Hay Fever

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Oh, no!” Lisa exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you had other stuff in with it!”

  Stevie nodded glumly. “Yeah. My white blouse, my white socks, my white underwear, and my brothers’ white underwear.”

  “And red and white make pink,” Carole finished for her, beginning to giggle. Lisa caught her eye, and in no time all three of them were struggling to stop laughing.

  “It is pretty funny,” Stevie admitted when she’d regained her composure. “But unfortunately my brothers don’t see the humor in it. Pink is not exactly Alex, Chad, and Michael’s favorite color. They’re completely furious with me, and I think they’re starting a campaign to kick me out of the house.”

  Lisa and Carole nodded sympathetically. They knew from past experience how tough the Lake brothers could be. Once, in front of Stevie’s boyfriend, they had teased her about foxhunting so mercilessly that Stevie had had to wage an all-out war against them. Luckily she could usually hold her own. This time was no different.

  “I guess if they do anything too terrible, I can always blackmail them into submission,” Stevie said.

  At the exact moment she made her pronouncement, Stevie’s older brother Chad swung open the door to TD’s, followed by the girl he’d been dating, a brunette named Amy. Stevie scrunched down in the booth, but Chad spotted her immediately.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my darling sister, Stevie,” he said, eyeing her coolly. “Hiding in the booth, huh? Hoping your friends will protect you?”

  “Actually, Chad,” Stevie said sweetly, “I was hoping I’d run into you here. I wanted to make sure you knew they were having a special on all-pink sundaes. And I know how much you love pink,” she added.

  Chad gave her a withering glance. “We’ll continue this discussion at home.” He took the surprised Amy by the arm and propelled her through the door. “Come on,” The Saddle Club girls heard him say as he exited, “we’ll go somewhere less crowded.”

  “Well,” Carole pointed out, “that could have been a lot worse.”

  “Yeah,” Stevie muttered. “Try living with him—and the other two.”

  Lisa thought for a minute. “Have you tried bleaching the underwear? That should turn it white again,” she suggested.

  “That’s what my mom told me,” Stevie replied. “But then I remembered that I stole the bleach last month and took it to Pine Hollow to treat the new pony’s thrush.”

  “Can’t you buy some more?” Lisa asked logically.

  Stevie looked at her in surprise. “Are you suggesting that I spend my hard-earned money on my brothers?” she asked.

  Carole and Lisa looked at one another. When it came to her brothers, Stevie could be completely irrational.

  While they talked, the waitress had appeared from behind the counter with a trayful of sundaes. She set the first two down in front of Carole and Lisa. Then she gingerly picked up the blueberry-pineapple dish, examined it briefly, wrinkled up her nose, and pushed it toward Stevie with distaste. “Waste of good ice cream, if you ask me,” she muttered.

  “Speaking of ice cream,” Stevie piped up, “I’d better have something else to go with this. How ’bout a nice, normal brownie sundae?”

  “On top of what you’ve got?” the waitress demanded.

  “Naturally. This is the appetizer. That’s the main course,” Stevie replied. Shaking her head, the waitress went to place the order.

  “I figured I’d better eat up,” Stevie explained. “I just remembered it’s Chad’s night to cook, and I don’t want to face it on an empty stomach.”

  “Good idea,” Carole agreed.

  After a few minutes of silent spooning, the girls set about the business at hand: figuring out Max’s strange behavior at the lesson.

  “Maybe he’s got Alzheimer’s,” Stevie suggested. “I think my great-uncle had it, and he could never remember anything.”

  “Alzheimer’s? Please, Stevie, Max is way too young to get that,” Lisa admonished.

  “Well, I didn’t know,” Stevie said defensively. “And, anyway, Max isn’t exactly a spring chicken. I think I heard Mrs. Reg say that he’s almost thirty.”

  “Thirty?” Carole repeated. “Wow, that’s practically ancient.”

  “Yeah, and he’s still single,” Lisa pointed out.

  “I wonder if he’s ever had a girlfriend,” Stevie mused. She grinned as she remembered the time not too long ago when the three of them had jumped to conclusions about Max’s love life. They’d overheard him talking on the phone, and thought he had a girlfriend—when in fact he’d been talking about a new mare for Pine Hollow!

  Before she could remind her friends of the last time they’d gotten involved in Max’s love life, Lisa clapped her hands together. “Stevie, that’s probably it!” she said.

  “What’s it?”

  “Maybe Deborah Hale is Max’s new girlfriend! That would explain his acting weird and forgetting stuff. He might have been nervous around her,” Lisa said.

  Stevie and Carole thought over Lisa’s explanation. “I just can’t believe that Max would be interested in someone like her,” Carole finally said. “She doesn’t ride, for one.”

  “So? I like Bob Harris, and he doesn’t ride. He plays soccer,” Lisa replied. Bob Harris was a school friend of Stevie’s whom Lisa had really hit it off with at Carole’s birthday party.

  “That’s true, but I don’t think she’s his type in other ways, too. She seemed nice but too sensitive,” Stevie said. “I’d guess Max would like a woman with a strong personality like his. And I’m beginning to think that he was simply nervous about having a reporter around while he tried to teach a lesson. She’s probably the type who’s always taking mental notes on everything. That can get to you after a while—not knowing if what you say will end up in tomorrow’s front page.” Stevie gave Lisa a significant glance. Once Lisa had tried writing a column for the local newspaper. The only problem had been that it had unknowingly turned her into a snoop and a tattle-tale on her friends.

  “Okay, okay,” Lisa conceded. “I see what you mean.”

  After a minute Carole said thoughtfully, “Still, it does seem kind of sad that Max is thirty and he doesn’t even have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He’s probably lonely.”

  “Yeah, and if he doesn’t get married soon, there might never be an heir to take over Pine Hollow. And then what would our kids do for a riding instructor?” Stevie asked.

  It was a cherished dream among The Saddle Club that their children—who would naturally be horse-crazy girls, as they were—would learn to ride at Pine Hollow, just as they had. If Max weren’t around to teach them, then it was only fitting that Max the Fourth do the job. The current Max Regnery—their Max Regnery—was the third Max to own and operate Pine Hollow. Naturally, the girls wanted to ensure that there would be a Max the Fourth to succeed him at the stable.

  “One thing’s for sure, you can’t have a Max the Fourth without a Mrs. Max,” Lisa said.

  “Don’t forget,” Stevie pointed out, “there’s always the chance that he would only have daughters.”

  “That’s okay,” Lisa replied, smiling. “Maxine the Fourth would be just fine. Maybe even better.”

  They all laughed.

  There was a devious twinkle in Stevie’s eye. “So is everyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “You mean about finding Max a wife?” Carole said.

  “And that it’s a perfect job for The Saddle Club?” Lisa chimed in.

  “Exactly,” Stevie replied. “But I’m a step ahead of you guys. I was thinking about a certain annual event at Pine Hollow that would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Max to hundreds of eligible women.”

  Lisa and Carole thought for a minute. Hundreds of eligible women? Stevie obviously knew something they didn’t. The only summer event coming up was the Fourth of July picnic next weekend. Every year all the students, parents, employees, and friends of Pine Hollow gathered at the stables for a day of horses, socializing, and barbecuing.
But it wasn’t as if attractive women in their twenties and thirties flocked to the party!

  “I give up,” Lisa said. “All I can think of is the picnic.”

  “Same,” Carole said.

  “That’s it!” Stevie cried. “The Fourth of July picnic.”

  “But it’s not the type of thing that draws single women,” Carole commented drily. “Usually it’s just the riders and some of the parents.”

  “Don’t you see?” Stevie answered. “That’s where we come in. It’ll be up to The Saddle Club to bring in every single prospective wife we can think of. Then Max can choose one—with our advice, of course.”

  Carole and Lisa nodded. It hadn’t occurred to them that Max might pick out some completely unsuitable bride, but it was a possibility. And they all knew from being around horses how important good bloodlines, temperament, and conformation were in breeding the perfect offspring. If Max found some undesirable woman and married her, The Saddle Club would be stuck with her and her progeny for as long as they—not to mention their children—rode at Pine Hollow.

  “Good thing we’re getting involved now,” Carole said.

  “Without us Max might find some awful woman to marry—or forget about marriage altogether,” Lisa said.

  “I’m sure he’ll thank us at the end,” Stevie predicted. She whipped a stub of a pencil out of her jeans pocket and began to scrawl on a napkin. After a few minutes she pushed the napkin toward Carole and Lisa. “Anything I should add?” she asked.

  They looked at the list. It read: Mrs. Max must be: (1) horsey (or at least very interested in learning about horses), (2) friendly, especially toward Max’s students, (3) interested in helping Max out around the barn, (4) in good health, (5) smart, (6) beautiful.

  “Sounds perfect to me,” Carole said.

  “That definitely sums up the perfect wife for him,” Lisa agreed. “I just hope we’ll meet some women who fit the description.”

  “Don’t worry—there’ll be tons of them,” Stevie assured her confidently. “Oh, good, here’s dinner.” She licked her lips with anticipation as the waitress set a huge brownie sundae down in front of her.

  “If you were my kid and ate that for dinner, I’d take away your allowance,” the waitress announced.

  “Yeah, well, you see, my mom—” Stevie began. Then she stopped suddenly and stared at the waitress. She was tall, lanky, had good balance (from carrying trays of sundaes), and a healthy glow to her skin. Friendly, they could work on. Putting a super-friendly smile on her face, she looked up at the waitress sweetly. “Would you mind turning around?” she asked.

  The waitress looked surprised at the sudden change in subject. “What is this? Some kinda mind game?” she asked suspiciously.

  Stevie shook her head. “Oh, no. What I meant to ask you was, are you married?”

  “What’s it to you?” the waitress shot back.

  “Do you like to ride horses?” she asked.

  “Are you giving me the third degree?” the waitress asked. “Sure, I like to ride. I’ve only been twice in my life, though.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Stevie said. She made an effort to make her voice sound casual. “So how would you like to come to a nice, old-fashioned Fourth of July picnic at the stables where we ride?”

  The waitress laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to work. That’s one of our biggest days here.”

  Stevie’s face fell. “Oh, well.” She sighed. “Back to the drawing board.”

  The waitress gave her a funny look, left the check on the table, and turned to go back to the counter. Watching her walk away, Stevie sighed again. “Too bad. I have a feeling Max would appreciate her sense of humor.”

  NORMALLY LISA BARELY noticed when her mother invited friends or co-workers over for dinner. Mrs. Atwood worked part-time at the local mall as a hand model. That meant when the salesmen needed a picture of a salad on a plate, Mrs. Atwood’s hands would be the ones pouring the dressing onto the lettuce—or stirring the stew or putting a casserole into the oven. A couple of times she had brought a lonely food photographer or kitchen-wares salesman home for a good, hot meal.

  But tonight, when Lisa sat down at the table for dinner opposite the guest, her jaw dropped.

  “Lisa, dear, this is Tiffani, one of the new models at Paris Chic.”

  In a daze Lisa held her hand out to shake with Tiffani. Paris Chic was the most expensive clothing store in Willow Creek, known for its stylish dresses and suits, which were all imported from France.

  “It’s Tiffani with an i,” the model said. Lisa nodded and stared. The woman was tall, slim, and gorgeous. She had the sleekest, straightest blond hair Lisa could imagine, and huge green eyes.

  “How old are you?” Lisa blurted out.

  “Lisa!” Mrs. Atwood reprimanded her. “That’s not a very polite question.”

  Lisa glanced at Tiffani. “Sorry,” she said.

  Tiffani giggled. When she smiled, her lips parted to reveal a perfect row of pearly whites. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’m twenty-three.”

  “Perfect!” Lisa cried.

  Mrs. Atwood gave her a shocked glance.

  “I mean, uh, that must be a perfect age for enjoying a lot of things,” Lisa explained lamely.

  Tiffani giggled again. “It sure is, Lisa,” she said.

  The phone rang and Mrs. Atwood went to answer it. “It’s probably your father,” she said to Lisa. “He’s working late tonight.”

  While her mother was out of the room, Lisa decided to risk a couple more questions. “Do you have to exercise a lot to keep yourself so thin?” she asked.

  “All the time,” Tiffani said. “Some people think modeling is really easy, but it’s actually hard work.”

  Lisa nodded. She knew all about that. Once she and Stevie had been selected to “model” for a tack-shop catalog. They had been incredibly excited. But it turned out all they got to do was stand around for hours at a time, moving saddles, bridles, and horses for the photographer. It had ended up being a tiring and boring day. From the looks of her, though, Tiffani probably got to do more glamorous jobs than they had.

  “Do you ever go riding?” Lisa asked.

  “You mean for exercise? Not really. I usually run or do aerobics,” Tiffani said. “But once I did a commercial for Windswept perfume, and I had to ride a horse across a field.” She giggled. “It was fun.”

  Lisa wasted no time. Her mother would be back in a second. “You could go again with me sometime. I ride at Pine Hollow Stables. Come to think of it, there’s the Fourth of July picnic coming up. That would be the perfect time for you to come. And did I mention Pine Hollow’s wonderful owner? His name’s Max, and he’s really smart and good-looking and—” Lisa stopped abruptly as she heard her mother hang up the phone.

  Tiffani giggled. “Sounds fun. Count me in,” she said.

  Lisa smiled and said nothing.

  “I hope you’re both hungry,” Mrs. Atwood said, reentering the room with a huge dish of lasagna.

  “Sure am, Mom,” Lisa said with a grin. She could hardly believe her luck. She’d hardly even started to look, and already she had a beautiful candidate for Max. Beautiful and friendly and—well, you couldn’t have everything.

  “HAS IT STARTED yet?” Carole’s father called from the kitchen.

  “No, we’ve still got at least five minutes of commercials,” Carole called back. She and her father were planning to eat dinner in front of the TV so they could watch the movie The Longest Day together. They had set up card tables to hold the plates of food, and Colonel Hanson was getting out ketchup, mustard, and pickles for the bacon cheeseburgers he had made.

  Carole’s mother had died a few years ago, and she was very close to her father. Watching old movies—especially war movies—was a tradition in the Hanson household.

  “Bon appétit,” Colonel Hanson said as he brought in the condiments.

  “Yum,” Carole said. “These look like they could become your new specialty,
Dad.”

  “Better than microwave pizza?” Colonel Hanson queried.

  Carole took a big bite out of her burger. “Absolutely,” she said.

  Eating dinner with her father reminded her of The Saddle Club matter at hand. “Dad, would you say an ability to cook is a must in a possible wife?” she inquired.

  Colonel Hanson looked suspicious. “Why?” he asked. Ever since Carole’s mother had died, well-meaning but meddlesome people had been trying to set him up with women.

  Carole reassured her father. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just that Lisa and Stevie and I realized today that Max is very lonely. Not only that, he’s getting kind of old, and unless he gets married and has children soon, he might never find a wife. Then our children wouldn’t be able to take lessons with his heir—Max the Fourth—and they’d have to learn to ride from a total stranger, so we decided to find him a wife, and we made up a list of attributes she had to have, and I was just thinking maybe we should have put ‘cooking skill’ on the list.”

  Colonel Hanson laughed. “Boy, you’re pretty worked up about this, aren’t you?”

  “Dad, it’s not funny. We’re serious about this. The future of Pine Hollow is at stake.”

  Colonel Hanson paused, chewing thoughtfully. Carole waited eagerly for his response. She was positive that he would be on their side.

  Finally he spoke. “It’s not that I think your trying to help Max is funny, Carole. But you have to remember that there are some things a person has to do for himself. For example, people are always pushing unmarried women at me. And the only one I’m interested in is someone I met on my own, right?”

  Carole nodded. Her father had been dating Mrs. Dana for several months. And he had decided all on his own to ask Mrs. Dana out on a date. But wait a minute, Carole thought. First, I became friends with Mrs. Dana’s daughter. That’s how Dad and Mrs. Dana met.

  Without Carole’s help, both her father and Mrs. Dana would still be putting up with blind dates. Her father might think he’d done it on his own, but Carole knew otherwise. She’d been directly involved.