“No, we wouldn’t.” This info gives me an odd feeling that I can’t quite name. “You think that’s true?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I just like coming here to think. No one comes out here.”
“Looks like someone does.” I spot a jacket on one of the chairs.
“I think that’s Holden’s. I haven’t seen it on him for a while. The chill doesn’t set in around here until November. I bet he hasn’t even missed it.”
I pick it up. It’s dark green and has the Fairmont logo on the back. “Huh. It looks like there’s some blood on it. Some kind of stain, anyway.”
“Maybe we should take it to him,” Riley says. “See if it’s his.”
“Okay. We better get back. I don’t want to be late for Martina.”
“Yep.”
I’m finding it kind of odd that Riley has brought me out to the Olympic House. I feel like I did the other day when he asked me to the Homecoming dance—as if he had something he wanted to say to me. But it’s not like I am with horses; I could be wrong about what I’m sensing.
Back at the stalls, I set the jacket down on top of the stall door. As Harmony turns to face me, she sees it and begins weaving and snorting. “Hey, hey.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Riley asks.
“Here, take this. Can you put it out of sight?” I hand him the jacket. “She’s being weird.”
I turn back to Harmony. “What is it? What is it, my girl?”
Black to red to the cap. And then to the jacket. She shows me the jacket. Then the blood on it. She shows me the blood on it. Then darkness once again.
I have an awful thought.
What if Holden Fairmont is the bad man? Why is there blood on Holden’s jacket—if it is his—and why did Harmony specifically just show me the blood?
I calm her down before I get back on her, but I’m scared. Scared now that something really terrible happened the night that Dr. Miller died. Is Holden Fairmont involved in his cousin’s death?
TRISTAN
CHAPTER twenty-three
Tristan had been impressed by both Vivvie and her horse out on cross-country today—well, especially Vivvie. Lydia can ride. There’s no denying it. But Vivienne has a certain finesse; as if she and Harmony just meld together as one. Definitely impressive and… beautiful.
He closes Sebastian’s stall door, noting that Vivienne and Riley aren’t back yet. He had seen them ride out in the opposite direction.
Wonder what those two are up to?
When he turns around from locking the stall, there stands Lydia, hands on hips. “Hey! You sneaking up on me?” he says.
“You like her!” she spits.
“Who?”
“You know who! You like Scholarship.”
Oh, crap. “I don’t,” he lies.
“Right. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her when she rides. Like you’re all amazed!”
“She’s just, just a really good rider.”
“Please!”
“Lydia, calm down. You know you’re my girlfriend.”
“Yeah. I am. But have you even made any plans for us? For Homecoming? I would think you’d want to go all out. Me and you are the perfect couple. Vivienne Taylor—she’s a total Wal-Martian. And I am the one who knows about your family, the one you trusted to tell all that stuff to.”
Tristan takes a step back and assesses the steely, hard look in Lydia’s eyes. “What does that mean?”
She shrugs. “That I am only looking out for you, Tristan. That’s how you should take it. I want what is best for you, and I am best for you.” She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him. Her lips feel poisonous. He stiffens, and she pulls away. “Play nice with me. Don’t screw this up.” Then she spins and flounces out of the barn.
God, I am so… trapped.
He stands stunned, lowering his head as a mixture of emotions shoots through him.
When he looks up, Vivienne is walking in with Harmony.
“You guys go on a trail ride?” he asks.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s nice out there, huh?”
“It is.” She takes the saddle off Harmony.
He walks up to her and places his hands over hers on the saddle. “Here, let me put this up for you.”
She looks up at him. The blue in her eyes is so blue, like cornflower, and for a second he feels something wonderful and intense between them. She’s not moving her hands from underneath his. Not yet. Finally she says, “I’ve got this.”
“Oh, come on, Vivienne.”
“All right. Thanks.” She lets him take her saddle.
When he comes back, she’s brushing Harmony down. “She sure is beautiful,” he says, his voice catching a bit on that last word.
“She is.”
“And talented.”
“Yep. That, too.”
“So are you, Vivienne.”
Vivienne stops brushing and stands up straight, but she doesn’t look him in the eye as he stares at her with a hungry look. “Tristan, please—what do you want from me?” she whispers. “You have a girlfriend, and I… I can’t get mixed up in a hot mess between you two.”
He looks away. Damn. She’s right. There’s Riley, whom he didn’t want to hurt. And Lydia—she would lash out like a crazed tiger. She could—and would?—ruin him. But… he likes this girl. A lot. “If there was no Lydia and me, would it be possible? You and me?”
She goes back to brushing Harmony. Several silent seconds stretch between them. Finally she says, sounding slightly sad, “I’m sorry, Tristan, but even then it wouldn’t be possible.”
He wants to say that he doesn’t believe her. He wants to tell her that he will change her mind, that she is all he thinks about and it is practically killing him. So…
“Hey, you guys. How much did I suck out there today?” says Riley, leading Santos toward his stall.
Tristan claps Riley on the shoulder. “Dude, you just had an off day. Newman knows, we all know, that you’re talented.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Bye, Vivienne. Nice riding with you guys today,” he says before walking out of the barn.
“Oh… I mean… thank you,” she replies.
On the way back to the dorm, Tristan imagines the what-ifs: What if Riley hadn’t walked in? What if he told Vivienne that he didn’t believe that she never thought about him that way? What if he had just gone for it and kissed her instead of asking her that question? But he knows all this is pure fantasy. Maybe Vivienne has just told him the truth. And, maybe getting out of his mess with Lydia is damn near impossible.
Question is: How much of a risk am I willing to take?
RILEY
CHAPTER twenty-four
Although it’s a Friday night, Riley tries hard to focus on his homework—and not on his parent arrival tomorrow morning. They come every damn year for Parents’ Day weekend. Every year it is the same browbeating, the same five hundred thousand questions, the boring-ass lecture about how much they pay for him to attend Fairmont—blah, blah, and blah.
Big question to self: Why stick with Fairmont?
But then he reminds himself what living in his parents’ home and going to school in Virginia was like. Becker-the-pecker can call him an idiot a thousand times; Fairmont will still be worth it.
As Riley gazes out at his dorm room window’s ocean view, his phone chirps, indicating an incoming text.
You in? It’s from Nate Deacon. Riley’s stomach sinks.
Riley likes to bet. He is a good gambler. Last year, from the standing poker game he and some other guys on campus kept hidden from the administration, he amassed something like fourteen grand. This money, it is going to buy his freedom. He needs to keep his winning streak going. If he can maintain it, he will graduate with enough to move far away and start a new life, finally out from under his dad’s heavy thumb.
But this bet… Vivienne truly is his friend, and he knows she will be hurt, and mortified.
&nbs
p; He also knows that Vivvie has a thing for Tristan, and vice versa. He hasn’t said anything to her about it yet, but when those two are in close proximity, the heat is way too obvious. Riley admires Tristan for not trying to cross that line. Of course, Lydia will skin him alive if he does, him and Vivienne both.
Riley’s phone chirps again.
Damn Nate! Riley flips open his phone. “Dude, I don’t think it’s cool. I don’t want to do it!”
“Riley?”
“Oh, Dad. Hi. Sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.”
Now Riley leans back in his chair and watches the moonlit tide go in and out, in and out.
“Your mother and I will be there at ten a.m. sharp. Be on time and dressed appropriately.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll have a guest with us.”
Riley sits up. “Who?”
“Joel Parker. He wanted to join us and see how you’re doing. He’s considering colleges in that area. We invited him along. He may even transfer to Fairmont for his senior year.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Joel has been your friend since you guys were like what, six? And ‘okay’ is all you can say? We thought you would be delighted by this.”
“Sorry, sir. It’s just, I’ve been studying and you caught me off guard.”
“Well, you better be on your guard tomorrow. Ten a.m.—sharp.”
Riley hangs up his phone, closes his eyes. A minute later another text comes in. FIFTEEN grand now, bro! You in?
Riley takes a deep breath, feeling slightly dizzy and a little sick. He pecks out Yeah. I’m in.
CHAPTER twenty-five
I’m trying so hard to focus on Martina’s conversation as she drives us to her parents’ place in Bel Air. But inside, my mind is such a whirl.
If there was no Lydia and me… You and me?
But I meant what I’d said to him. Didn’t I?
Oh, God! Tristan Goode will screw up all my hopes, goals, and dreams. I just know he will.
Then there’s this thing with Harmony—the blood on the jacket, the cap, Christian and Kayla, Dr. Miller’s death, my poor, traumatized horse.
“You okay?” Martina asks.
“Oh, of course.”
“Well, I was just blabbing to you about the event coming up, asking you how cross-country was today, and you just kept looking out the window.”
“I’m sorry, M. I am a little… preoccupied.”
“Look, I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks, Vivvie, but you’re kind of easy to read. What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to say anything.”
“Promise.”
“I think that maybe something really bad happened to Dr. Miller.”
“Well, of course it did. She died.”
“But I don’t think it was an accident.”
“What do you mean?”
I start to babble. “See, Harmony is still nervous with me, and when she sees a baseball cap she freaks out, and today Riley and I went over to the Olympic House and there was a jacket with blood on it that Riley thinks might belong to Holden and—”
“Wait. So… because a horse freaks out over a baseball cap and because Holden’s jacket has blood on it, you think that he murdered his cousin?”
When she puts it like that, I know it sounds ridiculous. But I can’t tell her about Bart telling me about the bad man and the images Harmony and Timmy shared with me. “I didn’t say murder, exactly.”
“Murder was implied.”
I laugh. “Silly, huh?”
Martina gives me a “I forgive you for being crazy” smile. So nice. “I know that Dr. Miller and Holden didn’t always get along. Holden is more into natural healing than she was. I heard them argue once about it, but I still think she just had a terrible, freaky accident. As far as Harmony goes, horses can be emotional. You know that. I always think about how these big, strong animals can be startled by a blowing leaf.”
I nod. “That’s so true.”
As our conversation drifts back into tamer territory, I consider Martina’s perspective. I still don’t think I’m altogether wrong exactly, but could Harmony have misunderstood the incident as something sinister when maybe it was just a horrible, upsetting accident?
“Here we are!” Martina presses a clicker, and an ornate wrought-iron gate opens up.
We drive up a circular drive and—it’s just incredible. Perfectly manicured landscaping, a water fountain with a giant stone fish in the center, and a massive Spanish-style home, all lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Come meet my mom and dad.”
I am frozen with sensory overload, but Martina grabs my hand, leads me up the steps, and opens a set of massive, carved wooden doors. We step into a foyer tiled with cream-colored marble. There are two staircases and a humongous chandelier, and it all looks like something out of a movie.
“Martina? Is that you, sweetheart?” A woman with a slight Spanish accent calls out.
“Down here, Mommy.”
My stomach is filled with all sorts of nerves. I am about to meet Erika Martín! The totally famous, great actress!
Must. Remember. To Breathe.
She stands at the top of the stairs, her long, wavy black hair trailing down past her shoulders. She’s wearing a white flowy blouse, a pair of jeans, and the perfect amount of sparkly jewelry. She’s perfect.
She kisses Martina on both cheeks. “Ah, Mija! We’ve missed you so much. Your father is out back at the barbecue, making your favorite.”
“Ribs!” Martina claps and rubs her hands together. “This is Vivienne, my friend and new roommate.”
Erika Martín wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “Welcome, Vivienne! I am so happy you could join us for dinner. Come on, girls. Come out and see your daddy.”
Am I dreaming? I have to be. I pinch myself—twice. Nope. Not dreaming. This is real.
I follow them through the family room—it’s big but still looks nice and comfy. The walls are done up in warm golds and peaches. There are overstuffed suede and leather sofas and chairs, and it all opens up to a large family-style kitchen. It’s got everything, but it isn’t really like a magazine picture—this kitchen looks like it actually gets used. At the counter is a set of leather bar stools and behind that I count one, two… three ovens.
We walk past the kitchen through arched glass doors to a tiled patio lit with jillions of candles. The sun is setting in the west, casting a glow over the area. I inhale the scent of the rose garden next to the outdoor kitchen. And of course there’s a pool, shiny and serene in the evening light, flowing down into what looks like—a canyon?
“Mija!” Martina’s father, dressed in a chef’s cap and apron, comes out from behind the grill. He and Martina have the same bright smile. He just lights up upon seeing her.
So nice. Must be so nice.
“Papi!” Martina runs and throws her arms around him.
“My Martina-beena! And who is your friend?” he asks.
“This is Vivienne,” Martina says, “my new roommate.”
“Nice to meet you. I am Rodrigo Lunes.” He wipes his free hand on his apron. “Sorry, my hands are a bit smoky.”
This family, they are so real and wonderful. The delectable smell of barbecue wafts our way, and my stomach goes grrrgle.
“How about you girls mix up the fruit salad?” he asks. “Mommy is going to finish her famous flan for dessert.”
“I’ve missed you guys,” Martina says. “Vivienne, you up for making the salad?”
“Just hand me a knife and bowl.”
During dinner, Martina’s mother tells us all about her recent movie that’s filming in Sweden. Her dad tells how on his trip to Africa last month, where he produced a documentary for IMAX theaters on the wildebeest migration, he woke up to find a baboon in his hotel room. They are so interesting… and even interested in me, my life, too. Completely different from the way all those shiny magazines m
ake them out to be.
“So, do you like Fairmont?” Martina’s mom asks me.
“I do. It’s an adjustment. My small town in Oregon, well, it’s a small town.”
“I get that. I am from teeny-tiny Colima, Mexico. Can you imagine when I came here what it was like for me? I think I do understand, Mija.”
I smile. It’s like having a little bit of my own mom back.
“Vivvie has already had the honor of being harassed by Lydia Gallagher and her coven,” Martina said.
Her mom waves a hand as if batting away flies. “Don’t pay any mind to those girls. They are just jealous, I am sure.”
“I don’t know about that. Some of them are really good riders.”
“They were so rotten to my Martina her freshman year.”
“Ma-mi!” Martina shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, Mija. I know I told you I wouldn’t talk about it.” She smiles and looks at me. “I am happy that Martina has made such a nice new friend, Vivienne. You girls can look out for each other.”
I am dying to know what Lydia and the DZ did to Martina. But if Martina wants to tell me, then she will. However, let any one of those stupid girls try to pull any new crap on my friend and they’ll find out what kind of a smackdown a small-town girl from Oregon can pack.
“I am going to get dessert.” Martina’s father stands up and heads into the house. A moment later, we hear him yelling, “Erika! Erika! Come here quick!”
Martina’s mom jumps up and runs into the house, and after a moment’s hesitation, Martina and I run after her.
Erika and Rodrigo are standing in front of a computer at a built-in desk in the kitchen.
“That son of a bitch. I am going to find him, Erika!”
Martina’s mother is rubbing his shoulder. “Rodrigo, no. Let the police handle it.”
“This has been going on for six months!”
“Mom, this does seem excessive,” Martina says.
“Honey, it’s just some crazy idiot. You know how it is,” she says. “Nothing for you to worry about. Go, be with your friend.”
Silent Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 1) Page 11