CHAPTER 28 | Beau
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Fairfield is a smaller farm—they prefer the term ‘boutique’—and they’ve had to make use of every inch. The paddocks are electric green from heavy fertilizing and careful maintenance, and the riding arenas bump right up to the property’s edges. The barn is monstrous though. Designed in a horseshoe shape, the horse stalls and tack rooms surround a courtyard studded with flowering trees. Andrew’s set up his whiteboard and ego smack in the middle. There are probably ten or fifteen people crowded around him, perched on fold-up chairs and furiously taking notes on striding calculations as Holly and I approach.
Briefly, Andrew looks our direction. With his thin, stooped shoulders and penchant for tweed blazers with elbow patches, he’s always reminded me of a college
