Lucky Thirteen by Melanie Jackson Page B

was back in the stands, cheering each of the horses on as they rounded the final turn and entered the home stretch. I was eventually awakened by Alex applying a gentle shake to my shoulder.
    “Chloe, it’s time to go,” Alex prompted, though I could barely keep my eyes open.
    “You know, Mr. Lincoln,” Miss Hightower said, “ there is an alternative.”
    “Oh? What’s that?” Alex asked.
    “You could spend the night and attend the race with me tomorrow as a guest in my private box.”
    I was awake immediately.
    “Alex, could we?”
    “But Chloe, I have work tomorrow,” Alex explained.
    “You know, Alex, I could use the day to punch a few new holes in your security system,” Mark interrupted.
    “You wish, Halifax,” Alex countered gruffly.
    “Nevertheless, there is no need for you to be at work tomorrow.”
    “But, Miss Hightower, we couldn’t impose on you at the last minute like this.”
    “Nonsense. You can borrow sleepwear from Hillary and Sissy and sleep in the guest bedroom which is always prepared and at the ready. Charles can drop you off at your hotel after the race.”
    “Alex, please,” I pleaded.
    “Alex, please,” Mark mimicked.
    “Alright, you two, I’ll grant your wish,” Alex said with a smile.
    “Yay!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands.
    “Oh goody,” Mark said mockingly.
    I shot Mark a disapproving glare and he smiled back, which irked me to no end. He knew it irked me—you could read the fact in the challenging tilt of his eyebrows. This knowledge only seemed to broaden his smile.
    “Well, I hate to be a party pooper, but if I’m going to be doing the work of two tomorrow, I’d better be going,” Mark said, rising from his seat. “Miss Hightower, I’d like to thank you for a lovely evening,” he added, bowing low.
    “I’m glad you were able to come, Mr. Halifax.”
    With these pleasantries exchanged, Mark headed upstairs to change. Meanwhile, Charles appeared with a pair of pajamas and a nightgown. We exchanged our goodnights, I gave Miss Hightower a hug and a kiss, and Alex and I followed Charles upstairs to a charming guest room where the covers had already been turned down.
    “Your clothes are bein ’ cleaned and pressed,” Charles announced. “They’ll be brought to your room in the mornin ’.”
    “Thank you, Charles,” I replied.
    Charles bowed and left, leaving Alex and me alone to consider our new surroundings.
    “Well now, that was certainly an entertaining meal,” Alex observed.
    “Scary is more like it,” I countered, holding the nightgown up to my body. It was ridiculously oversized. “I wonder how Miss Hightower maintains her poise living amongst such high-strung people. That Sissy almost makes me like Althea. Almost.”
    We changed into our bedclothes, laying our eveningwear on a chair in the hope they wouldn’t become wrinkled, then we climbed into the soft warm bed. The down comforter and feather bed made it seem like I was enshrouded in clouds. I was asleep soon after my head hit the pillow. Naturally, I dreamed of horse racing.
    I slept the sleep of the dead until I was awoken by the unmistakable sound of footsteps outside our bedroom door. Alex remained dead to the world as I slipped out of bed to check out what was going on. I cracked open the door and took a peek down the hallway. I saw nothing, but heard someone padding softly down the stairs. I can’t explain why this bothered me. It could have been anyone out there on any number of innocent errands. But, after the evening we had, I was certain it wasn’t anything like that.
    Without the comfort of a robe, I still decided to follow.
    I arrived on the ground floor beside one of the windows in time to see someone carrying a flashlight climb into one of the golf carts parked just outside and drive off. While I remained in the shadows watching, I heard another coming downstairs. I could tell by the silhouette that it was Miss Hightower. She too left the house by the front door and