champagne, I reach for two and hand her one. Evie is a knockout with her long slender legs, shoulder length black hair and piercing blue eyes, but off limits. Anyone in the racing circuit knows to stay away, at least until the Belmont Stakes or Preakness. The last thing any trainer, jockey or owner wants is to find out Evie may have said something to her father about anything.
The silence grows between us. I’m not sure what to say to her and she seems focused elsewhere. I refuse to move because I don’t want to be seen as rude. When Evie sighs, I look over at her to find her staring at me.
“I suppose you’ve been told not to talk to me.”
My face bunches. “It’s sort of a given.”
“I hate my life sometimes.” She downs her drink and signals a nearby staff member for another. “Do you know what it’s like to have everyone walk on eggshells around you?”
“No, ma’am, I do not.”
“It’s not even the weeks surrounding the race, it’s all the time. All the ranchers, trainers, everyone in the business. It’s so stupid that they think I have any pull.”
I don’t know how to respond. I bring the flute of champagne to my lips and happen to glance into the room. Brielle is standing near the window, watching me. I shake my head slowly and a small smile creeps over her lips. In this moment, I can fully understand what Evie is going through.
“It must be hard, being the daughter of the most powerful man on the first Saturday in May.”
Evie scoffs. “You know, I come to these parties and all I want to do is have a meaningful conversation but each time I approach someone, they stop talking.”
“Sounds like you and I are the same person.”
She laughs. “Butch Armstrong definitely has a bone to pick with you.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “He’ll have an even bigger one next weekend.”
Evie plugs her ears. “No, stop. No horse talk.”
“Fair enough.”
The waiter approaches with another tray of drinks. He also hands me a note. I turn my back to Evie and flip open the paper.
Meet me at the pond.
One thing about these parties, they’re hosted at places people in the business, especially those living in Kentucky, have been to many times. I pocket the note and finish my glass. “I have to run,” I tell Evie. “It was nice meeting you. I imagine I’ll see you at the next gathering.”
“Good luck,” she says as she walks away. Part of me wonders if she’s talking about the race or if she somehow knows I’m about to sneak down a grassy knoll to meet the woman I’ve been forbidden from seeing. Not that anyone could actually forbid me from seeing her other than her father. It’s just an unwritten rule in our society here. I’m viewed as not being good enough.
It takes me a bit to leave the party. Every time I think I’m in the clear, someone stops and wants to talk about Maximus, which is honestly one of my favorite subjects. I do everything I can to sell investors, breeders and other people looking for a trainer on Baker Kelly and Lucky Seven Ranch. By the time I’m headed toward the pond, it’s pretty close to an hour from when Brielle sent the note to me. I’ll be lucky if she’s still there.
When I reach the pond, I stand on the edge and look around. The moonlight gives of a little bit of glow, but not much. If Brielle is out here, I have no idea where she is. I walk around the edge, careful to stay on dry land. I don’t want to ruin my shoes or accidentally fall in. When I reach the side, farthest from the house, there’s a bench, and sitting there is Bri.
“Hey,” I say as I approach.
She jerks her attention to me and grabs her chest. A look of relief passes across her face. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I sit down next to her but leave a small gap.
Her lips purse. “You were talking to Evie. She’s on the prowl for a husband.”
I chuckle. “Are you jealous?”
Brielle shrugs. “Maybe I am. Evie Stephenson is lucky. She can date anyone, and no one will say a damn thing.”
“She can’t date anyone, Brielle. There isn’t a guy in the business who will go near her, and the business is all she knows. She’s a lot like you in some ways.”
Brielle looks at