The Auction a Romance by Anna Erishkigal Page 16

  "Yes," he whispered. "My mother made me swear I would keep this station out of Maynor Jackson's hands."

  I fiddled with my bathrobe, wracking my brains for a solution to the problem. I didn't have one. My mother might have been the dominatrix of all things manipulative when it came to a custody dispute, but all they'd owned at the time they'd gotten divorced was a heavily mortgaged house, two financed cars, and Harvey.

  "That's not the only reason you left Pippa's mother, is it?"

  "No," Adam said. "I've been unhappy for a very long time."

  I waited for him to say something more, like why his marriage had broken down, or why it had taken two, no, three deaths to force him to do something about it, but Adam was not the kind of man to kiss-and-tell. Or in this case, kick and tell.

  "What can I do to help you?"

  Adam's face screwed up into the visage of a much older man. One who was tired, worn out, and weary from carrying too great a load.

  "It broke my mother's heart when I sold off the cattle and the stock horses," Adam said. "But I didn't have a choice. I can't go through that again, buy Pippa a horse, and then have to sell it if Eva forces me to sell the station. I can't…"

  He lurched to his feet and paced towards the now-dark picture window. There was an air of isolation about him as his shoulders rose and fell, like a man out of breath from running a marathon.

  "Every single day, I get up before dawn," his voice warbled, "and when I get home again, it's usually already dark. I lose days at a time traveling away from my daughter, and then when I get into my office, there's always some phone call from my solicitor, telling me that Eva and her father have pulled another dirty trick. They keep asking me for a bigger retainer, only I took a significant pay cut when I quit working for Maynor Jackson, so the solicitors keep bleeding me so dry I can't even pull together enough money to buy Eva out. And then, to top it all off, every few weeks I have to go to court in Sydney to fend off the bogus lawsuit Eva's father filed to try to get me fired from my new job!"

  His voice took on a tone of anguish.

  "Please understand, Rosie. I just can't take on another responsibility right now! If I can save the station, I will. But the only thing I care about is keeping Pippa!"

  His shoulders shuddered as he fought to regain control of his emotions. I resisted the urge to wrap my hands around his waist, press my face into his back, and tell him he didn't have to do this all alone. I wanted to make love to him until I wiped all memory of Eva Jackson from his mind, for Adam, I sensed, suffered from the same acute need to be loved that his daughter did. But I stayed seated upon the couch because Adam was vulnerable right now, and more than anything in the world, I sensed what he really needed was a friend.

  "You heard what Pippa said," I said softly. "Her mother has already tried to play the horse card."

  Adam stiffened, or more precisely his back did since that was the only part of him I could see. His posture reminded me of the day I'd told him Pippa remembered his father throwing her off his station.

  "I'm not good at playing games," Adam said. "And I refuse to play them with my daughter."

  Yeah. That's what -my- father said. And look at where that got him.

  "If all this stuff wasn't going on right now with Eva," I said, "and you felt secure that Pippa wasn't about to be snatched away, would you buy her a horse?"

  "Of course," Adam said. "I grew up around horses. If it made her happy, I'd buy her half a dozen."

  "Then it's not a game to teach her how to save her own money to buy something she desperately wants," I said. "Make her work for it. And then once she gets it, insist she be the one to take care of it, the same as Julie does with Emily. That's not game-playing. That's just teaching your daughter how to get what she wants the right way."

  Adam swiped at his cheeks, and then he turned to face me. He looked, for all the world, like a man that'd just been beaten up.

  "Roberta Dingle said you have a good head on your shoulders."

  Sometimes… Except when it came to trusting Gregory Schluter…

  "Nobody ever gave me anything in life," I said softly. "I've always had to get it on my own."

  "Same here."

  Adam shifted awkwardly, as though he didn't know what to say now that he'd just spilled his guts. He ambled into the kitchen to get his favorite conversational prop to hide behind, two bottles of White Rabbit beer, though he took far longer than he normally did, no doubt getting his emotions back under control.

  He placed my beer upon the coffee table and plopped back down into his king chair, stretching out his legs until they hit mine halfway under the coffee table. I didn't pull back my foot, nor did he, but we stayed there, my bare foot against Adam's white, cotton socks, until his warmth began to tingle up my leg. It was the closest we'd come to holding hands the entire time I'd been here.

  "So what do you propose I do, Miss Rosamond, if I promise Pippa she can buy herself a horse with her own money, and then Eva wins and forces me to sell this station?"

  I gave him an evil grin.

  "The Australian Pony Club has connections all over Queensland," I said. "They'll give you a whole list of recommended boarding stables and pony clubs no matter where you end up living. Even just outside the city limits of Brisbane."

  The air in the living room tingled between us, but the attraction wasn't sexual this time, but spiritual. I could almost see the thought settle into Adam's brain. It's not a game. I'm just giving Pippa what I'd give her anyway if Eva wasn't trying to pull the rug out from under me.

  "It's too bad I sold my father's stock horses, eh?"

  "Yes. That is too bad." I thought of the white pony Adam's mother rode every night in my dreams. Would it bring Adam comfort, to know I dreamed of her? Or would he think it was as nutty as Pippa's chatter about the Mimi's and the fairy queen?

  "Will they let Pippa participate in pony club if she doesn't have a horse of her own?" Adam asked.

  "No," I said. "It's an hour of drills, and then they all go on a trail ride."

  "Don't they have any we could lease?"

  "Not around here," I said. "The instructor already has three kids on a waiting list. She suggested you put out word among the other stationers that you're looking for a short-term lease."

  Adam sighed.

  "I haven't spoken to anybody in Nutyoon since the day I graduated high school." He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "If I tell Pippa I'll let her buy herself a horse, do you think you could keep her patient, at least until my divorce trial? After that, at least I'll know where we're supposed to live."

  "How many weeks is that?"

  "Seven," Adam said. "And then, I don't know, the solicitor said it sometimes takes the judge a couple of weeks to make his decision."

  It's only eight more weeks until I'm out of a job … and a home.

  --Oh, shut up! That's why Adam hired you, to get him over this hump. Not to lust after him like a mare in season.--

  No, YOU shut up! Adam hired me because I can relate to what Pippa NEEDS…

  Adam withdrew his foot. He watched me intently, waiting for my sage advice as though it was some kind of written gospel. My own bare foot cried out for the loss of his warmth, but that sense of camaraderie, as though I'd just passed some kind of test, remained.

  "Tell Pippa she can only use money she earns herself," I said. "No gifts; and no gifts disguised as inflated wages. I'll turn it into a series of lessons about economics. Make her work for it, and don't let her take any shortcuts."

  One golden eyebrow rose up in a thoughtful 'V.'

  "A nice Dutch Warmblood? They're an even-tempered horse. I hear an entry-level dressage horse goes for what? Around $15,000?"

  "More," I laughed, "But you're not going to get off that easy. Pippa is determined to get a horse, and she's not that picky about what kind of horse she buys. Don't be surprised to find a lemonade stand out in front of the cattle guard along with a sign that says, 'Wanted … Cheap Unicorn … Will Work for
Trade.'"

  A small smile broke through Adam's mask of worry.

  "Oh? And will you be helping my daughter conspire against me?"

  "You know I will."

  Adam raised his bottle of White Rabbit and leaned towards me across the coffee table.

  "To Pippa's unicorn," Adam said.

  "To Pippa's unicorn."

  We clinked together our bottles of suds.

  Chapter 16

  By the time the following Sunday rolled around, Pippa had added $.05 cents to her horse fund, a paper cup filled with fruit punch purchased by Linda Hasting's son when he'd pulled into his mother's driveway and been ambushed by Pippa at the mailbox. The sale netted $.50 cents, but I'd made her compute the cost-per-cup as one of my sneaky math drills. It cost $.10 cents for the cup and $.35 cents for the fruit punch, not an exceptionally fruitful profit margin. After two days spent standing in 35 degree heat at the edge of an untraveled back country road, Pippa finally agreed we should try something more productive.

  She leaned over her new chores list, her small, pink lips pursed into a moue, as she counted the money in her piggy bank.

  "If I do more chores, do you think I can get Daddy to pay me more than $5 per week?"

  "That's what Julie paid Emily," I said.

  "Daddy makes a lot more than Emily's mommy, doesn't he?"

  I remembered the frustration in Adam's voice as he'd complained the solicitors were bleeding him dry. Every frivolous expense made it that much more unlikely he'd be able to buy out his ex-wife.

  "Your daddy has a lot more expenses than Emily's mom," I said. "Which is why he wants you to buy this horse on your own. If you don't have to work for something, then you won't appreciate it."

  "But five dollars a week allowance is cheap!" Pippa said. "Mommy's all grown up, but grandpa still gives her an allowance!"

  The trust fund…

  "And how much would that be, little nipper?"

  Pippa's pale features grew apprehensive.

  "I don't know." Pippa's voice grew small. "It always made Daddy angry whenever Mommy spent Grandpa's money. He said she should only spend what he earns and save Grandpa's money for me."

  My already inflated impression of Adam went up another, oh, five hundred bazillion notches.

  "Listen, honey," I said. "I think your father just wants to see that you're serious about wanting a horse, and not just passing through a phase."

  "But I am serious!" Pippa stomped her foot.

  "Then prove it." I pointed to the chores list. "You said you'd work to earn your pony. But you still haven't completed three chores."

  "But why do I have to go around the yard with a shovel and pick up Thunderlane's poo?" Pippa complained. "He always runs off into the bushes to do his duty."

  I laughed. That chore was my suggestion.

  "Because if you get a horse, you'll be shoveling a lot more than that. Every. Single. Day. Just like Emily does."

  "Polkadot's poops aren't stinky!"

  I shot her a skeptical eyebrow. For a kid that was obsessively neat, it was amazing how selective she could be about what she recognized as 'dirt.'

  I pointed to the piece of paper I'd used to help her work out how many weeks it would take, at $5 per week, before she had enough money to buy a horse at auction. If, by some miracle, another stock horse came up as cheap and as well-trained as Polkadot, it would take her fifty weeks to buy a horse, half that long if Adam chipped in the other half like Julie had done for Emily. Six months, tops. It was a reasonable timeframe to make sure Adam could give Pippa's unicorn a forever home. Unfortunately, Pippa wasn't used to Marshmallow Daddy making her toe the mark.

  "You and your father made a deal." I tapped the pencil on the piece of paper. "You get your allowance, and then you get whatever you can earn honestly, not by bamboozling somebody to take pity on you. That's the best deal I could get you, missy. So do you want a horse, or don't you?"

  Pippa's lip jutted out and she gave me a defiant glare.

  "Yes."

  "Okay then. It's time to go get that shovel."

  "Aren't you going to help me?"

  "Nope." I hid a smile. "It's your chore."

  I busied myself cleaning, until the entire kitchen reeked of Jif. Forty minutes later, Adam came stumbling out of his bedroom, sporting a serious case of bed-head. He looked so endearing with sleep still in his eyes, his shirt all crumpled and sleep-shorts askew.

  "Where's Pippa?"

  "Out looking for land mines."

  Adam stifled a yawn.

  "Why didn't Pippa wake me up?"

  "I thought you could use a little rest."

  He gave me a grateful grin and then stumbled over to grab himself a cup of coffee from the stainless steel percolator, not as good as his coffee, but first thing in the morning, all you needed was a jolt of caffeine. The luscious vapors tempted me to pour another cup for myself. Adam pulled out a chair and glanced over Pippa's list of chores. Beside it sat the lined piece of paper where Pippa had worked out her plan to get a pony.

  "Fifty weeks? That's doable."

  "Twenty-five," I said. "If she doesn't come up with a way to earn money that's a lot more productive than a lemonade stand. I'd count on her earning money sooner. She's pretty determined to get herself a horse."

  "You know I'm not going to let her buy just any old horse."

  "That's what Emily has," I said. "So that is what she'll hold you to. It's up to you whether or not you chip in anything above and beyond that."

  Adam touched Pippa's master plan. His expression grew wistful.

  "Do you know what you've just done?" he said softly.

  His words were a challenge, but the tone in which they were delivered sounded proud.

  "No."

  "I tried for ten years to get my wife to draw up a budget and learn to live within it, and here you've got Pippa doing it at age ten."

  I gave him a non-committal nod.

  He touched the line in the middle, circled with green magic marker.

  "That's still a long time for her to go without making any friends."

  He looked up, his blue-green eyes apprehensive; as though he feared I might ream him out again.

  "I asked Linda Hastings for ideas," I said. "Summer vacation starts in a couple of weeks. She suggested we sign Pippa up to volunteer at the library. It will give her another way to meet some local kids."

  "That would be nice," Adam said.

  And it will give you ammunition to use against Eva if she tells the court to move Pippa back to Brisbane…

  He sipped his coffee in silence, pouring over Pippa's list. I finished cleaning up the residue of Pippa's morning math-muffins, allowing him to digest his daughter's master-plan to conquer the world.

  The screen door opened. Pippa burst in with Thunderlane at her heel.

  "Daddy!"

  I headed her off before she could hug her father.

  "Wash your hands first, nipper! I know what you've been shoveling!"

  Pippa giggled and headed over to the sink.

  Adam glanced up, his expression puzzled.

  "Land mines," I silently mouthed and pointed at the chores list.

  Adam grinned.

  Her hands still dripping wet, Pippa tackled her father like she would have done at six o'clock this morning if I hadn't headed her off at the pass.

  "G'mornin, Miss Muffet," Adam hugged her back. "And what does my little princess want to do today?"

  "Can we go down to the river again?" Pippa asked.

  "Sure we can," Adam said. "As soon as I mow the lawn."

  I busied myself doing other things while Adam broke the big red farm tractor out of the barn, complete with mowing attachment, and ran it around the courtyard with Pippa seated on his lap to steer it. They came back in an hour and a half later, both reeking of fresh-cut grass and grinning from ear to ear.

  "Why don't you ladies make some sandwiches," Adam said, "and then we'll go down to the river for a swim. They newsman said it
might reach 35 degrees today."

  "Oy!" I said. "And technically it's not even summer!"

  "You should try working in the outback some time," Adam said. "When I left yesterday it was headed up to 46 degrees."

  His work crews, I knew from prior conversations, did most of their work in the very early morning. It enabled him, when he monitored the wells closest to Toowoomba, to spend time with Pippa before she went to bed.

  Pippa and I made cucumber sandwiches as Adam went back into his bedroom to get dressed. Since we were only picnicking in front of the house, I wanted to pack something a little less primitive.

  "Do you have a picnic basket?" I asked Pippa.

  "Grandma always used this."

  She dug out an old-fashioned picnic basket, the kind with a handle and a double lid. The inside was hand-quilted and relatively new, compared to the rest of the basket which appeared to be vintage. My hand tingled as I ran my fingers over the three plastic cups, three plastic plates, an assortment of cutlery, and matching cloth napkins. This basket carried within it many happy memories.

  "Why don't you fill this up?" I handed a water bottle to Pippa.

  She filled it with ice and then let the faucet run until it ran cold.

  Adam came out dressed in a pair of Funky Trunks which left absolutely nothing to the imagination and a T-shirt with a footy logo plastered across the front. I watched the way the lightweight swimsuit fabric tightened across his muscular backside as he kneeled to refill Thunderlane's water bowl.

  Urf! If you keep doing that, Adam, you'll have to dump some of that cold water on me!

  "What's so funny?" Adam interrupted my naughty musings.

  I could feel the color rise all the way up to my ears.

  "Oh, nothing," I said.

  I finished packing the cucumber sandwiches, some fresh peaches, and a kale and sesame salad into the basket.

  "Let's go get our bathing suits on," I told Pippa. "We wouldn't want your father to beat us into the water today, now, would we?"

  We raced down the hall to see who could get dressed first. I pulled out my two bathing suits and tried to decide which one to wear. The maillot I'd worn last weekend? Or the more risqué bikini I had bought and never dared wear? I held up both bathing suits and tried to imagine how I stood up against the tall, leggy blonde I had seen in the newspaper tabloids? I frowned. I wasn't plump, but my years riding horseback had left me with broad hips, sturdy thighs and calves muscular enough to keep my butt attached to my horse. No matter what I wore, I wouldn't measure up, so I might as well show off my only natural asset, my small waist which Gregory joked he could wrap his fingers around.