Her own children haven’t heard from Kristen. I say good riddance to that one.”

“She was his wife, Ma,” Ramona said. “They have a history together. Whatever we thought about her doesn’t really matter. Gabe’s sensitive. He’s not going to get over a marriage that lasted more than ten years as soon as we might want him to.”

“It’s been two years,” replied Mercedes.

“Eighteen months,” Luz corrected her. “I think you might be pushing Whitney on him before he’s ready.”

Mercedes rested both hands on the table. “I’m his mother,” she said. “I know him better than anyone. The best cure for Gabriel is for him to find someone else. Whitney is a lovely, accomplished woman. She’ll be good for him.”

Ramona’s eyes widened. “Ma, you’ve got to be kidding. What would a woman like her want with Gabriel?”

Her mother’s eyes flashed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. It’s obvious. Whitney Benedict has a lucrative career. She’s single and childless. Gabe is a terrific guy, but he comes with nearly insurmountable baggage.”

“Don’t use those big words with me, young lady. What is this baggage everyone talks about nowadays? He has three children. So what? He’s handsome, he owns his own business and, if he plays his cards right, he could be a multimillionaire. What’s so terrible about that?”

“You heard him, Ma,” Pilar said. “He doesn’t want to sell.” She whistled. “He’s crazy. Six million apiece. What I could do with that.”

“I also heard him say that he would if we wanted it.”

Luz stared at her mother. “You can’t honestly believe we’d do something that would make Gabe miserable.”

“Thirty-two million dollars isn’t something to turn down without very good reasons. I’m not sure sentimentality is enough. Sometimes, we do what’s best, even if the person we’re doing it for doesn’t know it yet.” Mercedes stood and pushed her chair in. “I’ve said my piece. Stay as long as you like. I have to move Whitney to the room with the balcony. She’ll like that one better.”

Ramona waited for her mother to reach the second- floor landing before speaking. “I can’t believe it. She’s doing it again.”

“She only wants him to be happy,” said Luz. “Pilar’s right about the money. He needs it. It’s too much to turn down.”

Ramona spoke up. “You heard him. After taxes, six million would just cover the cost of starting over again. If Gabe is set against selling his business, I, for one, don’t want to make him.”

“It might not be so bad,” suggested Pilar.

Ramona stared at her. “Just how bad is your financial picture?”

“I’m not talking about the money.”

“What, then?”

“Maybe Ma’s right about finding someone to replace Kristen.”

“No, Pilar.” Ramona shook her head vehemently. “Ma can’t manipulate people into a relationship when they’re not ready.”

“That’s the point. If they don’t connect, there’s no harm done. If they do, all the better. People can only be manipulated so far and then it works or it doesn’t. Whitney’s a nice-enough woman. Gabe could do worse. He did do worse. Why not give it a chance?”

“Gabe could get hurt, that’s why. Hasn’t he been through enough? What if he falls for this woman and she goes back to Kentucky?”

“Of course she’ll go back to Kentucky,” said Luz. “Her job is there.”

“What difference does that make?” asked Pilar. “People have long-distance relationships. Air travel isn’t all that expensive. Maybe it would be a good thing if she didn’t live here. Gabe’s busy. She’s busy. It might give him something to look forward to. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“More like out of sight, out of mind,” said Ramona.

“I’m worried about what it will do to him if it doesn’t work out,” Luz said.

“At least he’ll be over Kristen. Ma’s right. No one is really over a relationship until they have a new one.”

Ramona was clearly exasperated. “Pilar, you’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted more than six months. You have no experience. Gabe was married to Kristen. They have a child together.”

“I agree with Pilar,” Luz said unexpectedly, “and I’ve been married for fifteen years. If he and Whitney hit it off and it doesn’t work, at least he’ll know there’s the possibility of finding someone else. I’m not sure he knows that now. Frankly, I’m concerned about his judgment. People don’t turn down thirty-two million dollars.”

“Does he want to find someone else?” asked Ramona, ignoring her sister’s money comment. “What about what Gabe wants?”

“If he’s not interested, we’ll know in a week. As Pilar said, there’s no harm done.”

Ramona sighed. “I give up. Count me out. You’re all insane. This is going to be a very interesting week.”

Whitney followed the pounded dirt road to the edge of the lavender field. Even though she was shaded on both sides by olive trees, the sun was hot on her head. She couldn’t explain her fascination with Mercedes’s lavender crop. But the color and the aroma surrounded her in a haze of well-being. For the first time in years she felt completely relaxed. Meandering through the fragrant blooms, she occasionally stopped, closed her eyes, lifted her face to the sky and listened. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint hum of a plane. Unfamiliar birds called to one another, leaves rustled and a light wind lifted the hair from her shoulders. Bees heavy with pollen ignored her and explored the tiny flowers that made up the tall stalks. The waistband of her jeans felt tight, and very soon she would need to find a bathroom, but right now she felt unusually, utterly calm, as if everything was moving forward as it should.

She thought back to her meeting with the Mendozas. The family dynamics were interesting. First of all, their name was an anomaly. Why Mendoza, after Mercedes, instead of Kohnle, their father’s name? What kind of man was Franz Kohnle, other than a risk-taker willing to give up all he knew to smuggle priceless horses out of Austria and begin all over again in a country hostile to his own? How much had he influenced his children? Where did Mercedes fit in and why had her three beautiful daughters chosen fields outside the family business?

Various possibilities occurred to her as she walked alone in the temperate, golden Southern California morning, thick with the smells of lavender, sage, gorse, wild mustard and horses, always horses. Whitney smiled as she checked her watch and reluctantly turned back to the house. Somehow, she always found her way back to her roots. She wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that.

She found Claire sitting alone on a swing in the back of the house, not really swinging but dragging her feet back and forth over the bare patch of ground below her. Not wanting to scare her, Whitney circled around to the front so the child could see that she was approaching. “Hello, there,” she said, smiling. “Are you taking abreak?”

Claire glanced her way briefly and then, with a sweep of her magnificent eyelashes, looked down at her feet.

“Would you like me to push you?” Whitney asked.

Again, the child didn’t respond.

Whitney sat down in the second swing and, using her feet, propelled herself backward. Then she lifted her feet from the ground and swung forward. She glanced at Claire. Obviously, the child was lonely. How much fun could it be for a little girl to be taught at home with no one to play with? Why didn’t Gabriel send her to school? Surely there were schools for children like Claire.

She bent her knees as the swing moved back and straightened them on the forward glide. Unconsciously she repeated the motion again and then again until she was fairly high off the ground.

Suddenly she heard a peal of laughter. Claire was pumping with her legs, gaining on Whitney until they swung in tandem. Intense in their concentration, they moved together until Whitney’s full stomach protested by turning queasy. Reluctantly, she relaxed her legs until her swing slowed.

Claire, her cheeks glowing, skidded to a stop beside her. “That was fun,” she said. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I was a kid once. When I was little my dad used to push me on the swings in my yard.”

Claire nodded. “So did mine.”

“Is your teacher gone for the day?”

“No. She’s talking to my grandma. I’m supposed to be taking a little break.”

“How long have you known Mrs. Cook?”

Claire shrugged and looked away. “A while.”

Her mood had definitely changed. It was clear that Claire no longer wanted to communicate. But Whitney refused to be put off. “Do you like having her come out here to teach you?” she persisted.

Minutes passed before the child answered. “I like her,” she finally said.

“She seems nice,” Whitney agreed.

Claire stared at her feet.

Searching for something, anything, that would bring the little girl to life again, Whitney looked around. The three cars that belonged to Mercedes’s daughters were no longer there. “Your aunts were here this morning.” She didn’t expect a response. “I wonder if you had a chance to see them, or maybe you were too busy with Mrs. Cook. They’re all very nice.” She looked appraisingly at Claire. “I think you look the most like your aunt Ramona. She has the same blue eyes, but your eyelashes are longer. Where, I wonder, did you get them?”

She would have gone on in the same inane vein but Sheila Cook stepped out on to the porch. “Claire,” she called out, “it’s time to come in.”

Whitney waited until Claire was on the porch with her teacher before releasing her breath. Why did a little girl with a handicap, a little girl she barely knew, make her so edgy?

Leaving the swing, she walked around the house to the back patio and sat down in a lounge chair. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the source of her unease. She knew it had to do with Claire’s disability. Something wasn’t right. Whitney didn’t have a strong background in neurological disorders, but Gabriel’s daughter didn’t fit the picture of an autistic child. Certainly there were times when she appeared sullen and nonresponsive, but it appeared to Whitney that Claire expressed herself the way any child her age would under the circumstances.

Deliberately, she pushed her thoughts aside. Claire Mendoza was none of her business. Whitney was here on behalf of her client, and as soon as the Mendoza family came to a decision she would be on her way home.

The back door opened and Mercedes stepped out on the patio. She sat down beside Whitney.

“You’re not going to offer me food, are you?” Whitney teased her.

Mercedes laughed. “Soon, but not quite yet.”

Whitney breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t as uncomfortable as she’d been an hour ago, but she most definitely was not ready for more food. She smiled. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What have y’all decided?”

Mercedes shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Gabriel doesn’t want to sell and the rest of us do.”

Whitney was quiet for a minute. “Does that mean it’s a no?”

“Not necessarily. I’ve talked him into thinking it over.”

“For how long?”

“One week.”

Whitney grimaced. Could she put the Austrian government off for a week? They had already waited years. Maybe another week wouldn’t matter. She would have to work it out. “There is one more thing.” She hesitated.

“Go on.”

“I’m curious. Why would someone give up the chance to be independently wealthy? I’d like to be able to give my client a reason, but I’d like to know, too.”

“It’s his father,” explained Mercedes. “He feels that the horses are all he has left of him.”

“Is that true?”

Mercedes stared at the horizon line where green hills met blue sky. “Franz was very special,” she said in a soft voice. “He was also a very private man, not given to conversation. The horses might have been all they had in common. Gabriel was interested in other things, but he was our only son. Franz needed him in the business.”

Whitney studied the profile of the woman beside her. Her instincts told her she had left a great deal unsaid. Mercedes’s lower lip trembled.

“I think that Gabriel is fortunate in both his parents,” she said softly.

Mercedes smiled. “You’re a lovely young lady, and now I’m going to impose upon you. My daughters tell me I do it all the time, and they’re right. So, if it’s too much, you’ll tell me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Please, stay with us this week. Talk to Gabriel. Explain to him that his world can continue in much the same way without the Lipizzaners, only his money worries will be gone.”

Whitney didn’t answer right away. Her instincts told her to refuse, that pressuring Gabriel wouldn’t serve her cause, but she didn’t want to offend his mother, who had turned into an ally. On the other hand, she didn’t want to alienate Gabriel. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said at last.

“It’s a wonderful idea.”

“I don’t think I’m Gabriel’s favorite person, Mercedes. After all, I’m the one rocking his boat. He might see my presence as forcing the issue. It might make him more defensive than he is already.”

“I’ve already told him you’re staying.”

Whitney stared at her, eyebrows raised. “How could you say something like that without asking me?”

Mercedes shrugged and managed to look innocent. “I told you. It’s my way. No one can force you, of course.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Then you’ll stay?”

“You haven’t given me a good reason,” she protested. “I’m afraid I’m going to sabotage the desired result. I’d turn you down in a minute, if only—”

“If only...?”

She couldn’t explain it. There was something about this woman, despite her bossiness, and the house and the lavender and the whole Mendoza family. Mentally, she considered the positives. The firm would want her to stay, and she’d never seen California. A week might be too long, but three or four days would work. “I could use a vacation,” she said out loud, “and this place is so wonderfully relaxing. My firm would probably encourage it if they thought I was mixing business with pleasure.”

Mercedes sighed, content that she’d won. “You’ve made me very happy, mijita.”

“You always say that word. What does it mean?”

“It means, my own.”

Whitney was touched. “You’ve been very welcoming. I appreciate it.” She laughed. “I have a feeling you have an ulterior motive and I think I know what it is. I hope you won’t be too disappointed when it doesn’t work out.”

The older woman smiled. “I think you were meant to come here. I have a good feeling about you.”

Whitney certainly hoped so. Her client was being billed at three hundred dollars an hour for her professional services. She looked at her watch. As of right now, she would turn off the clock, place a call to her firm and then one to her mother.

Moving inside, she sat in front of the long windows that faced the lavender field and waited for Everett Sloane to pick up his phone. Normally, anticipating a conversation with the senior partner made her nervous. Today, for some reason, it didn’t. Where had she heard that the color purple was soothing?

“Whitney?” Everett’s clipped voice came through the receiver.

“Hello, Everett.”

“What’s happening?”

“There’s been a slight complication. I need a week or so to sort it out.”

“Can you be specific?”

“Apparently this is a family operation. Gabriel is only one of the players.”

“How did that get past you?”

“Technically and legally, Gabriel has power of attorney,” she explained. “Ethically, he’s accountable to his mother and sisters. The good news is, I think they want him to sell. He’s the one dragging his feet. However, he’s run into a few more complications that have nothing to do with horses. I have a good feeling about this, but I need a week.”

“I won’t belabor how important this deal is to us, Whitney. We could lose our position as legal counsel for those who count in this state. I know you’ll remember that.”

“Of course,” she said coolly. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good. Keep me updated.”

She heard the click and sighed. Everett Sloane was a friend as well as a colleague. Normally his tone didn’t irritate her. Today, it had.

Whitney sat with the phone in her lap for a long time. The scene in front of her was so serene, so perfect in its symmetry of purple stalks and gold hills. Her mind drifted. Her eyes began to close. A nap would be welcome. Immediately the thought snapped her out of her reverie. Whitney never napped. She considered it a serious character flaw as well as a flagrant waste of time to sleep during the day.

Picking up her phone again, she dialed her parents’ number. This call would be much more difficult than her previous one.