The Last Summer of the Camperdowns by Elizabeth Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

where there is none? The poor man grew up during the war in France, or was it Belgium? Some godforsaken place. He’s practically a refugee. His family suffered terribly, and yet he pulled himself up from all that depressing reality, got an education, and used his talent with horses to work among the world’s great stables.” He paused. “I’d like to think my little enterprise here has made its own mark in that regard.”
    “I’d like to think that Riddle’s hair color is just a bad dream, but then garish reality intrudes. Really, Gin, if you truly believe what you’re saying, you’re an even bigger fool than your advance publicity suggests.”
    I could almost see my mother sharpening her blades. Gin was a butter knife, no match for her serrated edges. “The truth is the man is a two-bit Porfirio Rubirosa wannabe whose riding skills aren’t confined to the stable. Marion Bingham swears she witnessed him climbing out of Myrna Stevenson’s bedroom window, shoes in one hand, riding crop in the other. Rumor has it he taught Holly Laidlaw dressage by day and the Kama Sutra by night and then extorted huge sums from her to keep quiet about it.”
    She glanced over at me. “Slack jaw isn’t a good look for you, Riddle.”
    “I’ve heard all the stories, Greer,” Gin said. “Typical tiresome chat. I don’t pay attention to gossip.”
    My mother laughed in astonishment. “Who are you trying to kid, Louella? Obviously, it’s all true. You are so transparent.” Greer was enormously impressed with herself and the skill with which she extracted information from Gin. There was something else, too. My mother would never admit to her fears, but her curiosity about Gula, so uncharacteristic, was unsettling. I wondered at its meaning.
    “I prefer to judge people based on my own experience of their behavior.” Gin defaulted to loftiness. “All I know is that Gula’s conduct has been beyond reproach during his time here. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what anyone says. Thanks to him, I shall finally realize a great dream!” Gin’s voice lurched several octaves as he struggled to find his emotional equilibrium.
    “Now I get it. You plan to have yourself stuffed and Gula has offered to do the honors.”
    Gin was still wrestling with my mother’s accusation. “Honestly, Greer, scared of Gula? Whatever in the world is there to be frightened by? Sometimes you make me cross.”
    I looked at him sideways. Gin’s indignation wasn’t entirely convincing.
    “Gin Whiffet, you are notoriously yellow. I have no patience for a cowardly man. Say what you will about Camp, but he has guts.” My mother tossed her head and stamped her foot, attracting the notice of Gin’s warmblood stallion, the notoriously temperamental Mercurio, who snorted noisily from behind the fence, sensing a kindred spirit. “I’m not afraid of anyone, let alone someone who makes it their business to be intimidating.”
    “Do you think that Gula is intimidating?” I asked, surprised at her unexpected admission.
    “Hardly,” she snapped. “Trying and succeeding are two different things.”
    “The only person I know who makes it their business to be intimidating is you, Greer.” Gin cleared his throat, unaware that he had just conferred on her a great compliment. “So, I guess we’ve avoided the topic long enough. How do you feel about Michael coming home? How did Camp take the news?”
    My mother tossed her lit cigarette to the ground, grinding out the burning embers with a precise stomp of her heel. She nodded in my direction, then looked back at Gin by way of exasperated explanation.
    “Jimmy, why don’t you run along and check out the stable?” Gin said, winking over at my mother, persuaded that he had a talent for making orders seem like playful suggestions. “There’s a new foal that was born over the weekend and who knows? You might come across the puppy. We didn’t think to look there earlier.”
    The Sisters had a