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cheekbone, then curled under his jaw. Meg made an effort to look him in the eye while pretending not to notice it.
    Bo guided her along, telling her each person’s job title. He used terms like rotating man , groom , yearling manager , and night man . His employees, four women and the rest men, ranged from a sweet elderly gentleman who looked like he ought to be spending his days in a convalescent home, to a teenage boy who must have come straight over in his mom’s car after sixth
period.
    She hadn’t felt good about firing these people to begin with. She felt considerably less good about it now that she could attach faces and names to each of them. These people had real lives, and she knew that they counted on real paychecks.
    Despite that they must be harboring caution, disappointment, or downright hostility toward her, every one of them welcomed her with courtesy.
    When Meg had met the final person, the room fell silent. They watched her, waiting, as if they expected her to say something.
    Why had she agreed to visit? Goodness, what a mistake. “Ah, thank you for having me for a visit this afternoon. I appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to come and meet me. This is a beautiful facility, and it’s clear that you all take a lot of pride in it, which you should.”
    The air writhed with hidden resentments.
    Meg’s stomach gnawed. “I . . . I know my father would want me to express gratitude to you on his behalf. As all of you know, he was very passionate about his horses. So thank you . . . for all you’ve done.”
    More painful silence.
    â€œThat’s it,” Bo said to the group. “Thanks. Y’all can return to work.”
    As his employees moved off, Bo drew Meg over to one of the stalls.
    â€œAre the shirts some kind of uniform?” she asked in a low voice.
    His lips quirked. “No, we only wear them on special occasions. Like when a potential buyer comes to look at a horse.”
    â€œYou wore them for me today?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause having you visit is a special occasion for us.”
    Her forehead furrowed. Surely not so special that it merited assembling all the employees in their matching shirts? He must have known that meeting the staff would tug at her heartstrings and fill her with guilt. “Did . . .” She re-cinched the tie of her sweater and straightened to her full height. “Did you ask me to come out here today so that you could try to change my mind about closing the farm? Because I’m planning to close it down, exactly as we agreed.”
    â€œI know you are.”
    â€œI don’t want to give you any false hopes.”
    â€œYou’re not giving me false hopes. All you’ve agreed to is a tour.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œSo right now, I’m just glad for the chance to give you a tour.”
    For a long moment, she considered him, trying hard to discern his motives.
    Bo looked back at her squarely, kindly. His lips curved up a little on one side.
    Was he manipulating her? Meg couldn’t tell. Her intuition read honesty and genuine goodness in him. But she’d been wrong about people in the past, and it would be naïve of her to think Bo had anything but his own self-interests at heart.
    â€œReady to see some horses?”
    After a brief hesitation, she nodded.
    Just as he’d done with his staff, Bo introduced her to the horses, sharing information and a story about each one. Even Meg could recognize how exquisite they were. Finely boned, shining clean, muscled, and well proportioned.
    When they came to the far end of the building, Bo grabbed a straw Stetson off a peg, then ushered her through the door. Outside, several white-painted fences surrounded grass fields. “How large are these?” Meg asked.
    â€œThese paddocks are about two and a half acres each.”
    â€œAnd beyond them?” She gestured