The Cinderella List (7 page)

“You don’t need the logo. It shows anyway. I noticed immediately.” For him, part of her charm, Jake knew, resided in her obvious faith.

The slash of dimple in his cheek winked as he smiled at her, and Marlo felt any reluctance she’d felt toward involving herself with this man soften. She was like butter on toast, her reservations quickly melting away.

“That man can work miracles with eggs. I’m gaining weight just thinking about the pastries!” she said, as she buckled herself into Jake’s car.

“Glad you liked it,” Jake said, sounding genuinely pleased.

She studied him, taking in his profile, the pleasant smile lines that crinkled around his eyes, and the tanned skin of an outdoorsman. “I have to admit, I was surprised by your choice. I thought r—” She clamped lips shut. She’d almost said “rich men.”

“It’s below me, you mean?” Much to his credit, he didn’t look insulted, only amused.

“I’m sorry. My brain is in carb overload and it’s made me stupid. No offense meant.”

“None taken. I spend a lot of my day dealing with people with
too much money and too much time on their hands. Franco’s is my way of reminding me who the real population is.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged lightly. “People who are trying to decide if six bathrooms in their house is enough or if they should have seven, for example. Sometimes it’s hard to take when a good share of the world’s population doesn’t even have a roof overhead.”

Her curiosity was piqued. “You’re not what I expected you to be.”

“In what ways?”

“You’re friendly, for one. To a lot of our clients, Lucy and I are invisible. We’re hired by an assistant, introduced to the house by a servant, and leave by the back way when the party is done. I don’t mind, because it’s part of the job. Frankly, I didn’t expect to see you in the kitchen. What’s more, you were very gracious and helpful.”

“Blunt, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know any other way to be, I’m afraid. My family says I don’t just put my foot in my mouth occasionally, but that it’s my foot’s default location. You’ve probably already noticed that I speak first and think later.”

“I hope you’ll like Hammond Stables.” Amusement flickered in his dark eyes. “But if you don’t, I can be sure you’ll tell me.”

“I’d like to know more about your program,” Marlo admitted.

It didn’t even occur to Marlo that involving herself in the program meant involving herself very closely with the man she was sitting next to, as well. She had no thought that she might be backing into something dangerous, something that might break her heart.

“Hippotherapy can be used in physical, occupational or speech therapy,” Jake told her as they drove. “It is a treatment strategy that makes use of the movement of a horse. With hippo
therapy, the horse influences the rider, not the other way around. The rider must respond to the horse, not vice versa.” He turned to her as the city whizzed by and the landscape began to grow more and more rural. There were still houses everywhere, but on much larger parcels of land, and neighbors were farther apart.

“
Hippo
is the Greek word for
horse,
” Jake continued. “I took a little Greek in undergraduate studies. I thought perhaps someday I would like to read something in its original text.”

Intelligent and well read. Check.

“You mentioned having a nephew who might benefit from a riding program.”

“I think I spoke out of turn,” she admitted. “My sister and I don’t always agree where Brady is concerned. It’s difficult to explain.”

Marlo had known from the moment Brady was born that she was to play a special role in his life. She was to speak for the normal little boy in Brady, the part of him that wanted to run and play, to get dirty and fall down and scrape his knee. She spoke for the part of Brady that Jenny refused to hear. How did one put that into words?

He heard something unsteady in her voice, and he turned to look at her. “It’s okay. Tell me when and if you want.”

It was virtually impossible, Marlo decided, to resist anyone who was persistently cheerful and easygoing as Jake. She felt a little more of herself melt inside, like chocolate softening in the sun.

This man is dangerous,
a small voice inside her said.
It would be very easy to fall in love with him.
She pushed the preposterous notion out of her mind.
Taken,
she reminded herself.
He’s taken.
Nothing was more important to her than that bit of information.

S
he hung on every word he said, Jake observed. He had an apt pupil in Marlo, no doubt about that. Not everyone—his father and Sabrina included—wanted to understand the nuances of his new project.

“Equine movement is variable and rhythmic. Staying on a horse requires balance, good posture and strength. When the horse changes gaits, the rider has to subtly adjust in order to stay astride. The movement affects posture, the senses, motor skills and so much more. Therapists tell me that no machine can duplicate the muscle movement of a horse—side to side, as well as up and down and forward and back.” He glanced over to see if Marlo was still listening. She was. “It’s remarkably similar to a human gait. Keeping balance on a moving horse strengthens the same muscle groups the kids would use to walk, sit or reach.”

“I had no idea. I suppose I’ve never really thought about it before, but it makes sense with a child touching, smelling, feeling and hearing a horse. It would stimulate all the senses at once.”

“Children who have never uttered a word have suddenly begun to say the names of their horses. Kids who have never been
out of their wheelchairs get to see the world from a vantage point the rest of us take for granted, standing on our own two feet.” Jake felt his excitement building just at the idea. “This is life-giving, Marlo.”

“Well, you’ve certainly convinced me!” Marlo said, as the miles and minutes flew by on their way to the ranch. “How did you first get involved?”

“I had a friend in school with cerebral palsy. A lot of kids didn’t want anything to do with him because of his disability, but Buddy was a great guy, smart and funny. We talked a lot about his frustrations and his wish to be like other kids. He was particularly fascinated with my family’s business and with horses. I don’t know how many times he told me he wished he could ride a horse. One day I said I’d help him do it.”

“Just like that?”

“Teenage boys aren’t always known for thinking through the possible consequences of their actions.” He amazed himself sometimes, that he and the others had even dared to try. Fortunately, he’d developed a little more common sense over the year. “I’m not sure either of us thought about it much at all, we just did it.

“I roped in a couple of guys who worked with the horses to help us. We put a saddle on a gentle horse and hoisted Buddy onto its back. The three of us kept him balanced in the saddle and walked around the arena—out of the sight of my father, of course.”

“Then what happened?” Her blue eyes were very wide, like Cammi’s got when he was telling her a tall tale. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, fortunately. We just got him down again and I took him home. Our parents were never the wiser.” Jake shook his head ruefully, still amazed that nothing serious had happened as a result. “We could have easily dumped Buddy on his head, but I doubt he would have minded.”

“You were pretty brave—or foolhardy.” An impish smile tilted her lips. “How do you know he wouldn’t have cared?”

“Buddy said it was the best day of his life. On the back of that horse, high off the ground, he said he felt like he was flying. He said the freedom and exhilaration he’d experienced was worth a dozen lumps on the head. We sneaked him out to the stables a couple more times before we graduated. He loved it more each time he did it. Because we were going to different colleges, Buddy and I drifted apart. I hadn’t seen or heard from him until he called me last year.”

Marlo looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on.

“He’d found a center not far from his home that does equine-assisted stuff. He’d tried it again—with professionals this time—and loved it as much as ever. Buddy called me immediately and told me that if he’d had these experiences as a young child he believed it would have changed his life. The younger the child, the better the chance of significant improvement, he says.

“He insisted that I shouldn’t waste the space and horses on the ranch but rather set up a program for children like he was. Kids who need to build strength, balance, increased range of motion and a burst of self-esteem.”

She chewed on that for a moment, he noticed, before speaking again. “Not everyone rides a horse,” she mused. “I can just imagine what a giddy high that would be for a child who’d been limited to a wheelchair.”

He liked the way she thought. The program wasn’t just about physical benefits, but about emotional ones, as well. Not everyone understood that. “Buddy is now on the board of that hippotherapy facility in New York. He’s been helping—and hounding—me to get this done. I’m too committed to quit now. In the end, Dad will respect my decision, but not before he thinks of every possible thing that can go wrong with the plan.”

“It must be fun to be him,” Marlo murmured, under her breath.

Jake heard her and smiled. “I wouldn’t walk a mile in his boots, if that’s what you mean. Dad had a serious financial setback when I was just a kid. He almost lost the stables and hasn’t been the same man since. My mother said he almost had a breakdown but he came back like gangbusters. He calls me too laid-back and easygoing. I call it rolling with the punches.”

They drove in silence while Jake maneuvered through the heavy traffic. He could feel Marlo’s eyes on him, covertly studying his profile, but he said nothing. She was scoping him out and he didn’t blame her. He liked a cautious woman.

Jake felt every fiber in his body begin to relax as they turned off the interstate and wound their way through the western suburbs. This was the place he loved, where the land was dotted with barns and decorated with white chains of fence looping like necklaces across the rolling countryside.

He took a turn into a long, tree-canopied drive with white fencing undulating along both sides of the road and a tunnel of maple and linden branches, which shaded the drive that led to his childhood home. In front of her she could see a large red barn set like a ruby centerpiece in the emerald grass. As they neared, a gangly colt and its mother, inside an enclosure by the barn, came into view.

“It looks like June!” Marlo blurted. She sat bolt upright and stared straight ahead.

Jake glanced at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Lucy gave me a calendar for Christmas. It is full of beautiful, placid scenes of animal mothers and their babies, a deer and fawn poking their noses out of a stand of trees, a dog nursing her puppies and a beautiful mare and foal….”

“And a mare and foal is the calendar photo for the month of June?”

“Exactly.”

His lips tipped upward at the corners. “Following your train of thought is definitely a challenge.”

“I suppose it’s because my train keeps jumping the track.”

He laughed out loud. “I enjoy you, Marlo. I’ve never met someone whose mind works quite like yours.”

She sighed and sank back into her seat. “People tell me that all the time. My father says that God installed my logic backward. I say God doesn’t make mistakes, so I must be okay.”

“Very okay,” he murmured, beneath his breath.

Jake slowed as he pulled up to the barn. Two men were standing in the open door, talking. “My father is still here, I see. He’s going golfing with his friend Alfred, but obviously they haven’t left yet. You met Alfred at the party. Dad and Alfred have been golfing together for forty years. We’ll see how your logic works with my father. He thinks
my
sense is flawed. I’m interested to see what he thinks about
yours.
”

“Jake, where is your mother?”

“Mom? She and her sister are in Europe. They go every year. My family is in constant motion. Then she and Dad will spend time together in Mexico. I’m the only one who likes it well enough to stay here through the winter.” He regretted that sometimes. He was a family man at heart. He’d decided that long ago, but he lived in a world that didn’t allow him time to cultivate that part of himself.

Jake watched Marlo step out of the car and onto grass mowed so perfectly that it reminded him of a well-groomed golf course. The pastures looked good, he noticed with approval, and the fences had been newly painted in a white so bright it could almost hurt a person’s eyes.

Jake took her arm and steered her toward an outbuilding between two red, steel-fenced, round pens. “Currently, this shed
is being used to store supplies, but we have plenty of room elsewhere to do that. This building will be the lounge and office for the hippotherapy program, a comfortable place for children and their families to wait their turns at the horses. It’s near the round pens, so that if the rider’s siblings want to watch television or play games, they will still be close to their parents. I plan to keep it simple. It’s about the kids and the horses, nothing else. Well, what do you think?”

Keep it simple?
Marlo took in the barns and storage buildings, the casually elegant landscaping, the row of black Range Rovers with Hammond Stables emblazoned on the sides in gold paint, the working Bobcats for cleaning barns, and fleet of black-and-gold horse trailers. If this was simple, she’d be curious to see what complex looked like.

Off to one side of the yard stood the family home, a stone and wood structure that spread out gracefully across a rise in the land, as if to survey the kingdom that was Hammond Stables. Mullioned windows, elaborately carved doors, chimneys hinting at multiple fireplaces and two large Irish setters lounging on the stone front steps made it look like a painting rather than an actual home.

“My father’s house,” Jake commented. “My grandparents also live there in a separate wing, but they are gone most of the year. The Hammond dynasty’s headquarters.” He said it so mockingly that Marlo turned to stare at him.

Seeing her wide eyes, he smiled a little. “Don’t pay attention to me. I don’t enjoy butting heads with the family to start the riding program. It seems to me that, with as much as our family has gained, they’d be a little more willing to give back.”

Marlo didn’t speak. The Hammond family dynamic was powerful, and she didn’t understand the undercurrents. Neither did she want to be dragged out to sea without knowing what hit her. While she already felt as if she’d known Jake for years, he
was almost a stranger to her—a charming, handsome, generous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

The two men who’d been talking by the barn moved toward them. There was no mistaking Jake’s father—the lean, athletic build, broad shoulders, striking, pale-blue eyes, skin tanned and weathered from years in the sun and sharp, angular features. Randall Hammond wasn’t the warm, fuzzy type. Maybe all those genes had been passed on to Jake through his mother.

He stared appraisingly at Marlo as he neared. To be given the once-over by Randall Hammond made her shiver, even on a warm day like this one. Then Randall smiled and the notion was shattered. Maybe Jake’s innate charm
was
an inherited factor, she thought.

“Who have we here?” Randall asked pleasantly.

“You remember Marlo Mayfield, Dad. She’s the owner of Dining with Divas, the catering group that did our last party.”

“Oh, yes.” Obviously, Randall had filed their meeting under “Insignificant and Unimportant,” because he’d promptly forgotten who she was. “Be sure to leave more business cards on the counter in the office. Clients have been asking about the food.”

“She’s not here on business,” Jake said, sounding annoyed. “I invited her out to show her the stables.” He touched her shoulder protectively.

The other man, who’d been silent, chuckled. “You should know your father well enough by now, Jake. He’s
always
doing business, even in his sleep.”

“Marlo, this is my grandfather, Samuel. He and my grandmother are off tomorrow to the West Coast, where they have a second home.”

The old man grabbed her hands in his and gave them a welcoming squeeze. She liked Samuel Hammond immediately. Here was Jake’s real genetic benefactor. Even at his age, which had to be at least eighty, he stood tall and erect, almost with military
bearing. Not a silver hair out of place, not a speck of dust on his pressed denims or cowboy boots, he looked like the peer of the realm, this vast stately horse operation.

“Are you interested in horses?” he asked genially.

“As a child I adored them, but anything I know I learned from reading a book. That isn’t saying much, considering I was mildly dyslexic and reading wasn’t easy for me. I’m thrilled to be here, though.”

Samuel looked pleased to hear of her interest, but Randall frowned as if admitting to being dyslexic were a significant flaw, like bragging about a knock-kneed colt.

Smoothly Jake changed the subject. “I thought you were going to play golf today.”

“I am.” Randall sounded thoroughly disgusted. “If Alfred ever shows up. Apparently, his daughters, Jackie and Sabrina, thought they should have pedicures or some such nonsense. He agreed to watch his granddaughter Cammi until eleven. Every woman in that family has him wrapped around their finger, even the eight-year-old. You should talk to Sabrina about this, Jake. Alfred’s run over by the women around him.”

Jake smiled, but it was apparent that he had no interest in taking on all the Dorchester women at once, either. Smart man.

Since blonde, possessive Sabrina was the daughter of Randall Hammond’s best friend, it was no wonder that she had an exclusive on Jake. Given her slightly younger age, she’d probably grown up idolizing the older, handsome boy that Jake no doubt had been. Sabrina had likely staked her claim on him years ago.

To Marlo’s amazement, she felt disappointed by the knowledge. What gave her the right to be unhappy to know this man was already taken? Jealousy was hardly her style. It wasn’t as if they actually
knew
each other. After Angela’s announcement, she’d had become painfully aware of her marital status—or lack thereof.

Get a grip!
Marlo squared her shoulders. She’d come here to see horses and learn about a program to help children, not to lasso a man.

Thankfully, at that moment a groom led a young horse out of the barn and toward a nearby round pen. The animal’s flanks rippled with muscle and glinted like bronze in the sunlight, and the creature turned to look at the small group with soft, liquid-brown eyes that took Marlo’s breath away.