after all—but it turned out that they were involved with much more than just horses. It seems their business, Pegasus Horse Transport, became well-known for flying more than just horses. Tom and his partners were rumored to be huge drug traffickers and had earned themselves the nickname “The Cowboy Mafia.” When it was discovered there was more to their business, people immediately began to defend Tom, saying he had no idea any of that was going on and if he had, he would’ve never tolerated it. He hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day operations and rarely, if ever, made the quarterly meetings—he would often just conference in. But many others weren’t so quick to let him off the hook. If he didn’t know what was going on, he was just as guilty because he should’ve been more involved, then. Eventually, there were many arrests made and Tom was never even questioned, much less considered a person of interest, but to this day, many people questioned whether or not he was aware of what was happening at Pegasus. In a neighborhood as conservative as Hillside Park, anything drug-related isn’t easily forgotten.
Heather nodded sympathetically.
“Did you see Amanda?” Sharon asked. “How does she look?”
“She looked amazing,” Heather said, shaking her head slightly, as if she couldn’t believe it, as if she was horrified by the thought of it all. “You’d think that somebody who had been through the kind of traumatic stuff she’s been through would look like hell. But she looked incredible. Thin, fit, beautiful, perfectly dressed—just drop-dead gorgeous. No wonder they say all the boys in high school used to call her ‘hell in high heels.’ ”
Sharon nodded slowly, digesting the bad news that Amanda looked great, and sadly remembering those painful high school days.
“Oh, perfect. That’s all we need,” she said, dejected, “another attractive single woman here in Hillside Park. This one’s potentially the most dangerous of all. It’s not like she started out like the rest of us.” She furiously smoothed out the wrinkles in her hand-me-down Givenchy skirt. “It kills me to think she’s gonna end up just jumping from lily pad to lily pad.”
“She’s not exactly single,” Heather said helpfully, testing the temperature of her latte again. Still too hot to consider drinking.
Why she had ordered latte on a hot day like this, she had no idea. She didn’t even like lattes. But they just sounded so sophisticated. And besides, everybody knew lattes had fewer calories. “She’s still technically married.”
“Sure, darlin’, but not for long,” Sharon said, staring out the window at a Bentley she did not recognize. “Who’s that?” Surely there wasn’t a man who drove a Bentley in this neighborhood that she didn’t know.
Heather followed her gaze. She studied the car and looked at the license plate, hoping for a clue. It was a Texas vanity plate that read “TH”—something. She couldn’t catch the rest of it as the car blew past.
The women quietly chorused the initials to themselves, trying to conjure up an identity to go along with the letters.
“Oh, oh! Tom Harrington,” Heather suddenly exclaimed. “That’s the guy whose house Amanda rented. He developed half of Mexico, you know.”
“Mmm. I sure wish he’d hurry and get around to the other half,” Sharon cracked. Then, on a more serious note, “Is he still married?”
“Yup,” Heather replied. She patted her dry lips and debated whether to apply more lip gloss.
“But is he happy?” Sharon asked sarcastically.
“Unfortunately. By all accounts.”
They both laughed hysterically at their own wittiness.
Sharon nodded philosophically as her fingers tapped out a frustrated rhythm on the plastic cup lid. “Too bad. I’ve always had a thing for him. But what about Amanda? I mean, she does have two children.”
Heather frowned. “A boy and girl,” she said. “But nobody old enough to be interested in
Heather nodded sympathetically.
“Did you see Amanda?” Sharon asked. “How does she look?”
“She looked amazing,” Heather said, shaking her head slightly, as if she couldn’t believe it, as if she was horrified by the thought of it all. “You’d think that somebody who had been through the kind of traumatic stuff she’s been through would look like hell. But she looked incredible. Thin, fit, beautiful, perfectly dressed—just drop-dead gorgeous. No wonder they say all the boys in high school used to call her ‘hell in high heels.’ ”
Sharon nodded slowly, digesting the bad news that Amanda looked great, and sadly remembering those painful high school days.
“Oh, perfect. That’s all we need,” she said, dejected, “another attractive single woman here in Hillside Park. This one’s potentially the most dangerous of all. It’s not like she started out like the rest of us.” She furiously smoothed out the wrinkles in her hand-me-down Givenchy skirt. “It kills me to think she’s gonna end up just jumping from lily pad to lily pad.”
“She’s not exactly single,” Heather said helpfully, testing the temperature of her latte again. Still too hot to consider drinking.
Why she had ordered latte on a hot day like this, she had no idea. She didn’t even like lattes. But they just sounded so sophisticated. And besides, everybody knew lattes had fewer calories. “She’s still technically married.”
“Sure, darlin’, but not for long,” Sharon said, staring out the window at a Bentley she did not recognize. “Who’s that?” Surely there wasn’t a man who drove a Bentley in this neighborhood that she didn’t know.
Heather followed her gaze. She studied the car and looked at the license plate, hoping for a clue. It was a Texas vanity plate that read “TH”—something. She couldn’t catch the rest of it as the car blew past.
The women quietly chorused the initials to themselves, trying to conjure up an identity to go along with the letters.
“Oh, oh! Tom Harrington,” Heather suddenly exclaimed. “That’s the guy whose house Amanda rented. He developed half of Mexico, you know.”
“Mmm. I sure wish he’d hurry and get around to the other half,” Sharon cracked. Then, on a more serious note, “Is he still married?”
“Yup,” Heather replied. She patted her dry lips and debated whether to apply more lip gloss.
“But is he happy?” Sharon asked sarcastically.
“Unfortunately. By all accounts.”
They both laughed hysterically at their own wittiness.
Sharon nodded philosophically as her fingers tapped out a frustrated rhythm on the plastic cup lid. “Too bad. I’ve always had a thing for him. But what about Amanda? I mean, she does have two children.”
Heather frowned. “A boy and girl,” she said. “But nobody old enough to be interested in
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