Millions To Spare

Julia shuddered. “Thankfully, not for long. They let me go home with Harrison last night.”

“Tell me again why he wouldn’t let you call us?”

“He seemed to think I had accomplices. I didn’t want to tell him about the DNA, so my story kept falling apart.”

Melanie reached out to rub Julia’s arm. “Talk about above and beyond the call of duty.”

“I just wish I’d found something more.”

“We have one more DNA sample.”

Julia nodded. At least that was something.

Robbie and Harrison rose from the table.

“Thank you for bringing Julia back,” said Robbie.

Harrison shot an amused look Julia’s way. “You might want to tell her she should stick to reporting.”

“I was reporting,” Julia felt compelled to point out.

“Her story on us will be a lot safer,” said Melanie.

“Perfect,” said Harrison. “She can stick with her strengths.”

Julia glared at him. She wasn’t some hothouse flower who couldn’t handle the serious stuff. Heck, she’d survived prison. And she’d survived his temper.

“I’m still doing the Millions to Spare story,” she warned.

“Is that a question or a decree?”

There was something in his stance that gave her pause. She knew he wasn’t a man to mess with, but she also knew he’d mow her down like ripe alfalfa if she gave him half a chance.

“I’d appreciate your cooperation,” she finally said.

There was a telltale glint in his eye that told Julia he’d taken her words as capitulation. They weren’t. She was definitely doing the story. She was simply being polite about it.

Melanie glanced curiously back and forth between them.

“I’ll be at the Sandstone Derby tomorrow,” Harrison said to Robbie. “Hopefully we’ll have some answers from Switzerland by then.”

His gaze paused on Julia, giving her a chance to add something, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that might be. It seemed silly to stay angry but ridiculous to thank him.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” he told all three of them.

Robbie walked him to the suite door.

There was nothing more to be done prior to the test results.

“Is Something to Talk About ready to race?” asked Julia. No matter what happened with Millions to Spare and Leopold’s Legacy, Melanie’s and Robbie’s heads had to be in the race tomorrow.

“He’s ready,” said Robbie.

“I worked with him this morning,” said Melanie. “He’s learning the race ramp-up routine.” She smiled like a proud parent. “He knows tomorrow is the day.”

“If I grab my notebook,” asked Julia, “can I get a few quotes from you now? If his finish is strong, I’m going to want to file the story as soon as the race is over. I’m sure Equine Earth would put some excerpts into a daily for us.”

In Harrison’s opinion, there was nothing like a parade to the post. His two-year-old Zetwinkler, along with the Prestons’ Something to Talk About, twitched and frisked their way to the starting gates for the featured running of the Sandstone Derby. The horses’ sleek coats gleamed, and the jockeys’ colors flashed bright under the racetrack lights.

From his suite above the Maktoum grandstands, Harrison could see the crowd coming to its feet, while those on the lawns surged forward to the fence. The announcer’s voice grew more excited, switching languages, earning cheers from the crowd as favorite horses were announced.

Next to him, Brittany straightened in her chair and leaned toward the window. His grandmother raised her binoculars, taking a bead down the track.

Then the bell rang, and sixteen gates clanged open as the announcer began calling the race.

Zetwinkler was off to a good start, pulling up the center, near the middle of the pack. Harrison kept his eye on the Cadair colors. A length and a half off the leader, Zetwinkler was holding strong, moving into fifth, then fourth, and chasing down the Japanese horse for third.

Harrison also caught sight of Something to Talk About. Far on the outside, the horse was lagging behind for the rest of the backstretch.

Then, suddenly, he seemed to gather his strength. At the nine-hundred-meter mark, he drove his way up, closing the gap on the leaders. Harrison watched Melanie glance around, keeping herself oriented, staying outside the pack, making sure she had room.

Meanwhile, Zetwinkler was closing in on the leader himself. Harrison stood up, as did Brittany and even his grandmother, while Zetwinkler pulled ahead by a neck.

Then, around the turn, Melanie closed in. Something to Talk About held his pace, pushing though third, then second. Then he was neck and neck with Zetwinkler, and the two horses burst from the pack, battling it out.

At three hundred meters, headed for home, Harrison silently pulled for his own horse, but could sense Something to Talk About’s passion.

Sure enough, at two hundred meters, Something to Talk About grabbed a whole new gear. He streaked clear of Zetwinkler, driving his way past the grandstands to the roar of the crowd, through the finish line, claiming the Sandstone Derby championship.

Melanie stood in her stirrups as the horse slowed its pace.

“Too bad,” said Brittany, placing her hand on Harrison’s arm.

He patted her hand, grinning ear to ear. “That is one fine animal.”

She glanced quizzically up at him. “It took second.”

“I meant Something to Talk About.”

“Oh.”

He smiled down at her. “I spoke with Melanie Preston yesterday. This is a big win for her.”

Brittany nodded and gave him a lovely smile. “That’s very generous of you.”

“There’ll be other races,” he told her.

Grandmother lowered her binoculars. “That was magnificent,” she beamed, taking note of Harrison’s hand over Brittany’s, her smile growing even wider.

“Shall we join them in the winner’s circle?” asked Harrison.

“You young people go and enjoy yourselves,” said Grandmother. “I’m a bit too tired for a party tonight.”

Harrison would rather talk with Julia, Melanie and Robbie in person, but he wouldn’t force his grandmother to stay up late. “We can all head back,” he offered.

“Nonsense,” she told him, and her expression gave away her matchmaking ploy.

“Shall I call you a car?” Harrison asked, testing his theory.

“What a lovely idea.”

He extracted his cell phone, dialing his regular car service, happy to go along with his grandmother’s machinations.

After settling her for the ride back to Cadair, Harrison escorted Brittany to the winner’s circle. They arrived just in time to see Something to Talk About draped in flowers and Melanie hoist the trophy.

Beaming with pride, Robbie was at the horse’s head for pictures.

Julia was talking to one of the photographers, and Harrison caught her eye.

She smiled at him, then finished the conversation before approaching.

“Brittany,” Harrison began, “this is Julia Nash.”

Julia gave Brittany a polite greeting.

“Did you see the race?” she asked Harrison.

“My horse came second,” he replied.

“Zetwinkler is Cadair?” She jotted down a note. “I should have paid more attention to the colors. Of course, he’ll be featured in my article. It was a great race,” she breathed.

“That it was,” said Harrison, taking in her sleeveless, little navy dress, her utilitarian shoulder bag and disheveled hair, along with her spiral notepad and the pen in her hand.