Pleasure Horse (9 page)

I
T WASN
’
T LONG
before the guests started trickling in. Every few minutes or so the doorbell rang, and Angie kept running to answer it. Without getting too involved, Stevie kept an eye on the proceedings. Angie, who’d been given a lecture by her parents, managed to greet the guests almost politely, but Stevie noticed her crestfallen look every time somebody who wasn’t the caterer arrived.

First a handful of girls from the cheerleading squad came. They were wearing boots with their nice dresses and carrying their shoes in bags. “Angie!” one of them
shrieked. “You must be a wreck! We didn’t even know if the party was still on.”

“We made Val’s mom drive us over anyway,” another girl piped up.

“That’s right. We weren’t about to miss the bash we’ve been hearing about all month,” said the third one.

Angie smiled wanly. “Oh, good. I’m glad you could make it,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Out of nowhere, Chad and Alex appeared in the hall. “Here, Angie, we’ll show these girls in. You go and relax.”

“Relax? Are you kidding!” Angie sputtered. Then the doorbell rang again, and Stevie’s brothers whisked the cheerleaders away.

It was the Lakes’ next-door neighbors, the Kellys. They had walked over with flashlights. “Gosh, it’s dark out there,” Mr. Kelly said.

“It sure is. I hope you’re stocked up with candles and flashlights and kerosene in case the lights go,” Mrs. Kelly added. Stevie caught Angie’s horrified look as the couple took off their coats and disappeared into the back of the house.

A little while later someone showed up in snowshoes. It was Angie’s English teacher, the only teacher she’d
invited. “I didn’t want to risk the drive so I came over in these,” the gray-haired man explained.

“Thanks for coming, Mr. Scott,” Angie said, her voice lackluster.

Mr. Scott disappeared into the house, reciting Robert Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” as he went.

A few more hearty guests arrived in four-wheel-drive vehicles, on cross-country skis, or simply on foot. By eight o’clock, the kitchen was packed. Almost all of the guests had gravitated to the room and were busy putting away mugs of hot chocolate and whatever food Angie’s parents had managed to dig up. Three or four large guys who Stevie decided had to be football players volunteered to shovel the stone path up to the house.

Meanwhile the phone was practically ringing off the hook. Stevie’s mother, who was guarding the receiver, had to keep shaking her head at the question on Angie’s face: No caterer—just another guest canceling because of the weather. When a report came over the radio saying the snow would continue all night, it was the last straw for the birthday girl. Angie burst into tears and sat crying in the living room, trails of black mascara and eyeliner running down her face.

Not knowing what to say, Stevie perched on the window
seat watching different people come in to try to comfort her cousin. Her mother tried, then Chad and Alex, then the Davison kids, then Michael, then Uncle Chester. But Angie just cried harder.

At first Stevie couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. After all the planning, it looked as if the party was going to be a huge disaster. Probably the New Jersey Lakes—and especially Angie—had cursed it by worrying about every last detail so much. Now they would learn their lesson. But then Stevie felt a pang of guilt. Something in her reasoning wasn’t right. Just then Chad walked by with a couple of cheerleaders. Stevie tried to think up something she could say to tease him, but Chad beat her to it.

“I’m giving Brenda and Diane a tour around the house now,” he said happily. Then he whispered to Stevie, “Maybe you could show them the manure pile later—I know it’s your favorite spot.”

Stevie made a face. Chad had never gotten over the fact that at Pony Club rallies the stable management judges even examined manure piles to make sure they were up to their standards. But that was Pony Club: Every last detail was—Stevie clapped a hand over her mouth. How could she have been so blind? Of
course
something in her reasoning was wrong! She had been annoyed at Angie all weekend not because she was discussing and planning every last detail but because she
was discussing and planning every last detail
for a party
! If Angie had been getting ready for a show, Stevie would have been the first to agonize with her over what color breeches she would wear and what food the horses would eat, and to review the classes one by one.

There was no denying that Angie’s priorities had changed from horses to clothes, cheerleading, and boys. But the truth was Stevie had been so disappointed by the change that she hadn’t been able to see the parallel between planning for a Pony Club event and planning for a social event. When she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising that Angie pursued her new interests with the same single-mindedness that had once made her so successful in the show ring.

Even more importantly, no matter what Angie liked to do with her time, she was still family and always would be.

“Hey, Angie?” Stevie said quietly.

“What?” came a choked response.

“You know, I was thinking, even though some people are canceling, your family’s almost all here, and so are most of your close friends, aren’t they?”

Angie nodded dully, her eyes on the living room floor.

“And even if there won’t be live music, a couple of the guys in the band said they would deejay with the stereo.”

Angie nodded again.

“So all we have to do is wait for the caterer. I’m sure she’ll come,” Stevie predicted, crossing her fingers. “In fact, that’s probably her now,” she added, hearing the phone ring again.

But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Aunt Lila appeared in the doorway, her face grave. “Angela, that was the caterer.”

Angie immediately sat up straight. “And?” she asked breathlessly.

“I—I’m sorry, honey. She’s completely snowed in, in a town thirty miles away.”

For a second the room was too still. Then the storm burst. Angie flung her head against the couch and began to bawl. Absolutely hysterical, she sobbed and cried and gulped for air and sobbed some more. The sound brought Uncle Chester running. When he noticed how distraught Angie was, he and Aunt Lila exchanged urgent words.

“Look, I’m telling you there’s practically no food in the house. We cleared out the refrigerator to make room for all the stuff the caterer was supposed to bring,” Stevie heard Uncle Chester say.

“There must be something,” Aunt Lila whispered.

“Yes: half a box of stale crackers, some coffee, and a
large assortment of condiments on the refrigerator door,” Uncle Chester replied drily.

“What’ll we do? We can’t send people away after they’ve made such an effort to get here!”

“I’ll have to take the van and drive to the supermarket and buy some food there. It should still be open,” said Uncle Chester, with a quick glance at the clock on the mantelpiece.

“What about the roads?” Aunt Lila asked.

“The plow’s just been by—they should be all right.”

When they’d finished talking, Angie’s parents announced the plan. “It’s the only solution, honey,” Aunt Lila said.

Once again, Stevie tried to help calm her cousin down. She took Angie up to the bathroom to wash her face and redo her makeup. Then the two girls went back down to join the others.

By now the mood in the kitchen was downright jovial. Sitting in a circle on the floor, the kids were playing a huge game of I Doubt It while the adults stood around swapping snowstorm stories. The cheerleaders had borrowed sweatshirts to wear over their dresses and had joined right in.

Once she got Angie settled, Stevie dashed outside to make sure her uncle had gotten away all right. To her
surprise, the van was still parked in the exact same spot in the driveway, covered in snow. “Uncle Chester?” Stevie called.

“I’m here,” a voice called back. Then a bundled-up figure carrying a shovel emerged from around the side of the van. “I’m here,” Uncle Chester repeated, “and I don’t think I’ll be leaving any time soon.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Stevie asked.

Uncle Chester pointed to a huge snowbank behind the van. “The plows came through, all right. They dumped that huge pile of snow there and blocked the driveway. I’ve been trying to get at it with the shovel, but it’s rock solid. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some
real
rocks in there. It’s too heavy to move.”

Stevie scanned the driveway anxiously. “Could you take the station wagon?” she asked.

Uncle Chester shook his head. “The van is our only car with snow tires on it. I just can’t risk the wagon in this kind of weather … even if Angie is disappointed,” he added quietly.

By then, a few of the adult guests had gathered at the door. “Anything I can do to help?” asked one of the neighbors.

“Thanks, but unless anybody can get to a car with snow chains, we’re stuck,” replied Uncle Chester.

Mr. Kelly peered out at the weather. “I could go home
and see about our car,” he said after a minute. “It might be okay.”

His face thoughtful, Uncle Chester motioned for Stevie to come inside with him. In the hall he slowly took off his coat and hung it up. A few of the other guests halfheartedly offered to drive, but it was obvious that no one relished the idea. Even though the supermarket was less than half a mile away, the roads were looking worse all the time. In the time that had passed since the plowing, snow had begun to accumulate all over again. It would be a treacherous trip.

“We’re not going to do anything foolish,” Uncle Chester declared, shaking the snow from his boots. “It’s too bad about my daughter’s party, and we’re sorry that you all came out in the storm, but it would be stupid to drive anywhere right now. I’m afraid that’s all there is to it.”

Mumbling about how sorry they were, the guests started to discuss when it would be safe to leave. Stevie watched them with a sinking feeling. The next time the plow came through, the ones who had driven would run out so they could get home. By then every supermarket in town would be closed, if they weren’t already. It looked as if salvaging the party was impossible.

So? Why should I care?
Stevie asked herself. But it was no use. The fact was she did care. It made her sad to
think that all the party-goers were going to be disappointed, that her aunt and uncle had worked so hard for nothing. But most of all she felt bad for Angie, who would dread going to school when the long weekend was over and having to tell people that the great party hadn’t happened. Stevie knew all about talking something up at school only to have a plan backfire.

The worst part was it was out of Angie’s control. She hadn’t ordered the weather, after all. It was like having a big horse show get rained out after all the practicing, planning, and tack cleaning, after loading the horses and driving there. It was all for nothing if the show got called off. More than once Stevie had been all excited about riding and had had to sit in the van the whole morning while the horses waited, doing nothing.

Suddenly Stevie gasped. For the second time that day, thinking about horses had made a lightbulb go on in her brain. She stood bolt upright. All excited about riding? The horses waiting, doing nothing? Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

“Uncle Chester! Uncle Chester! I’ve got it!” Stevie yelled.

I
N A MATTER
of minutes, Stevie had filled her uncle in on the plan and dashed out to the barn to saddle Sparkles and Birdie. The horses looked mildly surprised to be getting tacked up instead of fed dinner. “Obviously you boys aren’t used to The Saddle Club way of life,” Stevie told them, tightening first one girth and then the other.

Grinning with excitement, she thought back over some of the thrilling rides she and Carole and Lisa had taken. They’d saved a movie star (Skye Ransom), a marriage (Max’s), and a starring role (Lisa’s, in a community theater production of
Annie
), among other things.

“Tonight’s ride will be a little different, though,” Stevie told the two geldings as she tried to warm both bits in her hands at the same time. “We won’t be galloping, and we won’t be bareback because we need as many saddlebags as we can carry. All right, Sparkles, open up. Sorry if it’s still cold.” Like the well-trained horse he was, Sparkles obligingly took the bit. Birdie followed suit, and Stevie led both of them out to the front yard.

Uncle Chester was waiting with improvised saddlebags. Quickly he tied them to the little metal Ds on the saddles’ cantles; then he handed Stevie a backpack to wear. A half dozen guests had come out to see them off. “Good luck!” Aunt Lila called.

“Thanks!” said Stevie. She mounted easily and waved to the group at the door. Then they headed Sparkles and Birdie down the driveway and out onto the road. Although they couldn’t trot on the snowy pavement, the horses kept up a good walking pace through the steadily falling snow.

“I sure am thankful for these streetlamps,” Uncle Chester remarked. “Without them, it would be pitch dark.”

“Yeah, we’d have to use Sparkles’ mane for light,” Stevie joked, noticing how the palomino’s white crest gleamed with snow.