I use the house cordless to call him and he picks up on the second ring. “Hey, you,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.
“Hey.” I can hear his grin through the phone.
“What are you doing?” I lie down on the couch and point my toes toward the ceiling, excited that I’m talking to a cute boy on the phone. The gardener, Mr. Wallace, looks up from his newspaper and shakes his head at me.
“I wanted to talk to you about something…We’ve been having fun the past few weeks, right?”
“Yeah.”
I hear him take a deep breath. I slowly lower my legs to the couch.
“My ex and I…well, we dated since high school up until a couple of months ago, and I wanted to let you know that we still talk—”
“And?” I say, suddenly out of breath.
“I’m not saying she and I are serious again or anything.”
“What?” I’m so confused. It’s not like Alex and I are exclusive, but we did make out.
“It’s not fair to you if I’m starting to talk to my ex again.”
“Yeah, it’s not…” I say with a wobbly voice. “Do you love her?”
“I’ll always love her…but just because you love somebody doesn’t mean you should be with them. It’s harder than that.”
It sure is.
“I want to keep spending time with you,” Alex says.
“So you’re telling me that we can keep seeing each other, but you might work things out with your ex?”
“Yeah, kinda,” he says quietly. “God, that makes me sound like a complete asshole.”
“Yeah, kinda.” Believe it or not, hearing that he loves someone brings a small smile to my face. I don’t want to lose him, because I’ve enjoyed kissing him and hanging out, but I want to be with a guy who’s 100 percent there. I want a guy who’s all mine. And considering how often I think of Jack, I never would have been 100 percent there for Alex. And that’s just not right.
“It might be good if you focus on her, all right?”
Our conversation doesn’t last much longer—it’s just Alex apologizing over and over, and I tell him it’s okay, even though I don’t really feel okay.
We hang up and I set the cordless back in the docking station. Well. That sucks. I stick my thumbs in my eyes to keep the tears at bay. I want someone I can laugh, cuddle, and talk with anytime I want, someone who truly wants me. Loves me.
At least I’ve got other things to do this afternoon. After blowing my nose, I go to my room, put on my nicest outfit—black pants and a white shirt that belonged to Mom—and charge up to the manor house. I know I’m not allowed inside unless I’m working, but I’m not gonna sit around waiting for Mr. Goodwin to cross my path.
I sneak in the back kitchen door and head through the dining room to the main staircase that leads up to the suite of offices. I spot Paula spraying Windex on a mirror. I sneak down a different hallway and go up another set of stairs.
When I reach Mr. Goodwin’s assistant’s desk, she sets down her letter opener and the envelope she’s holding. “Can I help you?”
“I’d like to make an appointment,” I say, holding my chin high.
Jack appears in the doorway of his office. “Are you here to see me?” he asks, looking hopeful.
I summon my strongest voice. “No. I need to discuss something with your father.”
“Can I help you with it instead?” Jack asks, sticking his thumbs in his belt loops. “Dad’s a busy guy.”
I shake my head. “Only your dad.”
“Janet, tell my father Savannah needs to see him.”
The assistant presses the intercom button and speaks into it. Then Jack goes and opens the double doors to Mr. Goodwin’s office, jerking his head, indicating I should walk on in.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I pass by Jack. The door clicks shut behind me and I find myself in a room lit with floor-to-ceiling windows and softened with sheer, wispy curtains. The sofas and chairs are covered with a creamy fabric and fancy rugs cover the hardwood floor. Unlike Jack’s office, there are no TVs or computers. Am I in an Elven palace from The Lord of the Rings or something?
Mr. Goodwin glances up with a brief smile. “What can I do for you?”
He doesn’t invite me to sit, so I stand in front of his desk where he’s sorting through yellow message slips and writing in a leather-bound journal.
“Sir, I know I asked you to keep the money I make exercising your horses and racing in case Cindy and my dad need it, but I’d like to change that arrangement.”
That gets his attention. He sets his pen down, crosses his hands, and looks up at me. “Oh? How do you wish to change it?”
“I want to keep the money I make from now on for myself.”
A tiny smile flits across his face. “What are your plans for the money? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I look out the window, at the rows of huge barns and the racetrack and all the workers, amazed that one person owns all this. Mr. Goodwin didn’t build it, but his family did.
And now I want to start building something for me. For my family. For the future.
“I want to use it for college applications,” I say. “And to take the ACT.”
Mr. Goodwin nods and smiles. “Good. I’ll make sure you start getting regular paychecks.”
“Thank you, sir. Hope you have a nice day.” I turn to leave but Mr. Goodwin calls my name. I swivel around to face him.
“Savannah, I didn’t take any of the money you’ve made so far.”
“What?” I say, leaning forward.
“I saved it all.” He pushes an intercom button and asks his assistant to send Mr. Blakely in. “You’ve worked hard for that money and you need to spend it on you. A man should settle his own debts.”
A minute later, a tall man dressed in a suit appears in the office.
“This is Mr. Blakely, one of my stall managers,” he says. “Michael, how much money has Savannah made so far? Including the race where she placed third?”
The man opens a black portfolio and shuffles through the papers, dragging his finger down a ledger. “About $1,750.”
I sit down on the couch, unable to stand. I cover my face. I’ve never seen that much money in my whole life.
“Before you send out your college applications,” Mr. Goodwin says, “make sure you have my assistant and Jack look over them, understand?”
I taste salty tears at the back of my throat. “I will.”
“Blakely,” Mr. Goodwin says. “Give us a minute.” After the man leaves, Mr. Goodwin raps his pen on his desk. “Savannah, your father came to see me the other day. He wasn’t aware you’d asked to help with Cindy’s paychecks.”
I nod.
“Your father wanted to make sure I hadn’t done what you asked…and he asked me for help with college advice.”
My head pops up. “He did?”
“I ordered him some books and catalogs on student loans and scholarships to look at. We were going to meet about it next week.”
“You were?” I exclaim. Dad didn’t tell me anything. Maybe he didn’t want me to get my hopes up? “But why?” Mr. Cates’s uncaring expression flashes in my mind. “Why do you care if I go to college? Wouldn’t it be better for you if I just stay here and exercise horses and wax the floors or whatever?”
Mr. Goodwin smiles and slips his pen behind his ear. “When I was about your age, my father taught me something. He said that my staff is everything.
“I don’t do any of the important work like training a yearling. Keeping a mare calm as she delivers a foal. Making sure the horses are clean. I don’t even feed my own kids. Jodi cooks them healthy meals. My staff takes care of me and my family.”
I nod slowly.