Martina walks back to the patio and motions for me to sit by her. “I’m sorry about that,” she says.
“Is everything… what’s going on?” I ask.
“Oh, some idiot has been sending e-mails for months to my mother, stalking her. Then, about a month ago, she received a box of dead roses. Whoever it is writes that he is watching her. That sort of thing.”
“It sounds scary.”
Martina’s shoulders tense. “It’s show business. My parents have the police working on it, and they have put extra security around here and around her.”
“But still…”
She nods. “It does scare me. But the thing is, I just don’t want to talk about this. I’m just glad, like my mom is, that you’re my friend.”
“Sure. No worries. I’m happy we’re friends, too.”
“Want to go for a swim?”
“Sounds perfect.”
We head inside to change into our suits. As I float in the warm pool with the stars sparkling overhead, I think about how everybody seems to have secrets they’d do anything to keep hidden—and that nothing and no one is exactly how they seem to be on the outside.
CHAPTER twenty-six
Parents’ Day!
Minus the exclamation point for me.
Parents’ Day.
I admit it—I’m feeling down that my mom can’t attend. I get why, of course. Mom would be at Fairmont today if is there was any way she could afford it. Of course, Lane is permanently MIA.
Martina’s mom and dad are coming down, but instead of being a part of the school program, they’ll take Martina to lunch. They invited me to join them, but I don’t want to intrude on their family time, especially after last night. That sicko stalker has definitely shaken them up.
All I plan to do today is study and make a visit to Harmony.
Just as I am sitting down at my desk, books open, I receive this text from Riley: PLEASE come meet my parents.
I’m studying, I write back.
PLEASE! J 911! Save me! Meet us at the fountain.
Okay. That sounds kind of ominous. Riley has vaguely mentioned that he has some issues with his dad. When he said it in passing, I said, “Everyone has issues with their dad.”
A desperate friend, father issues. The whole pleading thing. I text back: OKAY. You owe me!
I’m not always a great meet-the-parents kind of kid. Martina’s parents were so warm and welcoming that my nerves dissipated quickly. Typically though, I am on the shy side, and today I am bloated, feel gross because my boobs hurt, and I have a massive zit building on my chin. Oh thanks be to the Goddess Premenstrual. That bitch.
After I rescue Riley, I am so going to find myself a chocolate bar.
On my way down to the fountain, I run into Lydia Gallagher, arm-in-arm with some guy. Blond, blue-eyed, an all-American type—maybe a relative?
“Oh, hi there, Vivienne Taylor,” she says as I scurry past.
“Yes?” I stop and turn around.
“This is my brother, Daniel.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Good morning, Ms. Taylor,” he says, stretching out his hand to me, but in this very to-the-manor born way.
“Daniel, Vivienne received the scholarship this year. Her roommate is Tina.” She tilts her head and gives a little knowing smirk.
“Very nice to meet you. Please tell Tina that I say hello.”
“You mean Martina?” I ask.
“She always let me call her Tina,” he replies.
At this comment, he and Lydia both start giggling.
“Okay. I have to go. Nice to meet you.” Lie.
“Oh, it was my pleasure,” he says, and they stroll away, cackling over some inside joke clued-in people like them always seem to have. Why do I always have to feel so… off balance around that girl? I also feel a rush of affection for my little brother, Cole, who though consistently annoying is really a sweet kid.
Over by one of the big fountains I see Riley with an older couple. His grandparents? But wait, Riley mentioned that he’s the youngest of five kids. There’s another guy with them, around our age. One of his brothers?
His dad looks kind of formal—tall, thin, one of those skinny mustaches, a serious-looking suit and tie. His mom, shorter and a little more relaxed looking, is also wearing a suit—and so is Riley. The possible brother-guy has more of a prepster style—short hair, khakis, a pink polo shirt, and an argyle vest. Someone is shooting for the Ivy League.
I have on jeans. With one of my nicer blouses, but still.
Then I take a good look around. Most the other families are dressed pretty casually, and I start to understand why Riley needs to be saved.
Okay, I can do this.
I walk over to where they are gathered.
“Vivienne!” Riley jumps up and throws his arms around me.
“Whoa! I mean, hi, Ri.”
Riley’s mother reaches out her hand to me first and in a deeply southern accent says, “Oh, honey, how nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.” She pumps my hand and then throws her arms around me too and laughs.
Phew! Much nicer than I thought.
“Oh? I hope they were good things,” I reply, oh-so-awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.” I smile and try to get Riley to look at me, but he won’t.
“Well, aren’t you just as darling as Riley said. Vivienne, this is my husband, Mr. Harrison Reed.”
Riley’s dad turns to me and gives me a once-over. Now I wish I were wearing a suit, too. He has piercing blue eyes just like Riley’s, but way more serious and intense.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Taylor. Riley has mentioned you quite a bit, as my wife said. It’s wonderful that you received the scholarship.”
“Thank you.” Awkwarder and awkwarder. I am actually starting to sweat. And why has Riley been talking about me so much to his parents?
Ivy League cuts in now. “I’m Joel Parker, Vivienne. Riley and I have been friends for years. I’m considering transferring to Fairmont for my senior year next year.”
“Oh.” I glance at Riley. “Nice. So, you ride?”
“I do. I have a splendid Thoroughbred named Libby.”
“Wow. That sounds great.”
“I expect you will be joining us this evening for dinner,” Riley’s father says.
“Well, I—”
“Of course, she is!” says Riley. “Vivienne’s been dying to meet you, and I want you to get to know… my girl.” He wraps an arm around me, and oh boy, now I am definitely sweating bullets, and the Joel guy is giving me this odd smirk.
Don’t panic. Keep calm. Do I sound like I’m talking to Harmony?
“It’s all set, then,” says Mrs. Reed. “Oh, I am so happy we brought a camera. Our friends will want to get a picture of Riley’s first real girlfriend.”
As my numb brain scrambles to come up with something normal to say, Riley squeezes my hand hard, and then says, “Well, Mom, Dad, Joel, why don’t I take you down to the barn? Santos is doing splendidly.”
Splendidly? Holy crap! What is going on? Who says splendidly? I’m staring dumbfounded at Riley.
He gives me just a peck on the cheek. “See you at six thirty.”
“Can’t w-wait,” I sputter, clueless as ever.
And now Riley, his parents, and Ivy League are walking away. Finally. At last. But I still feeling like I am being watched—and, turns out, I am. There is Tristan, just a few yards over, eyeing me. He’s obviously not giving all his attention to the guy who must be his dad.
He turns away, and I can’t help thinking that Tristan looks as unhappy and confused as I feel right about now.
TRISTAN
CHAPTER twenty-seven
Listen to me, son. I know how important it is for you to be here. I know what’s at stake. But if anyone finds out about any of this—well, you know—you would have to leave here and go take care of your mother,” Chandler Goode II says under his breath.
Tristan’s mother, Jacquely
n, insisted that he not be named after his father. Tristan was a family name on her side. When his mom had some real strength behind her, she typically got her way. Now she is a shell of that woman. He doesn’t understand why this has happened to her, or even how. She was once so confident, so vibrant, and now—she wouldn’t even leave the house.
His father insists that the signs have been there all along, leading up to his mother’s self-imposed house arrest. Has Tristan been so absorbed in his own life over the last few years that he didn’t notice the signs?
Tristan can’t help but notice Vivienne hanging with Riley and his parents. His heart quickens with just a glance her way. Has she seen him? Does she care? Of course she doesn’t!
“Tristan, do you hear me?” his dad says, running a hand through blond hair that holds just a hint of silver. His father is aging, and surely the stress of what he is involved in has to be taking a physical toll on him. But didn’t his father bring this on himself? And now because Tristan is his son, and because of what he has seen and overheard, he has been dragged into this mess. When he first learned what his father and his “partners” were doing, he seriously thought about calling the authorities himself. So, why hasn’t he?
He has to consider the men his father does business with. He doesn’t know exactly who they are, but he does know that they are ruthless.
“Yeah, Dad, I hear you. I’m not saying anything.”
“Good.”
“Yep.”
“And you haven’t told anyone what you heard and what you saw?”
Tristan shakes his head, but avoids looking his father in the eyes. “No, Dad. No one knows.” Tristan Alexander Goode—lord of the idiots. Son of a crook. And a first-class liar. Nice. Real nice.
His father pats him on the shoulder. “Good. Okay then, so how are your studies?”
Studies? Now he wants to discuss my studies? Tristan wants so badly to punch the man in the face. He notices Riley walking away with his parents and some other guy, leaving Vivienne standing there stranded, a look of sheer confusion on her face.
What he wouldn’t give to go and grab her hand and say, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
“That’s a beautiful girl,” his dad says, tilting his head toward Vivienne.
“She’s a nice girl, too. She got the scholarship.”
“Ah. A real equestrian.”
“What does that mean?” Tristan asks.
“Oh, son, I’m complimenting her. Face it, most kids here come here on Daddy’s dime. She earned her slot.”
“That’s true.”
“So can you. Don’t take it to mean that you aren’t an excellent rider. I know what your sport means to you.”
And that is just one of the many key differences between Tristan and his father. He views what Tristan and all of the students do at Fairmont as a sport. For some of the kids that is probably true. For Tristan though, eventing is not simply a sport. The most important aspect of all of it is the relationship he’s developed with Sebastian. His mother is the one he credits with teaching him to have a true appreciation for the horse. As a somewhat ironic result, Tristan loves his horse more than he loves either of his parents. He loves his horse more than anything in the world. He feels alive when he’s around animals in a way that he doesn’t feel alive around anything or anyone else—not until he lifted Vivienne up that day she’d passed out in Harmony’s stall. In that moment when she stumbled into him, he knew he’d felt more alive than he ever had before.
But as far as the horses are concerned, and especially his horse, the connection is an undeniable one, and so completely opposite of the way his father feels about and deals with animals that once served the kings of the world. His father views them as a means to an end—as sport and as money.
“Aren’t you still dating Lydia Gallagher?” his dad asks.
“I am.”
“She might be trouble. A girl with looks like that. You just better be careful and watch out for that one. I mean it.”
Tristan watches Vivienne walking to her dorm, thinking, You have no idea how much trouble Lydia could be, Dad. And not just for me. For all of us.
CHAPTER twenty-eight
Let me just say that Riley’s behavior has me deeply confused, and that family of his? I won’t even go into my first impressions of Ivy League Joel Parker, who, even though Riley has known him for years, does not seem all that pleased to see his supposedly close childhood pal.
I’m still not over the word splendidly.
And how about Tristan? On the other side of that water fountain, with his dad looking all grim and serious? Then there was the run-in with Lydia and Daniel Gallagher and their strange remark regarding Martina. Hmm… Parents’ Day at Fairmont seems to have a distinct dark side.
Ah, the heck with it! I decide to get my horse out and go on a trail ride, see if I can’t clear my mind of all this weirdness.
When I get to her stall, Harmony sticks her head out for me to put her halter on, but there’s no “Hey, how are you? I’m happy to see you. Can I have a carrot?” But for now, I’ll take her ears forward and a curious stare over nothing at all.
I tack her up and ride out onto the cross-country course. The sky is a cloudless blue, and it’s seventy-five degrees out. I have no complaints about California weather.
But there is something in the air. Something harder for me to name, or measure.
Although all I really want to do is enjoy the ride and the weather, there is something that Harmony and I need to tackle. We are finally alone and in a space where no one will interrupt us.
I begin easy with her. “You are such a good girl. I am so lucky to have you as my horse.” I picture me hugging Harmony and then show her an image of a heart. I infuse these images in my mind with an emotion of overwhelming love and respect.
A minute later, the energy around us switches to electrical. She again shows me a broken heart.
“I know. I know, Harmony.” I reach my hand down and scratch her neck, twirling her short strands of mane in my gloved fingers. “I know you miss Dr. Miller.”
Serena!
Her body tenses, and she does one of her little jigs. I laugh. “Okay, then. I will call her Serena from now on.”
We continue at a nice pace. The rich brown earth, the warm sun, and the smell of orange blossoms floating through the air keeps us both at ease.
“Harmony, I want to help you. I know you want to tell me what happened to Serena. I don’t think that she just fell off that ladder. I know there is a man you’re afraid of, and I also know that the baseball cap and jacket scare you.” As I speak to her, I do my best to create images in my mind that will correlate. She communicates through images and feeling. “Serena” is her first word.
As we pass through a creek bed, a red-tailed hawk soars high above, seeking out its prey. I watched for a moment—grace, speed, precision, and relentless determination.
Harmony is no longer “talking.” I keep trying to reassure her. “It will help you if you tell me what happened to Serena. Trust me.”
I receive no response. My heart sinks a little.
As we get closer to home, Harmony shows me a pretty bay horse with a stripe down the face.
“Who is the horse, Harmony? Who is it? Who does it belong to?”
She shows me the back of someone—a girl, I think.
“Who is it, Harmony?”
The image comes. And it is clear.
The girl turns around; her face is stained with tears.
Lydia Gallagher.
RILEY
CHAPTER twenty-nine
Riley is hoping that Vivienne isn’t pissed off at him. His stomach is all knotted up as he puts on his suit jacket. His parents, with their rules about what one must wear and how one must act. And, he can’t believe they’ve brought Joel. Yeah, tonight is going to be some kind of uncomfortable. Just a few hours. That’s it. That is all he has to get through—the next few hours.
Thank God, his parents didn’t
on Vivvie for wearing jeans and a blouse this morning. He almost texted her and suggested a dress for dinner, but he was afraid she’d tell him to go screw himself. He was also afraid she wouldn’t show up. He couldn’t exactly blame her. He was pretty sure that he’d confused her earlier during the day. He’d had to tell his parents that Vivienne was his girlfriend.
His mom and dad and Joel are at their hotel and plan to be back in about fifteen minutes. They asked if Joel could just stay with Riley, but he lied and said there was no room.
He checks his watch and decides to head to Vivvie’s room. What will he tell her? He feels sick to his stomach—sick enough to puke.
He’s sweating all along his backside by the time he makes the short walk to Vivvie’s dorm room.
Upon reaching her door, he hesitates, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for about ten seconds, and finally knocks.
The door swings open seconds later, and he takes a slight step back because he’s shocked! Vivienne Taylor has gone all out. She curled her hair, and is wearing a black dress that his mother will definitely think is too tight. She has makeup on, and her heels make her nearly as tall as him. “Wow!”
She grabs his hand and pulls him into her room. “Wow? Wow? What the hell, Riley?”
“I mean, wow, you look great.”
“Thanks. I figured if you’ve assigned me the part of your girlfriend, then I’ll play it, because you looked scared to death of your dad.”
He looks down at his shoes. “I am.”
“But Ri, we agreed we just wanted to be friends, right? When you asked me to the dance that was the deal. I still only want that.”
“Me, too.”
“Then why go and tell your parents that I’m your girlfriend? What gives?”
“Oh shit, I think I’m gonna…” He runs to her bathroom and slams the door.
A few seconds later, as he’s leaning over the toilet, she knocks. “Riley? What is going on? Are you sick?”
He washes up in the sink, staring at his pale face in the mirror. His hands shake as he opens the door. He can’t even look at her without tears welling up in his eyes.
Silent Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 1) Page 12
