The Suit Read Free Page B

I could have. I was a hard worker, always helping on the farm. I took care of him. It hurts to think he worried about me being irresponsible after he was gone. “I don’t understand.”
    The suit leans back in his chair again and stares at me. “He left you with everything and from the looks of it you could sell all of this off and never have to work a day in your life.” I can tell by the glare he’s giving me during his suggestion of what I could do, he thinks maybe I intend to do just that.
    “I would never do that,” I spat at him with anger. “I love this farm. This is my home. He raised me here.” Before I realize it’s happening, tears well up in my eyes. The suit regards me with narrowed eyes after my declaration, giving me a moment to collect myself.
    “I guess he must’ve believed somewhere deep down you would need an escape plan from this new ownership.” He slides an envelope toward me with Edie written across the front. I know it’s from my grandfather because I recognize his chicken scratch handwriting. My breath hitches at the sight of it.
    “You see, Ms. James, I’m sure you’ve already received notices from clients who intend to take their horses elsewhere for training.”
    My stomach churns with his words. Mostly because I have received five notices in the four days since Daddy Bud died. Apparently, these clients don’t believe a twenty-three-year-old woman can train racehorses, but believed an ill, eighty-five-year-old man could. It’s been me, with the help of a few people we keep on staff, that’s been running this farm and training their horses.
    “Only five,” I answer meekly.
    “And if you’re being realistic, there will be more. Correct?”
    I glare at him. I know he’s only doing his job, but the words sting. Of course, as the saying goes, the truth hurts, right? “If I were to guess, I think maybe two more,” I answer honestly. But that would still leave me with fifteen yearlings to train next year and we still have the horses we board. Besides, there’s a little cushion money left over after I pay the inheritance tax to tide me over until I can get the clientele built back up again.
    The suit gazes at me a long moment. I can’t really identify the expression on his face. “Bud anticipated this reaction from your clientele, Edie. Not because he doubted your abilities, but because you’re a young woman and he feared the clients would take your youth as a sign of inexperience.” He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. “His will states that within six months you must have at least seventy-five percent of the total business the farm had when he passed. Also, one of your newer horses must place in the top three in a maiden race in those six months as well.”
    I stare at him blankly. Is he serious? Placing top three in a maiden race is possible, definitely a realistic goal, but gaining back the full percentage of the business in six months might be a challenge. “And what if I can’t?”
    “The farm will be sold and the money will be set in a trust for you to live off of comfortably for the rest of your life.”
    “What?” I shriek. This can’t be happening. “Why would he do this?”
    “I haven’t read his letter to you, but I’m guessing it explains his reasons and also explains my involvement.” The suit stands and begins placing papers back in his briefcase. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning and we can go over any questions you might have.”
    “Okay,” I reply numbly with a nod, not thinking to ask why he would be seeing me in the morning.
    “Very well,” the suit responds and then proceeds to hurriedly pass by me on his way to the front door. When he’s gone, I stare at the envelope that’s still on the table. I know whatever Daddy Bud wrote, it’s important. He wasn’t a man that liked to make a big fuss over anything, so he must’ve been worried about what would happen after he passed.
    My grandfather, Bud James, otherwise