Capp had been sitting for a few minutes, waiting, when Tilly slid in next to him. “Capp, please. I want to meet your daddy and Mr. Glidewell. Show them what Southern hospitality is really like. Maybe they could come to dinner at our farm. Maybe they’d want to lease it.” Capp sighed deeply.
“Tilly, you go on now. I’m gettin’ mad.”
“Promise me you’ll invite them for dinner?”
“No, Tilly. Don’t you get it? They aren’t here to socialize or be friendly or look at your farm. We are here to buy thoroughbreds for Glidewell,” Capp said, trying hard not to make a scene. Tilly stood abruptly. She leaned down to kiss Capp, lost her footing and fell into Capp’s lap, giggling. Capp pushed her back, stood, and walked with his suitcase and coat to the men’s lounge.
He headed for the sinks, looked in the mirror, and was embarrassed to notice Tilly’s red lipstick all around his mouth. He grabbed a towel from the attendant and made every effort to remove the noticeable red smudge. Eventually all evidence was gone. Feeling grateful that his dad and James hadn’t seen Tilly’s lipstick brand on his face, he made his way back to the waiting room. It appeared that Tilly was gone. Capp heaved a sigh of relief and found a seat. What had he seen in her?
When the stationmaster announced that the train would arrive in five minutes, Capp picked up his things and walked to the platform. Hearing the approaching train sound its whistle, Capp watched until he could see it in the distance. Now the important job would begin. Capp would explain all he had learned over the last eight months. He would help pick the horses that may bring greatness and esteem to Glidewell Ranch. For a moment, old memories of the folks at Glidewell raced through his mind. The last one was Maizie. For a fleeting second, he wondered how she was doing.
James and Wil disembarked and the three men greeted one another on the platform with manly hugs. As Capp had anticipated, James had retained a car and driver to be their escort for the two weeks. The three men climbed into the five-passenger four-door Buick sedan and were driven in style by Hank, a driver of great reputation, to the Brown Hotel.
At the hotel, James released the driver until the next morning. The three walked through the front door, and James, experienced in the decorum and pleasantries of a fine hotel, walked to the front desk. He registered, opened an account, and took the keys for his rooms on the sixteenth floor.
The lobby was opulent, with marble tile, hardwood and carpeted floors, cream-colored walls and hand-painted moldings and motifs, gilded chandeliers, and a sitting room with overstuffed chairs and tables for conversation or work. The Georgian Revival elegance of the architecture was awe inducing, and the efforts to practice timeless Southern charm were clearly on display. Wil and Capp, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the finery, stood together waiting for James. A bellman quickly surfaced and took all the luggage and showed the men to the elevator. Capp looked at his dad and said, “You ever been to such a fancy place?”
“Don’t believe I have, son. Feeling like a fish out of water.”
James laughed. “We are going to sleep fine, eat well, and have ourselves a successful working holiday. We all deserve it. I wanted Mary to come, but she passed. She’s leavin’ all this work to us.”
“Horse shopping is difficult, I hear. We are building pedigrees. These thoroughbreds will be our foundation. That’s what Bob says,” said Capp. “Can’t wait to get back to Glidewell. Gettin’ homesick, I guess.”
“We were worried you found a girl, since you hardly ever wrote,” said Wil and slapped Capp on the back.
“Thought maybe I had. But I was too busy to be seeing a gal all the time. Gave her up.”
James laughed, “Horse flesh is better?”
“I guess you can say that. But like you said, Mr. Glidewell, I represent Glidewell Ranch. No time for play.”
The elevator reached the top floor and the men stepped out and followed the bellman to their appointed rooms. They agreed to clean up and meet for a whiskey or two. Talk horses. “It was Mary’s idea to bring whiskey in a suitcase,” said James. “She’s the consummate hostess, even when she’s not here.”
“Now, that Mary is one smart woman,” said Wil. “Whiskey is sounding good.”
“She’s a wonderful woman,” admitted James as the bellman unlocked his door. Capp thought about James’s comment for a moment and wondered if he would end up unlucky in love. It seemed to Capp as though life was like horse racing, a crap shoot, a matter of luck. The thought of breeding and owning his own horses one day still weighed on his mind, but Tilly Coombs was not the way to get there. Not now. His future belonged to Glidewell, for the short term at least. He realized that now with certainty.
Chapter 62
The Photographer
The day that Rye Fulton arrived to share his work from match race weekend, Corky drove the Packard Coupe to the train depot to pick him up. Finding the photographer seated on a bench waiting patiently, Corky apologized for being late. “Was waiting for a cake to come out of the oven. I’ll give you an extra piece as an apology,” stated Corky as he extended his hand.
“And I’ll take it,” said Rye as he shook Corky’s hand. “I’m Rye Fulton. You working in the ranch house now? Where’s the Frenchman?”
“I’m just filling in. He went to New York City. On vacation.”
“I see,” said Rye.
“I’m Corky. I remember you, Rye. You were everywhere during the match races. Hope you got a picture of me and Doll.”
“You and Doll?”
Corky laughed. “Doll
