Free Mommy, May I? by A. K. Alexander Page B

got out of the car and headed for the front door of the hacienda-style home—typical of the glamour and wealth of Santa Barbara. Frankie opened it, walking to meet her halfway. “Hi,” she said.
    “Hey, you,” Helena replied, waving. “How are you doing?”
    Frankie shrugged. “Okay.” Even with her slight pout and taciturn attitude, Frankie was beautiful, and her mom knew that she was really soft hearted deep down.
    “Good.” Helena wanted to put her arms around her.
    “Dad said you were coming up.”
    “I thought that after Leeza called you, maybe you could use a friend. I know how she can get to people. Is it okay that I’m here?”
    With her trademark shrug, Frankie mumbled, “I guess so. Dad said to take you out for a ride. Pablo is down at the barn saddling up for us. I think Dad is down there, too.”
    A horse whinnied close by. “Great. I’m glad I wore my jeans. The only trouble is, I don’t have any boots.”
    Frankie looked at Helena’s white Keds. Finally she asked, “What size do you wear?”
    “Eight and a half.”
    “Me too. You can borrow a pair of mine.” Frankie went inside to get the boots.
    Helena closed her eyes; heaviness weighed on her heart as she tried to envision Frankie as a little girl. She held back the tears, and her chest tightened, reminded of how much she’d missed, not to mention how lucky Patrick had been to see it all.
    She headed down to the barn. She hadn’t ridden in years. The last time was down in Mexico with Patrick; they were on location for a photo shoot. The weather had turned cloudy and muggy. The models complained that the humidity ruined their hair. So Patrick had given the girls the day off. He told Helena to prepare herself for an adventure.
    “Where did you learn to ride?” she’d asked Patrick while she patted the sorrel mare he’d picked out for her that day.
    “My father owned a cattle ranch.”
    “Really? How is it that you’ve gone from cows to models?”
    “You could say that I have a little bit of my granddaddy in me. He was responsible for beginning the Kiley fortune. Being an Irishman, he liked whiskey, and knew how to still some good moonshine. He also liked pretty women. So he ran a club with dancers, featuring the best booze around. The cops eventually caught him, but he was smart and had hidden most of his earnings. My father inherited that money after my granddaddy mysteriously died. But Dad was honest. He moved us west, began ranching, and tripled the money he’d inherited.”
    Helena had been in awe of him and his family history. He was so charming and handsome. That was the day he’d told Helena how beautiful she was. He’d said it in a way that had made her truly feel it. He’d been her agent at that time and was very successful at it. Their affair ensued shortly after that trip. It was passionate but brief. When Helena became pregnant with Frankie, Leeza insisted Patrick sell the agency and focus on his other business ventures.
    A more mature Patrick, with fine lines of crow’s feet around his ice blue eyes, walked out of the barn as she approached it. The combined odors of manure and horse sweat made her wrinkle her nose. “Hey, you’re early!” he called, coming over and greeting her with a hug.
    “I still pretend I’m Mario Andretti.” She pulled away from his embrace.
    Patrick laughed, “Even in that big wheel you’re tooling around these days?” His eye caught hers.
    “Even faster.” She ignored the butterflies dancing in her stomach, feeling like a schoolgirl at her first dance.
    “So, have you seen Frankie yet?”
    “She sent me down here. How’s she doing, anyway?”
    Patrick fiddled with the bridle he was adjusting. “She seems okay. She’s got a strong spirit.” He walked around to the crossties, where a stout gray Quarter horse stood. The mare lowered her head as Patrick unhooked one of the ties, slipping the bit inside her mouth and putting the headstall over her ears. “It’s good that you