Page 39 of Sweet Summertide

She responded by miming zipping closed her mouth and walked away.

Holly knew days like today were important for the future of the farm and she knew better than to cause any kind of distraction, but whatever her mother had up her sleeve could threaten to push Holly to the brink. For now, she would mind her manners. The farm relied on a constant influx of investor’sdollars, and any sucker with enough dough could buy into the idea of owning the next Triple Crown winner. Today’s event was a show-and-tell, and she knew exactly the part she was required to play. As much as her mother deserved to be brought down a peg, Holly wouldn’t do anything to risk the business.

“Daddy,” she greeted her father and reached around his torso for a mimosa. “I see you’re getting an early start.”

He held his lowball filled with a finger of scotch and swirled the amber liquid around the glass. “Someone’s got to do the hard work around here.” He chuckled deep down in his chest. “I hate these things,” he spoke softly and raised a brow.

“Me too,” she said, and they turned into the room. “How are you doing, Dad? Mother says you’ve been out of town a lot.”

“She never likes it when I travel too much. You know how she is about planes or trains. If only she could take a horse everywhere.” He raised his glass and greeted an older man with silver hair as he and Holly walked through the crowd, although they spoke like they were the only two in the room. They stopped in front of the floor to ceiling windows that over-looked the expansive green pastures. “I’m being tapped by the Reserve for a special project.”

“Dad, that’s great,” she said and hugged him. “What is it?”

“I can’t really talk about it. But it’s a great opportunity. It also means that I’ll be between here and Manhattan for the rest of the summer and probably into the fall.”

“Even better, I can come into town with you and do some shopping.”

“Will you have much time to travel once the creamery opens?”

Holly hadn’t even considered what her schedule would look like once her shop was open for business. She was so consumed with getting the renovations complete that she failed to think past it. “I suppose I won’t. At least not right away.”

“You’ll find your rhythm soon enough. You know how proud I am that you’re following your own path?”

“Thanks, Dad.” She knew he meant it, though he couldn’t always show it.

“And I’m sorry about the money. I hope you have what you need for now, and this whole thing with your mother will blow over.”

“It’ll blow over when I give in to what she wants. I know it hasn’t been easy between you two since I came back to town.”

“You know she just wants what she thinks is best for you.”

“Yeah, so long as my life looks exactly like hers,” Holly said and took a long sip of her mimosa. There was nothing wrong with the life her mother had, but raising horses was her mother’s passion, not Holly’s. Having an appreciation for the creatures would never make up for how much she detested the equestrian business. “Do you think she’ll ever come around and accept me for me?”

Her dad chuckled. “Maybe, when she tries your spiced pistachio ice cream?”

Holly clinked her glass against her dad’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. They watched the horses being led out from the stables and into the pasture. Their handlers stood just inside the bright white fence that separated the animals from the manicured grounds and directed the horses. Seeing the unbridled horses run and play among the grasses with the same exuberance and freedom as small children, had always captured her imagination.

Holly felt a connection to a horse’s determination to express their unique personality despite their confined existence. In her youth, she and Millie experienced a similar joy when they would run alongside the fencing and chase after the horses. Every day was a day of exploration and ease. It was no wonder her motherwished Holly to be a part of the business, as she watched her daughter grow up among the stables and dirt tracks of the farm.

“They really are magnificent, aren’t they?” Holly said.

“You’ve always loved this part, even as a little girl, holding on to my neck as I held you up to see over the fences, your eyes would light up, just as they are now,” her dad said and was right. “Everything’s going to work out. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll handle your mother.”

“She can’t say no to this face.” Holly pinched her dad’s cheek with her free hand. “Can she?” She hugged her dad from the side while he slipped a wad of folded bills between her fingers and the glass. “Dad?—”

“To get you through the next few days,” he said and winked.

It was uncouth to count the money then and there, but she was sure it looked like several hundred dollars at least. She slid the bills into her dress’ pocket and nodded a thanks to her dad.

To her left, one of the staff slid open the panels of glass, collapsing the windows into a pocket inside the wall and causing the space to become an indoor-outdoor room. The sticky breeze took no time to overtake the cool air conditioning. Holly dabbed the back of her hand against her cheeks and forehead to set her makeup and make sure her face wasn’t in danger of melting off. It wasn’t terribly hot, but it was the most humid day she had felt in a while. Summer was in full swing as the days rolled through to the end of June, that was for sure.

Holly’s dad downed his drink and placed it on an unoccupied cocktail table on his way to meet up with her mother. The several dozen guests began to make their way out onto the veranda and down the stairs to the dirt track surrounding the pasture. This was the main event, the review. The next two hours would either make or break the farm’s success for the next year. Of course, her parents could make ends meet, but the better the horses showed this year, the better the next year would be, and so on.

Holly waited until many of the guests had found their ideal viewing location before taking her spot. Some people lined up right against the fence railing while others took up elevated positions from bistro tables set up on the veranda. Holly headed to her favorite corner where the white fence and the gate came together. From the vantage point off to one end, she could keep tabs on all the goings on, overhear conversations, and know where her mother was, just in case Holly needed to spill some overheard tea or, conversely, to stay away if need be.

This was her role, a glorified eavesdropping spy. It never ceased to amaze her how freely some people will speak about private matters when they think no one of consequence is listening. For her sake, she blended in amongst the other club members, and since half of the people at the event were new around there, no one would recognize her as a Hollis. Once someone found out who she was related to, the sucking up would start.

Holly stepped up onto the bottom fence rail and rested her arms on the top one. From her position she scanned the faces, some obscured behind hats, for anyone she knew. She was always looking for faces she recognized. She would probably need to dig into the psychology behind that particular tic, but she supposed it was the same as when a person checks out the exits in a theater or when someone takes the stairs instead of the elevator. It was a precaution to know the way out of a situation. And in Holly’s case, she never knew when she would need someone to make a run with.

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