“May I help you?” she asked. Her voice was pleasant.
Evie couldn’t hear what the man said.
“I have no idea if he’s available, Mr. Reynolds.”
Again Evie could hear only a mumbled response, but then the man got out of his car and Evie heard him clearly. “I’m working on a story. A soft story, a good news story about a girl and her horse.” He edged closer to the window of the horse trailer. Evie got worried. If he caught a glimpse of the dirt-caked black racehorse, she’d be busted for sure.
She decided to take a risk. She checked the mirror to be sure her face was acceptably clean, then jumped out and strode around to face Yoyo and the reporter. “What is the delay, Yolanda?” She tossed her head and tried to mimic her stepmother’s impatient, spoiled tone. She thought she got the faux society accent just right.
Yoyo’s eyes widened.
Close up, Evie assessed the reporter as decent-looking and youngish, with grey eyes and floppy dark hair. He held out his hand for her to shake. “Chet Reynolds. I’m —”
Evie ignored his hand, and spoke to Yolanda. “We’re already late.” Then, as if it was an afterthought, she asked the reporter, “Do you have an appointment with anyone?”
“No, but I have a few ques—”
“Then I suggest you call before you come back.” She handed him one of the Maple Mills Racing Stables cards that were kept in the console of the truck. Evie aped the fake smile her stepmother used when dismissing staff. “Come, Yolanda.” Evie tossed her head again for good measure and got back in the truck.
Her heart rate was elevated, but her mission was accomplished. The reporter backed his car out onto the road and departed.
Yolanda climbed in and drove through. The gates swung shut behind them. “Scary imitation.”
Evie laughed in a burst of release. “Don’t worry. I’m still me.”
They slowly drove up the long lane edged with maple trees and white horse-fences. Elegant Thoroughbred horses grazed and relaxed in the trimmed paddocks.
“That guy won’t disappear so easily,” warned Yolanda. “I can feel trouble coming.”
“Like it would be the first time,” joked Evie.
Yolanda didn’t smile. “You better be careful. Paulina would love you to screw up, and your father is having no luck with his horses. He’s in a bad mood. You know it.”
Nothing could take the joy out of Evie more quickly than the thought of Grayson Gibb. She slumped as she gazed out the truck window. “Was he always so horrible?”
Yolanda answered thoughtfully. “He was okay when I first came to work here. Charming, actually. People always think that when they meet him. I always hear how handsome and charming my boss is.”
“So what happened?”
“Hard to know. He’s a control freak. And a tough boss.” She sniffed. “Cross him and you’re fired. But the staff thought he got even worse after your mother got sick.”
“Do you remember her?” Evie asked.
Yolanda shot her a sideways glance. “Angela? Of course. We all loved her. She was smart and friendly, and pretty, too. She was good to us. Grayson Gibb couldn’t help what happened to her. I think he tried. It drove him nuts.”
“What did happen to her?”
“I don’t know. She got sick and then she was gone.”
That was all anybody ever said about her mother, Evie thought. “Standard line. I wish I could remember her.”
“You were so small. Sella was great, but you wanted your mother. I felt so bad for you.” Yolanda’s voice wavered. “Look, Angela just disappeared one day. A few weeks later we were told she was dead.” She gripped the wheel. “It happened so quickly. We were all shocked.”
“Didn’t she talk to anybody about what was going on? While she was sick? Somebody must know!”
“Mr. Gibb controlled access. Nobody in, nobody out.Angela was isolated. He made a firewall around her.”
Evie felt very sad for her mother, sick and alone. She had only a few fleeting impressions of a loving smile and comforting warmth. And laughter. Lots of laughter. Evie’s stomach tightened as she realized that laughter was missing entirely in her house now. It sounded like a small thing but it was big, she thought. The sound of laughter could fill any house, big or small, with joy, and without it, a house was empty.
She hoped she’d been a good child, perhaps a bit of sunshine in her mother’s life. But maybe she’d been a wilful, rotten child, like her father said.
“Funny thing is, he thinks he has better luck controlling his second wife.” Yolanda smiled wryly.
Before Evie could ask what she meant, Paulina Gibb herself appeared, riding her favourite show hunter in a lesson with Kerry Goodham, her most recent and most handsome coach.
The grass in the jumping paddock was impeccably mown and the jumps were freshly painted and well maintained. Paulina’s horse was named Lord Percy. He was a glossy, elegant dark bay with a thin white blaze on his face. They were jumping a course with ten obstacles set up at a height of a metre ten. They did it with ease — relaxed and steady, and getting all their distances and leads.
Paulina looked great on him, Evie had to admit, with her smart black blouse, well-cut tan breeches, and black boots. Her dark hair was tucked up into her riding helmet and she rode like she knew what she was doing.
Kerry Goodham was short and compact. He was probably in his late twenties, Evie guessed, and neatly dressed in tan breeches, polished brown boots, and a dark green golf shirt. His blond hair was cut long over his ears, and his white teeth flashed in his tanned face.
Paulina’s white teeth flashed back at him.
Evie watched this scene objectively as they passed. Even though she cringed every time she was near the woman, Paulina really was right out of a Ralph Lauren ad.
Evie’s mind went back to her mother. “Odd that you didn’t know what was happening. I mean, you were here.”
Yolanda paused for a second. “I was a teenager, and scared of Mr. Gibb. I didn’t dare defy his orders.” Yolanda reached out and patted Evie’s shoulder. “I know one thing. She loved you more than the world itself.”
Evie lifted her chin defensively. “Dad doesn’t have anything good to say about her.”
“Don’t let him get to you, girl. He loved her, too, before. Angela was a fine woman. Seriously fine.”
“Did you see her leave?” Evie asked. She wanted to picture it, to imagine that day.
“No. It was my day off. But I was told there was a big fuss at the house, cops and all, and lots of yelling.”
“Cops? Yelling?” This was new. “About what?”
“I don’t know. We were all forbidden to talk about it. Forbidden to mention Angela’s name. Then she was gone. Time passed, as I said, and we were told she’d died.”
“I wish I knew more.”
“I promise, I don’t know anything except what I’ve just told you. I’d tell you if I did.”
The rig approached the long, white racing stables with royal-blue Dutch doors at every stall and a matching blue roof. It had been designed with a walking porch along both sides, which gave each stall shade in the summer when the top doors were open, and shelter from the wind in the winter. The gardeners had planted red flowers along the path and hung red