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should I be making for the delivery of Lucky Luna’s foal?” she asked.
    â€œNone,” Miss Ellie told her. “The farm will take care of everything for you. If you’re satisfied with what you see today, there’s no need to make any changes. And in fact with your mare this close to foaling, it’s probably safer not to.”
    Aunt Peg jotted down a note. “And you mentioned something earlier about a stallion?”
    â€œYou’ll have to check with your account manager about that. The mare’s former owner may have already made the decision for you. In that case, a contract will have been signed and, once again, the farm will know what to do to get Lucky Luna bred back when the time comes.”
    â€œAnd if there is no contract?” Aunt Peg was nothing if not thorough.
    â€œCome back and see me again. I may not be part of the industry anymore but I still keep abreast of what’s happening and who’s who. If necessary, you and I can go stallion shopping.”
    â€œThat sounds like fun,” I said. “Can I come, too?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” Miss Ellie smiled at my enthusiasm, before turning back to Aunt Peg. “There’s one more thing you need to know. When you visit Six Oaks, you may find that Kentuckians can be rather dismissive of people who aren’t from around here.”
    â€œI may be an outsider,” Aunt Peg said archly, “but as far as that farm is concerned, I’m also a paying client.”
    â€œYes, but with just one mare, you’re only a very small one. Which means that they may or may not bother to take you seriously. So let me tell you this. If anyone gives you any trouble, you let me know, and by God I’ll come and straighten them out. The Gates name carries some weight around here. Nobody will dare talk sass to me.”
    The expression on Miss Ellie’s face was fierce. So much so that I suddenly found myself hoping we’d have an excuse for her to come and shake things up. A Southern grande dame on the rampage. That would be fun to watch.
    â€œThank you for the offer,” Aunt Peg replied, “but I’m sure we’ll manage just fine. After all, Ellie dear, you’re not the only one who knows how to fight her own battles.”
    â€œI have every faith in you, Peg. But you may find that things are very different here than you’re used to back home. Just keep me in mind, that’s all I’m saying.”
    Miss Ellie sent us on our way with directions to a tavern in Midway where we could stop for lunch before keeping our afternoon appointment at Six Oaks. No one minded when Faith accompanied us onto the outside terrace. The waiter even brought her a bowl of cold water and adjusted the umbrella over our table so that Faith could lie down in the shade.
    â€œMiss Ellie is quite a character,” I said to Aunt Peg as we split a loaded pizza between us.
    â€œShe always has been.” Peg nodded. “Miss Ellie and I were dog show friends for years. But, sad to say, when she stopped showing Poodles we allowed ourselves to lose contact. I know she was having some problems back then. Her husband was ill and subsequently lost his battle with cancer. And I believe there was another family issue that was causing trouble as well.”
    Aunt Peg reached up and slid the last slice of pizza onto her plate. “That’s the problem when your whole social life revolves the dog show community. When someone drops out for whatever reason, it’s as if they just disappear. Nowadays people talk on Facebook or Twitter. But we didn’t have those options then. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to stay in touch with Miss Ellie. Hopefully that’s an omission I’ll be able to rectify on this visit.”
    From downtown Midway, the drive to Six Oaks took only a few minutes. As Miss Ellie had indicated, we first passed her family farm with its white board fencing and distinctive