Lucky Thirteen by Melanie Jackson Page A

drinks,” Miss Hightower suggested.
    This time Mark had no one to fight with as he assisted me from my seat. He flashed his dazzling smile as I rose and thanked him. I looked to Alex across the table and saw him frowning. You had your chance, I tried to convey to him through my glare. Instead, Alex assisted Miss Hightower from the table. Mark offered me his arm and we followed Alex and Miss Hightower to the parlor. Of course, the room was fit for a king. Done all in hardwood and antique furniture, there was already a fire burning in the marble fireplace when we entered. I caught sight of Charles standing attentively by the liqueur trolley awaiting our orders.
    “What will you have?” Alex asked Miss Hightower after guiding her to a beautifully upholstered wingback chair.
    “A brandy, if you would be so kind.”
    “And you, Chloe?” Mark asked me.
    I almost ordered a highball as I took a seat in the matching wingback, just to see the expression on Mark’s overly confident face.
    “I’ll have a brandy as well,” I said instead and hoped that I would like it. I’m not much of a drinker.
    The men strolled to the liqueur trolley and ordered two brandies, and scotch on the rocks for themselves. Charles prepared the drinks and handed them across, then he left the room through a side door. I could hardly wait to hear where the conversation headed after they’d each had a couple drinks under their belts.
    “Miss Hightower, would you please tell us about this race tomorrow,” Mark prompted as he took a seat at one end of the sofa.
    “Ah, the great race,” she began. “It is to be the greatest race in Soft Spoken Hal’s long illustrious career. It will be his thirteenth victory, if all turns out as it should.”
    “Lucky thirteen,” Mark commented, to my annoyance.
    “Yes, exactly right.” Miss Hightower winked at me.
    “But it would seem that Mr. Harrigan has entered a horse that he thinks will win instead. I believe he said that horse’s name was Slippery Weasel?”
    “Yes, so he has. Although his entry is very strong, the horse doesn’t stand a chance against Hal. His only hope is if Hal gets scratched from the ticket.”
    “That would be unfortunate,” Mark agreed.
    “What about your brother and his family?” I asked. “Are they interested in horse racing as well?”
    “They couldn’t care less,” Miss Hightower replied in disgust. “They have only one interest and that interest is money.”
    “Which would explain why Mr. Harrigan’s ill-chosen statement regarding merging your two facilities affected your brother so,” Alex observed.
    “Yes,” Miss Hightower groaned.
    I recognized the need to change the subject if the party was to have any chance at a rescue.
    “Wayne Harrigan seems to be a decent young man, and it’s obvious he has eyes for your young niece.”
    “And may God help him if his desire for her hand in marriage is ever realized.”
    “Amen,” Mark said, under his breath.
    Miss Hightower smiled and I tried unsuccessfully to fight back a laugh. I could imagine Mark’s feelings, the consummate single swinger, regarding marriage to the likes of Sissy Hightower.
    “Well, your trainer and jockey seem to be firmly committed to a win tomorrow,” Alex pointed out.
    “Yes, I am thankful for that.”
    Though her words were positive, Miss Hightower’s expression seemed concerned. I knew just how to put her back in high spirits.
    “Miss Hightower, perhaps you’d tell us some more of your stories about races past,” I prompted.
    “But you don’t want to hear about that.”
    “That sounds great,” Alex chimed in.
    “I’m game,” Mark added.
    For the next two hours, Miss Hightower regaled us with stories of horses, racing, and the men and women who made the sport great. Some of the stories were sad when they involved horses and people who had passed, but most were amusing and exciting. I could see that both Alex and Mark were equally intent on each story. As I closed my eyes, I