Stable Farewell (5 page)

Carole raised her eyebrows at her father, but his poker face revealed nothing. “Dad, are you, by any chance, implying that today there were some messages?” she asked.

“Well, now, let me try to remember. Hmm … oh, yes, the cleaning lady called—”

“Dad.”

“And I think somebody called about changing my racquetball game to Wednesday. And, let’s see—”

“Dad!”

“Now, was there anything else? I can’t quite—”

“Dad!”
Carole fairly screamed.

Colonel Hanson grinned. “You got a message, too, honey. From one Cameron Nelson residing at Fifteen Strawberry Hill Lane.” He paused to pull a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “The number is—”

At that Carole jumped up, grabbed the paper out of her father’s hand, and fled from the table. She was halfway to her bedroom before she stopped and called back, “How do you know where he lives, anyway?”

“We had a conversation during the course of which I asked the young man’s address,” Colonel Hanson replied with mock formality.

Carole groaned inwardly. The idea of her father talking—about anything—with Cam was her worst nightmare. Still, it was great news that Cam had called her again so soon. Quickly she dialed his number. While she listened to the phone ringing, she suddenly felt nervous. Then she reminded herself that she was calling Cam, a very nice person who was her friend.

“Hello?”

“Ah—hello,” Carole said finally, startled that a woman, who was probably Cam’s mother, had answered. At least she sounded friendly. “Is Cam at home?”

“No, I’m sorry, he’s not. He’s gone to watch his brother’s basketball game, and he’ll be gone all evening,” the woman said.

Carole felt her face fall. “Oh, I see.”

“Could I give him a message?”

“Yes—ah, yes, please. Is this Mrs. Nelson?”

“That’s right.”

Carole thought for a split second, but she couldn’t think of anything original to say. “Could you just tell him that Carole called?”

“Sure, Carole. I’ll tell him,” Mrs. Nelson said.

“Okay, thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Bye-bye now.”

“Bye.” Carole waited until she heard the dial tone. Then she slowly hung up the phone and went to start her homework. She got out her math textbook and sharpened a pencil. Half an hour later she was still staring into space and doodling “Cam and Carole” on her notebook.

T
HE NEXT DAY
The Saddle Club met at Pine Hollow after school. “Isn’t that the diAngelos’ chauffeur?” Lisa asked, watching a uniformed man get into a long sedan and drive off.

Carole nodded. “It sure is. I wonder what she’s doing here today.” Usually Veronica only showed up for lessons and Pony Club. She hardly ever came on a regular weekday afternoon.

“She’s probably showing Danny off for some of her fans,” Stevie guessed.

What they saw inside the stable was even more surprising. Not only was Veronica there, but she was grooming her own horse. She had Danny out on the cross-ties, and she was fussing over him as they’d never seen her fuss over a horse before. She had him brushed, with his mane and tail combed, and was busy painting polish on his hooves. Stevie, Lisa, and Carole stared in amazement.

“He’s hard to take your eyes off, isn’t he?” Veronica asked, standing up after the last hoof.

The three of them nodded blankly. Carole was the first to find her voice. “Don’t you want to know how things went with Katie Miller yesterday?” she asked.

Veronica shrugged. “Sure, why don’t you tell me?” she said.

Carole took a deep breath to keep herself from yelling at Veronica. Trying to make herself sound calm, she explained, “Actually, Katie really liked Garnet, and she’d be a great owner for her. She’s a good rider and she wants to do a lot of trail riding. But Garnet was so keyed up, since she hadn’t been ridden for so long, that Katie’s parents didn’t think she’d be safe for their daughter, so they’re going to think about it for a while and look at some other horses.”

“And it didn’t help that Garnet looked like a complete mess,” Lisa added dryly.

Veronica surveyed Danny’s gray coat and rubbed at an imaginary spot with a cotton cloth. Finally she turned to The Saddle Club. “Is that all?”

Once again the girls nodded, speechless.

Veronica smiled. “Good, because it doesn’t matter if that Katie whatever-her-name-was didn’t want Garnet. The absolute perfect buyer is coming this afternoon—any
minute now. Her name is Henrietta Kingsley. You’ve heard of the Kingsleys, haven’t you?” she asked.

Stevie and Carole shook their heads, but Lisa nodded. Her mother made it her business to keep tabs on a lot of “social” people. “The Kingsleys are big financial powers in Washington, D.C.,” she explained.

“Correct,” Veronica said. “Daddy does business with them all the time, and when he told them about my purebred mare being for sale … well, it sounded like the perfect match for Henrietta. She’s only been riding for six weeks, but Mother says she’s really quite accomplished.”

“Six weeks?” Lisa repeated. She was amazed that anyone would buy a horse after so short a time. She knew that six weeks after
she
had started riding, she certainly hadn’t been ready to own a horse. She wasn’t even sure she was ready to own one now. Before she could say anything more to Veronica, a car’s wheels crunched on the gravel outside.

“That must be Henrietta!” Veronica squealed. She put Danny away and ran out to greet the Kingsleys. Carole, Lisa, and Stevie followed at a safe distance, curious to see the great Henrietta who was ready for her own horse after six weeks.

A huge, shiny Rolls-Royce had pulled up in the driveway. It was even bigger and shinier than Veronica’s chauffeur-driven car. The Kingsleys’ chauffeur—who was
even taller and grander than Veronica’s chauffeur—emerged from the driver’s seat to help his passengers out. Henrietta and her mother got out, and both of them screeched and rushed toward Veronica, exchanging air kisses.

The Kingsley women were a commanding presence. They were tall, they were large, and they were loud. Mrs. Kingsley was wearing a full-length fur coat; a fur hat; a pair of long, black gloves; and high-heeled boots. But Henrietta was the real spectacle. The Saddle Club was used to Veronica’s high-priced riding gear, but Henrietta obviously took everything a step further. She looked totally inappropriate for an everyday ride, in white breeches, a yellow vest, patent-leather-topped hunting boots, a stock tie, and, unbelievably, a shadbelly coat like the ones worn by Grand Prix dressage riders.

“Isn’t that, like,
illegal
?” Lisa whispered, gaping.

Carole and Stevie giggled. “Not exactly illegal,” Carole said. “But it’s one of the grossest displays of money and ignorance that I’ve ever seen.”

“We’ll see how ‘accomplished’ she is,” Stevie said darkly.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Kingsley was saying—or rather,
yelling,
which, as Carole pointed out, was a more accurate word—“we want only the best for Henrietta. She’s quite taken with riding, and Mr. Kingsley and I believe she has natural
talent. You should see the way horses just love my daughter from the moment they see her. It’s really quite beautiful.”

“Oh, I’m
sure
it is,” Veronica said with a sickening smile. “I’ve heard what a great rider she is after only six weeks.”

“Daddy said I could get two or three horses if I want. Didn’t he, Mother?” Henrietta demanded.

“Of course, dear, whatever you want, you shall have,” said Mrs. Kingsley.

“Boy, Henrietta, you’re sure lucky to have such nice parents,” Veronica said.

The Saddle Club looked at one another in disgust. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Stevie muttered. If there was anything more nauseating than Veronica being her normal self, it was Veronica kissing up to people who were richer and more important than she was.

“You can’t be,” Carole said sternly, “or you won’t be able to watch Henrietta try to ride.”

“Do you think she’ll even want to get on once she sees Garnet?” Lisa asked, following the group inside.

When they reached Garnet’s stall, Stevie went up to Veronica and gave her a wide-eyed look of amazement. “Wow, Veronica, I’ve never seen Garnet looking so nice!” she said in wonder.

Carole and Lisa practically fell over backward. Despite
having been groomed the day before, Garnet still looked scraggly. With all the time she had spent fussing over Danny, Veronica still hadn’t managed to brush her, trim her whiskers, or pull her mane. After a second’s thought—and a glance at Stevie’s mischievous grin—Carole and Lisa caught on: Stevie was trying to scare the Kingsleys off. Immediately they joined in.

“She
does
look good,” Carole said. “Not bad for a horse who’s so second-rate compared to Danny.”

Lisa pretended to admire Garnet and then asked, as if she had just noticed it, “Hey, you guys, look at the chewed wood on her stall. Isn’t that a sign of cribbing?”

“Yes, it is,” Carole replied. “And cribbing can be so dangerous. It can cause colic and all kinds of problems.”

“Well, you know what they say: One vice leads to another. It looks like Garnet’s been pacing in her stall. Look at that rut in the front,” Stevie added cheerfully.

Unfortunately, the Kingsleys seemed more confused than alarmed by what the girls were saying. Veronica gave the three of them a dirty look and said loudly, “Mrs. Kingsley, Henrietta, I know you’re interested in breeding, and I wanted to let you know that Garnet’s bloodlines can be traced back eight generations without missing a horse, in a straight line to horses owned by the sultans of Arabia.”

“That’s just what we wanted to hear,” Mrs. Kingsley
announced. “Now hurry up and put that saddle on so we can see her in action, will you?”

F
ASTER THAN
T
HE
Saddle Club could believe, Veronica had Garnet tacked up and in the indoor ring. It was clear that the mare was as fresh and flighty as the day before. She danced at the end of the reins before Veronica quieted her long enough to get on, then shied and broke into a trot at once.

Standing with the Kingsleys at the edge of the ring, Carole tried again. “Boy, Garnet’s behaving well today. She’s usually much worse.”

Henrietta sneered. “It’s nothing a good crop and spurs won’t fix,” she said.

“Quite right, darling! Discipline is the key! You’ll have her behaving in no time,” Mrs. Kingsley bellowed.

“What? Did someone say something?” Veronica called. She was cantering haphazardly around the ring.

The Kingsleys ignored her. Henrietta turned to Stevie, Lisa, and Carole. “Look, I don’t want to tell your boss that you’re slouching on the job, so why don’t you make yourselves useful and give these boots a shine?” Henrietta stuck out a foot to be polished.

“We’re not—” Carole started to protest, but Stevie elbowed her.

“This is too good to miss,” she whispered. She whipped a towel out of her back pocket, knelt down, and spit all over Henrietta’s boots. “Spit and polish still make the best shine,” Stevie murmured. Lisa’s hand flew up to her mouth as she stifled a giggle.

Eventually Veronica rode over to speak to the Kingsleys. She was panting and red in the face from trying to control Garnet. “All right, Henrietta. I’ve got her nice and warmed up, so why don’t I give you a leg up?”

“I can hardly wait,” Stevie whispered wickedly.

Henrietta looked up from consulting with her mother. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’ve decided that I don’t need to ride Garnet myself. Just have those copies of the bloodlines sent over in the morning, all right?”

“S-sure, I mean, of course I will,” Veronica answered, taken aback.

“All right. So I guess she’s mine, right, Mother?”

Mrs. Kingsley huffed and puffed a bit. “Now, don’t get overexcited, dear. We can’t consider the animal yours until she’s got a definite seal of approval from Grandmama’s veterinarian.” The older woman turned to The Saddle Club. “I’ll have the man flown up from the racing stable in Kentucky as soon as possible. If the horse passes inspection, we’ll take her. Otherwise, no deal.”

Stevie, Lisa, and Carole gaped at the Kingsleys. The vet
check was totally reasonable, of course. But never, in all of their years of riding, had they ever heard of anyone buying a horse without trying it. It was stupid, it was insane—and it was just the kind of thing you’d expect from Veronica diAngelo’s “perfect buyers.”

“B
UT
I
LIKED
the part when the man saved her from drowning,” Carole protested. It was Friday night and she and her father were just coming home from seeing an Alfred Hitchcock movie called
Vertigo.

“I guess you’re just a sucker for the romantic touch,” Colonel Hanson kidded.

Carole tried to give him a withering look but ruined it by running to the answering machine to check for messages. She still hadn’t succeeded in actually talking to Cam. He had called when she was out and vice versa. Sure enough, there was a message tonight. Carole turned the
volume up as soon as she heard Cam’s voice. Was it her imagination or did he sound kind of upset?

“Hi, Carole, it’s Cam calling,” the message said. “Listen, I really need to see you—to talk to you—so I hope we’ll catch up with each other soon. I’ll keep trying.… I guess that’s all. Okay, bye.”