Free Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel by Laura Moore Page B

said. “And so big. He’s the largest of the foals, isn’t he?”
    “Yeah, he should reach seventeen hands easily. We’ve already had some interest in him—Tim Mitchell came by this afternoon.”
    Tim Mitchell … 
TM
.
    No, she was not going to indulge her private obsession and wonder whether Tim Mitchell was the mystery man who starred in her stepmother’s diary, the TM who, according to the pages Jordan had read over and over, had changed Nicole’s life. The question of whether Nicole had betrayed their father was always in the back of Jordan’s mind, troubling her to the point where any man between the ages of twenty and sixty-five with the initials TM was a possible suspect.
    The only exception was the man standing beside her. Travis Maher belonged to that rare breed of good, honorable men. But the mystery of who TM could have been nagged at Jordan. For some reason she couldn’t let go of her compulsive need to figure out who might have been involved with Nicole. And when in its grip, she would pull out Nicole’s diary from its hiding place in her closet and read it, searching for clues. The diary was loathsome, its existence a dark ugly secret shared among Margot and Travis and her, one none of them wanted revealed to Jade. At times she wanted to throw it away or burn it, but it didn’t feel right to throw away her stepmother’s private writings. And so the bright pink journal with its equally shocking prose sat on a shelf in her closet, buried under a pile of clothes.
    “Tim’s a good rider,” she said. Tim Mitchell wouldn’thave been Nicole’s type. Compared to RJ, her father, Tim had the charisma of a doormat.
    “Yeah, he’s got a good seat and light hands. And he likes our horses. Cascade might be a good match for him. An additional plus is that Tim would let us train Cascade. But before we draw up a bill of sale, we’ll have to see whether Margot can bear to let this guy go. Colchester and Gulliver were hard enough for her.” He reached out his hand, letting the colt catch his scent before scratching the underside of the foal’s jaw.
    She smiled. “It’s funny how Margot’s so disciplined and focused—even driven in some respects, and such a softie.”
    “Saying good-bye to any horse you’ve cared for is hard. Gulliver was tough because he was the first horse she met when she came home after your dad died. And Colchester, well, he was so fine, even I had a lump in my throat when we loaded him into the van. All of us will understand if she decides she can’t sell Mystique’s first foal.”
    Jordan loved Travis for being sensitive enough to cherish what made Margot special. “She’s going to make a great mother.”
    “Margot? Yeah, she will.” There was such love and pride in his voice.
    “I hope you two are getting serious about baby-making. My kids need some cousins to play with.”
    She never would have thought to see Travis blush, but there it was, two bright flags coloring his lean cheeks, visible even in the subdued light. “We’re working at it,” he said.
    “I hope so. As they say, practice makes perfect.”
    A slow grin split his face. “I don’t think we can get much more perfect, but I’m always happy to try.” More seriously he continued, “But I don’t want to rush Margot before she’s ready. She’s got her career to think of. The contract for the Dior campaign’s almost up, so she and Damien are booking as many shoots as she can fit into her schedule to create a financial cushion for Rosewood.”
    “We’re doing okay with the farm, aren’t we?”
    “Better than I’d have thought, given the size of the hole we were in. But every year in the horse business is different. I’ve been mulling over a couple of ideas about how to add to our revenue. A number of horse owners—some die-hard fox hunters and a few who like to compete in local shows—have approached me about the possibility of buying our horses and boarding them here, so I could offer