O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,20

might have to do a little insisting, but there just might be a loophole.

Sonny enjoyed her morning drive to Ben's office. She had been too busy to make a trip into the city since her return home and this gave her the opportunity she needed. She had always loved San Francisco and every time she went there she was more fascinated by the rolling hills and the gleaming rows of white and pastel homes that lined them.

Traffic was light and she relaxed against the gray cushions of her father's wine-colored late model Cadillac. She pushed in the cassette and was instantly encircled with the sound of violins and full orchestration. Her father loved classical music that her mother had brought to both of their lives, insisting they relax, listen and enjoy. She had always stressed the theater and fine arts to her daughter, hoping she would not become so fervently involved in racing.

Twenty minutes later, Sonny entered Ben's office which was heavily paneled and filled with lush green plants. The furnishings were solid oak. The young girl at the receptionist's desk was dressed in a plain black suit and wore barely enough make-up to accentuate her exquisite bone structure.

"Go right in Miss Mead, he's expecting you."

Ben Mathison extended his hand in greeting. He wore a black crew neck, faded jeans and his hair was slightly tussled. Her father being a fastidiously neat and orderly person, she wondered how he and Ben had kept such a close working relationship through the years. Maybe they had found in each other the perfect counter balance for themselves. In that case, she assumed they worked in complete harmony.

One thing was certain, her father would not have retained Ben Mathison if he weren't convinced he was the best man for the job.

"I wondered when you would call for this meeting, Sonny." Ben leaned back in his leather chair and folded his hands on top of the disheveled desk.

"Ben, this partnership is not working."

Sonny leaned forward, her clasped hands resting on the desk.

"Why is that?"

"This isn't my life. I have a job to get back to and a very nice roommate who is getting stuck with added expense in my absence."

"I can understand how this has been very difficult for you Sonny." Ben's round face was filled with benevolence and he placed a reassuring hand over hers.

"My father knew how much I liked my life in Paris. He wouldn't have done this to me Ben, unless…"

"Unless what, Sonny?"

"Michael must have influenced that decision.

How he did it, I don't know, but I intend to find out."

"As I told you, Sonny, J.B's reasons were not revealed to me. He made the conditions and I made them legal."

Ben leaned forward in his seat and looked at her squarely. "My advise is to see it through, no matter how distressed you feel."

"And, if I don't, what then?" Sonny asked.

"You lose everything."

Sonny let out the breath that she had been unconsciously holding. "So, we're back to square one again."

"If you feel that Michael is not fulfilling his obligations as half-owner, then I could address that problem." Ben raised one eyebrow as he spoke.

"No, he's working hard and still spending time with my training," Sonny shrugged resignedly. She had just said it herself, Michael was beyond reproach. He was doing everything her father had asked of him, leaving her no room to bring legal action.

"Then you see, there's nothing that can be done. Just stick it out, Sonny. You're J.B's daughter and a Mead has never walked away from a challenge yet."

Sonny turned the key in the front door, as she balanced the pile of mail in her other hand. It was nearing lunch time and she was sorry she had wasted the morning on her visit to Ben Mathison. As she walked through the entry and the past the large dining room, her heels clicked on the random plank flooring. Katy had left a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of blueberry muffins on the kitchen counter.

Sonny kicked off her shoes, hung her jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, and poured herself a cup of hot coffee. As she sank into the comfortable captain's chair, she began leafing through the mail.

Most of them contained invoices for feed, or bedding for the animals. One was from their veterinarian and the envelope that caught her eyes was from Crescent Stables in Kentucky.

Sonny's interest was piqued and she tore into the flap of the envelope. She didn't recall doing business with