Page 5 of A Mile of Ocean

“That reddish brown horse with the white markings and royal bloodlines belongs to Duchess,” Trent explained, pointing to a beautiful three-year-old filly. “We raised her from birth after her mother died.”

“Well, then it’s settled. The first opportunity you have, my class would love to hear what you have to say about each one of the horses, show and tell,” Savannah urged. “I’d love to see the kids pool their money and raise a horse again at some point, together as a class project. It could happen, right?”

“Let’s hope that happens before they reach high school,” Duchess sniped. “We’d love to be a part of that.”

Savannah chuckled. “Maybe you could start today by giving them a heads-up about the new foal, Trinity, and providing some background about him. It’s a beautiful horse. Perhaps you couldtell them why you raise that specific breed. Your grandparents tell me you breed Quarter Horses for various things but never to race.”

“We don’t sell to people who want to race them,” Duchess stated matter-of-factly. “Rodeo riding or barrel racing, sure. But most of our clients buy them for work around cattle ranches or equestrian schools where they teach dressage and jumping. The goal is to turn them into show horses. We even have some universities back east that buy from us for their equestrian teams.”

“Sounds fascinating. You could pick any number of topics because the kids seem genuinely cool with everything out here.”

“I’ll check my schedule. Isn’t school about out for summer vacation, though?”

“Yes. We have a week left before the end of the term, so the window is closing rapidly.”

“I understand they’ve been feeding and walking all the fillies and colts born this spring. It’s good for the horses when they interact early with their handlers. As long as the kids know what they’re doing and don’t spook the foals.”

Duchess cleared her throat. “They haven’t spooked anything so far. I invited Savannah and the kids to stay for lunch today. That reminds me. I need to go tell Dolly that we’re having an extra dozen people out on the terrace. That should make for an interesting part of my morning.”

“I’ll just stay here and entertain Ms. Quinn,” Trent offered. “We’ll probably be able to hear Dolly’s reaction from right here from where we’re standing.”

The teacher moved closer to the railing. “Call me Savannah. None of that Ms. Quinn stuff. It sounds so awkward and formal.”

With a wink at his grandson, Barrett slapped him on the back and headed toward the house with his wife. “We’ll see youboth at lunchtime. And don’t forget we have a standing chess match tomorrow at four sharp.”

Trent smiled, tipped his hat to his granddad, and turned to their guest. “Dolly is our temperamental housekeeper and cook who practically raised Tate and me after our parents died in a car accident when we were seven.”

“How heartbreaking. I know something about loss. It’s one reason I moved here from San Diego. I wanted to spend more time trying to find out what happened to my brother. He was last seen not far from here. Turns out, he’d been murdered at a winery outside Santa Cruz and buried on their property for eighteen months. I didn’t even completely move in before someone here in Pelican Pointe solved the case for me.”

“I’m sorry about your brother. Would you have moved here otherwise?”

“Oh, I think so. Before buying my house, I discovered they had a slot open for a teacher in seventh grade. Qualified candidates were nowhere to be found. Either they didn’t want to live in Pelican Pointe or teach this age group. Either way, it worked out for me.”

“And I take it no one wanted to sponsor the 4-H Club either?”

“Exactly. Have you always lived here?”

“Tate and I have. But my dad was born back in Wyoming. Green River. My grandfather met my grandmother there in 1965 while working on another ranch. They got married the next year and had my dad before moving to California.”

A wistful look crossed his face as he thought about his parents, something he usually avoided talking about. “They named him Travis. Anyway, they eventually packed up and moved to California shortly after the rancher they worked for died. The next year, they started the Rio Verde with less than a hundred acres. My dad grew up here and met my mom in town.Her name was Linley, Linley Wilder. They were married for almost five years before having twins.”

“Twins? Do they run in the family?”

“Good question. I don’t know. I never bothered to ask. My grandfather has always been reluctant to talk about his life before marrying my grandmother. For all I know, he could’ve been born in New Jersey.”

“Trenton?” Savannah cracked. “Trenton Callum.”

He grinned. “Could be. That’s enough about me. What about you? Are you from Savannah, Georgia?”

“I wish. My mother loved the town and the name. I got stuck with it.”

“Pretty name. So, is San Diego your hometown?”

“Not really. I used to think of it that way. At least until Owen went missing. My parents settled down in San Diego after my dad retired from the Navy. My brother and I started school in Fallbrook, with me in ninth grade and him in eleventh. It was a difficult time for him, a new kid, trying to fit into a new school.”

“You were new, too.”

“True. But I wasn’t the gay son of a Navy commander. Owen was. I’m afraid he and my father didn’t get along very well after my dad found out Owen was gay. Dad didn’t find out from me. Owen and I were close, barely sixteen months apart. High school was tough on him. After graduating, my brother headed north to San Francisco for college. After getting his degree, he became a social worker. He helped people in a lot of difficult situations. But even that didn’t seem to work out for him. Eventually, he started writing for a wine magazine. That’s why he ended up at the winery, writing a review that got him killed.”

---