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  Dressed in Pink

  Misadventures in the Wine Country Book One

  Diana Stone

  Copyright © 2018 by Diana Stone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  About my Books

  About the Cover

  About The Author

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  Also by Diana Stone

  1

  I’ve Been Replaced

  With the slam of the door I know… My husband is leaving me for another woman. In the silence, I hear my heart beating, erratic with adrenaline and outrage. I want to scream at him, to claw at his face. But I can’t. I’m standing here alone, discarded in his excitement to find someone new.

  I’ve failed. That sounds so dramatic, but my four-year marriage has just ended. He left me for a younger, cuter version of someone I used to be. She likes sushi and I don’t. She idolizes him, and I stopped doing that years ago. She drives a cute little hybrid, and I drive a diesel pickup truck.

  What do I want to do with my life? I have newly found freedom, yet I feel like I’ve been set adrift in the fog. I’m looking for something that makes me feel enthusiastic about living, something to change my outlook.

  At age 31, I’m planning a life make-over. I hope I’m not too late.

  Before I wore his ring, I used to search buildings for armed criminals. I stopped escaping felons, chased bad guys over walls and through backyards with snarling dogs. I did so with only a torn uniform to show for it. I maintained my calm during high-speed car chases, sliding through dark, rain-slicked streets. I know how to keep calm in dangerous situations. Surely I can find a job that pays a good salary and I enjoy.

  After several months of searching, I found something that sounds like a strong possibility. Mom suggested I speak with Veronica, a friend of hers who leads trail rides through the Santa Ynez Valley wine country. She said they’re looking for a head wrangler to lead the rides.

  I haven’t been to Solvang for years. The only thing I remember is that it’s a cute Danish town with great pastries and restaurants. I’ve never tasted wine there, but then, I’ve missed out on a lot of things.

  I’ve been out of the loop for so long. I hadn’t heard that the other nearby towns have blossomed. Each one has its own ambiance, complemented by wineries and boutiques.

  Los Olivos is one of those delightful towns. It sits about an hour up the coast from my house in Ventura. It’s an area people visit to immerse themselves in everything to do with wine. They stop for a sip in a trendy tasting room, dine with vintners, picnic at a winery, or ride horses through the vineyards. It’s a cute place that has its own friendly vibe and provides an escape from every-day life.

  I’m sitting with my laptop, scrolling through the visitor's bureau website and events calendars. I feel a spark in my soul, a fire I forgot I had. Rolling hills dotted with oak trees, rows of grapevines heavy with grapes, and smiling ladies on pretty horses... I’m starting to dream again and to see possibilities for my future.

  I can’t wait to see if this is the answer I’ve been looking for. I tap Veronica’s number into my phone—thank goodness she answers.

  I may be lacking interviewing skills, but not enthusiasm. To bypass that, I launch into details about my lifelong experience with horses. I’ve been trail riding since I was a kid, I’ve also been breeding, training and competing in dressage for years. I know horses inside and out, with an intuition honed over time. Not that it’s necessary for her job, but I did five years with the LAPD.

  She tells me what the job entails: Getting up early to feed and care for her hungry horses. Then I’d be leading group trail rides through the vineyards overlooking miles of the Santa Ynez Valley. Afterward, I’d host a wine tasting back at the barn. I’d be doing this twice a day. It’s simple, there isn’t much to it; I have more than enough ability to ride a trail horse and I can easily chat with the riders. It sounds like a cushy job, and one I’d love to have.

  We talk for a couple of hours, laughing and comparing notes on life, men, and horses. I think her daily routine of riding horses through the hills and vineyards, and the friends she has made sounds perfect. This should bring vivid color into my dull, black and white life.

  Sure, I’ll drive up the coast for a two-week trial and see how it goes!

  2

  Let the adventure begin

  The day is bright, and my adrenaline is flowing. I’ve hitched up my truck and trailer, and I’m ready to go. I’m bringing my two dressage horses, Bunny and Juliette to see how they feel about a new career as trail horses. “Bye,” I yell to the stable manager as I pull out the driveway toward adventure.

  Driving up Highway 101 is slow going through Santa Barbara. But now, at last, we hit the open road.

  My eyes are drawn to the coast-line. It’s another beautiful California day at the beach. The waves are breaking on the shore and the sky is a cloudless blue. A long line of RVs are parked by the sand. Their striped awnings are up and their BBQs are smoking. Families have spread out their towels and are soaking up the sun. Surfers are sitting on their boards with their legs dangling in the water, waiting for a perfect wave.

  The arrow on the freeway sign points to the Solvang exit. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!

  Entering Solvang is like gliding into a Danish town. The streets are full of tourists wandering into restaurants, bakeries and art galleries. Little wooden signs with Danish names swing above cheese and novelty shops. Along the way daisies and geraniums spill out of huge flower pots. The sidewalks are shaded by leafy Sycamore trees.

  On the right is the Mission Santa Ynez. It’s a piece of history that overlooks miles of rolling hills. A wide banner stretches between two mighty trees — it’s an invitation to the upcoming vintner’s festival. In two weeks, the lawn will be crowded with happy people making their way from tent to tent carrying a wine glass in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other.

  I pass through town and make a right turn on Baseline and ease my foot off the gas and roll down the window to let in the ambiance. The horse farms on the left have acres of green pastures. Mares are standing knee-deep in lush grass while their foals play tag. On the right, there are row after row of grape vines growing in perfect alignment. This is amazing!

  At the next left, just up from the corner, there’s a yellow sign. “This is Horse Country, Slow Down.”

  I already feel my chilled spirit beginning to thaw. That was fast… I’m only 60 miles from home!

 
3

  My Destiny

  Veronica strides from the barn with a radiant smile. She looks just like her picture: Early 40s, slim, shoulder length dark hair and a beautiful smile. She’s wearing jeans, a western shirt and has dusty cowboy boots, just like she should.

  As I slide out of the truck, she pulls me into a hug, “Hi Jessica, welcome to your destiny!”

  My destiny, I like how that sounds. “Thank you, what a nice welcome!”

  “How was the drive—I’ll show you around. Wait, let’s get the horses out of the trailer. Are you thirsty?” She laughs at herself. “Don’t worry, I can do three things at once.”

  “I’m happy to be here, thank you.” I swallow my emotion. “You have no idea how this is helping.”

  “I’m so glad. You’re a nice girl, let’s get you back on track,” she soothes. “What do you want to do first?”

  “I’d like to get the horses settled. Can we put them in the round-pen to walk around?” I swing the trailer ramp down and they start pawing in anticipation. I get them unloaded, then I lead a tense horse in each hand.

  She directs the way to several large pastures, which in California are dirt because it doesn’t rain. I need to put Bunny in one, and Juliette in another. They used to live in the same pasture when Bunny had been the boss. A few months ago Juliette tried to take over that position, but Bunny fought back. They both emerged from the dirt beaten up, but were miraculously undamaged. Now I keep them separate. Closing the gates, I give each one a pat and begin my tour.

  I follow her through the double-wide doors into white-washed barn. It is open and airy with an expanded center aisle. A heavy trestle-table sits to the side and catches the breeze. Someone added a mason jar filled with roses.

  “I love the roses, it adds an elegant touch.” I catch the fragrance.

  “This is where we have the wine tasting. I think it makes it look friendly.” She points through the tasting bar area to a quasi-kitchen, behind. “There’s a microwave and coffee pot you can use in there.”

  “Thanks. I brought a blender, I’ll be drinking protein shakes most of the time.” I see the electric outlet. “I have enough whey powder to last for weeks. I also brought soup, bread, and peanut butter.” Soon I’ll be really sick of my food.

  The tack area smells wonderful, like rich leather. I inhale the scent and look around, taking in years of work. She has racks holding perhaps fifteen western saddles. Some have deep suede seats and others are smooth leather. One is engraved Champion Header 2008.

  “Who won the saddle?”

  “I did, back when I had time, I really should get back into it. They give good prizes… like saddles, silver buckles, horse trailers and pots of money.”

  “Those are great prizes,” I mutter with envy. “Dressage shows try, but it’s hard to find sponsors who will donate.”

  I follow her down the dark aisle of stalls to the right and she says, “We forgot to talk about your sleeping arrangements. You can have this room. There’s a cot we put in here.” Then she points to another door. “See, it’s next to the bathroom.”

  I look for the lock, but there’s only a padlock on the outside. “I can’t lock the door from the inside.” I feel awkward telling her. “Tonight I’ll use the dressing room in my trailer and see how I feel after that.”

  She looks at me and laughs, “It’s safe around here. Your trailer is pretty small, but suit yourself.”

  “We have ten riders booked for the 3:00 slot, you can get your feet wet with them. They usually like their pictures taken. I either use their phone, or I take them with mine and text it to them.” She strikes a selfie pose. “They take a lot of selfies too. They rarely care about geology and plants, so you won’t need to worry about that. Just be friendly and follow my lead.”

  “Fine, what time shall I be ready to saddle up?” That’s a lot of horses to groom and saddles to lift.

  “We should get it done in 30 minutes, I’ll show you the shortcuts. I have business to do at the house. Are you alright kicking around here till then?” She acknowledges my nod. “You can park your trailer next to the others.” She directs her arm in the general direction of the other horse trailers. “I’ll be back in a while.” She heads up to the house at the top of the dirt driveway.

  We get the twelve horses saddled reasonably fast. Fortunately, their summer coats are sleek and clean. I hadn’t thought about it before, but the weight of a western saddle will put more arm muscles on me. I’m not used to swinging forty pounds onto a horse’s back.

  Two tiny cars jammed with women pull to a stop outside the barn. Walking over to say hi, I stop in amazement. In each car, five girls are trying to untangle themselves from a space built for two. We’re all laughing a few minutes later. I feel that I’m part of the fun… and that’s unusual for me.

  Veronica comes up as we’re getting acquainted. She and I both notice their idea of appropriate riding boots. Their stiletto heels with thin, supple leather make me wince. Will the lovely boots make it out alive?

  It’s fun to hear their stories and gossip, who did what to whom, and their ideas on cheating and divorce. I’m keeping my ears open and my mouth closed. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around this many happy women. The two-hour ride is filled with good-hearted laughter and murmurs of needing a masseuse.

  For the wine tasting, Veronica has relationships with local wineries who let us have their wines at a reduced price. It’s a great way to taste the flavors of the area. The women taste their way through several bottles, along with crunchy artisan crackers from a little market up the road. These crackers aren’t your run-of-the-mill saltines.

  How do I know that the crackers are so good and that the wine reflects this area? I need to know what we’re serving… so, I get to have my own mini-tasting in the cool of the evening. I’m such a good employee, studying in my time off… I love the perks that come with this job!

  The sun goes down, followed by a dark, moonless night. An owl hoots in a nearby tree and her friend on the barn roof answers. I chuckle at the scraping sound of owl claws on the steel. It tells me he’s having a hard time gripping the metal with his talons.

  I learned a long time ago to watch the rabbits and horses when I’m alone in the dark. If they look at something, then I look. It’s safe tonight, all the horses have their heads down munching on hay, and the rabbits are quietly hopping around. I’m on guard because it’s all new and I don’t know what is normal.

  I feel like a goldfish in a bowl, sitting in the barn aisle with the lights on. But, I wouldn’t really say I’m alone. I have a friend, Mr. Smith and Wesson. It might seem neurotic to have a gun in my jacket, but it keeps me secure. I saw too many victims when I worked patrol.

  I switch off the light. Goodness, it’s darker than I realized. There’s a slice of moon to light my way to the trailer. It’s small inside, but I get to lock my door.

  4

  Part of the Team

  The rest of the week flies by. By Sunday I’m leading rides on my own. I know the best places for photo-ops and the shadiest woodlands for a cool break. But I have to admit, I’m not too comfortable running the wine tastings. I wish I knew more about wine to prepare for their questions. I don’t have to be an expert, but I would like to be more competent. I’ve memorized the brochures about what we pour. They tell us what they supposedly taste like. I’m fine as long as no one asks specific questions about any other varietal or what I think about something wine related. Yikes… I have to admit I’m only good with horses.

  Veronica walks down from the house as the last guest drives away in a cloud of dust. “I’ve been invited to a little soiree at Jack Courtland’s tomorrow night. Would you like to come?”

  “Jack Courtland—he is…?”

  She’s silent and gives me an incredulous look. “Oh, I forgot you’re not up to speed on the local elite are you? Jack has a 1200 acre vineyard and cattle ranch up Foxen Canyon. His place is ritzy, it also has a unique twist.” She pauses for e
ffect. “He has a vortex on his property.” Her smile appears. “And his wines are excellent, so when I’m invited, I definitely go.”

  “And you’re inviting me?” I must be doing everything right. “There’s a real vortex, like at Sedona?”

  “Yes to both. I’m inviting you because I like the way you ride, and the way you handle my clients. I’d like you to stay on.” She adds, “The vortex is real. Most people forget it’s there, but I’ve heard strange stories about it.”

  I passed my trial period before the two weeks are up! I was pretty sure she liked me, I mean, how could she not? I ride well, and I’m friendly. I know my wine skills are weak, so I’m happy to keep brushing up every night with the last inch in the bottle.

  “Sure, you’re part of the team now, if you’d like to stay on?”

  “Yes thank you, I’d love to stay; and yes, I’d love to go tomorrow.”

  “I can lend you something to wear, you’re definitely taller than I am. How tall are you?”

  “I’m 5’9, but not as well endowed,” I chuckle.

  She laughs at that. “It’s a curse, I wish they were a more manageable size. Let’s see… I have some filmy things that may work, though they might hide your figure.”