Kitabı oku: «A Weaver Baby», sayfa 2
Chapter Two
“Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”
Jake rose from his chair and eyed J.D. where she stood, just inside the door of his study. “Of course.” He waved at the leather chairs situated in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Her green eyes didn’t meet his as she crossed the room. But instead of sitting, she stopped behind the chair closest to the opened French doors. She closed her fingers over the back of it and her knuckles were white.
He bit back a sigh.
Since that night in the barn more than a month ago, they’d only seen one another a handful of times. For minutes only, when it came right down to it. But even then, the brief encounters had felt awkward.
Not because he regretted touching her.
But because it was so clear that she did.
“You didn’t tell Mabel why you wanted to meet with me.” His personal secretary had been quite put out as a result. But Jake could have told Mabel that he already had a good idea why J.D. had requested a meeting. It was something she’d never done before in all the time she’d worked at Forrest’s Crossing. If there was an issue at the stable, she would have gone to Miguel.
Which, to Jake, meant only one thing.
She was going to quit.
“I thought it best not to tell Mabel the specifics.” J.D.’s fingers whitened even more over the back of the chair. “Actually, I tried to get an appointment with you at your office at Forco, but your secretary there was even less accommodating than Mabel. She said you had nothing available on your calendar there until November.”
“Lucia is my assistant, actually. And she controls my schedule at the plant more than I do.” He wanted to go around to her and peel those fingers away from the leather, urge her down into the seat and tell her anything that would make her relax.
He remained where he was. Things would be better all around if he refrained from touching her, since he already knew he seemed unable to exercise much control where she was concerned. Touching her was flammable. They’d already proven that. “You could have just phoned me directly, you know. Avoided the others altogether.”
Her face looked a little pinched. “I don’t have your direct number.”
He frowned a little at that and immediately pulled out a business card. He scribbled on the back of it. “Now you do.” He handed it to her. “Would you like a drink? I can call Mabel—”
“No.” She took the card gingerly. “No, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder as if she were afraid that his secretary would already be standing behind her.
But the door to his office was firmly closed.
They had all the privacy either one of them could want.
He dragged his mind out of that dangerous direction.
“How are things down in the stable?”
Her slender throat worked. “They’re not too happy, needless to say. Everyone had high expectations for the Hopeful last week. I’m sure you did, too.”
Despite the thrilling success at Latitude’s maiden race, followed up by an even more spectacular finish at the Saratoga Special, Latitude had fallen far short at the Hopeful Stakes, coming in damn close to last. “Yes, I did. My sisters and I expect winners, not losers.” That’s what Forrest’s Crossing did—produced world-class, winning thoroughbreds. “And you?”
She lifted one shoulder and her yellow FC shirt tightened over the subtle, high swell of her breasts, needlessly reminding Jake of that night. “I’m never disappointed in Latitude.”
Because she was the only one in his stable crew who wasn’t motivated by winning, he knew.
“I think you’ll have him more than ready for the Champagne Stakes,” he assured.
If anything, J.D. looked even more strained. “The Champagne isn’t until next month. But I didn’t come to talk about Lat, actually.”
Which just confirmed his fear that she was there to resign.
“Well, before you get started, I do want to talk about him.” He took shameless advantage of still being the boss. “I’m telling Miguel that I don’t want anyone but you working with Latitude. Not even him.”
At that, her lashes flew up and those gut-wrenching green eyes of hers finally met his. Even the waves in her pale blond hair seemed to spring with shock. “If this is about what happened between us, then—”
“It isn’t.”
She very nearly snorted. She even released that whitened grip on the chair to lift her hands up in the air. “You’ve never made decisions around Miguel before. He’ll have a fit.”
“Miguel works for me,” Jake reminded.
At that, she laughed out loud. “You yourself said nobody was in charge of Miguel. He allows you to keep him on the payroll because he chooses to be here. He could go anywhere in the world if he wanted and work with two dozen owners instead of just one. But he stays, and you let him run the stable the way he wants to run it because he brings you winners. And I know for certain that he wouldn’t put me in charge of Latitude.”
“Lat won his first two races because you were working with him. Miguel took over again before the Hopeful and he barely wanted to finish.”
Her eyes widened and her bow-shaped lips pressed together. Evidence that she’d thought he was unaware of some details. “Just because I’ve been away on business for two weeks doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on in my own stable,” he said. “Miguel may not want to face the fact that you have the magic touch where Latitude is concerned, but I have, which is why I’m assigning you specifically to him. Miguel can focus all of his energy on bringing along Platinum. Of course, that means your fee will increase and—”
“Stop.” She shook her head. “This is all wrong.”
“You don’t want to work with Latitude?”
She tossed up her hands. “Well, of course I want to work with Lat. I love that colt, but you need to know—” Her voice cracked to a stop. She looked away from him again. “You need to know that I’m, well, that I’m—”
“Excuse me, Jake?”
They both stared at the woman who’d had the audacity to open his closed office door. Only it wasn’t his secretary, who would have known better. It was Jake’s aunt Susan who rushed into the office.
“What’s wrong?”
His aunt barely gave J.D. a glance as she hurried toward him, her slender hands twisting in front of her.
“Bill Franks just called me. Mabel put him through to me since you were busy.” Her gaze flicked for a moment to J.D. “There’s been an accident.”
Everything stilled except Jake’s guts. Bill and Jennifer Franks were his ex-wife’s in-laws. “The boys?”
She hurriedly waved her hands. “No, no. Connor and Zachary are fine.”
Relief slammed through him. His twin sons were fine. “Sidney? Charlotte?” They were his sisters, and aside from Susan who’d lived at Forrest’s Crossing since he’d been a boy, the only other family who mattered to him.
Again his aunt shook her head. “It’s Tiffany. She and her husband were driving—the boys weren’t with them—they had an accident.”
“I, um, I’ll just excuse myself…” J.D. was edging toward the door, looking pale and even more awkward.
“Wait.” He focused on his aunt’s face. He generally didn’t think about his ex-wife, except to curse her very existence. And to know that even she was a better parent than he was to their precocious twin sons. “How bad was it? Is Tiff hurt?”
“Her injuries are critical. Her husband—”
“You can say his name.” They all knew it, after all, since the man had been in the picture long before Tiffany decided marriage to Jake was no longer her heart’s desire.
Before Adam Franks had become Tiffany’s lover, he’d been Jake’s friend. His best man, in fact.
Susan hesitated, looking grave. “Adam’s injuries were extremely severe. He didn’t survive.”
Jake slowly sat down in his chair as he absorbed that. There’d been plenty of times he’d cursed his one-time friend. But he’d never wished him dead. “Where are the boys?”
“With Bill and Jennifer still.”
Adam’s parents.
“Obviously they’re not up to keeping them for any length of time,” his aunt continued, looking worried. “But I just can’t see sending Zach and Connor back to boarding school under these circumstances. They were very close to Adam.”
Jake’s gaze fell on J.D. She’d reached the door. “We can finish this later,” she said softly. “You have more important things right now.”
He grimaced and wanted to insist that she stay. He wanted her to stay at Forrest’s Crossing. Period. And just acknowledging the thought was enough to remind him that he was the selfish bastard Tiffany had called him.
He’d barely given a short nod before J.D. slipped out the door.
It felt like she took all of the fresh air there was right along with her.
He looked back at Susan. “You talked with the boys?”
She nodded. “They’re upset, naturally.”
He didn’t ask the next obvious question. There was no need.
If he’d been a better father, his boys would have wanted to speak to him.
He rubbed his hand down his face. “I’ll have to go to California. You’ll come, of course.”
The boys were always more comfortable with her than they were with Jake.
“I can’t.” Susan’s face was torn. “The gallery showing is Friday, and then I’m hosting the charity ball on Saturday in Charlotte’s place since she had to go to that conference in Florence in your place.”
He’d forgotten his aunt’s photography showing. “Sidney can host the ball.”
“Sidney is in Germany trying to buy that horse she’s got her heart set on.” Susan paced. His mother’s sister was in her mid-50’s, but there wasn’t a gray hair to be found in her soft blond hair. The only real hint of her age was in the soft lines that had begun forming alongside her dark brown eyes. “There are times when I wish y’all would just settle on textiles or on horses.”
“Textiles help pay for the horses,” he reminded needlessly. Raising and running thoroughbreds wasn’t a poor man’s game. It hadn’t been for his grandfather or his father before him. “The boys’ll have to make do with me.”
“Oh, Jake. Don’t talk that way. Naturally, the boys will want you.”
She was trying to protect his feelings, as if he had some. But that was his aunt. The eternal optimist.
He, however, was about the exact opposite. He didn’t have faith in the positive outcomes of life. He couldn’t see the bright side of every situation.
He saw things exactly the way they were and when something needed doing, he did it. Right or wrong.
Bill and Jennifer were the only grandparent “figures” his sons possessed. Tiffany’s parents had died when she and Jake were still married. Jake’s father was dead, too. And he didn’t know, or care, where his mother Olivia was, much less whether she was still alive. After she’d profitably washed her hands of them all, they’d never seen nor heard from her again.
Susan was twisting her hands together again. “I can join you after the charity ball is over.”
He knew his aunt would turn cartwheels if it meant helping someone else. And he also knew he would take complete advantage of that fact, just like he always had.
Just like his father had before him.
Jake was exactly like his old man. They didn’t just share the same name. They shared everything else. From looks to temperament to talents. Jacob Forrest, Sr., had been a selfish bastard, and Jake Forrest was carrying on the tradition in the best of old-South ways.
“Tell Mabel what’s going on. I’ll fly out this afternoon.”
Susan looked relieved as she quickly left his study. Which made him wonder if even his devoted aunt had doubted his ability to do the decent thing where his sons were concerned.
He pushed out of his chair, looking out the bay windows behind his desk. From his vantage point, he could see only the steeply pitched roof of the main barn well off in the distance.
His bedroom upstairs afforded a better view. Not only of the barn, but of the rest of the stables, and the training track.
He’d spent a lot of mornings standing at the window of his room waiting for a glimpse of J.D. to arrive.
She always appeared shortly after dawn, when the first glimmer of sunlight would catch her slender, leggy form that was so easily eclipsed by the massive horses she tended. Often, he’d see her riding Latitude, her long curls flying out behind her as she leaned low and close over the horse’s back.
Even before Jake had gone to the barn that unforgettable night, those mornings spent watching J.D. even from afar had been the best part of his day. A slice of private and pure sanity in an otherwise insanely pressured life.
But now, unless he could talk her out of quitting, he was going to lose even those simple moments.
He shoved his hand through his hair and left by the French doors that opened to a spacious deck.
It would have been easier to drive one of the plentiful farm vehicles down to the stables. Instead, he walked across the acres of richly groomed lawn, taking the time to file away his feelings about the situation awaiting him in California.
It was the middle of the morning, and the track—when he reached it—was a beehive of activity.
He immediately spotted J.D. hosing down Latitude while Jake’s wizened head trainer stood alongside her. Miguel stood a full head shorter than she did. Hell, the diminutive former jockey stood a head shorter than everyone.
Jake walked closer until they noticed him and the hose in J.D.’s hand jerked a little, though she said nothing.
“Jake,” Miguel greeted him in his thickly accented voice. “I’m glad you come down today. I wan’ you to sign off on some—”
“Actually, I need to speak with J.D.,” he interrupted. If he let Miguel get his hooks in, it’d be hours before Jake would break free. And right now, that was time Jake couldn’t afford. “Now.”
Miguel’s graying eyebrows pulled together in a fierce frown. He snatched the hose from J.D., his displeasure evident.
For that matter, J.D. didn’t look any more enthusiastic, but she accompanied him into the sprawling building nearby that housed Miguel’s office. He waited until she was inside the untidy room before closing the door.
She glanced from the door to his face. “I’d rather leave that open.”
“I’m not going to jump you.”
Her lips tightened. “I didn’t think you would.”
Problem was, he was always thinking about touching her. It had only gotten worse since he’d found out exactly how addicting that particular delight was. “I have to go to San Francisco,” he said, corralling his thoughts. “Tiffany needs—”
“Of course,” she cut in quickly. Dismay darkened her eyes from brilliant green to a soft moss. “I’m sorry to hear your wife—”
“Ex-wife.”
Her head dipped a notch. “Well, I’m sorry about the accident. I’m sure your children will be relieved when you get there.”
He doubted it. “I want your promise that you’re not going to cut and run while I’m gone.”
Sympathy drained away as she stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“The reason you wanted to meet with me was to turn in your resignation, wasn’t it?”
Her silky lashes drooped, shielding that wide gaze. “And that’s why you dangled Latitude in front of my nose?”
“I dangled Latitude because I want you training him to win. It has nothing to do with what happened between us.”
A hint of pink bloomed over her cheeks. “And if I told you I hadn’t been planning to give you my notice?”
He wouldn’t believe her. There was no other reason to explain why she’d asked to meet with him. She never had before. And it wasn’t as if she wanted a repeat of that night. She’d made that abundantly clear when she’d raced out of the stable that night, barely taking enough time to pull on her shirt and jeans.
“Lat runs best for you.” He focused on the facts. “And I want to go to the Kentucky Derby next May knowing he’s going to run his heart out for you. Bringing home a Derby winner’s the only thing my father and grandfather succeeded in doing that I haven’t.”
J.D. looked pained. “That’s just it. By May, I’ll have other things I’ll be focusing on.”
“What? Like offers? Honey, I know you get job offers from other trainers every time we go to a meet. But I’m asking you not to decide anything yet. Wait until I get back from California, at least.” He caught her slender shoulders, ducking his head to look into her face when she tried looking away. “Don’t let what happened a few weeks ago make you leave Forrest’s Crossing. I’ll talk to Miguel about you taking over Latitude before I go.”
“Six weeks ago.” Her gaze flicked up to meet his, only to skitter away again. “This is not going at all how I intended.”
She exhaled and looked weary as she pushed a racing schedule off the seat of a hard-backed chair and sat down. “Go to California, Jake. Your family needs you. We’ll talk when you get back.”
She hadn’t agreed to stay beyond that, but for the moment, he’d take what he could get.
When he got back, there’d be plenty of time.
Chapter Three
The last thing J.D. expected to see were two brown-haired heads sticking up over the side of her pickup bed when she came out of the Chinese restaurant. The brown paper bag of take-out she held slid right out of her nerveless fingers, landing with a plop on the pavement next to her feet.
It was Friday evening at the end of a very long, miserable week; she’d just spent over an hour fighting rush-hour traffic into the city, and the only thing she’d been looking forward to was a meal that required no work, and then bed. Maybe not even in that order.
“Zach. Connor.” Her voice was excruciatingly pleasant, as if she greeted Jake’s twin sons in the back of her pickup truck every day of the week. “What are you doing?”
“Going for a ride,” Zach replied with a “duh” sort of tone.
“That wasn’t very bright of you when you had no way of knowing where I was going.”
“You’re going home,” Zach returned just as quickly. “Arentcha?”
J.D.’s lips tightened a little. Jake had brought his sons back with him less than a week ago, and in that space of time, they’d managed to cause all manner of mischief around the place—from painting the legs of one of Miguel’s favorite broodmares fluorescent pink, to parachuting out of their upstairs bedroom using bedsheets.
It was a testament to their true creativity that they hadn’t managed to break their legs in that particular endeavor.
This, however, was the first time they’d directly involved J.D. in one of their stunts.
“Does it look like I live here?” She gestured at the busy little restaurant behind her where she’d just retrieved the food that was now sitting on the ground.
Connor frowned a little. “She’s not home,” he whispered to his brother. “And I gotta pee.”
“You always gotta pee,” Zach muttered. He sat up on his knees and folded his arms over the side of the truck, looking at J.D. with vivid curiosity. The hot, humid evening had caused messy tendrils of his brown hair to stick to his rosy cheeks. “I told Connor that you wouldn’t know we was back here, and I was right.”
A roadster waiting for her parking spot tooted its horn, and J.D. absently waved it on. “I have to call your father.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “Jake won’t care. He knows you’ll take us back.”
“Oh? Why are you so sure of that?”
“’Cause he said you always do what’s right.”
Her jaw tightened so much that it hurt. “Does he?” She wasn’t entirely certain how Jake would have come to that conclusion. “Get out,” she ordered, and watched while they scrambled out of the truck bed.
She felt like an idiot for not having noticed them back there before now, and supposed it was a measure of her preoccupation that she hadn’t.
The two boys came to a stop next to her.
Connor stooped to pick up the bag of food and peered inside. “I bet they’re fixing dinner by now.” He held the bag toward J.D. with a slightly more sheepish look on his face than the one on his brother’s. “You’re lucky it didn’t all spill out,” he told her. “Are those egg rolls?”
She ignored his hopeful look and took the bag from him before yanking open the truck door. “Yes. Get in.”
She waited until the boys were inside, then set the bag on her seat while she dragged out her cell phone and the business card that he’d given her. But all she got was his voice mail. She left a message, but then also dialed the house at Forrest’s Crossing.
Despite the hour, it was Mabel who answered. “I’m sorry, Ms. Clay,” Mabel told her in the same stiff voice she’d used two weeks earlier when J.D. had refused to tell the woman exactly why she’d needed to meet with him, “but Mr. Forrest isn’t available for calls.”
J.D. turned her back on the boys, only to turn around again just as quickly to keep her eyes on them. For all she knew, they’d decide to go joyriding in another person’s vehicle. “He hasn’t left town again, has he?” She’d have heard so from Toby, the new groom, who seemed to take great delight in following the activities of their wealthy boss.
“No, he’s in town.”
“Then this is a call he might want to take,” she advised flatly. “Regarding his sons.”
“Perhaps you misunderstood. Mr. Forrest is not available.”
Her hands tightened around the phone. “Mr. Forrest’s sons are with me in the city,” she returned through her teeth. “They were hiding in the back of my truck. Somehow, I think he’s going to want to know that, Mabel. Just in case he gets to wondering where they are when they don’t sit down at the dinner table!”
“Good heavens.” The woman’s tight voice softened a fraction. “But I’m afraid he really isn’t here. He ran out to the plant a few hours ago.”
J.D. pressed her fingertip to the pain that began throbbing between her eyebrows.
The two boys were sitting in the truck watching her with wide eyes and listening with wider ears. She pulled out the container of crispy, fat egg rolls and handed them to Connor, along with the napkins.
Then she turned away from the children and lowered her voice. “In that case, you’d better tell his aunt.” Someone had to care where these boys were. “It’s the middle of rush hour. It’s going to take me more than an hour to drive them back home again.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her right away. The twins were really hiding in your car? This is going to upset Mr. Forrest,” the woman fretted.
Considering it was the twins’ first week at Forrest’s Crossing, J.D. privately thought Jake might have been wise to forgo matters at Forco for a few more days. Forrest’s Crossing might have been a little safer.
Instead, the very day he’d arrived with them, she knew he’d left town that night and hadn’t returned until just a few days ago.
Even though she knew she should, she hadn’t found a moment to speak with him privately again.
“I’m leaving the city right now,” she said. Then caught the way Connor was wriggling in his seat. “Well, after a quick pit stop, anyway.” She didn’t wait for some response from Jake’s personal secretary, but ended the call and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.
Then she waved the boys out of the truck. “Come on. You can hit the bathroom inside.” She locked up the truck after them and followed them back into the busy restaurant, pointing the way to the restrooms down a narrow hallway.
They came out within minutes, craning their necks around as if to take in every inch of the busy, congested little restaurant. The hunger in Connor’s expression was perfectly obvious, and she silently bid goodbye to the food waiting in the truck. “Did you wash your hands?”
Zach made a face. “We’re not kindergartners.”
That was plainly obvious. Even at nine years old, the Jake miniatures seemed tall for their age. “No kidding. Did you wash your hands?”
Connor snickered a little as he nodded.
Zach—obviously the more blasé of the two—just rolled his eyes before finally nodding.
She gestured toward the exit again. “Then let’s go.”
There were even more cars lined up in the full parking lot when they reached her truck again, and the moment the boys were buckled into their seatbelts and she pulled out of the spot, another car pulled in. “You might as well eat the rest.” She gestured at the bag sitting in the console.
They didn’t need any more urging and they practically tore apart the bag in their eagerness.
“When did you have lunch?”
Connor lifted a shoulder. He was wearing a red T-shirt and cargo shorts. Zach, busily unwrapping a plastic fork and spoon on the other side of him, wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt with some unreadable logo on the front.
“We didn’t,” Connor said. He didn’t wait for a plastic utensil, but picked out a piece of sweet-n-sour pork with his fingers and popped it in his mouth before handing off the container to his brother and fishing in the bag for another.
They were gulping at the food so fast she regretted not stopping long enough to buy them something to drink. As it was, she didn’t even have her usual bottled water with her. And her air-conditioning was barely keeping up with the heat billowing up from the nearly grid-locked interstate. “Do you always call your dad Jake?”
Connor looked inside the paper bag as if he were hoping that more containers would magically appear inside of it. “Adam is our dad.”
Zach jabbed his fork into the sweet-n-sour pork. “Was,” he muttered.
Which had J.D.’s heart squeezing.
Was it any wonder they were now finding some mischief? “I heard about what happened,” she said quietly. “I’m very sorry.”
Connor’s head ducked, focusing harder on the rice.
“No big deal,” Zach said.
J.D. gave them a glance before turning her attention back to the traffic crowding it’s way along the interstate. Both boys were focusing intently on their food.
“I think it would feel like a very big deal to me,” she told them.
“That’s ’cause you’re a girl.” Zach looked out the side window. “Guys don’t get all upset like girls do.”
“Ah.” She tucked her tongue between her teeth.
“Can I turn on the radio?” Connor asked. He was clearly ready to change the subject.
“Sure.”
He leaned forward and fiddled with the dials and buttons and within minutes, he and Zach were squabbling over what station to listen to. J.D. just let them go at it.
They might be boys, but as far as she could tell, they didn’t sound a whole lot different than she and her sister Angeline had sounded when they’d been kids.
She and Angel had argued together just as much as they’d laughed together. And when J.D. had landed in Georgia, Angeline had soon followed. Only instead of mucking out stalls and hot-walking blood horses, her sister had become a paramedic. They’d rented a small house together in a quaint old neighborhood and that’s where J.D. had stayed after her sister moved back to Wyoming and became Mrs. Brody Paine.
She sighed faintly. She still missed Angel.
Now, more than ever.
The pain between her eyebrows deepened.
The sun was nearly set by the time she pulled up in the stately drive outside the mansion.
Jake’s lethal-looking sports car was parked in front of the marble steps and J.D. didn’t have to wonder if he’d received her voice mail or been informed of the boys’ activities, because he was standing on one of the steps. Obviously waiting.
J.D. pulled to a stop behind his car and gave the boys a sideways glance. “Judging by your dad’s expression, I’d say he cares quite a lot about what you’ve been up to.”
Even from the distance and the dwindling light, they could see the dark expression on Jake’s face.
And the twins looked as if they’d just as soon spend eternity sitting in her cab to getting out and facing the music.
She had a small bit of sympathy for them on that score. She was none too anxious to face Jake right now, herself. And given that, the smile she sent into the boys’ disgruntled faces was a little less sharp than it might have been. “Out you go.”
“He looks kinda mad,” Connor said.
Zach huffed and snapped off his seatbelt. “What’s he gonna do? Send us back home to boarding school? He’s already said that’s what he’s gonna do.” He shoved open the door and slid out onto the ground, all bravado and cockiness.
Connor followed a little more slowly. “Thanks for the food.”
Bemused, she could only nod.
She could have put the truck into gear and driven away, but instead, she hovered there long enough to see the boys trudge up the shallow, wide steps toward their father. She could see them speaking, but couldn’t hear the words.
A moment later, the boys were stomping through the ornate front door and J.D. was wishing that she’d resisted her lingering hesitation and just driven away, because once Jake’s focus was off his sons, it turned like a laser toward her.
Something sharp jangled through her.
She swallowed around the constriction in her throat and rolled down the window when he came down beside her truck.
He ducked his head so he could see through the window and she could see the rough shadow forming on his angular jaw and smell that faint, lingering scent of him that her memory had been hanging on to with fiendish delight.
“You’re not really sending them home to boarding school, are you?” she blurted.
His brows drew together. “Excuse me?”
The words were out there, so she couldn’t very well take them back even if she wished she could. At the very least, though, she might have phrased the question more tactfully. “Zach mentioned you planned to send them back home to school.”
“And you clearly disapprove.”
The growing heat in her face owed nothing to the hot day. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
Before she could stop him, he’d pulled open her door. “I don’t know. They chose your truck to stow away in. Maybe that makes it your business. So yeah. Mabel’s already made the arrangements. They’ll be back terrorizing the halls of Penley next week.”
