The a Circuit (7 page)

Tommi stayed busy for the rest of the morning, taking Toccata for an easy hack in the fields, giving her junior jumper a quick lunge, and then schooling one of Jamie’s greenies on the flat. By the time she’d finished, her stomach was grumbling.

“Hey,” she said, sticking her head into the utility room. “You eat yet?”

Kate looked up from pulling a load of damp barn laundry out of the washing machine. “What time is it?”

“Almost one. Want to take a break and hit the diner with me? My treat.”

“One o’clock?” Kate sounded panicked. “Oh, man, I’ll have to pass. I’ve got to finish two more loads, and I’m supposed to teach a lesson at two thirty.”

Tommi stepped into the room. “No biggie. I’ll help you finish up here, then we can do a quick lunch run and be back in plenty of time.”

“Thanks, Tommi, but that’s okay.” Kate’s hands flew as she separated the next load of dirty laundry—polo wraps in one pile, baby pads in another, grooming towels separate. “I’d better not. I still need to dump and scrub the outdoor water tubs, too—oh! And speaking of water, I told Jamie I’d keep up with the hanging baskets outside the office, and I noticed the flowers in them are starting to wilt already …”

Tommi sighed. She knew better than to press Kate when she got like this. Total perfectionist mode.

“Okay,” she said. “But you’ve got to eat, right? I’ll bring you back a sandwich or something.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kate said.

“I know. See you in a while.” Back in the aisle, Tommi wondered who else was around. She hated eating alone, especially at the crowded local diner where party-of-one customers always got stuck at the counter, with its rock-hard vinyl seats.

She noticed Javier leading Ellie down the aisle in the direction of the turnouts. What about Zara? Maybe she should invite her to lunch as an apology for snapping at her earlier.

As quickly as the idea entered her head, Tommi shrugged it off. It had been a couple of hours since she’d seen Zara; who knew if she was even still at the barn? She didn’t really seem like the type to hang around looking for ways to help out. Besides, when Tommi thought back to the paparazzi incident, she felt herself tense up all over again. Whether she’d meant to or not, it seemed Zara had brought the trashier element of the press to the barn. No, maybe she wasn’t ready to make nice quite yet.

Just then she spotted two of the barn’s other junior riders, Marissa and Dani, wandering out of the tack room. Bubbly, always-smiling Marissa was the type of person who got along with everybody; she wasn’t the bravest or most naturally gifted rider in the world but made up for that with hard work. Dani was athletic and fun-loving, though way too ADHD to have much success in the hunter or equitation rings. Jumpers was her thing—she’d never seen a big fence she didn’t have the guts to try. Like Kate’s, her family didn’t have tons of money to throw at the horses, but Jamie had found her an inexpensive but talented off-the-track Thoroughbred, and the pair had been cleaning up in the Low Juniors all year with plans to move up soon.

“Hi,” Tommi said, hurrying over. “I was just heading out to the diner. Want to come?”

“God, yes!” Dani exclaimed. “I was just telling Marissa I had to eat something soon or I’d pass out.”

Marissa giggled. “Yeah, well, it’s her own fault,” she said. “If we hadn’t had to stop halfway through to look for your cell phone after you dropped it, our ride wouldn’t have taken so long.”

“Whatever,” Tommi said with a smile. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

Soon all three of them were climbing into Tommi’s BMW Roadster, a birthday gift when she’d turned sixteen. Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in a window booth at the diner.

“I’ll take one of everything,” Dani joked as she grabbed a menu.

Marissa was staring at something over Tommi’s right shoulder. “Me too,” she said. “Especially one of
him
!”

Tommi turned and saw a good-looking young construction worker wolfing down a piece of pie at the counter, totally oblivious to their stares. “Nice,” she said with a grin. “Why don’t you go over and say hi?”

“Are you kidding?” Marissa grinned back. “My parents would have a heart attack. I mean, he’s probably not even Jewish.”

Tommi laughed, then turned her attention to the menu, even though she practically had it memorized. “Remind me to grab something for Kate on our way out, okay?” she told the others.

“Let me guess,” Marissa said. “She’s too busy to stop for lunch, right?”

Her tone was light and friendly, but Tommi couldn’t help feeling a little defensive on her friend’s behalf. Still, what could she say? Marissa wasn’t wrong.

“What’s up with her, anyway?” Dani asked. “Kate’s been even more spastic than usual lately. Is she trying to put Jamie and the grooms out of a job and run the whole place on her own?”

Marissa took a sip of her water. “She really pushes herself. I hope she doesn’t burn out.”

Tommi bit her lip, feeling a flash of worry. Were the other girls right? Was Kate working too hard? Tommi made a mental note to check on her, then decided to change the subject.

“Hey, listen,” she said. “I was just realizing the big Hounds Hollow show is really coming up fast! Can you believe it’s only a few weeks away?”

Marissa shrugged. “I guess. I’m not going to worry about it until after I survive the next one. But listen, Tommi, you’re probably Kate’s best friend in the barn, right? Do you think she’s working too hard?”

Okay, so that attempt at changing the subject hadn’t worked. “I’m sure Kate’s fine,” Tommi said. “But listen, I meant to ask, have you guys met the new girl yet? You know—Zara Trask.”

“Oh my God, yes!” Dani’s eyes lit up. “Is she a piece of work or what? I heard she totally bitched out Miguel because there was poop in Ellie’s stall when she stopped by to see her.”

“Are you sure that’s true?” Marissa looked dubious. “Summer says she’s really nice.”

“Summer likes anyone who’s richer than she is,” Dani retorted. “Anyway, I saw this story about Zac Trask on TV last year, and it said …”

Tommi sat back as the gossip continued to flow, keeping them all busy until the waitress arrived to take their order.

SEVEN

Tommi sat in the brownstone’s classically elegant dining room staring into her soup, trying to zone out her sister’s prattling about her latest
fabulous
luncheon with some bigwig senator. They were only twenty minutes into dinner, and Tommi was already bored. Definitely not her favorite way to spend Friday night.

She glanced around the table. Her father was leaning forward, hanging on Callie’s every word. Her stepmother was smiling vaguely as she sipped her wine. Tommi’s aunt and uncle, who lived in Connecticut but had made a trip into the city for this family dinner, were their usual mellow selves.

Then there was Grant. Tommi still couldn’t quite believe he was there, sitting right next to her. She hadn’t seen him in two years and hadn’t even realized he was back in the country until he’d turned up at the door, looking taller, broader, tanner, and handsomer than she remembered in a linen sport coat. Surprise!

“In any case,” Callie said, reaching for her wineglass, “I have no interest in switching jobs right now, but it’s nice to know I have options.”

Her father chuckled. “Of course you do, sweetheart,” he said. “With your education and brains and hardworking attitude, it’s no wonder you’re in demand!”

Callie smiled, leaning back in her chair. She was slightly taller than Tommi, her face a little narrower, her brown hair cropped into a conservative hairdo that practically screamed Washington DC. But there was no mistaking that she and Tommi were sisters. Maybe that was why everyone always seemed to be comparing them.

Tommi grimaced, trying not to think about that. She was only seventeen. Her senior year still months away. That hadn’t stopped her family from starting to make noises about college, career … basically, Life After Horses. So far she’d managed to ignore all that. But Callie’s visit was making it harder.

Stirring her soup, Tommi let her mind wander to the horse show that weekend. She wondered if all the horses had settled in over the past couple of days. How Kate and her other friends had done in their classes that afternoon. What else was going on. Whatever it was, it had to be more interesting than sitting here listening to Perfect Callie talk about her Perfect Life.

“So what are you up to these days, Tommi? Still doing the horse thing?”

Tommi glanced up, snapping back to the here and now. Grant was smiling at her. Callie had apparently paused for breath, because everyone else was looking at Tommi now, too.

“Um, yeah,” Tommi told Grant. “I’m showing tomorrow, actually.”

“You are?” Callie glanced over at their father. “Maybe we should go. I kind of miss being around horses.” She grinned. “There aren’t many on Capitol Hill. Just horses’ asses.”

Her father roared with laughter, and everyone else joined in as if the lame joke was the funniest ever. Tommi sipped a spoonful of soup to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Seriously.” Callie turned to stare at her. “Where’s the show?”

Tommi shrugged and told her. She doubted Callie would actually decide to go—she’d ridden as a junior herself, but had never been that into it.

“So do you show a lot?” Grant asked. “I mean, I remember you going to a lot of horse shows when we were kids, but …”

“I show as much as I can,” Tommi told him. “I love it.”

“Really? Maybe I should tag along to this show tomorrow, if Callie and your dad don’t mind,” Grant said. “See what it’s all about.”

“The more the merrier,” Tommi’s father said jovially. “We can all make a day of it.”

Tommi did her best to ignore the smug look her father shot her stepmother. That confirmed it—this was supposed to be a setup. Grant was exactly the kind of guy her father adored. Tall, square-jawed, smart, polite, ambitious, from a good family, the whole deal.

Not that Tommi minded seeing him, of course. Grant was one of her oldest friends—they’d taken tennis lessons together when she was six and he was seven, and had been pretty tight for a while. But he’d spent his last two years of high school in Europe, and aside from an occasional e-mail or Facebook posting, they’d pretty much drifted apart.

“So what are your plans for the summer?” she asked him, hoping to focus the dinner conversation on someone other than her sister. “Dad said you’re starting at Columbia in the fall?”

“That’s right,” Grant said. “Everyone says I won’t believe how much work it is, so I’m just planning to chill this summer to rest and prepare myself.”

Tommi’s father chuckled. “Good. That gives me the whole summer to convince you to transfer to Georgetown.” He shot a broad wink at the other adults, who all smiled.

“You can try, Mr. Aaronson,” Grant joked in return. “But you know my dad’s a Columbia man, so I think he’ll have something to say about it.” He turned to Tommi. “And what about you? Got big plans for the summer?”

“Just the usual,” Tommi said. “You know—ride, show, hang out, whatever.”

“And start thinking about colleges, right?” Her father shot her a look.

Tommi shrugged. “I guess.”

“You need to start narrowing down your choices, Tommi,” her uncle spoke up. “The right school can open a lot of doors, depending on what you want to do with your life.”

“That’s true,” Grant agreed. “Do you know what you want to do, Tommi? I know you always talked about moving to Antarctica to study penguins when we were kids, but I’m assuming you’re over that.”

Once again, all the adults chuckled. Tommi smiled tightly. “Yeah, I’m thinking ice floes and riding don’t mix too well.”

“So you still think you’re going to keep riding in college?” Callie raised one tweezed eyebrow.

“Of course,” Tommi told her evenly. “Not everybody quits the second they get accepted to the university of their choice like you did.”

Their father set down his spoon and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Nobody says you have to quit entirely, Tommi,” he said in his Father Knows Best voice. “But you’ll have to scale back a bit, of course. As Grant says, your studies will be much more challenging than high school.”

“Yeah. It’s not like showing would be as much fun anyway once you age out of the juniors,” Callie put in.

Tommi frowned. She’d planned to just drift along, try to get through this dinner without making waves. But now Callie was pissing her off.

“Who says it’s no fun?” she retorted. “For your information, I’m not planning to quit. Or scale back, either.” She turned toward Grant. “In fact, I’m seriously thinking about turning pro as soon as I age out of the juniors and making a career out of riding.”

She hadn’t known what she was going to say until it was out of her mouth. But now there it was, hanging in the air over the Tiffany china and Tuttle flatware like a horse’s fart. But despite her family’s surprised looks, Tommi felt pleased with the whole idea. Her, going pro? It sounded right somehow.

“Oh, please.” Callie rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile their father was scowling. “Grow up, Tommi,” he snapped. “Nobody does that.”

“Oh, right. All those pro riders are just figments of my imagination, right?” If her family was going to turn on the sarcasm, Tommi could match them snide remark for snide remark.

“Well, she still has plenty of time to decide,” Tommi’s aunt spoke up, clearly trying to defuse the tension. “No need to worry about it now, when she still has her whole senior year to enjoy.”

Mr. Aaronson was still glaring at Tommi. She met his eye, not backing down. Not this time.

“So can you really make a living riding horses?” her uncle asked.

Her stepmother sipped her wine. “A girlfriend of mine once dated a jockey,” she said. “He did fairly well for himelf, I think. Had a lovely place in the Berkshires.”

“That’s different,” Callie said. “Tommi doesn’t ride racehorses.”

“Right, right,” her uncle said. “Hey, what’s that old joke? You know—how do you make a million in the horse business?”

“Start with two million.” Grant chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

Tommi finally tore her gaze away from her father’s. “Whatever,” she muttered. “I guess my trainer’s nice car and huge farm are just figments of my imagination, too. Because clearly there’s no money in show horses.”

“Speaking of racehorses,” Callie said, as Mrs. Grigoryan bustled in to clear the plates for the next course, “the senator got invited to speak to some constituents’ group next month, and the only place big enough is the local racetrack, so …”

She was off and running again. Tommi sneaked a look at Grant, who was listening with apparent fascination just like everyone else.

“Another weekend, another show,” Zara said as Mickey pulled the car up to an elegant stone barn on Saturday morning. The fields off to the right were packed with horse trailers of all shapes and sizes, from two-horse bumper pulls behind SUVs to huge custom rigs.

“Have fun, Z-girl.” Mickey glanced at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Text me when you’re ready to cut out, and I’ll come get you.”

“Sure you can’t stay to watch?”

“Sorry.” Mickey shrugged his skinny shoulders. “Got to get back to the city. Your dad’s got a lot going on today.”

“So I heard.” Zara frowned. This would be her first time showing with her new barn. Was it really too much to ask for someone to come watch her ride?

Yeah. Apparently it was. Back home, she’d never lacked for a cheering section. Even when her parents couldn’t make it—which was more often than not—there were always plenty of friends, admirers, and assorted groupies who were more than thrilled to come cheer her on. But those people were all back on the West Coast. Her dad had some kind of publicity deal going on this week, her mom was still off in Vancouver shooting some lame-ass old-farts-in-love movie, and so Zara was on her own.

Whatever. It beat sitting around the new apartment, so she might as well make the best of it.

She found her way to Pelham Lane’s show stalls. When she got there, one of the grooms was just leading Ellie into a stall. It was that quiet, shy young one who always seemed to be scuttling around like a mouse—what was his name? José or something?

“How is she?” Zara asked, stepping over to give the mare a pat.

The groom unclipped the lead rope and shot Zara a tentative smile. “She’s fine,” the groom said in his soft, accented voice. “I just groomed her so she’d be ready for you later.”

“Cool, thanks,” Zara said. “She looks great. You been grooming for long?”

The groom looked a little surprised by her friendly question, which amused Zara. Did she have that much of a rep already? Whatever—she liked keeping people on their toes.

“Yes,” the groom blurted out. “I mean no. That is, I’ve worked with horses for many years, but only a few months here. I mean, for Mr. Vos.”

“Javier!” A girl with bulging brown eyes and wavy dark hair rushed in with her show collar flapping. “Is Miles tacked up yet? Jamie wants me to start warming up for my eq course, even though I thought I still had like half an hour.”

“I think Max is doing it, Miss Marissa, but I’ll find out.” Javier—oh right,
that
was his name—rushed off down the aisle.

The girl shot Zara a look. “Oh, hi,” she said, sounding distracted as she fiddled with her collar. “Are you showing today?”

“Yeah, supposedly.” Zara was about to elaborate, but the other girl was already hurrying off.

“Good luck!” she called back over her shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks,” Zara muttered, though the girl was already out of sight around the corner.

She wandered down the aisle, feeling out of place and unwanted. And those sorts of feelings always pissed her off, made her want to do something crazy just to get people to look up out of their own stupid little worlds and notice her.

Then she spotted someone pushing a wheelbarrow into an empty stall nearby. It was that cute part-time mucker, Sean. She hadn’t really talked to him since their first meeting, but he always shot her a little smirk or wink when they passed each other at the barn.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, leaning against the stall door. “How’s the shit business going?”

“Shitty.” Sean shot her a lazy grin. “But why don’t you come in here and find out for yourself? Or are you the kind of girl who’s afraid of getting her hands dirty?”