On Monday morning, the buyer's representatives arrived in two black vehicles. I was already in the stable, holding Finch while Tom checked the inventory. A man in a charcoal coat came in behind Owen and introduced himself as Daniel Reeve. He wore clean boots and kept his attention on the buildings, not the horses.
"We're looking at the land as a whole," he said. "I hope we won't get in anyone's way."
"You won't," I said. "The lessons are still running."
He smiled as if I had offered him a chair. "Of course."
Owen's shoulders stiffened. "The sale wouldn't take effect until closing."
"I understand," I said. "I'm showing him where the stable operates."
The group walked through the tack room, the indoor school, and the teaching barn. Daniel asked about the roof, the drainage, and the acc
