“You don’t have to check on the horses, because I overheard Ryan tell Sheldon he was going to make the rounds this morning because you probably would be exhausted from the wedding.” Claire smoothed back the stick-straight strands of snow-white hair she’d pinned into a neat bun. She wore her ubiquitous pale gray uniform and white rubber-soled shoes. “Now about that woodpecker. I hear that little sucker whenever I dust and vacuum your room. I wish there was some way to get him to move to another tree.”
“There are a few alternatives,” Peyton said. “We can use a repellent without harming him. It’s known as the flasher. It is a combination of colors, fluttering and sounds that mimic the strike movements of predatory birds. I’m going to go online and order one.”
“Once you get it I’ll have one of the men hang it where the little annoyance can see it. By the way, you looked spectacular last night dancing with Mr. Thomas. I heard some of the young fellas talking about asking you out.”
She forced a smile she didn’t quite feel. She wasn’t interested in going out with the young fellas. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
Claire nodded. “Yes. I thought it was ingenious to use a real wedding as a theme for an open house. But I’m really looking forward to ours because I love barbecues. The chefs ordered three whole hogs. They’re planning to smoke one and roast the others in the ground on hot coals like they do in Hawaii.” Claire excitedly outlined the entire menu for the farm’s open house. She then revealed what she’d heard about the Harridans’ get-together. “They’ve decided on a Vegas theme, complete with table and board games, slot machines and roulette wheels. When they heard we were going to have a live band and karaoke, the Harridans hired several celebrity impersonators: Cher, Elvis, Bette Midler and Lady Gaga.”
“I’m really looking forward to that,” Peyton admitted, stepping off the last stair.
“Bruce Thornton’s housekeeper told me their open house will be a drive-in movie. Most young folks nowadays don’t know anything about drive-ins.”
“There’s one only a few miles from where I grew up.” Claire’s talkativeness shocked Peyton. Normally the woman never said more than good morning or good evening whenever they encountered each other. And it’d taken the housekeeper a long time before she’d stopped calling her Missy rather than Peyton.
“Sheldon and Renee are sleeping in late this morning.”
“Where’s Virginia?” Peyton asked.
“She and the other kids spent the night with Gus and Beatrice.” Claire shook her head. “Those kids love hanging out at Tricia’s grandpa’s house. God bless Beatrice. I don’t know how she’s able to deal with six little children underfoot. The Lord knew not to give me any because as one of eight all I ever wanted was peace and quiet.” She flushed attractively. “I know I’m running off at the mouth this morning, but I suppose I’m still wound up from last night when the DJ played all of my favorite songs from the ’70s and ’80s.”
“He was good,” Peyton confirmed.
The DJ had arranged his music by decades. He’d begun with the ’50s and brought it up to date with hip-hop, techno and dance favorites. And he’d programmed his computerized playlist to play nonstop, intermingling decades so there was something for everyone. At no time was the dance floor empty.
And Peyton couldn’t remember a time when she’d danced that much. She’d danced for when she’d missed her junior and high-school dances because she’d elected to stay home and study. She’d also danced for when she’d opted not to go to the club frequented by her college friends whose weekend partying began Thursday night and sometimes didn’t end until Sunday morning. She smiled, because she intended to do it again later that afternoon. There was no way she would be able to make up for the sacrifices she’d made for her career choice, but Peyton intended to enjoy herself until she established herself as an independent equine veterinarian.
“I’m going over to the dining hall for breakfast. Would you like me to bring you anything back?”
Claire picked up the duster. “No, thanks, Missy. After I get through with my dusting I’ll call and have someone bring me a plate. I don’t need to be rattling pots and pans if Sheldon and the missus want to sleep later than usual.”
Peyton groaned inwardly. The housekeeper was back to calling her Missy. “I’ll see you later.” She decided to walk to the dining hall instead of driving to ease her overworked leg muscles. What she wouldn’t give for a massage this morning.
The instant she stepped out of the house the distinctive aroma of grilled food wafted to her nose. The tradition of hosting a yearly open house had begun to exhibit new spring foals for sale and/or breeding purposes. Then Sheldon went one step further when he served food and included music. That year he sold three retired Thoroughbreds he’d put out to stud. Several of the owners met, deciding to hold the event every two years instead of yearly, and that each farm would adopt a specific theme. The owners and their trainers now met prior to the open houses to negotiate the buying and selling of horseflesh.
It felt good to walk, something Peyton didn’t do enough of and would begin now that she had a natural spa in which to exercise. Most of the farm’s ten thousand acres had paved roads and footpaths. There was also the pool for swimming laps. The schoolhouse had been expanded to include a gym for the children to play and work out.
She reached the dining hall, pushing open the door. There were six men standing around the inside. The tension in the large space was so strong it was palpable. “What’s going on, Lee?” she asked one of the grooms. He’d wound an elastic hair tie around shoulder-length dreads under a baseball cap.
Turning, his eyes widened when he saw Peyton. “Oh, good morning, Doc. It looks as if there’s not going to be any hot food for breakfast or lunch. The cooks claim they’re too busy cooking for the open house.”
Breakfasts and lunches were always set up as a buffet, while dinners were sit-down with white tablecloths, flowers, and place setting with wineglasses and water goblets. Sheldon claimed he wanted to expose the farm’s children to the fine dining missing in family-style chain restaurants.
Peyton often wondered what her life would’ve been like if she’d been raised on the horse farm. Would she have become a veterinarian? And if not, then what? Would she, like a few of the recent high-school graduates, get into their cars and drive as far away from the only lifestyle they’d known for seventeen or eighteen years?
Before the establishment of the Blackstone Farms Day School all of the children boarded the school bus that would take them into town to the local schools and drop them off at the end of the school day. Their friends were farm children; they learned to drive tractors and other farm vehicles before reaching double digits, but there were also drawbacks to living in a self-contained community.
Many complained about the lack of privacy. There were cameras everywhere, monitoring their coming and going. For the few seeking to form relationships they found themselves hampered either by the discerning eyes of adults, but also by the discomfort of having to see an ex every day if or when a relationship ended. Some stayed after graduating and many more left the farm. Lee Washington had become one of those who’d stayed.
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