CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Amber~
Rhonda was hard at work at her desk when Amber went to the office after mucking out. Even though Laura Bascom Holden was a billionaire, and the stud was a thriving business, no one would ever have guessed that from the state of the office. It was distinctly shabby.
The cream-colored paint on the wall looked decades old. The office furniture was frankly antiquated. All except for Rhonda’s black and pewter ergonomic workstation. It was state-of-the-art. So were the monitors on the walls. They looked as expensive and high tech as the ones in the tack room.
Rhonda was a comfortable middle-aged woman. Her bright red hair was not a color known to nature, but it suited her bubbly personality. She got up the second that Amber walked in carrying her muddy boots, which she had removed in the anteroom.
“Land’s sakes, Amber,” she cried. “Don’t bring those in here.” She was laughing. “We should call the Chinook the big muddy. I’ve got a little boot tray behind the Ficus in the waiting room.” She bustled to the door and showed Amber where to stash her footwear.
“Calvin asked me to write up my notes,” Amber said. She held up her clipboard.
“I know all about it. I’m afraid you get to use my old computer. It’s a little creaky.” Rhonda looked down at Amber’s damp socks. “You’ll catch your death in those wet socks, honey. Let me see if I can find you some clean, warm ones.”
Rhonda was so matter-of-fact and practical, that Amber forgot to be embarrassed. She trailed behind the administrative assistant as she opened the door to Laura’s equally shabby office.
“Laura keeps a change of clothes in her wardrobe. Sometimes she has to change out of stable clothes to meet clients, and sometimes she has to get out of her good suit so she can train.”
There was a basket on the floor of the wardrobe. Rhonda helped herself to a heavy pair of wool socks. “These will do.” She grabbed a pair of leather loafers. “I bet these will fit you.”
Amber looked down at her large feet. When you were nearly six-foot-tall, you came with feet that matched. “I don’t think Laura’s shoes will fit me.”
Rhonda laughed. “You’re nothing but a little slip of a thing compared to Laura. Besides, she’s just had a baby. She doesn’t know it yet, but her feet will never be the same.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Most women go up a size after their first pregnancy. Doctors tell you it’s because your arches have collapsed. But it’s not. Your feet just grow.”
“Do you think that will be true for my sister?” Amber asked. “We’re twins. We’ve shared everything including shoes our whole lives. It’ll be weird not being able to do that.”
Rhonda laughed again. “Don’t tell me you would rather be able to share your sister’s high heels than have three beautiful nieces.” Amber had already shown her photographs of Bethany, Hope, and Stella. “You got any more pictures?”
Amber sat down on the visitor’s chair to swap her socks for Laura’s. Her feet slipped into the loafers as if they had been made half a size too large to accommodate those heavy socks. “I do.” She held up her wet socks. “Where can I put these to dry?”
“There’s a little rack in the bathroom.” Rhonda led the way out of Laura’s office, carefully shutting the door behind her. The bathroom had a shower stall, a sink, a commode and a heated rail. Rhonda switched it on. “We’re always having to dry stuff out. Old Mr. Bascom had this installed about twenty years ago, but it still works.”
Amber hung up her socks, Rhonda set the timer, and they returned to the large room where Rhonda’s workstation was surrounded by beat-up metal and wooden desks. “We’ll just have ourselves a nice cup of coffee,” Rhonda said, “Take a look at those pictures of your nieces, and then we can get to work.”
Calvin found them sipping big mugs of coffee when he came in. Amber noticed he wasn’t wearing his boots either. So it wasn’t just non-Bascoms who were made to leave their boots in the waiting room. He looked a little surprised, but all he said was, “Is there any coffee left?”
“Do cows have horns?” Rhonda responded.
“Depends on whether they’re polled or not.” Calvin stalked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a mugful. He joined them at the round Formica table. “What were you gals looking at when I came in?”
“Heather sent me some more photographs of the girls,” Amber said.
Calvin pulled out his own phone. “I have pictures of Laura’s twins.”
“New ones?” Rhonda demanded. She put her reading glasses back on and held out her hand for the phone. “Those babies are growing like bad weeds. I swear yesterday that little onesie fit little Kenny. And look at his toes trying to poke through today!” She shook her head and handed Cal back his phone.
Calvin was scrolling through the photos on Amber’s phone. “Is it my imagination,” he asked, “Or do these kids look bigger?”
“It’s your imagination,” both women said together. But they chuckled.
“Patrick can’t wait to get his family home,” Calvin said. “And I don’t blame him a bit.”
“Laura and Steve don’t know how lucky they are,” Rhonda said.
“Yes, they do,” Calvin said. He stayed chatting and laughing until his coffee was done. He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. “I better get back to work. Carlos wants the mares and foals exercised on lunge lines. He’s not taking any chances that there is ice underneath the sand in the training ring.” He left as abruptly as he had come in.
Rhonda’s pleasant face was wreathed in smiles and she looked knowing. But she didn’t say anything beyond, “See you around, Cal.”
What was that all about? It was as though Calvin had come down to the office specially to drink coffee with them when there was a coffee maker in the tack room. Amber settled herself at the desk and computer that Rhonda showed her to. The computer compared favorably with the model she had used at Miller’s Hardware. Now that was a real electronic antique.
It didn’t take her long to get her notes typed up into a neat chart. Calvin had asked for a spreadsheet. But what he really wanted was the data presented in a form that was easy to read. She made a report that summarized her chart. And then she made a note of the three mares who had been at Bluefield last year and the year before, and who had not yet foaled.
And then it was lunchtime. Amber sometimes ate at the big house with the Diegos, sometimes with Steve and Laura. Although she preferred to eat in her own cabin. Neither place was appealing today. She did not want to slog through the mud all the way over to the big house. Nor did she want to walk the shorter distance to her own cabin.
The outer door opened, boots stamped, and Lance poked his head in the inner door. “Hey, Amber. Rhonda. You want to grab a bite at my place, Amber?”