hurt, but it was more than that. His smile when he greeted me conveyed genuine interest and appreciation, and despite the fact that I knew charm was his stock-in-trade, I felt, well, charmed.
"Hi, Gail. Thanks for coming out. I've got a mare with a lot of heat and swelling in her leg. She's supposed to show at Salinas this weekend, so I thought you'd better have a look."
The warmth in his eyes as he gazed at me kept to the pleasant side of flirtatious, and I smiled back as I answered him matter of factly, "No problem. I'll see what I can do."
Steve noticed Bret at this point, who was still standing by the fireplace, sulking. They nodded coolly at each other-perhaps Steve, too, was conscious of Bret as competition-and Steve turned back to me. "I've got the mare's leg wrapped in ice packs; I just changed them ten minutes ago, so there's no rush. Can I get you a drink or something?"
I was about to decline when Bret spoke from behind me, "Sure. I'll have Jack Daniel's and soda in a tall glass. If you have it."
Steve's mouth tightened up, but he nodded civilly. "How about you, Gail?"
"The same, thanks."
He went to the bar at the other end of the room to get the drinks, walking like a dancer or a gymnast. In his Ralph Lauren polo shirt, casually untucked over khaki chinos, with his dark good looks and easy manners, he took all the shine out of Bret, who leaned against the hearth, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his old and dirty Wrangler jeans, as sullen as a cowboy who's mistakenly entered the "wrong" sort of San Francisco bar. I felt as if I were caught between a greyhound and a Queensland-both bristling and showing their teeth.
Steve came back with our drinks and handed them out, sitting down on the couch with me, close enough to be friendly, not so close he invaded my space. "Gail, I read that you found Ed and Cindy Whitney; that must have been terrible. "
"It was pretty bad," I admitted.
"I still can't believe it. I've got Plumber at the barn here, since the police didn't know what to do with him. They found my name in Cindy's address book and called me, and I went down and picked him up."
"That's good," I said, watching Bret take a long swallow of his fresh drink.
"It was the least I could do. I've known Ed and Cindy for ages. Plumber's just like one of my own horses."
"What's going to happen to the poor little guy?"
"In the long term, I don't know. He's entered in the hackamore class at Salinas this Saturday, paid up and everything, and I got in touch with Cindy's lawyers and they said to go ahead and show him. I know that's what Cindy would have wanted. I guess anything he wins will just be part of her estate."
"Do you know who inherits the horse?" I asked, thinking of Plumber and what a good-natured, friendly colt he was, a lot like Gunner, hoping he would end up with a good home.
"I've got no idea." Steve appeared to be thinking along the same lines I was. "I sure hope he goes to the right place." Shaking his head, he added somberly, "It just seems terrible. Ed and Cindy were great people."
"You knew them pretty well, didn't you?" I asked him.
"Oh, very well. We were all really good friends." He looked rueful. "Of course, the police wanted to know if I was particularly good friends with Cindy."
I bet they did, I thought to myself. Handsome Steve Shaw was a husband's nightmare. From what I understood, half of his female clients were in love with him.
Steve was still talking. "I told them it wasn't like that. We were all just close friends. I'm going to miss her," he said sadly. "She was a lot of fun."
That was a pretty good epitaph for Cindy, and one that she would have liked.
"And Ed, too," Steve was saying. "I don't think people understood Ed very well. Ed was a really genuine person."
Now, that was debatable, I added in my mind. Bret looked nauseated. He'd finished his drink, I noticed, and curled his lip at Steve. "Ed was an asshole."
Steve glanced over at him. "He was a friend of mine," he
"Hi, Gail. Thanks for coming out. I've got a mare with a lot of heat and swelling in her leg. She's supposed to show at Salinas this weekend, so I thought you'd better have a look."
The warmth in his eyes as he gazed at me kept to the pleasant side of flirtatious, and I smiled back as I answered him matter of factly, "No problem. I'll see what I can do."
Steve noticed Bret at this point, who was still standing by the fireplace, sulking. They nodded coolly at each other-perhaps Steve, too, was conscious of Bret as competition-and Steve turned back to me. "I've got the mare's leg wrapped in ice packs; I just changed them ten minutes ago, so there's no rush. Can I get you a drink or something?"
I was about to decline when Bret spoke from behind me, "Sure. I'll have Jack Daniel's and soda in a tall glass. If you have it."
Steve's mouth tightened up, but he nodded civilly. "How about you, Gail?"
"The same, thanks."
He went to the bar at the other end of the room to get the drinks, walking like a dancer or a gymnast. In his Ralph Lauren polo shirt, casually untucked over khaki chinos, with his dark good looks and easy manners, he took all the shine out of Bret, who leaned against the hearth, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his old and dirty Wrangler jeans, as sullen as a cowboy who's mistakenly entered the "wrong" sort of San Francisco bar. I felt as if I were caught between a greyhound and a Queensland-both bristling and showing their teeth.
Steve came back with our drinks and handed them out, sitting down on the couch with me, close enough to be friendly, not so close he invaded my space. "Gail, I read that you found Ed and Cindy Whitney; that must have been terrible. "
"It was pretty bad," I admitted.
"I still can't believe it. I've got Plumber at the barn here, since the police didn't know what to do with him. They found my name in Cindy's address book and called me, and I went down and picked him up."
"That's good," I said, watching Bret take a long swallow of his fresh drink.
"It was the least I could do. I've known Ed and Cindy for ages. Plumber's just like one of my own horses."
"What's going to happen to the poor little guy?"
"In the long term, I don't know. He's entered in the hackamore class at Salinas this Saturday, paid up and everything, and I got in touch with Cindy's lawyers and they said to go ahead and show him. I know that's what Cindy would have wanted. I guess anything he wins will just be part of her estate."
"Do you know who inherits the horse?" I asked, thinking of Plumber and what a good-natured, friendly colt he was, a lot like Gunner, hoping he would end up with a good home.
"I've got no idea." Steve appeared to be thinking along the same lines I was. "I sure hope he goes to the right place." Shaking his head, he added somberly, "It just seems terrible. Ed and Cindy were great people."
"You knew them pretty well, didn't you?" I asked him.
"Oh, very well. We were all really good friends." He looked rueful. "Of course, the police wanted to know if I was particularly good friends with Cindy."
I bet they did, I thought to myself. Handsome Steve Shaw was a husband's nightmare. From what I understood, half of his female clients were in love with him.
Steve was still talking. "I told them it wasn't like that. We were all just close friends. I'm going to miss her," he said sadly. "She was a lot of fun."
That was a pretty good epitaph for Cindy, and one that she would have liked.
"And Ed, too," Steve was saying. "I don't think people understood Ed very well. Ed was a really genuine person."
Now, that was debatable, I added in my mind. Bret looked nauseated. He'd finished his drink, I noticed, and curled his lip at Steve. "Ed was an asshole."
Steve glanced over at him. "He was a friend of mine," he
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