Sean had heard she was coming back to Mirabelle and renting the Schumacher’s old place, but he wasn’t surprised he hadn’t recognized her. He’d seen Grace and her husband at Jean Andersen’s funeral, but that had been several months ago and he’d never met, let alone spoken, to either one of them. Afterward, talk about her breezing in one day for her mother’s wake and out the day immediately following the funeral had fueled the gossip channels for weeks.
Strange, but for a woman known for baring more skin than any other American model, she looked pretty covered up if you asked him. Dressed in a hip-length jean jacket, a couple of crewneck T-shirts and some beady-type necklace, she looked as if she were heading off to some trendy Hollywood hotspot for a two-appletini lunch with friends. Sean had lived in L.A. long enough to know. Too long, in fact.
“Well, Just Grace,” he said. “We’ve got a problem.”
“The only problem I’m aware of is that the boarding rate hasn’t been settled. That really doesn’t make a difference because I’ll pay whatever it takes. Problem solved.”
As if money solved everything. Typical. “Boy, you really are something, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “But I don’t board horses.”
“You don’t?”
“That’s right. I don’t. It has nothing to do with money. This is a stable and livery operation.” Boss, his horse, pulled on his reins and struck his nose toward her Friesian. “We have over sixty horses here and limited acreage. All the horses here work for their keep. I can’t spare a stall, let alone a paddock or pastureland for someone’s…pet.”
“Well, it’s not really your decision, now, is it?” She stalked toward the barn.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Arlo Duffy.”
“You won’t find him in there.”
She spun around. “Then where is he?”
“Home. Eating lunch.”
She turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction toward the ranch house.
“And you won’t find him in that house, either.”
She spun around. “Who do you think you are?”
“I told you. Sean Griffin. And that happens to be my house now.” He cocked his head at her. “I’m the new owner of Mirabelle Stables and Livery.” If she hadn’t been so high and mighty, he might’ve cleared that up at the onset.
She looked away and shook her head. “Of course, Arlo would eventually retire.” Then she glared at him. “You could’ve told me you’re the new owner of this place.”
“You could’ve been less presumptuous.”
“Look. I just talked to Arlo on the phone a couple of days ago. He didn’t say anything about not owning the stables and told me it’d be fine to board Louie here.”
“Well, you talked to the wrong person.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” she huffed, putting a hand on her hip. “Louie flew here from L.A. I can’t send him—”
“Well, I’ll be.” The sound of the man’s voice cut through their discussion like a bucket of water on a campfire. Arlo. Back from lunch. “Is that little Gracie Andersen?”
Grace glanced down the drive and a smile immediately spread across her face like the big old morning sun rising over Lake Superior. “Arlo. It’s so good to see you.” She held out her hand. “How have you been?”
“Gettin’ old.” He ignored her hand and pulled her into his arms for a quick but tight hug. “Other than that, I can’t complain. I see you met Sean.”
“I did.” Her mouth turned down in a frown—or was it a pout?—but Arlo was already sizing up Louie.
“Nice horse you got here,” he said. “So whaddya think, Sean? Where we going to put him?”
Sean had accepted he’d lost this battle the moment Grace had said she’d already talked to Arlo, but he couldn’t very well let Arlo think he was still making all the decisions around here. “We’re not putting him anywhere, Arlo. We don’t board horses, remember?”
“I boarded Boss for you.” Arlo nodded at the bay next to Sean.
“That’s different,” Sean said. “I asked you before I brought him to the island, and back then you were the owner.”
“We can make an exception for Grace, don’t you think?”
Sean didn’t have much of a choice now, did he? He knew all he needed to know about running a trail riding operation from all the summers he’d spent in high school and college working on ranches in Montana and Wyoming. He knew virtually nothing, however, about repairing carriages and training draft horses. For that, he needed Arlo, and Arlo knew it.
“You should’ve talked to me, Arlo,” Sean said. “This isn’t your business any longer.”
Exasperated, Grace let go a puff of air. “That’s just—”
Arlo squeezed her hand, sending her the clear message to let him take the lead.
“But I—”
He tugged a little harder.
Clearly, with extreme effort, she clenched her jaw closed.
“Heck, Sean,” Arlo went on. “I didn’t think it’d be a problem. Besides, you might be the new owner, but you put me in charge of the livery operations. Doesn’t that put me in charge of the livery barns and paddocks?”
Sean shook his head and chuckled. Then he glanced at Grace. “How long did you say you were going to be here on Mirabelle?”
“Just for the summer.”
“That’s a long time.” He glanced at Arlo. “You sure you have enough room for another horse?”
“Ayep. That I do. A Friesian will fit in nicely with the Percheron and Hackneys.”
“All right.” Sean fixed his gaze on her. “But you’re responsible for him. Feeding him. Exercising him. The whole nine yards.”
“That was my intention all along.” Then she forced out through gritted teeth, “Thank you.”
Arlo winked at her. “Grace, you look almost as tired as Louie. Why don’t you go on home and rest a bit?” he offered. “I’ll just put him in a stall, and you can come back later.”
Sean narrowed his gaze at Arlo, but kept his mouth shut. What game was the old man playing?
“Thanks, Arlo, but I can handle it,” she said. “Just tell me what stall he’ll be using and I’ll get him settled.”
“Whatever you say.” Arlo pointed to the barn farthest away from them. “It’s that last barn over there. Put him in the first empty stall on the left. He’ll have a nice run out the back, and we’ll keep him segregated for a few weeks until he’s used to things around here.”
“Will do. If you need anything from me—” she pointed to the blue Colonial she was renting “—that’s where I’m staying.”
“We know,” Sean said.
“Of course. I almost forgot this is Mirabelle.” She turned and led Louie across the yard.
Sean studied her as she walked away. He might’ve become the new owner of Mirabelle Stable and Livery, but he was still the island’s only doctor, part-time though the position might be. The doctor in him observed and quickly went about diagnosing her stiff gait. She was either in pain or extremely tense, very likely both. Possible back or hip problems. Probably had something to do with the car accident he’d heard about.
The