My Stardust Melody, Chapter 11
December, 2 years later
Driving through freaking cornfields to get to the airport outside of Oakdale, Reid sped down the road in his black rental car. He tried to pay attention to what was on the radio and not to the fact that this car was probably infested with more germs than six drooling babies. He glanced at the gum (he hoped that that brown gunk was gum) stuck to the passenger-side carpet and mentally amended himself. Make that seven drooling babies. He guessed that the sanitary wipes he had used on the seat and steering wheel when he got in the car had long since lost the battle to the bacteria.
It was in this inauspicious vehicle that he had privately celebrated his success of an hour ago. Earlier, Bob Hughes had hired him to run the new neuro-wing at Oakdale Memorial Hospital. The wing wasn't even complete, so Reid would be able to influence some of its design. It was an ideal position except for the fact that it was in Oakdale. He guessed nothing was perfect, except himself of course.
It had taken him two years, but he had finally gotten back what he should have had long ago if he hadn't lost his position in Boston. If I hadn't gone to that stupid party and behaved like a love-sick teenager with braces and a first crush. He would never make that kind of a mistake again.
He pulled up to the arrivals area of the poor excuse of an airport. The door opened and Reid felt the thump coming from the seat beside him. Reid glanced at the handsome brunet to his right and said, "Now why was it you insisted on coming here today?"
Nathan, the doctor's best friend since childhood, snorted. "Great seeing you, Reid. No, no, the flight wasn't too awful, and I didn't mind having two layovers to get here. Thanks, I'm doing fine. Yes, I'd love to get some food after the long flight," he said pointedly. "You know I'll keep this up, right?"
Reid rolled his eyes and sighed with exaggeration. "Hi, Nathan! How was your trip? Did they serve you a good meal on the way? Did they give you those wonderful moist towelettes? Did the guy next to you talk too much?" Reid smiled scarily.
Nathan laughed, making his pale grey eyes dance. "Okay, okay. I give up. I will never teach you any manners."
"It's impressive that you're still trying after twenty-five years." Reid smirked at his tall companion before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb.
"I deserve an award," Nathan said drily.
Reid shrugged, unimpressed. "You haven't exactly worked any miracles yet. Maybe a different person might have done better." To be honest, Nathan was the only person in Reid's life that had ever felt like trying to better the doctor. Or at least, the only one who stayed around after making a suggestion and receiving one of Reid's patented sarcastic responses. He wasn't about to let Nathan know how much he appreciated him, however.
"Or maybe you'd still be chewing with your mouth open like you did when you were eight." To emphasize his point, Nathan opened and closed his mouth a few times in imitation of Reid's eating habits.
"I think you still complain that I do that."
"Oh, you noticed. I think I might cry." Nathan theatrically sniffed and tucked a brown lock behind his ear.
Reid rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to throw you out into the wilderness?"
"You won't. And this is farm country, not the wilderness."
"One day I might." Reid tried to make his voice ominous, but Nathan didn't seem to take it seriously. Nathan was annoying like that. The rest of the world scurried away from Reid, but Nathan just kept ignoring the doctor's barbs.
"But not today," Nathan replied with cheer.
Reid sighed to let Nathan know how put out he felt. "Fine, now back to my original point: Why are you here exactly?"
Nathan clapped his palms together and declared, "When your hopelessly snobbish best friend calls to tell you he's taken a job in the 'cornfields of Illinois,' you have to worry about him."
Reid narrowed his eyes. 'Hopelessly snobbish', the words rankled. Reid was just particular and didn't understand why the rest of the world didn't feel the same. "You know someone else moving out here?" he asked ironically.
Nathan's response was typical: He laughed and then told the entire truth. "Funny. To be honest, I wanted to check this place out and help you find a place to live. We both know you're likely to take the first place with a refrigerator large enough to hold your beer and lunchmeat."
"Not true! There's cleanliness to be concerned about." Everyone believed that Reid thought with his stomach, but that was patently untrue--he put an equal premium on stellar hygiene. Ha, I'm not so simple.
"I'm assuming that you won't even go in a place that even hints at not being built in the last year."
Well, that was true. "You do know me well."
Changing the subject, Nathan asked, "So, how's the hospital?"
Reid thought for a moment. "Provincial," he replied.
"Reid! A little more info please." Nathan sucked in his cheeks in exasperation.
"It's run by an old man who thinks it's the 1950s. Bob or Bob-O or something. I think they have an annual sock-hop if that tells you anything. The neuro-wing is going to be okay, however. They got some miracle donation from some local yahoo--I didn't really pay much attention to that. Anyway, they decided to build a state-of-the-art facility and managed not to totally screw it up."
Nathan smiled. "You've got to be ecstatic that you finally get to be in charge."
Reid made a noncommittal noise.
"Oh, come on! You've been working hard at getting this ever since Boston didn't work out."
"True," Reid allowed.
Nathan turned in his seat to face Reid. Reid cringed a little, knowing that this was what his friend did whenever he wanted to have a "discussion."
"What did happen? Why aren't you already in charge of some state-of-the-art facility?" Nathan asked.
Shrugging, Reid replied. "I've told you. Stivers has made it his personal mission in life to bad-mouth me to every hospital with any sort of director opening. I'm just lucky that Bob-O is either too senile or too desperate to care." Reid had struck out with every available directorship opening for the past two years. After Boston, he managed to get a neurosurgery job in New York City, but had never been able to advance.
Nathan said gently, "You've told me that. I meant what happened two years ago to make Stivers so angry? You've never said. You just came back from that weekend at that fancy party in New York and started looking for a new job. You never once said what went down."
Reid really didn't want to talk about this. "Probably because it isn't important."
Nathan, as usual, disagreed. "Reid, it's important. Not only have you not told me about it, but you've changed since then. You've barely dated, and when you have, you seem to find something wrong with the other person in record time. Even you didn't used to be so picky."
Reid definitely was not going to talk about why he felt every man he met just wasn't right. Nor was he going to talk about any issues he had with trust. He elected to say, "I had to work hard to prove to these medical baboons that they needed me for their hospitals. The move from Boston to New York City was a bit of a step down, so I had to work twice as hard to get a directorship." He briefly looked at Nathan so he could say in a firm voice, "That's all. I just haven't had as much time for men."
"I don't think that's all, Reid," Nathan replied, making Reid want to bang his head against the steering wheel. He was afraid this rickety car might actually stop, though. The doctor felt better when Nathan continued, "I won't push you anymore, but we both know you'd tell me if it were truly unimportant. Something bad happened in that big mansion."
Reid laughed. "You make it sound like I starred in a horror film, with some crazy ax-wielder with a tortured past running around, called 'Scary Mansion IV: the Undead.'"
"Reid, if you were in a horror film, you'd either be the axe-wielder or the guy who gets killed first. Since you're alive and well, I don't think that's what happened."
"I'm difficult to kill," Reid proclaimed.
"So are cockroaches."
Reid snorted. "Wow, if I'm your best friend, I'd hate to hear what you think of your enemies."
"Most of my enemies are your fault," Nathan retorted.
"My fault?" Reid asked with a little too much surprise to be believable.
"Yeah, you open your big mouth and smelly garbage start flying out. Then I defend you or try to get you out of it, and that person winds up hating me, too."
"Name one person that hates you because of me." He ignored the giant bump in the road that made his teeth click together. The shocks on this car were predictably awful.
Nathan folded his arms over his chest. "I can start at the beginning. There's Jeremy Tipton…"
It was an old argument, and Reid immediately used his canned response, "We were thirteen and he should have known that 'Au' was the periodic table symbol for gold." Jeremy Tipton was a bully and could barely spell his own name.
"That was no reason to tell him you'd seen his face on the back of a milk carton for 'Missing Village Idiot.'"
"He tried to cheat off my quiz!" Cheating, to Reid, was essentially on the same level as most federal crimes in terms of heinousness.
Nathan gave Reid a speaking glance. "Get over it, and you calling him 'The Grunter' for the rest of the year probably made up for it anyway. If you recall, I took a punch for you and when the teacher caught him, he hated me just as much as you."
Okay, Reid would give Nathan that one. "Fine, who else is on this list of enemies?"
"Ralph Tipton, Jeremy's twin, for one."
All Reid remembered about Ralph was that he was the Tweedle Dumber to Jerry's Tweedle Dum. "Grunzen? Why'd he hate me?" Seriously, he had no idea.
"Probably because 'grunzen' is German for 'grunt', and that's what everyone started calling him after you came up with 'The Grunter.' Being called 'Grunter and Grunzen, the Grunting twins,' doesn't really sit well when you're thirteen."
"First, I didn't come up with that nickname--I can't be faulted for what other kids do. And second, name someone who isn't on the Tipton family tree that's out to get you." From the look on Nathan's face, Reid realized that this task might not be so hard.
"Sequentially or in alphabetical order? Never mind, sequentially is easier. Stanley Hopkins, Lisa Burnette, Andy Maglia, Richard Stetson, Letitia Snow, and I think that gets us through freshman year. No, wait! I skipped Sister Mary Anthony." Nathan paused in reflection before remarking, "Thank god that school didn't allow canings. Where was I? Then Barney Everett, Mitch Fields,…"
Reid just prayed the list would end by the time they got to the hotel or he was going to have to pull out his ax. He pushed the accelerator closer to the floor and hoped the engine didn't give out.
***
"So Luke, what did Old Salty have to say about Serendipity's Song for the Spring?"
Luke turned from the stall when he heard Henry's voice. "It's good news. The vet looked at the laceration on his leg and the antibiotics appear to be working. So Andy said that he thought Serendipity would be ready to race again in the spring." Andy was the horse trainer that Luke and Henry had hired two years ago. "You really should stop calling him Salty--he's the best trainer we'll ever get, and I don't want to lose him because you keep insulting him." The chestnut horse behind him whickered his agreement.
"I call 'em like I see 'em," Henry replied gamely.
To be fair, "Old Salty" did describe Andy well, Luke acknowledged. The man barely spoke more than three words in a week, looked at everyone (and particularly Henry) like he'd scraped them off his leather boots, and ate an astonishing amount of cod, with a lot of salt. But, the man knew horses. He'd been fired from his job in Kentucky for a rather colorful disagreement with his employer, and Luke and Henry had snapped him up before he could think twice about moving to Illinois.
Heny took in Luke's words and gave Serendipity a onceover. He then loudly inhaled through his nose and exclaimed, "Do you smell the Roses, Luke? They're calling my name!"
Serendipity and several other horses snorted their displeasure at Henry's screeching. They had all heard him before, but they never got used to his animated voice.
Luke cautioned, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Henry. Serendipity is a long way from entering the Kentucky Derby. We are a long way from entering the Derby." He walked over to another stall and continued, "Besides, Moonlight Delight might take offense at your blatant favoritism." The midnight black horse rubbed his nose into Luke's hand looking for the carrot that the blonde usually supplied. Luke knew the stallion might not have the pedigree of Serendipity, but Moonlight was a big horse with an even bigger desire to win.
Henry frowned. "Moonlight takes offense at everything I do."
Luke laughed at Henry's sulking. "Yeah, he doesn't seem to like you much." He suppressed his grin when Moonlight bared his teeth and flattened his ears when Henry moved in their direction.
"Demon horse," Henry muttered under his breath and took a step back. "So Luke, how is that marketing class?"
Luke smiled at Henry's concern. Henry was unexpectedly thoughtful at times. "I got an A on last week's final exam. Maddie was a big help."
"It's amazing she and I came from the same gene pool. Two such geniuses are rare," Henry replied loftily.
"Uh-huh, I'm sure she'd say the same thing," Luke said with irony.
Henry gave him a knowing look, but let the comment slide. "Are you sure you're not working too hard this semester?"
Preparing for a battle, Luke folded his arms over his chest. "The semester is almost over, Henry, and we've been over this a million times. I can handle the heavy course load."
Henry narrowed his eyes and amended, "And the stable work, and some of the training, and keeping a bunch of kids fed and dressed, and--"
"Faith helps with a lot of the household things," Luke interrupted. He was actually very appreciative of all the work his siblings did around the house and farm.
"She's headed to college on scholarship next year, though, and then what will you say?"
"That Natalie can do the dishes," Luke responded wryly. From the unimpressed look on Henry's face, Luke could tell that this argument wasn't over.
Henry put his hands on his hips. "What about your clothes, Luke? Do you have any that don't have stains from the stables or Al's? I know you sold most of your nice clothes after Grimaldi went belly up."
Luke really hated it when this argument turned into one about himself. "I have some; I wear them to class."
"I saw Ethan in new shoes the other day," Henry returned.
"They were gently used, Henry." And Luke hated the fact that everything his family bought was used. Thanks Mom. Thanks Damian. Thanks Reid Oliver. He shook his head to clear his thoughts--sarcasm wasn't going to get him out of debt any faster.
"My point is that you never buy or do anything for yourself. Why don't you cut some hours at the diner?" When Luke wasn't working with the horses or going to school, he worked at the diner. Henry had made this offer before and surely knew the response wouldn't change.
"I bought the pickup truck for me, and I don't like charity, Henry," the blond responded between gritted teeth.
Henry huffed. "You bought that truck for the farm, and I know your feelings about receiving help too well. I remember all the convincing it took for you to go along with my scheme two years ago."
Luke smiled, "Well, it's not every day that the local diner owner who is also a millionaire and con artist comes into your home and wants to go into the horse racing business with you."
"I prefer con artiste," Henry corrected with a terrible French accent.
Luke snorted and thought back to the afternoon that changed his life…
He was staring at the papers from the bank. A few signatures and the farm would be gone--sold to some corporation in California that wanted the land. He had been sitting at the kitchen table for an hour, now unable to force himself to put the ink on the paper. Looking at the clock, he knew business hours would be over soon and that he needed to get this done. What other choice did he have?
Five weeks ago, Damian had disappeared. Vanished, according to the authorities. Luke had suspicions that Julian had something to do with it, but he couldn't prove it. God knows Damian had plenty of enemies. Luke had learned that Damian had taken personal loans from more than a few unsavory creditors over the past few years. The fact that these people had come looking for Damian, however, indicated that they weren't responsible for Damian's disappearance. The police suggested that Damian had run away when they learned of Damian's personal debts, and Luke had to admit to the possibility.
So now, here he sat, two months following a party that was supposed to fix all his financial worries, at rock bottom. 'Thank you Reid Oliver and your big mouth,' Luke thought. The doctor's one mention of bankruptcy had thrown an entire ballroom of potential investors into an uproar. A moment of petulant vindictiveness destroyed all Luke's hopes for his family's future.
Grimaldi was finished. Luke had initiated official bankruptcy proceedings for the corporation a few weeks ago. The price the ships brought would hopefully pay off their creditors, the legal ones anyway. Regarding the obligation to Julian, Luke knew neither how much was owed nor what was promised. As far as he was concerned, Damian's debt to Julian was Damian's alone. Luke had paid enough.
With respect to Reid, Luke had tried not to think about what that man did or the many ways he lied. Luke still felt humiliated by how easily he had been deceived by the grasping doctor.
Sighing, Luke picked up the pen. He thought about how Faith had offered to drop out of school to help pay for the farm. She meant well, but it only enforced how much the farm meant to his siblings. There was no way he would let her forego a high school degree. He'd sell the farm and the clothes off his own back before he'd see that happen.
Unfortunately, the farm was so heavily mortgaged that selling it would not bring a profit. Luke had no idea how he could pay for three younger siblings to be sheltered, clothed and fed. He still had no college degree and there weren't exactly a plethora of open jobs in Oakdale, anyway. The Grimaldi debacle didn't help endear him to any honest businessmen either. 'Craig might hire me,' he thought sardonically.
Luke bit his lip in determination. 'Time to sign,' he thought. As he was searching for the correct signature box, the backdoor burst open and Maddie strode inside the kitchen dragging Henry in her wake.
"Luke! Don't sign that!" his best friend shouted.
"Okay," Luke said slowly as if he thought Maddie was losing her mind.
"Henry can save the farm!" she exclaimed.
"Maddie, it's sweet that you want to help and probably bullied your brother into this, but I can't take charity." Henry had inherited a lot of money from his biological father, James Stenbeck. Luke was sure Maddie had convinced Henry to give Luke some of it. He, however, wasn't going to take hand-outs.
Henry piped in, "It's not charity, Luke. You've got something I've always wanted." He pulled up a chair next to Luke.
"A pine table?" Luke asked in confusion, looking around the room. There really wasn't much he had that Henry could possibly want.
Henry got a faraway look on his face as he explained, "No. I've always had this dream, you see. I want to do more than just play the ponies. Just picture it: me, a white linen suit with a bold striped shirt, sipping a Mint Julep from my box at the track. The crowd roars as horses fly by. And me? I yell 'Go! Go' as my horse crosses the finish line first at the Kentucky Derby. The crowd cheers and neighbors slap me on the back as I head for the Winner's Circle."
Luke still wasn't sure what Henry wanted. "I know you like to bet on horses, but owning one is very time-consuming. And what does that have to do with me?"
Henry huffed as if Luke were being difficult. "I don't want to just own one. I want to own a string of them. And you have a horse farm."
"With no horses," Luke reminded him. "And my dad was the one who knew everything about horses, not me."
Maddie's brother rejoined, "But you learned a lot, I'd wager. Besides, let me spell out the terms before you start balking." He looked at Maddie and complained, "I thought you said he had a good head for business."
Maddie just shrugged. "Just tell him the terms, Henry."
Luke folded his arms and nodded. He was interested; hell, he was too desperate not to be.
Henry started counting off his points on his fingers. "First, I pay the mortgage payments for the next few years or so. I won't pay off the entire principle or anything since I know you wouldn't go for it. Second, you can work at the diner for your living expenses. It's not a lot of moolah for a Walsh--Snyder-Grimaldi type, but I'm thinking you can handle it. Third, you will help me decide which horses to buy, but I'll get final say. You will help train the horses, and what you can't do will be handled by whatever unfortunate soul we can find to help us in this venture. I'd prefer a beautiful woman to tame the beasts, but I don't think Barbara would go for it."
Henry had spoken so quickly that it took a moment for Luke's mind to take in everything. Slowly, Luke nodded. "That sounds almost too good to be true. I don't know if I can accept. It's too much."
"Don’t get me wrong, Luke. You'll be doing all the heavy lifting. I'm just the money." He paused and as an aside, said," I've always wanted to say that." Henry then regrouped himself and argued," What else can I do with all this dough I inherited from my not-so-proud papa? The diner is already Oakdale's finest."
Luke still shook his head. "I just don't know if it would be a good investment for you. The racing industry isn't so easy to jump into. I'm not sure I'm the guy best suited for the job."
Henry looked at Maddie and rolled his eyes as if Luke were being ridiculous. With a clap, he said to Luke, "Here's what I know about the horse racing industry, my friend. Everybody lies. Everybody. Except you. Only a fool or someone foolishly honest would have just admitted what you did. And that's why I want you."
"But Henry--" Luke began.
Henry interjected, "One more thing. You'll go finish your degree at Oakdale U. That's what grants are for. After that, you'll agree to work three more years with me on our horse enterprise, and then you can do whatever you want. The Coleman Corporate College Sponsorship can cover the difference between tuition and your financial aid."
College! That was a dream Luke hadn't entertained in years. "Henry, I can't." Could he?
"Oh, yes you will," Maddie interrupted. "This is more than fair. Henry pays for his horses to be boarded and trained here by paying your mortgage and you work your rear end off in return. Have you ever dealt with Henry? Honestly, you should demand more. You'll probably wake up in a cold sweat every other night from worrying about what he might do next."
"Thanks, sis," Henry replied drily.
"What about profits from the races?" Luke asked.
Henry rubbed his hands together, seeming to sense he might be closer to victory. "We split them once we take the cost of my investment in the horse out, but whatever you win will go towards paying off your mortgage. And my martini tab. You better have chilled vodka in the fridge at all times."
Luke took a moment to think about it. He stared at the papers still unsigned before him. He still didn't think Henry knew enough about the thoroughbred business to know what he was getting into. "That's more than generous, Henry. Actually, I'm astonished by all this. But, you know, most horse owners lose money. The big farms with the fancy barns and white picket fences, those are few and far between."
Henry cocked his head to the side and asked, "Did I ever tell you about how mia madre conceived me on the racetrack?"
"No," Luke replied, unsure of where Henry was going with this story.
Henry explained, "She bet on a two-legged nag called 'One Night Stand.'"
Luke snorted. "And your point?"
Henry looked Luke straight in the eyes. "I grew up at the races. I know what I'm getting into."
Luke smiled, feeling the first threads of hope he had experienced in weeks. "I'd hate to think what James would say if he heard you call him that."
"Good thing he's dead. Well, for the moment, anyway. Old Scratch is due to give the boot to darling James again any day now." Henry paused, giving Luke a few more moments to think.
Finally, Henry cajoled, "Come on Luke. Let's play the ponies. Let's saddle up and go hell for leather together. Let's run for the roses and sprint for the finish line. Help me out here, Luke, I'm running out of horse lingo… It's the sport of kings and I want my crown! I'm champing at the bit." He broke off, his coffer of suitable expressions apparently depleted.
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Luke added and Maddie laughed.
"That's the spirit!" Henry smiled.
"I'll think about it, Henry."
Luke shook his head and brought his thoughts back to the present. "You’re right, Henry. Con artiste sounds much more you. So, what's on tap for you this morning? Ready to shovel some manure?"
Henry pulled a disgusted face. "Gross. No manual labor. It's bad for my constitution."
Raising an eyebrow, Luke said, "You drink at least three martinis a day. Very large martinis. I think you could do with some manual labor."
"That's where you're wrong. Looking like this and maintaining my lifestyle is a carefully cultured balance of many considerations." Henry swept a hand down what he obviously considered his perfect physique.
"I'm sure," Luke said doubtfully.
"And don't go changing the topic! Have you heard anything recently from Old Mr. Potter recently?"
"How is that on topic?" Even after two years of working with him, Luke still couldn't always fathom Henry's mind.
"Dealing with Julian is just one more thing you deal with alone," Henry explained.
"Well, I wish you wouldn't call him Mr. Potter."
Henry argued, "The man has been hovering over your mortgage for two years and threatening to turn the farm into 'Rainesville.' He's a Frank Capra villain if there ever was one."
True, but Mr. Potter was really old, Luke thought before saying, "Well, I used to date Julian, sort of, so that's not the most flattering comparison. Besides, Julian has reasons to be angry--I did throw him over, and Damian does owe him money."
"Not that your dear father stuck around to help," Henry griped.
Luke looked down at his boots. "I don't want to talk about that again."
Henry was silent for a moment, seeming to realize that he'd hit a truly sore spot. Finally, he asked, "Has Julian bothered you again?"
"No, he actually hasn't recently. It's been two years, so maybe he's given up?" It seemed unlikely considering how tenacious Julian had been, but he and Henry had managed to keep him at bay up until now. Perhaps he realized he couldn't win this one.
"Or maybe he's out there stealing a deposit from Bailey's Building & Loan as we speak," Henry said darkly. Henry and Julian hated each other. Some of their standoffs would have been comical had they not been so serious. Henry seemed to take it as a personal affront that Julian tried to scheme his way around him. Luke had learned over time that Henry prided himself on his ability to hatch nefarious plots. "Childs play" was what Henry usually called any of Julian's machinations with a roll of his eyes.
"It's certainly not hard to steal money in Oakdale," Luke replied.
Henry frowned, visibly unsure if that was a barb directed at him, and changed the topic. "As it happens, I came to invite you to lunch tomorrow," he said magnanimously.
Used to Henry jumping around in conversations, Luke merely nodded. "I can do that. I'm supposed to watch Moonlight run in the late morning, but I can go after that."
"That's perfect. I'm meeting with the new doctor to discuss finances of the neuro-wing tomorrow." Henry had invested the bulk of the Stenbeck fortune in this new wing after Barbara had another scare with a brain tumor.
"Really? You're going to talk finances? You?" Luke laughed. When Henry had told him years ago that he was just "the money," he hadn't been joking. Henry made very few decisions in their operation.
Henry's eyes narrowed. "Don't look so surprised. As it happens, Bob insists that I see the fruits of my investment. And he seems to think this guy needs to see the importance to the local community."
Nodding again, Luke suggested, "Why don't I meet you at the hospital around noon and we can go to the Lakeview from there?"
"Perfect."
A/N I am by no means an expert on horseracing. I go to one or two races a year and watch the Triple Crown races on TV. That's it. However, I'm going to guess that that's more than most readers. So, for a quick and dirty summary: The Kentucky Derby, run by 3-year-old thoroughbreds, is the first race of the Triple Crown races (the Preakness and the Belmont are the subsequent two). It's known as the "Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports" or the "Fasted Two Minutes in Sports." The race is often called "The Run for the Roses" because the winning horse is draped in a blanket of red roses. Mint juleps are the official drinks and people wear all sorts of outlandish hats to it.
Could Henry and Luke learn to train a horse in two years and get it Derby-ready? Ummm, probably not. But since this is fanfic and it sounds more exciting to have a Derby horse rather than prepping for a random stakes race at Keeneland (another track), they're training for the Derby. Besides, crazy hats and mint juleps just screamed Henry to me and I couldn't pass it up.