High Stakes

by Bonnie Bryant

  Standing up, she gave Callie a little wave to indicate that she was leaving. Callie returned the wave weakly, while George still seemed completely oblivious to Stevie’s existence on the planet. Stevie felt a little guilty about abandoning Callie to him, but she figured her friend could handle it. If Callie didn’t want George hanging around, she would tell him so.

  Meanwhile, I’d better go bury myself in dusty old yearbooks, Stevie thought as she hurried toward the exit. And when I come up for air, maybe I’ll be ready to look Scott in the face without feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

  She winced, imagining exactly how hard Scott would laugh if he knew what she’d thought. She could only hope that neither Callie nor Lisa ever, ever, ever told him. Or Carole. Or Alex. Or Phil. Or—

  Yikes, Stevie thought sheepishly, stopping in the middle of the hallway as she realized just how many people she’d let in on her “secret” theory. I guess maybe this is why some people seem to think I have a big mouth!

  TEN

  “And forget about ever making plans more than two days ahead of time,” Mrs. Atwood said bitterly, stirring a packet of sugar-free sweetener into her tea as she stood at the kitchen counter. “It’s all part of their fear of commitment.”

  Lisa glanced up from examining her fingernails. She was sitting at the kitchen table, where she’d been trapped, ever since arriving home from school fifteen minutes earlier, by her mother’s complaining about men.

  “That may be true of some guys,” she said.

  Her mother snorted. “Forget some, dear. They’re all like that. You might as well get it through your head now that you can’t count on a man for anything. Not when the chips are down. If you understand that, it’ll save you a lot of heartache in the long run.”

  Under the guise of stretching, Lisa sneaked a glance at the clock on the wall over the refrigerator. Miraculously, her mother had actually stated her intention to go into work that evening, and Lisa was counting the seconds until she had the house to herself. At least I actually have someplace to go tomorrow night, she thought, automatically feigning a sympathetic smile as her mother rambled on about the evil ways of all men. Thank goodness. Friday and Saturday nights are always the roughest for Mom. And that makes them rougher for anyone who has to listen to her. She felt guilty for the thought, but shrugged it off. Let Aunt Marianne take her turn for a while. After the week I’ve had, I need to have fun for one night at least.

  Thinking about her plans for the following evening made Lisa feel a little jumpy. She still wasn’t sure what to make of some of the things Scott had said to her the previous afternoon. But she’d decided that the best way to proceed was to act as if their “date” was just a friendly evening outing. That was probably how Scott was looking at it, too.

  “… and of course, they all only want one thing from a woman,” Mrs. Atwood said grimly, interrupting Lisa’s train of thought. “You’re not too young to start realizing that, Lisa.”

  Lisa gulped, wishing she could be anyplace else in the world right then. Her mother was staring at her, seeming to expect some kind of response. “Um …” Lisa began helplessly.

  At that moment the phone rang shrilly. Lisa jumped, then smiled with relief as she got up and hurried over to answer it.

  “Hello, Atwood residence,” she said politely.

  “Hi, is this Lisa?” a familiar voice said. “It’s Scott.”

  “Oh! Hi. Could you hold on a sec?” Lisa covered the mouthpiece with her hand and glanced at her mother. “It’s for me. Uh, a friend from Pine Hollow.”

  Her mother nodded but didn’t seem inclined to leave the room. Fortunately the phone was a cordless model, so Lisa quickly stepped out into the hall. Then she removed her hand.

  “Hi, Scott?” she said. “Sorry about that.”

  “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” Scott said. “I was just calling to arrange a time for tomorrow night. The fund-raiser starts at seven, so I thought I’d come by and pick you up at about ten of if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure, that sounds fine.”

  “Great.” Scott’s voice was warm and friendly. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  Lisa gulped. “Uh, me too.” Was it her imagination, or was this date starting to feel a lot more like a romantic deal than a friendly one? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about the way that Scott had called her, and the formality of his invitation, that made her think of an old-fashioned word that her grandmother had liked to use. Wooing, she thought. That’s what it sort of feels like. Scott’s wooing me.

  The idea made her more than a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure she particularly wanted to be wooed, by Scott or anyone else. It was too soon. She and Alex had been broken up for only a few days.

  And we aren’t even officially, permanently broken up, not really, she thought, clutching the phone as Scott said something about picking up their tickets. We’re just taking a break until the end of the month, figuring out where things stand.

  But as the image of Alex and Nicole riding through the woods flashed through her mind—the two of them laughing and flirting and looking for all the world like a happy couple—she couldn’t quite believe that things were really that simple. She had no idea what was going to happen at the end of the month. But until things were settled between her and Alex, she didn’t want to get too involved with anyone. She just hoped Scott would understand that.

  “… anyway, I’d better run,” he was saying at the other end of the line. “It’s my turn to set the table tonight. But I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “See you then,” Lisa agreed.

  “Can’t wait,” Scott added. “Bye, Lisa.”

  “Bye.”

  Lisa hit the Off button on the phone and wandered back into the kitchen, wondering what she was getting herself into with this date. It hadn’t really seemed like a big deal at first, but now …

  “Oh, good, there you are.” Her mother was seated at the table, sipping her tea. “I was waiting for you. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “What is it, Mom?” Lisa steeled herself for another lecture on how to spot a rotten man. Why hadn’t she escaped upstairs to her room when she’d had the chance?

  Her mother pushed her teacup aside. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since—well, lately.” She frowned, and Lisa guessed that she was thinking about the latest man who’d done her wrong. “Anyway, I’ve realized it’s time for me to take control of my own life. It’s up to me to change it for the better.”

  Lisa blinked, startled. “You what?” Her mother had never been very good at admitting her mistakes or accepting responsibility for her own happiness. “Um, that’s great, Mom.”

  Mrs. Atwood nodded firmly. “I hope you’ll support me in this, Lisa,” she said. “It’s time for some major changes.”

  “Of course I support you, Mom,” Lisa said quickly, hoping that her mother’s solution to her problems involved more than a new wardrobe or a trip to some fancy, expensive spa. “Uh, what sorts of changes did you have in mind?”

  Her mother smiled. “I’m glad you’re willing to go along with me on this, dear,” she said. “Because it will affect you, too. You see, I realized that I really need to be around people who will support me.”

  For a moment Lisa thought her mother was referring to her. But her next words made her real meaning clear.

  “I want to be closer to your aunt Marianne,” Mrs. Atwood said calmly. “That’s why I think we should move up to New Jersey. Right after the holidays.”

  When Stevie arrived at Pine Hollow that afternoon, she was looking forward to a quick ride on Belle. She had an hour and a half of free time before she was due to meet Cassidy at the office of The Willow Creek Gazette, the town newspaper. Cassidy had mentioned that they would need to go through fifty years’ worth of back issues looking for articles about the school, so Stevie figured she’d better have some fun while she had the chance.

&n
bsp; She was crossing the entryway, headed for the tack room to pick up Belle’s tack, when Max burst out of his office. “Hi, Max,” Stevie sang out.

  Max stopped short and blinked at her, looking stressed. “What?” he demanded.

  Stevie laughed. “Hi,” she repeated. “It’s a greeting. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

  “I’m not in the mood, Stevie,” Max snapped with a frown. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got about a thousand things to do in the next two hours.”

  With a stab of guilt, Stevie realized that preparing for the Starlight Ride was probably right up there on Max’s thousand-item to-do list. And that was at least partly because Stevie hadn’t been living up to her promise to help out. In fact, she hadn’t helped at all, let alone started gathering information for her story about the upcoming event.

  “As a matter of fact, I was just going to volunteer my services,” she told Max. “I’m here for Starlight Ride duty. So put me to work.”

  Max looked surprised, and Stevie would have sworn she saw a spark of gratitude in his tired-looking blue eyes. With a quick nod he did just as she suggested, assigning her to start by bringing down the torches from the storage area above the office wing. “And when you’re done with that, you can start making calls to the landowners whose property we need to cross,” he added, already turning to continue on his way. “There’s a map and a phone list on the desk.”

  “You got it,” Stevie said, calculating how long it would take her to finish with the torches. With any luck, she could finish up both tasks before she had to leave to meet Cassidy.

  So much for my nice, relaxing, fun ride, she thought with a twinge of regret. But Belle will just have to understand. I promised Max I’d help out, and I promised Theresa she’d have her article one week from today. And Stevie Lake never goes back on her word.

  Craig Skippack stepped back and cast a critical eye at the freshly painted walls of the CARL reception area. “Looks good,” he announced. “I don’t think we need to put another coat on after all.”

  Carole wiped her brow and exchanged smiles with a couple of her fellow volunteers. They’d worked hard on the painting, and Carole was glad it had paid off. “Great,” she said. “So what should we do next?”

  Craig glanced around the room. In addition to the clean, pale yellow walls, the reception area now sported sparkling-clean windows and a freshly mopped floor. “I think we’re done in here,” he said. “And the runs and the rest of the indoors look great.” He shrugged and smiled, scratching his head through his thinning brown hair. “We’re actually running ahead of schedule for a change.”

  “That’s a first,” one of the other volunteers joked.

  Carole laughed along with the others. “What about the outside?” she asked. “Someone still has to rake down the paddock, and that hedge along the sidewalk out front could use some trimming, and—”

  “Hey, who’s in charge here, anyway?” Craig interrupted with a good-natured grin. “But you’re right, Carole. There are still a few more things to take care of outside. But nothing too major. I thought we’d all be working straight through tomorrow afternoon, but …” He shrugged expressively. “Anyway, there’s no sense in everyone hanging around. Why don’t you guys head out?”

  “Really?” Carole checked her watch. It was only four-fifteen, and her father wasn’t expecting her home until six-thirty. “You mean we can leave now?”

  Craig smiled and nodded. “You’re officially off the hook,” he declared. “I’ll see you all tomorrow night at the fund-raiser.”

  Carole and the others let out a ragged cheer. As the other volunteers started to chat about the next evening’s party, Carole headed for the phone. Her heart was pounding loudly. She dialed her home number first. When the answering machine picked up, she left her father a quick message, saying that her volunteering had ended early and she was going over to Pine Hollow for a couple of hours.

  Then she dialed again, glad that she’d managed to memorize this new number so quickly. “Hello, Cam?” she said when a familiar voice answered. “It’s me. We finished early. Want to meet me at the stable?”

  ELEVEN

  Stevie was a little late meeting Cassidy at the town newspaper office. Those phone calls for Max had taken longer than she’d expected, and Cassidy was already poring over an old-fashioned microfiche machine when Stevie rushed in, breathless and red-faced from her jog in from the parking lot across the street. “Hi, sorry I’m late.”

  Cassidy glanced up at her and blinked. “No harm done,” she said calmly. “Grab a seat. You can take that stack there.” She gestured at a pile of cartridges beside the second microfiche machine.

  Stevie picked up the top cartridge in the pile and wrinkled her nose at it. “Haven’t these people ever heard of computers?” she commented. “Geez! Talk about the Stone Ages.”

  Cassidy smiled without looking up from the screen in front of her. “It would be easier if they’d finished updating their records,” she agreed. “But we’ll just have to make do.”

  With a sigh, Stevie planted herself in front of the free microfiche machine. She’d never used one before, but it wasn’t hard to figure out how to insert the cartridge and bring up the dim, slightly fuzzy images on the screen. Soon she was scanning local news stories from forty years earlier. Parades. Robberies. Elections. A tornado in the next county.

  There were a couple of stories that mentioned Fenton Hall, though only briefly. As Stevie was dutifully jotting down the relevant details, Cassidy glanced over at her. “Don’t forget to check the Milestones page.”

  “Why?” Stevie asked in surprise. The Milestones page of the Gazette was where wedding and birth announcements appeared, as well as obituaries and other personal items.

  “Sometimes people mention their alma maters in those announcements,” Cassidy explained patiently. “There may be something interesting there.”

  Fat chance, Stevie thought sourly. But she flipped back to the Milestones page, which she’d skipped in the first few issues on the microfiche. Sure enough, one old geezer had placed a notice announcing his retirement from teaching music at Fenton Hall. Jackpot, Stevie thought with a touch of sarcasm. She turned to note the information on her pad, then yanked the microfiche out of the machine and reached for the next one on the pile.

  The issues on the new cartridge were slightly more recent, dating from thirteen years before. Stevie wondered idly if her parents had placed a birth announcement for her younger brother, Michael. Flipping to the correct month, she quickly found the Milestones page.

  Michael wasn’t mentioned, which didn’t surprise Stevie too much. By their fourth kid, she figured, maybe her parents were over the whole newspaper announcement thing. She was about to move on when a photo near the bottom of the page caught her eye. She paused and stared at it, wondering why the smiling, attractive teenage girl with the wide, open smile and the sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose looked so strangely familiar. Stevie frowned at the girl curiously, wondering who she was and why Stevie felt as if she knew her. She was about to give up, assuming that the girl was just another old neighbor or some acquaintance of her parents’, when something suddenly clicked.

  Of course! she thought. She looks like a slightly older, female version of A.J.!

  “That’s weird,” Stevie muttered under her breath. She stared at the photo. The resemblance was eerie. The girl had A.J.’s snub nose and his sharp chin. It was impossible to tell her hair color from the black-and-white photo, of course, but it looked as if it could be the same distinctive deep auburn shade as A.J.’s. Stevie shook her head in amazement. “Totally weird,” she breathed, barely noticing that Cassidy was shooting her a curious glance. “She looks enough like A.J. to be his …” Her voice trailed off as a possibility struck her.

  It couldn’t be. Stevie gulped, her mind reeling at what this might mean. She stared at the grainy photo on the microfiche, frozen with shock. It wasn’t until Cassidy looked over again and asked if any
thing was wrong that Stevie remembered where she was.

  “Oh!” Stevie forced a smile. “No. Uh, I just got caught up in, you know, the past.” When Cassidy shrugged and returned her attention to her own work, Stevie grabbed her notebook and flipped to a clean page.

  HELEN BARRETT, she wrote in large block letters. Beneath that she scribbled the date of the newspaper and a few other bits of information from the brief article beneath the photo, which announced that the smiling girl had just been accepted to a prestigious college in another state. Then she ripped out the page, folded it carefully, and tucked it into her pocket.

  “… and remember that hayride Dad arranged for my birthday?” Carole asked, whisking a few stray hairs off Starlight’s face with a soft-bristled brush.

  Cam chuckled. “I sure do,” he said, reaching past Starlight’s nose to tweak Carole on the chin. “You looked awfully cute with straw in your hair.”

  Carole giggled. She was starting to get used to hearing that sort of compliment from him. Well, sort of, anyway. “Oh yeah?” she retorted, dropping her brush and stooping to grab a handful of Starlight’s bedding, which had drifted out into the aisle where the gelding was cross-tied. “Well, let’s see how that look works on you!”

  She leaped forward, aiming for Cam’s close-cropped, curly black hair. Cam dodged just in time and grabbed her around the waist, swinging her around and then tickling her until she dropped the straw.

  “No fair!” she panted, breathless from laughing. “This is supposed to be a no-tickling zone.”

  Just then she heard the sound of someone clearing her throat. Glancing up, she saw Rachel Hart standing in the aisle watching them, shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other.

  “Oh!” Carole said, embarrassed to have one of the younger students catch her goofing off. She knew that a lot of the intermediate riders looked up to her, and she didn’t want to set a bad example. “Um, hi, Rachel,” she said, straightening her shirt collar, which had been knocked askew during the brief straw fight.