Page 53 of Mother-Daughter Murder Night

“Lana!” she called out. Diana’s perfectly white skin was flushed, her blond hair pressed sweatily to her head. Lana gave her a smile and a curt wave, keeping a respectful distance from the heaving horse.

“I appreciate you coming to our little stable,” Diana said. She clipped a lead rope on her horse and started walking toward a large tent. The golf cart had disappeared, so Lana had no choice but to follow her. The tent was noisy and moist, with overhead fans drowning out all other sound. Lana realized the droplets hitting her jacket were coming from giant misters placed above each stall.

“A car wash for horses,” Lana mused.

“A cooldown station,” Diana corrected her. “Dressage training can be strenuous.”

“How often do you come here?”

“It used to be almost every day.” She sighed. “Since Daddy got sick, I’ve been in Elkhorn all the time. But I sneak up here when I can.”

“I see.” Lana stepped back to make way for a well-built groom leading a brown, foaming horse into the tent.

“Daddy and I both loved horses,” Diana said. She was watching the horse’s muscular backside, or perhaps the groom’s. “I do believe they are the best cure for heartache in the world.”

“From what I’ve heard, your father was quite a gentleman.”

“Daddy insisted Western riding was superior to English. Other than that, he was perfect.” Diana pulled her eyes away from the mist-filled tent, removed a glove, and patted her hair back into place. “Come,” she said. “We can talk in the saddlery.”

Lana followed Lady Di into a small, immaculate workshop, which thankfully smelled of leather instead of horse. Diana closed the door, trapping them inside. Lana sat on an uncomfortable bench, hoping this would not be a long conversation.

“Thank you for coming.” Diana was standing, stroking a saddle laid on top of a mahogany sawhorse. “I appreciate your time, truly.”

Lana nodded, then shifted on the bench. “Of course. I have to admit, I’m curious. What do you want to discuss?”

“My brother and I have a difference of opinion about the future of the ranch.”

Lana stayed silent. She could see Diana gathering her energy, readying herself for some kind of prickly disclosure. Something she didn’t want to tell a stranger but was prepared to do regardless. All Lana had to do was wait.

“He wants to sell it right away. He says he’s getting an all-cash offer, from some real estate jackal who sent flowers to the wake.”

The former jackal on the bench gave Diana an encouraging smile, prodding her to continue. Was this it? Diana wanted her help negotiating the sale? Cash offers typically came with tight deadlines. Lana wondered how long ago Martin had put the property on the market. It would be aggressive to have offers just a week after the owner’s death.

“Is Martin in some kind of hurry?”

“I think he needs the money.” Diana flicked a speck of nothing off her sleeve, as if the very idea of it had dirtied her jacket. “Something about investors who didn’t come through for a crucial round of funding for his nanotech start-up. These little robots of his are very complicated.”

Lana nodded. “As are these real estate deals. If I can be of help—”

“I don’t want to sell,” Diana interrupted.

Then it was something else.

“What do you want?”

“I’ve always dreamed . . .” Diana suddenly looked younger, her hair a wispy halo around her face. She took a deep breath. “I’d like to turn the property into a wellness ranch. With horses. Equine therapy, trail rides, mineral baths. Healing retreats for a select clientele. Now that my children are grown, I need something to care for. I’ve been researching high-end spas and wellness centers, reviewing business models. I think it could work.”

“Have you shared your dream with your brother? Or your father?”

Diana’s fingers tightened on the skirt of the saddle. “Not fully. Not yet. I started talking with Daddy about it at Bayshore Oaks, just a bit. He seemed interested, but I wanted to wait until he was feeling better to fully explore it. I hoped we could get aligned and then talk to Martin about it together. Of course, we never got that far.”

“So you’ve told no one your full plans?”

“Only my husband.”

“And?”

“He thinks it’s ridiculous. Says we might as well throw money into the slough. But I’ve stood by him through his own . . . indulgences, and quite frankly, he owes me.”