“Got it,” Willa said, stepping into her room. “Now we can—”
Willa stopped midsentence when she saw Kate holding a shiny pink phone.
“You have a phone, too?” Willa asked, surprised. “Since when?”
“My parents gave it to me for emergencies,” Kate said, slipping the phone into her pocket. “Can we pick out a movie now?”
Kate didn’t seem to be having an emergency, so Willa smiled and said, “One blockbuster coming up.”
Kate picked out a movie about a family who adopts a talking dog. Except for the talking part, the dog reminded Willa of Amos.
When they were done watching the movie, Kate unpacked a bottle of purple nail polish and painted Willa’s toenails. At first Willa wasn’t sure if she liked it, but when the girls compared toenails, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Your first pedicure,” Kate declared when she was finished, and Willa wiggled her toes. “What do you think?”
“I like it. I really do,” Willa said. “Let’s go downstairs and show Mom.”
Giggling, Willa and Kate raced down the stairs—almost bumping into the woman with white frizzy hair on her way up.
“Sorry,” Willa called back.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Willa saw her mom and dad standing in the parlor. Also there were Mr. and Mrs. Worthington.
“Hi, Mom, Dad,” Kate said, surprised.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Worthington’s eyes were wide with worry. Before Willa could wonder what was wrong, Mrs. Worthington cried, “There she is.”
“We were on the dolphin-watching tour when we saw your text, Kate,” Mr. Worthington explained. “Our guide asked us not to use our phones until the boat ride was over.”
What text? Willa wondered, until she remembered seeing Kate with her phone.
“You scared us to death when you described your allergies,” Mrs. Worthington told Kate. “Honey, are you all right?”
So that’s what the emergency was, Willa thought.
But why hadn’t Kate told her that she texted her parents about her allergy? Didn’t she and Kate once tell each other everything?
Chapter 7
“I’M OKAY NOW, MOM. DID you see a lot of dolphins from that boat?” Kate said, trying to change the subject.
“About two or three,” Mr. Worthington said, still studying Kate. “You said you were attacked by mosquitoes, too.”
That makes two emergencies, Willa thought sadly.
“I was bitten up, Dad,” Kate agreed. “But Mrs. Dunlap gave me this awesome cream.”
“I should have made sure she took her allergy medication too,” Mom admitted. “I’m sorry, Jill.”
“No apology necessary,” Mr. Worthington said. “That’s our job.”
“From now on we’ll send Kate a series of reminder texts,” Mrs. Worthington said, “whether we’re on a boat or not.”
Willa gazed over at Kate, who didn’t look all that thrilled with her mother’s suggestion.
“I have a plan too,” Mr. Dunlap said with a grin. “How about if we all have dinner tonight, here at Misty Inn?”
“Dinner?” Mrs. Worthington asked.
“Here?” Mr. Worthington blurted.
“You bet,” Dad remarked. “I’ve got a steaming seafood casserole in the oven for a crowd.”
“And there’s Caesar salad on the menu,” Mom added.
Willa felt her mouth water. Dad’s seafood casserole was the best. So were his salads.
“Actually, we were planning on having dinner at that new seafood place they opened on the mainland,” Mr. Worthington explained. “It’s called Clams.”
“James Willard, the head chef, is from Chicago,” Mrs. Worthington added. “His wedge salad with blue cheese is supposed to be succulent.”
“So . . . you want to go there instead?” Dad asked.
“How can we not?” Mr. Worthington asked. “Who would expect to find a celebrity chef around here?”
Ouch. Willa frowned. Her dad may not have been a celebrity chef—but he was incredibly talented. Everyone in Chincoteague thought so.
“Then Clams it is,” Dad said, being a good sport. “I kind of wanted to try it myself. Check out the competition.”
“Me too,” Mom said, although Willa didn’t actually believe her. We can ask Mrs. Cornett to hold the fort while we’re gone.
“Super,” Ted declared. “Our treat.”
“Oh, no, no,” Mom insisted. “We’ll go dutch.”
“Dutch? I thought we were having seafood,” Mr. Worthington joked. “But, seriously, we insist.”
Willa looked at her parents for their answer. They each smiled and chorused, “Thanks.”
“Fab,” Kate cheered. “We’re going to a fancy restaurant just like in Chicago.”
Willa was sure her dad’s cooking was just as good—even better than that celebrity chef’s. And who was James Willard, anyway? He didn’t even have his own cooking show.
Kate’s parents returned to their hotel to freshen up. They would drive to Clams and meet Kate and the Dunlaps there later.
The girls ran upstairs to change. Willa put on a sundress and yellow flats. Kate wore skinny white jeans and a nautical-style top. On her feet this time were silver sandals decorated with sparkly gems.
“Why didn’t you wear sandals, Willa?” Kate asked as they all climbed into the car. “Nobody will see your pedicure.”
“That’s okay,” Willa said as she reached for her seat belt. “I’ll wear flip-flops tomorrow.”
On the ride to the mainland, Willa sat between Kate and Ben in the backseat. At first, everyone was quiet. But then Willa glanced over at Kate, who was spreading on more lip gloss.
“It smells like strawberry,” Willa pointed out.
“Strawberry kiwi,” Kate explained. “Want to try some?”
“No, thanks,” Willa replied.
“Oh, right, you don’t like lip gloss,” Kate said. “What do you use when you get chapped lips?”
Ben leaned over to say, “Grandma Edna gave us this cream she uses on cow udders when they get dry.”
“Ben!” Willa said. But it was too late.
“Are you serious?” Kate cried. “You use cow cream on your lips?”
Willa shrugged. “It works. It makes my lips really smooth.”
“You mean s-mooooooo-th,” Ben teased, and both girls couldn’t help but laugh.
“So what do you think of this place, kids?” Mr. Worthington asked when they were all seated at a big square table.
Willa looked around the dining room bathed in lavender light. Most seafood places they visited had red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and fishnets hanging from the ceiling. Clams had black lacquered tables and white tufted chairs—shaped like clams, of course. To Willa there was nothing about Clams that said fish except the smell from the kitchen.
“It’s . . . very modern,” Willa said politely.
“Where are the fish kites?” Ben asked. “Our favorite seafood restaurant in Chincoteague has fish kites on the ceiling—”
“It’s lovely, Ted,” Mom cut in.
Willa couldn’t find popcorn shrimp on the menu, so she and Ben ordered fish tacos. Kate chose linguini with scallops.
After a waitress named Delilah took their orders, the adults spoke among themselves, mostly about Chicago. Willa glanced at Ben sculpting his linen napkin into a sailboat.
“How’s your top secret project going?” Willa asked him.
“And what is it, anyway?” Kate wanted to know.
“It’s coming along great,” Ben answered. “And if I told you what it is, it wouldn’t be top secret.”
When their orders arrived, everyone seemed happy with their dishes. Everyone except Kate’s father.
“My pistachio-crusted cod is a bit overcooked.” Mr. Worthington sighed. “So much for Chef Willard.”
Mrs. Worthington dabbed the corner of her lips with her napkin. “Why don’t you tell us what you did today, girls,” she asked, �
�besides that disastrous trip to the ice-cream parlor?”
Kate’s mouth was full, so Willa answered for her: “Kate rode a horse at Miller Farm. Her name is Fancy.”
“Kate also looked sharp in her riding boots and blazer when she took lessons,” Mrs. Worthington recalled. “Too bad there was always that horsey smell.”
Willa glanced up from the roll she was buttering. Kate’s mom said “horsey smell” like it was a bad thing.
“Do you think you’ll ever want to take riding lessons again, Kate?” Mrs. Dunlap asked.
“I certainly hope not,” Mrs. Worthington piped in. “The drive from our building to the barn was ridiculously long.”
“And Kate doesn’t need riding lessons,” Mr. Worthington remarked. “She’s busy taking gymnastics.”
Willa’s stomach was in knots. Was it because of the tacos? Or because it seemed like the Dunlaps and Worthingtons were as different as night and day?
“You and Willa used to carpool together to gymnastics.” Dad remembered. “The two of you laughed so hard, the car would shake.”
“I take gymnastics with Alexa now,” Kate said, her eyes shining. “We’re going to be on the same gymnastics squad this fall and take dance and theater together.”
Willa’s stomach twisted at the mention of Alexa. Was she jealous?
I made new friends in Chincoteague, Willa told herself. Why shouldn’t Kate make new friends too?
“Do you miss taking gymnastics, Willa?” Mrs. Worthington asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You probably would have gone to the next level like Kate.”
“I did like gymnastics,” Willa replied. “But taking care of my Starbuck keeps me busy.”
“I almost feel like Fancy is my pony now,” Kate declared. “We’re definitely going riding tomorrow, right, Willa?”
“Right,” Willa agreed. She was glad Kate wanted to go riding again. But something about the way she insisted made Willa a little uncomfortable. She just wished she could relax. When did being friends become such hard work?
After dessert everyone was stuffed. Mom and Dad chuckled politely when Mr. Worthington joked he was stuffed to the “gills.”
On their drive home Ben fell fast asleep. Willa and Kate were sleepy too as they gazed out the back window.
“I never see so many stars in Chicago,” Kate whispered.
“Mmm-hmm,” Willa agreed.
“And we are going riding tomorrow,” Kate whispered, careful not to wake Ben up. “This time on the beach.”
“Okay,” Willa agreed. “I can ask Grandma Edna to ride with us—”
“No. Just you and me,” Kate insisted. “And I want to ride Fancy.”
Fancy? Willa knew Grandma Edna wouldn’t let them take one of her horses out without her supervision. Besides, Fancy was too high spirited to ride outside the ring, especially for a beginner like Kate. She needed a calm, gentle pony.
There’s only one horse I trust with Kate, Willa thought to herself, and that’s Starbuck.
But she wasn’t convinced that was such a great idea either.
Chapter 8
“WHY CAN’T I RIDE FANCY?” Kate argued the next morning. “You saw how great she was with me in the ring yesterday.”
“That’s just it,” Willa tried to explain for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Fancy is calm in the ring, but outside she can be skittish.”
Kate heaved a big sigh before saying, “Okay. I’ll ride Starbuck.”
Willa heaved a sigh too—of relief. “Thanks.”
But convincing Kate to ride Starbuck was just the first part of the job. Willa had written a new list early that morning while Kate was still asleep:
BEFORE THE BEACH
1. Call Mr. Starling for permission to ride Buttercup.
2. Get permission from Mom and Dad.
3. Tack the ponies.
“Mr. Starling is Sarah and Chipper’s father,” Willa said as they walked downstairs. “He’s also a saltwater cowboy.”
When Willa saw Kate’s puzzled expression, she explained, “His job is to round up wild ponies on Assateague Island.”
“Wild ponies like Starbuck?” Kate asked.
Willa nodded. “Once Buttercup is ready, he’ll use her for the pony swim.”
Before phoning Mr. Starling, Willa ate a big breakfast. Kate was still eating her blueberry yogurt when Willa made the call. . . .
“So you want to ride Buttercup on the beach,” Mr. Starling said, after hearing Willa’s plan.
“Yes, Mr. Starling,” Willa said. “I know I’ve only ridden Buttercup a few times, when Sarah and I swapped, but there were never any problems.”
Willa gripped the phone waiting for Mr. Starling’s response. Finally he said, “You have my okay. I’ve seen you ride with Sarah, and you have great instincts with horses.”
“Thanks, Mr. Starling,” Willa said, giving Kate a thumbs-up sign. Kate returned it with a spoons-up sign.
“And Buttercup is gentle,” Mr. Starling went on. “She’s also very reliable.”
Almost as reliable as Starbuck, Willa thought, who is the sweetest, most loyal pony I know.
After ending the call, Willa said, “We’re almost there, Kate. Next step is to get permission from Mom and Dad.”
“So much permission!” Kate exclaimed. “Are we riding horses or a space shuttle?”
Willa might as well have asked for a trip to space, because her parents were the toughest sell. . . .
“I’m not sure you should ride on the beach by yourselves,” Mom admitted. “It’s been a while since Kate took riding lessons—”
“Kate did great at Grandma’s farm, Mom,” Willa cut in. “Plus, she’ll be riding Starbuck, who’s super gentle.”
“Both ponies are gentle and trusting,” Dad told Mom. “As long as Willa and Kate walk—not race—the ponies on the beach, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Mom tapped a thoughtful finger on the counter. “Okay,” she finally said. “But no trotting or galloping whatsoever.”
“Deal,” Willa agreed.
“Double deal,” Kate added.
“Just as important, Kate,” Mom said, “did you take your allergy pill? You’ll be around ponies most of the day.”
Kate nodded. “I took one at breakfast, Mrs. Dunlap.”
“Well, okay, then. I’ll make you sandwiches to take to the beach,” Dad offered. “I can cut up carrots for the ponies too.”
“Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom,” Willa said. With just two days left to Kate’s visit, she was certain today was going to be Kate’s favorite yet.
Willa packed the lunches and carrots in a small backpack. She swung it from her hand as she and Willa headed for the barn. On their way they passed Ben pulling a wagon filled with lumber and coils of rope.
“What’s that for?” Willa asked him.
Ben looked over his shoulder as he kept walking. “Still not ready to tell. But come over to the Starlings later and check it out.”
“Why is he being so secretive? It’s probably no big deal,” Kate said.
“Wood . . . rope,” Willa thought out loud. Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Maybe a tree house—with a rope ladder. What do you think?”
“I guess,” Kate said. “Can we walk faster? I really want to start riding.”
Puzzled, Willa glanced at Kate. Why was she so anxious to ride on the beach? And why was she in a hurry all of a sudden? Willa thought of asking Kate but didn’t want to spoil her excitement.
“I want to ride too,” Willa agreed, picking up her pace. “But before we do, we have to tack the horses. Do you remember what that is?”
“Sure, I do,” Kate answered. “Tack is the equipment horses wear for riding. Our instructor in Chicago gave us a demonstration once.”
Amos seemed to be expecting the girls as he stood in front of the barn. He yipped loudly as Willa opened the barn doors. She was pleased that Kate didn’t mention the barn’s smell this time.
With Amos at her heels, Willa walked to Starbuck’s
and Buttercup’s stalls. Both ponies seemed at ease, their eyes soft, their mouths relaxed.
“Let’s start with the saddles,” Willa suggested. “Since you’ll be riding Starbuck, we’ll saddle her first.”
The two friends worked as a team. Willa secured Starbuck to the barn’s hitching post. Kate laid a soft saddle pad over her back.
“Saddles are heavy,” Willa said, pointing to the double saddle rack. “Do you want me to help you take it down?”
“No, thanks.” Kate flexed a muscle in one arm. “I take gymnastics, remember?”
Kate lifted Starbuck’s saddle from the rack. Willa watched as Kate carefully saddled the pony. But when it came time to tighten the girth, Starbuck protested with a grunt.
“You’re tying it too tight,” Willa pointed out. She stepped in to loosen the buckle. Starbuck thanked Willa with a sigh.
“What’s next?” Kate asked.
“Why don’t you get Starbuck’s bridle?” Willa suggested. “It’s on the row of hooks, the one closest to the door.”
While Kate went for the bridle, Willa whispered softly into Starbuck’s ear, “I know you’ll take very good care of my friend, won’t you, girl?”
Starbuck rested her cheek lightly against Willa’s. That told Willa she had nothing to worry about.
“Good girl,” Willa told her pony.
Kate did much better with the bridle than the girth. She joked about the bit, the piece that went inside the horse’s mouth.
“It reminds me of my braces,” Kate giggled.
Willa took care of Buttercup next. After both ponies were tacked, the friends walked them out of the barn. Willa watched as Kate successfully mounted Starbuck without a boost.
“I am so ready,” Kate called down from the saddle. “Come on, Willa. Let’s ride.”
“Wait,” Willa said as she pulled herself up on Buttercup. “Don’t forget that Starbuck is super sensitive. She has a soft mouth so go easy on the reins. And no trotting.” Willa pointed to Starbuck’s side and added, “Starbuck doesn’t take much leg, either. You only need to squeeze lightly.”
“Got it,” Kate said.
Since Buttercup wasn’t her own horse, Willa was extra careful. She slackened the reins, squeezed her calves gently against Buttercup’s sides, then clucked her tongue. Buttercup moved forward.
A Forever Friend Page 4
