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that he had been assured was a suitable mount for a ten-year-old. Back then she wanted to be a rodeo rider. Now she aspired to dressage and jumping—which she would not do as long as she was a minor living in his home. Bottom line, Addison was a horse person and enjoyed anything about riding. Including, Dave had to admit, currying, feeding, and mucking out the stable.
    They say a boat is a hole in the water into which you throw money. Dave was neither a nautical nor an equestrian person, but he had learned in the last four years that a horse is a money pit, too, especially if you live in the city. There was the expense of the animal itself: $15,000 for the nag she was currently riding, which was in the low-end range. There was the cost of feeding and stabling, which was more than he used to pay in rent. There’s all the tack: bridles and bits, stirrups, halters, things he’d never even heard of, like breastplates and martingales. A good English saddle could go for $2,000 and up. And don’t forget riding lessons. You can’t just get up on the back of a horse and teach it dressage. You have to have someone show you how. A good riding coach doesn’t come cheap.
    One day soon she’d be wanting a mount with better bloodlines. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. And, of course, she would want to keep Ranger. Dave was facing the possibility of owning two horses. Right then, he couldn’t afford just the one. He was wondering how he was going to break that to Addison.
    He parked and walked over to the ring where she and a few others were putting their mounts through their paces. He had to admit, his heart swelled every time he saw her sitting there on her English saddle, wearing her white jodhpurs, gray coat, top hat, and shiny black knee-high riding boots ($600 a pair), her blonde hair tied up in a bunch at the nape of her neck. His little girl was growing up. He watched her trot the horse toward a low obstacle—two feet six inches high, the tallest he’d allow her, and he had to close his eyes every time she took one.
    Then she spotted him and smiled and waved, and for a moment the poised young woman went away and was replaced by the tomboy she had been until a few years ago. Sometimes he wished she’d stuck to the rodeo dream. He thought he might rather see her barrel racing in cowgirl boots and jeans and a shirt with pearl buttons than so erect and dignified and in control. He wasn’t always sure he knew this new girl.

    Dinners could be a bit stifling at the Marshall household recently. Karen and Dave were not getting along well. She had been stubbornly ignoring his ever-less-subtle hints that they were going to have to curb their spending. A showdown was coming. He had considered having the uncomfortable conversation that evening after Addison went to bed, but the colonel’s story had changed all that. Now all he could think of was wolfing down the dinner Karen had grudgingly laid out for them and heading to his office to write the whole story down.
    They had had to let their cook/housekeeper go the previous month, the gardener the month before that. Now they had no help at all, and help was something Karen had come to believe she was entitled to. She seemed to have deliberately forgotten all the culinary skills she had when they were newlyweds living in the Valley. Tonight the menu was scooped out of plastic containers from the Whole Foods down the hill. Last night it had been delivery Chinese. Tomorrow he expected pizza. He knew he was being punished for being a bad provider. Karen picked at her food. Addison ate in silence, well aware of the tension between Mom and Dad.
    Not a happy home. Addison loaded her dishes into the dishwasher, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and retreated to her room, saying she had a paper to turn in at school tomorrow. Karen just glared at him as he got up. He knew there was no point in telling her he thought he had a way out of their financial crisis if he could nail this