Chapter Seven
“So Joy told me she thinks she knows someone who has a really cool carriage, kind of like the one in, like, Cinderella or something. Really elegant, you know? Only I need for her to make sure the horses they use are either white or black. I mean, how ridic would it be if they turned up with, like, some bright orangey chestnuts or something? Talk about mortifying!”
Kate glanced over as Summer paused, seeming to expect a response. “Um, what?”
“Chestnut horses. My pink dress? Total fashion faux pas, right?” Summer paused again. When Kate didn’t say anything, Summer’s brow crinkled into an impatient frown. “What’s wrong with you?” she complained. “It’s like you’re not even paying attention to anything I’m saying!”
“Sorry,” Kate mumbled, stifling a yawn. She so wasn’t in the mood for Summer right now. The girl had been following her around the barn for the past hour—at least it felt like that long—bragging about her over-the-top party plans. At the moment she was leaning against the tack room wall, watching Kate clean Jamie’s training bridles.
“Anyway,” Summer went on, “did I tell you how idiotic my mom is being about the ice sculpture? I thought we’d agreed to make it a life-size horse and rider—based on me, of course—but now she’s trying to talk me into turning it into some kind of sushi pyramid instead. How lame is that? I don’t even like sushi!”
Kate was relieved to see Marissa enter. Maybe Summer would latch on to her for a while and leave Kate alone. Marissa was good-natured enough to tolerate Summer—she even seemed to like her most of the time—and might actually care about stuff like Summer’s fancy pink dress and her sushishaped ice sculpture.
“Hey, guys,” Marissa greeted them, pushing her springy brown hair out of her face. “Summer, Miguel’s looking for you. I guess Whiskey is in the indoor ring, barking and spooking the ponies in the little kids’ lesson. You’re supposed to come get him before Jamie feeds him to one of the bigger dogs.”
Summer rolled her eyes. “Seriously? How hard is it to shoo a dog out of the ring?”
Still, she hurried out of the room. Marissa glanced at the set of reins Kate was wiping down. “Need any help with that?”
“Thanks, but I’m almost done.” Kate swiftly figure-eighted the bridle and hung it up, brushing a few smears of neatsfoot oil off on her jeans. “Hey, have you seen Tommi around?”
Marissa shook her head. “I thought she wasn’t coming up today? She said something yesterday about going away for the weekend or something.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Kate’s heart sank as she realized Marissa was right. She’d been so focused on needing to talk to Tommi that she’d completely forgotten about that weekend trip, even though Tommi had told her all about it while they were hosing down some horses together the day before.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Marissa reach up and redo the clip that was holding her hair in a big, poofy ponytail.
“Don’t stare at my frizz,” Marissa said with a grimace. “I swear, if it gets any hotter all the bobby pins and hairspray in the world won’t keep my hair under my helmet while I ride.”
“Your hair always looks good,” Kate said, feeling distracted. “Much better than my limp and stringy mess.” She ran one hand over her long, blond ponytail.
Marissa peered at her. “You okay? You look kind of, I don’t know, worried or something.”
Kate quickly forced a smile. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Marissa didn’t miss much. She might seem kind of ditzy, blabbing about hair and boys and stuff, but she really wasn’t. “I’m fine,” Kate said. “Just tons to do, as usual.”
Sure, she was trying to be more open with Tommi these days. Let her in, let her help. But she and Marissa weren’t that kind of friends. No way could she talk to her about her family problems. Not unless she wanted it broadcast all over the greater New York metro. Marissa meant well, but she didn’t always think before she gossiped.
“Um, how’s Dani doing?” Kate asked instead. “Have you talked to her?”
“Yeah, I called her this morning. She’s doing fine, but she misses all of us like crazy. She’s hoping she can talk her older brother into driving her out here soon for another visit.” Marissa grinned. “In the meantime, I’m making sure to keep her up to date on all the barn gossip.”
Kate smiled back weakly. “That’s good.” She quickly tossed her tack cleaning supplies back into the cupboard. “Anyway, I’d better go bring in the rest of the mares before the flies start to drive them cr—”
Before she could finish, Fitz burst into the tack room. “Good, you’re here,” he said, hurrying over and dropping a kiss on Kate’s lips.
Marissa giggled. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“I’m glad you’re here, too, Miss Rissa.” Fitz stepped over and planted a loud smooch on her forehead. “Forgive me?”
“How can any woman resist your charms?” Marissa smirked. “But I’ll leave you two alone now. I know when I’m in the way.” With a broad wink, she hurried out of the room.
Fitz wrapped his arms around Kate’s waist. “Good morning,” he said softly, then bent and kissed her again. “You okay?”
Kate smiled up at him gratefully. “Yeah, mostly. Thanks for listening last night.”
“Anytime.” He ran his finger along her face, tracing the line of her jaw. “I’m always here for you, Kate.” Then he smiled. “Hey, I know something that’ll take your mind off of everything. How about another session with Flame?”
Kate felt a little flutter of anticipation. She’d been so distracted by everything else that she hadn’t had much time to think about yesterday’s ride on the chestnut gelding. But suddenly her mind was filled with him, and she couldn’t wait to ride him again.
“Um, okay,” she told Fitz. “Can you start tacking up without me? I just need to bring in some horses first.”
A few minutes later she was swinging into the saddle. The big outdoor ring was deserted—it was already an oven outside, and Jamie had moved his lessons into the shady indoor with its industrial overhead fans. Despite the heat and humidity, Flame was moving forward easily, seeming eager to work.
“Good boy,” Kate said softly as she sent him into a walk. She quickly reviewed what they’d done yesterday as she warmed him up—transitions, some baby lateral work, just the basics to start teaching him what her leg aids meant.
By the time they started cantering, Kate was smiling from ear to ear. Sure, Flame made a mistake here and there—jumped into a canter when she wanted him to extend his trot, cut the corners to avoid bending, minor stuff like that. But he was trying, and learning faster than any horse she’d ridden in a long time. After nailing his second canter depart in a row, she brought him back to a walk and gave him a rub on the neck.
“You’re a superstar,” she murmured. “Such a good, good boy.”
“Should I set up a couple of jumps?” Fitz was already moving toward the pile of poles and standards at one end of the ring. “See what we’ve got? I can text Jamie and make sure he’s okay with it.”
Kate hesitated, tempted. Based on the way this horse moved, she was pretty sure he was going to be a naturally talented jumper. She was dying to find out for sure.
But she shook her head. “Not this time,” she told Fitz. “This horse was on the track like a month ago, remember? Whoever started him for racing obviously gave him some good basic training, but he still needs to learn a ton of stuff for his new job. We don’t want to rush him and fry his mind.”
“You sure?” Fitz sounded disappointed. “But maybe just a crossrail or two, see if he’s got the instincts …”
“Sorry.” Kate ran her fingers through the horse’s mane, then gave him another pat. “I just think it’s better to wait.”
Fitz frowned, and for a second Kate thought he was going to argue. Then he shrugged. “Okay, you’re the boss. We’ll wait until you think he’s ready.”
Kate nodded and sent Flame into an easy trot again,
doing a few big, loopy circles and other figures. She was glad Fitz hadn’t pushed harder to move faster. Flame was a quick learner and probably would have been fine, but Kate couldn’t help remembering how tense and confused he’d been at that little show where they’d seen Nat ride him. That kind of ham-handed riding could ruin even the nicest horse.
She immediately felt guilty for the thought. But she did her best not to worry about it. Clucking softly, she sent Flame into another canter and let all thoughts of Nat—and everything else—drift away.
Tommi parked her red leather roller bag on the curb and glanced up and down the block. It was early, but the leafy shade of the gingko trees lining the street in front of the brown-stone offered little relief from the stifling heat already settling over the city.
She felt her phone vibrate in her shorts pocket and pulled it out. It was a text from Alex:
have fun in philly—but not 2 much! lol. miss u already.
Tommi tucked the phone away again without answering. She hadn’t actually spoken to Alex since leaving the club the other night, though she’d texted to invite him to Summer’s party, and they’d traded a few more texts after that. Light and breezy, typical text stuff, so not too hard to imply that she’d had a good time without actually coming out and saying it. Not that she was afraid of a little white lie to save someone’s feelings, of course. But this time it just felt different somehow …
A blaring car horn interrupted her thoughts, sending her involuntarily jumping back away from the curb. A second later she heard a shout of laughter.
The car, a bright red Audi convertible with the top down, screeched to a halt, double-parking a few car lengths down the street. A pop song was blasting out of the speakers, and three girls were grinning at her.
“Gotcha, Aaronson!” Abby waved from the driver’s seat. She was Tommi’s age and height but probably outweighed her by thirty pounds, though not because she was fat. Abby’s friends sometimes called her Earth Mama because she was built like one of those pagan fertility goddesses—all boobs, hips, and thighs. In middle school Abby had tried to fight those endowments with strict diets and too-tight clothes, but a couple of years ago she’d embraced her natural look by dressing in flowing boho dresses and allowing her mass of curly-wavy brown hair to fly free. It worked for her, though her gorgeous chocolate-drop eyes and easygoing, fun-loving personality helped, too.
Tommi smiled and rolled her eyes, grabbing the handle of her bag and heading toward the car. “You’re sooo funny, Abs.”
Brooke jumped out of the passenger seat and rushed over to give Tommi a hug. She was tall and slim and changed the color of her pixie-cut hair so often that Tommi couldn’t remember its original shade. Today it was platinum blond with a dramatic electric blue stripe that matched the metallic threads in her retro babydoll sundress.
“Glad you could make it,” she told Tommi. Then she hurried around to open the trunk. “See if you can fit your stuff in here. But good luck. Court packed, like, her entire wardrobe.”
“Hey, you never know what’s going to appeal to college boys. I want to be prepared.” Court was in the backseat, relaxing with one arm hanging over the side door. She looked cool and elegant in beige linen, oversize Burberry shades covering half her face.
Tommi shoved her bags in with her friends’ luggage and slammed the trunk shut. “Good thing you picked me up before Mariah,” she said as she slid into the backseat beside Court. The car was supposed to seat five, but it was a tight squeeze. “She always brings even more stuff than Court.”
“Yeah. And a really good thing Brooke shipped most of her stuff down to Penn last week,” Court said. “Otherwise we’d be making this trip in a moving van instead of Ab’s car.”
Abby was back in the driver’s seat by then. She revved the engine. “Philadelphia, here we come!” she cried.
“Don’t you mean Eighty-First Street, here we come?” Brooke said.
“Whatev. It’s all in the same direction.” Abby pulled out, cutting off a cab that blared loudly in response.
Court lifted one hand and flipped the driver the bird. “So when we get down there, should we—oh, hey, crank it up!” she interrupted herself as a new song came on the radio.
“‘Forgive Me’? Ugh, are you serious?” Brooke groaned. “They only play it, like, ten million times per hour!”
Court ignored her, singing along loudly as Abby steered the car onto Lexington Avenue. Brooke shrugged and joined in, waving both hands over her head in time to the music.
Tommi smiled, feeling some of their giddiness rubbing off on her. This trip should be fun, even if Tommi hadn’t been sure about going. So what if her father was reading too much into it? She’d already decided on her life plan, and it didn’t involve moving onto some college campus in another city. He’d just have to deal with that.
Soon the car was pulling to a stop in front of Mariah’s highrise building. Mariah was waiting outside, looking impatient. She was into the old-school preppy look these days, and was rocking it in madras shorts and a monogrammed polo, her halo of tight black curls tamed by a matching headband. She rushed toward the car as her doorman followed with her bags.
“Oh my God, you guys, this is going to be so fun!” she exclaimed. Her eyes lit up when she saw Tommi. “Wow, so they actually talked you into coming? I can’t believe it! I thought you were pretty much chained to that barn of yours.”
“She’s here,” Abby confirmed with a grin. “And she doesn’t even smell like horses for once.”
“Good thing,” Court put in. “I hear cute Cousin Jon isn’t into animals, if you know what I mean.”
While Tommi gave Court a playful punch on the arm, Brooke pretended to pout. “Hey, I’m starting to think you guys are only coming for my allegedly hot cousin, not for me.”
“There’s no allegedly about it. He’s hot with a capital H.O.T.” Court fanned herself with one hand.
“Whatever. Get in and let’s get moving. I want to get there before lunchtime.” Abby revved the engine.
Tommi leaned back against her seat, enjoying the occasional bursts of air against her face as the convertible threaded its way through the city. Yes, she was looking forward to this trip—if only to get some space to figure out why that night at the club was still bugging her so much. So Alex hadn’t exactly lit the crowd on fire. So what? It was probably like riding. Blowing one class—or even one show—didn’t mean it was time to trade your spurs for a tennis racket.
The difference? She always knew when she’d blown a class. And Alex seemed totally clueless about how he’d really done. One of the things she’d liked most about him from the start was his passion for music. She’d seen it as a big thing they had in common—he was committed to finding a way to make music the focus of his life, just like she was with the horses.
But now it seemed that at least one of them might be deluded in thinking he could actually turn that passion into a real career. What if it was both of them?
“Aaaaah!” Brooke yelled as Abby turned left onto Ninth Avenue, almost sideswiping a delivery truck.
Abby just grinned, gunning the motor to pass a slow-moving car. “And the adventure begins,” she intoned.
Tommi laughed, putting all thoughts of Alex’s career issues out of her mind. While she was at it, she vowed not to worry about her own future, either. Or how she was going to sell Legs in time. Or anything else that could get in the way of her fun.
Because yeah. This should be an adventure, all right. Why not forget about real life for one weekend and just go with it?
“You look gorgeous, my love.” Gina smiled, looking Zara up and down. “Positively stunning!”
Zara glanced at her reflection in the mirrored side wall of the foyer. She really did look pretty hot, all dolled up in a semi-sheer black minidress and strappy Manolo heels. Her hair was slicked back and up from her face, but it was loose on top, allowing her natural curls to go wild.
“Thanks.” Zara didn’t bother to return the c
ompliment. Gina didn’t need anyone to tell her she was beautiful—she’d made her living off of it for the past twenty years. Everyone at the premiere would probably fall all over themselves drooling over her one-shouldered white gown, her upswept ’do, the dangling diamond earrings sparkling against her flawless dark skin. Blah, blah, blah.
Gina grabbed her clutch off the console in the message center, pausing to glance at the answering machine. The little glowing screen was blank. No messages.
“Too bad Stacie hasn’t made it back yet,” Gina said. “She could have tagged along, too.”
Zara leaned toward the mirror, avoiding her mother’s eye while pretending to check her makeup. “Yeah,” she said. “Uh, she sent me a text a little while ago saying the train station was crazy and not to wait for her. You know how it is on Friday nights—half of New Jersey is trying to cram itself across the bridges and tunnels to come party in Manhattan.”
“That’s what I hear.” Gina glanced in the mirror herself, then headed for the door. “I suppose we’d better go, then.”
They headed for the elevator. The loft was only five stories up, and Zara often took the stairs down, but no way was she going to suggest that tonight. For one thing, her mother’s Louboutins were even higher than her own heels. Besides, she was counting on that elevator to help her with the latest step in her plan.
Zara started digging through her purse while they waited. As soon as the bell dinged, indicating that the elevator was here, she let out a snort. “Oh, man,” she said as the old-fashioned door wheezed open and her mother stepped inside. “Forgot my lipstick. See you downstairs?”
“Sure,” her mother replied. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
As the elevator door slid shut, Zara breathed out a sigh. It had worked.
Hurrying back into the loft, she made a beeline for the guest room upstairs. She pulled out the rumpled jeans she’d hidden under the bed earlier, draping them over a chair. She’d stuck a couple of spare pillows from the linen closet under there, too. Yanking them out, she pulled back the sheets and arranged the pillows carefully, then pulled the sheets back over them and stepped back to survey the result. Yeah, it kind of looked like a sleeping body. At least it would if it was dark in the room and whoever was looking was a little tipsy.
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