Veronica shook off her hand. “Give it up, Stevie,” she snapped. “There’s not going to be any retraction. In fact, I can’t wait to get started on next week’s column, and I’ll write about whoever I want to in that one, too. So deal with it.”
Stevie clenched her fists. “Fine,” she called as Veronica continued down the hall. “If that’s the way you want it, I’ll play. This is war!”
Without waiting for a response, she spun around and stomped off toward her first class. If Veronica thought she was going to let this go without a fight, she was sadly mistaken.
That evening Carole stood in front of the open door of her bedroom closet staring at the clothes hanging inside. She had just come upstairs to get ready for the CARL party, only to realize that she had no idea what to wear. Normally she wouldn’t have thought much about it one way or the other—she would have thrown on whatever was clean and that would be that. But tonight was different. She wanted to look her best for Cam.
“Don’t I have any, like, dresses in here?” she muttered, reaching out and flipping past a couple of rat-catcher shirts, her good navy riding jacket, and several carefully hung pairs of breeches. “I know I used to have some dresses. Or skirts. Or something.”
By digging past her riding clothes to the far reaches of the closet, she finally managed to strike gold. Aha! she thought in triumph, dragging out several slightly rumpled dresses. I knew they were in here somewhere.
She walked over to the bed and laid them out. Stepping back, she looked them over, trying to decide which one to wear. They all seemed pretty much the same to her. Which one would Cam like the best?
Carole chewed on her lower lip, staring from one dress to the other. “Maybe I should just close my eyes and point to one,” she murmured. Checking her watch, she gulped nervously. She had to hurry if she wanted to have any time left to fix her hair and put on some makeup.
It was time to call in some reinforcements. Carole hurried out into the hall and leaned over the railing. “Dad?” she called. “Can I call Lisa?”
Her father wandered into sight at the foot of the stairs, his reading glasses on his nose and the newspaper in his hand. “Well, I don’t know …,” he began.
“Please?” Carole cried. “I know I’m not supposed to make unnecessary phone calls, but this is an emergency.” He still looked doubtful, so she added, “A fashion emergency.”
Colonel Hanson’s face cleared. “Ah,” he said wisely. “In that case, go ahead. But keep it short, okay?”
“Don’t worry,” Carole said. “It’ll definitely be short. Cam’s supposed to pick me up in half an hour.”
“Oh yes, Cam.” Her father smiled, looking pleased. “Well, hurry up, then. I’ll try to stall him if he arrives early.”
Carole raced into her father’s bedroom and grabbed the cordless phone from his bedside table. Heading back into her own room as she dialed, she was standing in front of her bed by the time Lisa picked up. “Crisis,” Carole said briskly. “What do I wear?”
Like the true friend that she was, Lisa didn’t need any further explanation. “What are the options?”
Carole studied the four dresses draped over her bed. “There’s this sort of pinkish dress, but I think last time I wore it the skirt was kind of tight,” she said. “Um, and this blue one—”
“Do you still have the green dress you wore to the Lakes’ anniversary party last spring?” Lisa interrupted.
Carole nodded, then realized that Lisa couldn’t see her through the phone. “Yes,” she said, grabbing the dress in question and holding it up in front of her dresser mirror. “Do you think I should wear that one?”
“Definitely,” Lisa said firmly. “It’s got that full skirt that will be great for dancing, and the color really looks good against your skin.”
“Thanks.” Carole smiled at her reflection in the mirror, deciding that Lisa was right. The dress was perfect. She dropped it back on the bed and began shedding her clothes, the phone tucked into the crook of her shoulder. “So what are you going to wear?”
Lisa didn’t answer for a moment. “What?” she said at last.
Carole paused as she switched the phone to the other ear. “I said, what are you wearing tonight?” she repeated, unzipping the green dress and stepping into it.
“Oh.” Lisa sounded a little distracted. “Um, I guess my pink dress from the vintage shop.”
“Cool. Scott will love it.” The phone slipped out of Carole’s grip, landing on the floor with a thunk, as she shimmied into the dress. Wriggling and yanking the dress the rest of the way up, she stooped and retrieved the phone. “Lisa? Are you still there? Sorry about that.”
“Uh-huh. It’s okay.”
Carole frowned. Her friend definitely sounded weird. Suddenly Carole realized what the reason must be. “Lisa?” she said hesitantly. “You’re not, like, really nervous about this date with Scott tonight, are you?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Lisa said quickly. “It’s just—um, can you keep a secret?”
“You know I can,” Carole replied, opening the top drawer of her dresser and pawing through the jumble of socks and underwear inside, searching for a run-free pair of pantyhose. It would be chilly out that evening, and Carole didn’t want to go bare-legged if she could help it. The party was being held in a large tent set up on the CARL grounds. A fancy, heated tent, but a tent nonetheless. “What is it?” she asked Lisa, a little distracted as she finally located a promising-looking pair.
Lisa took a deep breath that was audible even through the phone. “It’s something Mom told me yesterday afternoon,” she said. “She says she wants us to move to New Jersey to be near my aunt’s family. And she wants us to do it right after New Year’s.”
Carole sank down onto the edge of the bed, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “No!” she exclaimed. “Move? You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish,” Lisa replied grimly. “I was sort of holding off on telling anyone because I figured it was just one of Mom’s two-second obsessions. But she’s still talking about it. She spent an hour on the phone with Aunt Marianne this afternoon.”
“Yikes,” Carole said succinctly. “But are you sure she’s really serious? I mean, she can’t just expect you to—” She cut herself off as the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. “Uh-oh. Could that be Cam already?”
“Go ahead,” Lisa said with a sigh. “We can talk about this later. We have plenty of time.” She let out a brief, slightly bitter laugh. “After all, I’m not moving for at least two and a half weeks, right?”
Carole opened her mouth to protest further—there had to be some mistake, Lisa’s mother couldn’t actually be thinking of moving now—when her father’s voice floated up the stairs. “Carole! Cam’s here.”
“Oops, I guess I should go,” Carole said apologetically. “Um, we’ll talk later.” She said good-bye, hit the Off button to hang up, and tossed the phone onto her pillow. Then she realized she was still holding the pair of pantyhose. Slipping them on quickly, she was relieved to find that they didn’t have any runs or snags. She hurried to the bedroom door and stuck her head out. “I’ll be right there,” she called in what she hoped was a cheerful, casual tone. Then she raced over to her dresser and grabbed a tube of mascara, meanwhile casting a critical look at her hair. She’d taken it out of its usual braid, and it hung in loose ringlets down her back. The natural look would have to do—she didn’t have time to fuss with it now.
After the world’s fastest makeup application and some quick work with a hairbrush, Carole emerged from her room, still thinking more about what Lisa had just told her than about the coming evening’s party.
I know Mrs. Atwood has been kind of nuts lately, but this is out of control, she thought as she started down the stairs, holding on to the railing to keep from slipping in her best dressy shoes. How can she do this to Lisa? It’s practically child abuse.
At that moment she glanced up and saw Cam standing near the front door with h
er father, both of them watching her descent. She gulped, almost missing the next step as she got a good look at Cam. He looked positively incredible in his elegant dark suit and crimson tie.
“Wow, Carole,” Cam said, stepping forward with a slightly shy smile. “You look … amazing.”
“That goes double for me, honey,” her father said, stepping forward to help her down the last couple of steps. “You look beautiful. Now, you kids have a good time, okay?” He winked at Cam. “Don’t keep her out all night.”
“I won’t, sir.” Cam offered a mock salute, which made Colonel Hanson chuckle. Then he turned back to Carole and took her by the hand. “I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “You really are beautiful, you know.”
“Thanks,” Carole replied softly. “You—You look really nice, too.” She didn’t know how to tell him what she really wanted to say: that she, too, felt incredibly lucky. Lucky to have a great guy like him. Being with him made everything seem a little brighter, and made all the other problems in her life—her grounding, the loss of her job at Pine Hollow, and even Lisa’s latest, horrible news—seem like they just might turn out okay after all.
She put on her coat and Cam led her out to his Jeep, which was parked at the curb just beyond the Hansons’ driveway. “Ladies first,” he said gallantly, opening the passenger’s door for her.
Carole climbed in and started to pull down her seat belt. Meanwhile, Cam had hurried around to the driver’s side.
“Wait,” he said as he climbed in. “Don’t put that on just yet. It will make it too hard for us to do this.” With that, he looped one hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him for a long, deep kiss.
Yes, I think all that other stuff might just turn out okay in the end, Carole thought dreamily as she kissed him back, hardly noticing the gearshift digging into her thigh as she leaned across it. When I feel like this, how could I possibly believe that anything really bad could ever happen?
FOURTEEN
“Here we are,” Scott said, cutting the ignition. “Sit tight, I’ll get the door.”
He hopped out of the driver’s seat and hurried around to the passenger’s side of his car. Lisa waited for him to open her door, feeling slightly disconcerted. Pulling open the door with a flourish, Scott offered his hand. Lisa took it as she climbed out of the car, trying not to notice how handsome he looked in his coat and tie.
This is bizarre, she thought as Scott leaned past her to close the door. I see Scott all the time. Practically every day. So why does it feel as if we just met for the first time tonight?
They were right on time, but it had still been difficult to find a parking spot on the streets surrounding the CARL facility. Scott had finally found an open spot three blocks away, so they had to walk to get to the party. Lisa pulled her dressy velvet coat closer around herself as they walked. It was already dark, and a cold breeze was raising gooseflesh on every bit of exposed skin.
Scott glanced at her. “Are you cold?” he asked with concern, reaching over and placing his hand protectively on the small of her back. “Do you want my jacket?”
“No, I’m okay.” Lisa glanced up at him with a smile. “Thanks.” She’d always noticed and appreciated Scott’s smooth, charming way of dealing with people. But somehow, it felt different now that all of that attention was focused on her. It was kind of nice, but kind of weird at the same time. Not unpleasant—just different.
The sound of music drifted toward them on the next puff of wind. Scott glanced ahead. “Sounds like the party’s started,” he commented. He looked at her with a rakish grin. “I hope you’re in the mood for dancing.”
Lisa couldn’t help being very aware that he hadn’t removed his hand from her back. “Absolutely,” she said, returning his smile. “I love dancing.”
Not unpleasant at all, she thought with a shiver that had nothing to do with the wind.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Stevie cried, grabbing Phil’s hand and dragging him along after her as she wandered through the huge, brightly lit party tent, trying to take in everything at once. “Look how many people came!”
Phil nodded. “It’s great,” he agreed. “CARL should raise a lot of money.” The fund-raiser had started only twenty minutes earlier, but the place was already packed with people. The warm breath and body heat of more than two hundred partyers had chased away whatever chill had been left by the busily pumping space heaters in the corners of the tent.
“I just hope they play some decent tunes,” A.J. put in, following the others with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his freshly pressed khakis. “I thought you guys promised me there’d be some boogeying going down tonight.”
Stevie rolled her eyes and snorted, but secretly she was glad that A.J. seemed to be in a good mood. She was in a pretty good mood herself. It was a relief to have a night off from her two big jobs. If anyone was more of a slave driver than Cassidy, with her obsessive attention to every last boring detail, it was Max. He’d kept her hopping for several hours that afternoon preparing for the Starlight Ride.
“Hey, isn’t that Roger over there?” Phil said, dropping Stevie’s hand and poking A.J. in the shoulder. “Let’s go say hi.”
At that moment Stevie was distracted by the sound of a bark from the back of the tent. “I’ll catch up with you,” she told the guys. They nodded and hurried off to talk to their friend, while Stevie made a beeline for the source of the bark.
When she reached the back of the tent, she found that several of CARL’s furry residents were holding court in a small, cordoned-off section near one of the heaters. “Hello,” said a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman who was wearing a large button reading Ask Me About Volunteering. “I’m Natalie.”
Stevie introduced herself politely, then squinted curiously at one of the dogs. He was a large mixed breed, mostly yellow with some brown patches. His muzzle was white with age and his movements were a little stiff, but his rapidly wagging tail looked very familiar.
“Don’t tell me,” Stevie said. “Champ?”
The old dog let out a sharp bark at the sound of his name and his tail whipped back and forth faster than ever. Panting eagerly, he submitted happily to Stevie’s hug and chest scratches.
Natalie smiled. “That’s right,” she said. “I guess this means you’ve visited CARL before.”
“Last Saturday was the first time in years,” Stevie admitted. “But Champ was here when I was here … gee, must’ve been four or five years ago.”
The woman nodded and smiled at Champ fondly. “He’s been our mascot for a long time.” She gestured at the other animals. One was a large gray tabby cat, snoozing away in a wire animal crate in front of the blower of the large heater. “That’s Bubba,” Natalie said, indicating the cat. “And this is Freckles.” She patted the second dog.
“He looks like a purebred Dalmatian,” Stevie said in surprise, offering her hand for Freckles to sniff and then giving him a pat.
“He is,” Natalie confirmed. “We get a lot of purebreds, especially of the larger, more popular breeds. A lot of people think you’ll only find mutts in shelters, but that’s just not true.”
“Wow.” Stevie stroked Freckles’s smooth black-and-white fur, wishing she could take him home. But she knew if she did, her parents would have a stroke.
As if reading her mind, Natalie asked, “Does your family have any pets?”
“I have a horse named Belle,” Stevie replied. “And my family has a dog. He’s a golden retriever. We got him from someone my dad works with—they have two goldens, and one plus one turned out to equal eleven. They had nine puppies.”
“Ah.” Instead of laughing, Natalie looked rather sad. “That’s where we get a lot of our animals, too. People don’t realize that letting their pet have a litter—accidental or not, purebred or not—adds immensely to the population of unwanted animals, like Freckles here. That’s one of the causes we’re raising money for tonight. We want to expand
our low-cost spay/neuter program to make it easier for people to be responsible. A lot of other shelters are offering similar programs.”
“Don’t worry,” Stevie said hastily. The woman’s lecture was interesting, but it made Stevie feel bad for all those unwanted puppies and kittens out there. “Bear is already neutered.”
“Good.” The woman smiled. Just then an older couple wandered up wanting to pet the animals, so Stevie looked around for Phil and A.J.
Phil was nowhere in sight, but A.J. was talking with friends nearby. He looks like he’s having fun, she thought, watching him as he laughed and made a funny face in response to something one of his friends had just said. I wonder if he decided what to do about Helen Barrett yet?
She wished she could march right over and ask him. But the last thing she wanted to do was keep bugging him about it. That wouldn’t accomplish anything.
It’s his life. And it’s got to be his decision whether to pursue this or not, she thought. Just then she noticed a flash of pink from the dance floor. Glancing over, she saw Lisa and Scott doing a professional-looking fox-trot right along with several much older couples. Sort of like it was Lisa and Alex’s decision to start dating other people, Stevie added to herself as she watched her friends dance.
She bit her lip as she saw Lisa turn her head to smile at Scott. Part of her wanted to march right up to them and demand what exactly they were doing. How could Lisa even think about ditching Stevie’s brother for another guy? How dare Scott move in on Alex’s girlfriend?
But she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything useful, either. She just had to keep quiet and let her friends figure things out for themselves. Still, it was weird to think about Lisa and Scott being together, on a date, as a couple—at least for one evening.
But maybe that’s all it’ll turn out to be, Stevie thought. Maybe Lisa and Alex will come to their senses soon and realize that they belong together. Until then, all I can do is wait and see. And appreciate what Phil and I have even more, of course.
High Stakes Page 17
