Horse Love (11 page)

“Oh, right. I remember that,” Stevie said. “That was back when we’d bitten off more than we could chew.”

“Just like it was two days ago,” Mrs. Reg said, regaining her composure.

“That, too,” Stevie agreed. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“Oh, right. You have a phone call,” Mrs. Reg told her. “If you want, you can take it in my office.”

“Sure,” Stevie said. She got down off her stool and handed Mrs. Reg her clipboard. “Why don’t you take over for a few minutes while I get the phone.”

Mrs. Reg nodded, still more than a little surprised, accepting Stevie’s clipboard with the full schedule on it. Carole knew that a mere glance would confirm to her that the job was going to be done very soon. Mrs. Reg grinned.

Stevie hurried down the stable’s aisle and saw the phone lying on Mrs. Reg’s desk. It wasn’t until then that it really occurred to her to wonder who would be calling her at the stable on a Tuesday morning.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, Stevie, it’s Phil.”

“Hi, Phil, what’s up?” Stevie asked.

“Listen, I just called because I feel bad about what happened—me saying I’d help and then finking. I know it’s a little late to get started on a big project like that, but A.J. and I will be back tomorrow afternoon—”

“I thought you were skiing,” Stevie said.

“We would be, if we’d brought wet suits,” said Phil.

“Wet suits?”

“It’s about fifty degrees up here and it’s pouring rain. It’s been raining since we arrived and there’s no end in sight. In weather like this, they can’t even make artificial snow. We’ve spent the entire time playing video games—something we could have been doing at home, if we hadn’t intended to come help you paint.”

“Listen, Phil, I’m pretty busy right now,” Stevie said.

“I guess,” said Phil.

“I’m sorry the skiing hasn’t worked out—”

“You are?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stevie asked. “Anyway, call me when you get home, okay? If I’m not at my house, I’ll be here.”

“Stevie, I’m really sorry. I mean it. I—I didn’t do the right thing,” he stammered.

“It’s okay, Phil. I’ll talk to you when you get back. Right?”

“Right,” he said. “And if you want to feed me some crow—”

“Bye,” Stevie said. She hung up the phone.

How strange
, she thought.
Two days ago, I would have jumped around gleefully to learn that Phil was having a miserable time. Now, I even feel a little sorry for him!

She knew Carole would be amused to hear about Phil’s busted skiing trip. She wished Lisa were there to hear about it as well.

“Y
OU
’
RE RIDING MUCH
better this morning,” Frank said.

Lisa wasn’t surprised. She was riding a better horse and she was better prepared. She’d also had a better night’s sleep. In fact, the only thing that was missing was Tec. She’d hoped he would remember about the
trail ride and get there that morning, but there had been no sign of him at breakfast or around the pool or beaches. She wasn’t going to miss a trail ride on account of him, though. No matter how Tec melted her knees with his grin and made her feel wonderful when he kissed her, it didn’t change the way she felt about horses.

Once again, Jane was there. Lisa wasn’t sure if Jane was riding for pleasure or if it was part of her job to be assistant trail boss. It didn’t much matter. Lisa liked her and was glad to talk with her.

Jane told her about some of the people who were planning to audition for solos that day.

“I think your list is going to get longer,” Lisa said.

“How’s that?” Jane asked while they trotted on a path that wound between palm trees.

“Remember that guy I told you about?”

“The one who didn’t make it to rehearsal?”

“Right, well, he’s a real performer, too. He’s playing Artful Dodger in
Oliver!
at his school this spring.”

“High-school production?” Jane asked.

Lisa nodded. “He’s really good, I’m sure,” she said.

“Maybe,” Jane asked. “But I won’t know until he auditions.”

“Well, I’m going to get him to do some kind of duet with me—like ‘Anything You Can Do.’ Wouldn’t that be neat?”

“Why don’t you just do a solo?” Jane asked.

Lisa wondered why she was being so skeptical about Tec, but she knew the reality was a lot of kids who were good enough to perform in their high schools weren’t good enough to perform with a group of adults. That had to be the reason.

“I could, I guess,” Lisa said. “I still remember ‘Tomorrow.’ ”

“And we’ve got a cute red dress that would do nicely for the part,” Jane said.

“But I haven’t auditioned yet,” said Lisa.

“You’ll still have to,” Jane told her. “But I’ve heard you sing, and I’ve watched you on stage. You know what you’re doing, and you’ll do fine.”

“Tec knows what he’s doing, too.”

“Tec didn’t come to the rehearsal,” Jane reminded her.

“But he’ll come to the audition today and the rehearsal, and you’ll see what I mean,” Lisa said.

“Maybe,” said Jane. “But if he’s not there today, then I think we’ll have to go without him. I know this is just a silly talent show for an audience made up of friends and family members, but I need to have the cast prepared and committed.”

At that moment, Frank signaled all the riders to change to a canter. Lisa nudged her horse into the faster gait.

Jane was being a little tough, but she was right. If there were only going to be a couple of rehearsals, it would make a big difference if someone missed them. There was only so much that Lisa would be able to explain to Tec. He’d have to come to the audition and to the rest of the rehearsals. Lisa was pretty sure he would, and she was looking forward to showing Jane that she’d known what she was talking about.

This day’s ride was along a different and more difficult path than the ride the previous morning. It took a lot of concentration because it was unfamiliar terrain. One thing Lisa had learned from other experiences riding on beaches was that a horse moved very differently depending on how solid the sand was under its hooves. Wet sand responded like firm earth. Soft, dry sand seemed to suck the hooves into its warmth and slowed the horse’s gait considerably. If she didn’t pay attention to where she was going, she might end up going nowhere fast.

She focused on the pleasurable task in front of her and pushed all thoughts of the talent show out of her mind until the group returned to the barn.

“I hope you don’t think I’m an old meany,” Jane said, loosening her horse’s girth.

“Not at all,” Lisa said. “You’re right and I know it. But I think I’m right, too. Wait until you see what he can do.”

“I’ll be only too happy to welcome this guy to the cast,” said Jane. “I mean that.”

“And you will,” Lisa said, handing her reins over to a stable hand. “See you later.”

“Definitely,” Jane said.

Lisa walked back to her cabin, noticing the game room as she passed by and wondering what Kiki would think of the way she smelled right then. It made her laugh, and then it made her think of Tec. It was a little odd that he would hang around with someone like Kiki—especially when he could have spent more time with Lisa instead!

That thought made Lisa wonder when she’d see him again, and before she did, she intended to wash the scent of horse sweat completely off.

Lisa had finished her shower and was putting on her bathing suit and cover-up when there was a knock at her door.

She peered outside hopefully.

“Hi, sweetie.” It was her father.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Your mom and I are going to play a round of golf at a nearby club and have lunch over there. Would you like to come along? You could … well, drive the cart if you’d like.”

Drive the cart? With her parents? Was he nuts? No,
Lisa realized. It was his way of saying they’d be away and they cared about her.

“Um, no thanks, Dad. I think I’ll hang out here,” she said. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Okay, Lisa,” he said. He kissed her forehead.

Ten minutes later, Lisa was making her way along the beach, hoping for a glimpse of—there he was. Tec was lounging on a beach chair in the middle of a large group of kids, most of whom he and Lisa had been with the night before, and some others as well.

Tec smiled at Lisa. “Hey, where have you been this morning?” he asked.

“I was riding,” she said.

“Horses?” he asked.

“Yes, remember I mentioned the trail ride? I thought you might like to come …?”

“You’d never get Tec to wear one of those dorky hats,” Kiki said, intruding on their conversation.

That was fairly typical of Kiki—she always had a cutting remark at hand. It occurred to Lisa that Kiki would do well to have a Carole-like explanation of the very real safety concerns that were addressed with a solid riding helmet, but before she could take the first deep breath to begin the talk, others began talking about riding helmets and Tec.

“Sure,” Shelley said. “Like Tec would ever risk having
his hair mussed with one of those things. He’d get helmet hair!” She laughed hysterically. Kiki joined in, as did a number of the other kids. Lisa saw no way out. She laughed, too.

Besides, they were right. A riding helmet really did a number on her hair every time she wore one.

The best part was that Tec was laughing, too; and when he laughed, he smiled; and when he smiled, his dimples blossomed; and when that happened, Lisa’s knees melted and everything was right with the universe.

Tec patted the empty chair next to him. “Come sit down next to me,” he invited her. Lisa was only too happy to comply.

“C
HECK THIS OUT
, Stevie!” Carole called to her friend. Stevie stepped out of the tack room and took a deep breath. She’d been in the stuffy, fume-filled room for so long that she’d forgotten what fresh air smelled like! That wasn’t what Carole was calling about, however.

Stevie followed her friend’s voice to what was known at Pine Hollow as the hat wall. It was outside the locker area—a large wall containing rows and rows of long nails that held the stable’s riding hats. Most riders who rode owned their own hats. Those who didn’t could always find something (often abandoned or outgrown hats) on the hat wall. Over the years, the hat wall itself had become less than sparkling white. Today, however, it gleamed with two coats of fresh paint.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Stevie asked, admiring Polly and April’s work.

“Because you were busy doing something more important,” April said. “And besides, Polly and I weren’t on the schedule for this afternoon, and there wasn’t room for us in the tack room. That’s when we spotted this little mess and decided to take matters into our own hands.”

“Good job!” Stevie declared. “Max is going to be blown away when he sees what we’ve accomplished while he’s been gone.”

“It may make him want to go away again,” Carole remarked.

“No, next time, we get to go away, and he and Deborah can stay home and paint,” Stevie said.

“We’re out of paint in here!” Joe called from the tack room.

“I’ll get it,” Carole said, knowing that Stevie could use another minute away from the fumes.

Stevie stood back and admired the clean wall where the hats hung. “I think it needs something special,” she said.

It had sometimes been Stevie’s habit to use the hat wall as a sort of message board, hanging hats on the nails so that they spelled something. It only took Stevie a few seconds to come to an obvious conclusion. The fast-drying paint was already completely dry. She sorted the
hats on the floor in front of her by size and then began hanging them up in their new order. April and Polly stood back and watched.

It didn’t take long. Stevie had them hung up to spell
MAX
!

“Cute,” said April. “He’s going to love it.”

“He will, Stevie,” said a new voice. It was Mrs. Reg. Stevie wasn’t accustomed to getting much in the way of compliments from Mrs. Reg, and it felt really good to get two from her in one day.

“Think so?” Stevie asked.

“I know so,” said Mrs. Reg, patting Stevie on the shoulder. “You’ve been working so hard on this project that I may just let you off the hook for tack polishing for a long time to come!”

“You mean, like months?” Stevie asked. It was unlike Mrs. Reg to let any opportunity pass to put a rider to work on something—especially tack cleaning.

“No, I mean like two or three days!” she teased.

“Whatever,” Stevie said, sweeping her hair off her forehead with a paint-splattered wrist, leaving a long white smear as she went.

Stevie and Mrs. Reg were still admiring the freshly painted hat wall when Veronica sauntered past.

“What’s that?” she asked, brushing some plaster dust off her otherwise immaculate riding pants.

“The result of something known as w-o-r-k,” said Stevie.

Veronica didn’t respond to the snide remark. Instead, she just walked up to the hat wall and began moving the helmets around. In a few seconds, she’d transformed the
M
into a
T
and the exclamation point into an
I
. “Taxi!” she called out, as if she were flagging one for herself—and just to make sure everyone noticed the clever transformation she’d managed.