Lisa grabbed Stevie by the shoulder. “Come on,” she said pointedly. “I could use some company.”
Stevie looked up at her in surprise. “Well, okay,” she said uncertainly. She glanced at Phil and Scott and grinned weakly. “You know us girls,” she joked. “We can never go to the rest room alone. It’s like a rule of the universe or something.” She shoved one more onion ring into her mouth, then got up and followed Lisa through the restaurant to the bathrooms.
Once they were safely inside, Lisa checked the stalls to be sure they were alone and then turned to Stevie. “Do you realize what you almost did?” she asked, exasperated.
Stevie was confused. She could see that Lisa was upset about something, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what it was. “Um …,” she said blankly.
Lisa leaned against a sink and rubbed her face. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess there’s no way you could know.”
“Know what?” Stevie was still lost. “What did I do? What’s wrong?”
Lisa bit her lip. “It was what you said out there. About me almost staying in California.” She hesitated. “Um, you see, I never quite got around to telling Alex about that. He doesn’t know I even considered not coming back to Willow Creek.”
Stevie gasped, truly surprised. She had been as amazed as everyone else when her brother and Lisa had gotten together. The two of them hadn’t seemed to have much in common at first—aside from Stevie herself, of course. But they shared a basic kindness and honesty that more than made up for any minor differences in interests or opinions. That was why it was so hard to believe that Lisa could have kept something so important from Alex for this long. She had long since explained to Carole and Stevie how she had seriously considered spending her senior year in California, living with her father and going to school out there, instead of returning to Willow Creek High School, her mother, and the rest of her life here. Stevie had assumed that Lisa had talked over this decision with Alex, too. Apparently she was wrong.
“You haven’t told him?” she blurted out. “Why not?”
Lisa shrugged and picked at her fingernails. “I meant to,” she said. “It just hasn’t been easy to find the right time. I mean, he’s been kind of weird about the whole subject of California.”
Stevie frowned. “Well, okay,” she said slowly. “I guess he did have a little trouble with that. But you’re back now. And he deserves to know the truth.”
“I know.” Lisa gave Stevie a pleading look. She knew it couldn’t be easy for Stevie to be caught in the middle like this, her loyalty to her twin struggling against her loyalty to her best friend. “And you’re right. I really do have to tell him. It’s just—I need a little more time. Please?”
Stevie felt decidedly uncomfortable with this whole conversation. She and Alex didn’t make a big deal out of the fact that they were twins. But the truth was, deep down they really did share a special bond, a kinship that was different than what Stevie felt with her two other brothers. Keeping something this important from him just didn’t feel right. Knowing that Lisa hadn’t told Alex about her decision was almost as disturbing as it would have been to find out she had been keeping a secret from Stevie herself.
Still, Stevie understood Lisa’s position. Alex hadn’t exactly been reasonable about the prospect of spending the entire summer apart from his girlfriend, and he would probably have some trouble accepting the idea that Lisa had even considered extending that time. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “I guess we’ll all be a lot better off if you can find a way to tell him so that he doesn’t totally freak out. But please—make it soon.”
Lisa smiled with relief. “I will,” she said. “Thanks, Stevie. I really appreciate this.”
Stevie shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said. “But listen, it’s just blind luck this hasn’t slipped out before now. I mean, Carole knows everything, too. And I mentioned it to Phil.” Seeing Lisa’s look of dismay, she quickly added, “I’ll tell him not to breathe a word. But you’re on your own with Carole. You know how hopelessly honest she is.”
“I know,” Lisa said. “I’ll have to talk to her about it right away. I think she’ll understand if I explain the situation.”
“Probably,” Stevie agreed. “Anyway, you probably don’t have to worry that much about her. She never talks about anything but the stable these days, so there’s not a lot of danger she’ll say anything incriminating.”
At that moment the rest room door opened and Callie stuck her head in tentatively. “Hi,” she said. “Um, sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”
“You’re not,” Stevie said. “Come on in.”
Callie limped in, holding her left arm out in front of her carefully, with both her crutches in her right hand. Stevie could see that the sleeve of Callie’s blouse was soaked with what she assumed was soda.
“What happened?” Lisa asked.
Callie smiled and shook her head. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “Alex got a little overexcited about something Phil said—something about the Redskins and the Eagles, I think—and spilled his drink all over the place. Mostly on me.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “Typical,” she said. “He’s always been a clumsy oaf.”
“I’d better go help clean up.” Lisa grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser near the door. “See you guys out there.” She disappeared through the door, leaving Stevie and Callie alone.
Stevie gave Callie a sidelong glance as she leaned over the sink to rinse her sleeve. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to her about Sheila’s visit.
“So,” she said, keeping her voice casual. She didn’t want to give away the fact that Scott had told her about Callie’s relationship with Sheila. “You must be pretty excited about seeing Sheila again, huh?”
Callie kept her gaze trained on her sleeve. “Sure,” she said blandly. “It should be lots of fun. I can’t wait.”
“Really?” Stevie still kept her voice as neutral as she could. “That’s cool. If it was me, I’d probably be kind of nervous.” She gestured at Callie’s crutches, which were leaning against the sink. “Especially if I wasn’t feeling quite like my normal self, you know?”
Callie shot her a quick glance in the mirror. “I guess,” she said noncommittally.
Stevie plowed on. “I mean, friends are supposed to love you no matter what. But sometimes it’s hard to remember that, you know? Especially if you haven’t seen someone for a while.”
For a second Callie seemed disinclined to respond. But finally she glanced up again. “That’s true,” she admitted softly. “But you can’t let nerves stop you, right?”
Stevie could tell that, as usual, Callie wasn’t eager to open up about her private thoughts and fears. But she also suspected that Callie was just nervous enough about the impending visit to really listen to what Stevie was saying instead of cutting her off with one of her none-of-your-business glares or a sharp word.
“You can talk to me about this, you know,” she said impulsively. “That’s what friends are for.”
Callie frowned, looking startled. “Um, thanks,” she said uncertainly. “But it’s no big deal, really. Sheila and I—well, we’ve been friends for years. But not in the way you and Carole and Lisa are. I mean, if it was you with these”—she waved a hand at her crutches—“they’d be, you know, supportive. I’m not so sure how Sheila will react.” She shrugged. “So if I’m a little nervous, that’s the reason.”
That was the opening Stevie had been waiting for. “But just because things have been a certain way in the past, it doesn’t mean they always have to be that way,” she said eagerly. “Maybe if you give her a chance to understand by really opening up and trusting her, everything will change. You could have a whole different kind of friendship. A better one.”
Callie sighed as she dried her arm with a paper towel. “Thanks for the pep talk, Stevie,” she said, her voice weary. “I know you mean well and everything. But you probably shouldn’t waste your time and energy on this one. Sheila and
I have known each other for a long time. A really long time. I know things between us aren’t exactly normal.” She tossed the used paper towel into the bin under the sink. “But that’s how they’ve always been, and at this point they’re probably never going to change.”
She moved toward the door without another word. Stevie shrugged and followed. It was clear that Callie had had enough of this topic for the time being.
But that didn’t mean Stevie was giving up.
THREE
Callie stared into the mirror that covered one entire wall of Cosmopolitan Cuts, keeping a close eye on the stylist who was clipping cautiously at the ends of her long blond hair. Callie had only been there a few times and still didn’t quite trust the employees to follow her instructions about her hair. She sighed, suddenly homesick, as a vision flashed through her mind of her salon back home, where her regular stylist had known exactly how she liked her hair done, from the length of the cut to the scent of the shampoo she preferred. On top of that, Callie was feeling uncomfortable about being in the salon at all. It was, after all, Sunday afternoon, and normally Cosmo Cuts would be closed. However, Mrs. Forester had phoned the salon’s owner, explaining that she needed her hair styled for a big luncheon she had to attend the next day at which the First Lady would be one of the guests, and he had agreed to open just for her and Callie. Sometimes it made Callie uncomfortable to get this kind of special treatment, but her mother took it all in stride. And her mother was careful not to take advantage of her position and to always thank people who went out of their way to help her. Still, Callie wondered if she could ever get used to the attention.
She pushed those thoughts aside and, with a concerted effort, looked away from her reflection in the mirror long enough to check on her mother’s progress.
Mrs. Forester was sitting in the next chair, her face and arms relaxed, looking as completely at home as if she had been born and raised in this salon and never known anyplace else. Callie never ceased to wonder at that ability. Her father and brother had it, too. They rarely, if ever, felt uncertain and out of place, as Callie herself did all too often. Somehow, though, this talent was most impressive in her mother. Maybe it was because Mrs. Forester and Callie bore such a strong resemblance to each other. Aside from thirty-odd years, a few pounds, and different hairstyles, the two could have been twins. But more than that, Callie always found it amazing that her mother could simultaneously take control of a room and slip into the background, giving center stage to her husband or whoever else was present—in this case the salon owner, Charles, who was working on her neat blond bob. Mrs. Forester had a way of making people feel appreciated and important, from ordinary people on the street to egotistical people like Charles. Callie knew that was a valuable talent for a politician’s wife, but she still didn’t understand how her mother did it.
Sensing her daughter’s gaze, Mrs. Forester turned to smile at Callie. “Oh, Pierre!” she exclaimed, widening her smile to include Callie’s stylist. “You’re doing a wonderful job on Callie’s hair.”
“Your daughter is so beautiful, she needs little help,” the stylist replied in his thick French accent, bowing slightly toward Mrs. Forester.
Callie just sighed. She was used to having people fawn over her because of who her father was, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Ignoring Pierre, she glanced at her mother. “Is Dad going to drive me to the airport tomorrow to pick up Sheila?”
“I spoke to him.” Mrs. Forester smoothed the apron that protected her stylish silk pantsuit from hair clippings. “He really hoped he’d be able to do it—you know how fond he is of Sheila—but he’s afraid his new committee is going to need him tomorrow afternoon.” She smiled up at Charles, who was hovering above her with a bottle of mousse. “A congressman’s work is never done, you know,” she told him confidingly, with a disarming smile. She returned her attention to Callie. “I spoke with your brother. He’ll be happy to drive you.”
Callie frowned. She knew that Scott had never liked Sheila much. He was good at hiding his feelings, but she could usually read him even when others—including their parents—couldn’t. Still, she guessed there was no other option. Mrs. Forester would be at the luncheon until late afternoon, and Callie couldn’t drive herself because of her leg.
“All right,” she said with a barely perceptible sigh.
Mrs. Forester was smiling at herself in the long mirror. “It’s so nice that Sheila can stop by on her college tour,” she commented contentedly. She glanced at Charles. “My daughter’s best friend from our old hometown is coming for a visit.”
“Isn’t that nice!” Charles cooed, shifting the mousse bottle to his other hand and continuing his work.
“I’m sure she and Scott will be glad to see each other, too.” Mrs. Forester tossed Callie a playful wink. “Don’t you remember when you were all in elementary school, how the two of them used to pretend they were getting married?” She glanced up at Charles. “Sheila had the prettiest little white dress she would wear, and she would put on some lovely music …”
Callie winced as her mother went on. She remembered those “weddings” all too well. For a period of several months, Sheila had insisted on playing that particular game at least once a week. And since Scott was the only “groom” available, and since he and Callie were siblings, naturally Sheila always got to play the bride. Callie was stuck being the minister every time.
Of course, I got my revenge for all that when I took the blue at our first Pony Club rally, she reminded herself. Especially since all she got was a “good effort” ribbon. Callie smiled with grim satisfaction as she remembered the look on Sheila’s face when Callie had walked forward to accept her ribbon and trophy. That had really put Sheila in her place for a while. She pretended it was no big deal, just like I always pretended not to care about being the minister, but—
Suddenly Callie caught herself. What was she doing? Her oldest, dearest friend was arriving the next day, and all she could think about was their petty childhood rivalries.
Of course, those rivalries were always a pretty big part of our relationship, she thought ruefully. And now …
She glanced at the shiny metal crutches leaning against a nearby counter. Just for a moment, she found herself desperately wishing that things could be different. If only she hadn’t been in the car that day. If only the accident had never happened …
She shook her head, causing Pierre to jerk his scissors back and shoot her a dirty look in the mirror. But she ignored him, too distracted by her thoughts to worry about her hair. She knew better than to waste much time on wishing things were different. What had happened had happened, and now she had to deal with the consequences.
Maybe there’s still a way to make up for all that, though, she told herself. Even Sheila has got to see that this is temporary. She glanced at her crutches again. Especially if I convince her that the rest of my life here in Washington is positively fabulous. She smiled at the thought. I mean, even Sheila would probably be impressed with all the famous politicians I’ve met since we moved here, like that handsome young senator who came to visit me when I was in the hospital. She pursed her lips. And then there’s Fenton Hall. It’s really a pretty impressive school, much more prestigious than our boring old public school back home.
Callie frowned again, suddenly disgusted with herself. What was she doing? Sheila was coming all the way across the country to see her, and before she even arrived Callie had an attitude about it. What was wrong with her, anyway? Maybe Stevie had a point. Maybe it would be better if she grew up and broke out of those ridiculous old patterns. After all, Sheila was her best friend, wasn’t she? They had known each other all their lives, for better or worse. If Callie couldn’t be honest with Sheila, whom could she trust?
That wasn’t a comfortable thought. Callie trusted Sheila as much as she trusted anybody, but she still didn’t relish the thought of risking her pride by appearing less than perfect, less than completely in control, in front of her.
That wasn’t a pleasant thought at all, but Callie forced herself to face it down. She had no reason to think that Sheila wouldn’t welcome a new beginning. The only thing she had to fear was her own inability to make it happen.
All I can do is try, she thought with sudden determination. I’ll try to be a real friend to Sheila for a change. I just hope I can figure out how to do that.
She glanced at her mother, who was chatting graciously with Pierre about his hometown in the south of France. It would be nice to talk to someone about Sheila. But somehow Callie didn’t think her mother would understand. Maybe she could ask Stevie for some pointers. She certainly seemed to be interested in helping.
That’s what I’ll do, she decided, nervously squeezing the armrests of the stylist’s chair but already feeling better. I’ll call her as soon as I get home.
At that moment Carole was in Starlight’s stall at Pine Hollow, giving him a quick grooming.
“Hold still,” she told the big bay sternly as he shifted his weight and took a step forward. He was a little frisky, and for a moment Carole felt guilty. She had ridden him for about half an hour in the small back paddock, but it hadn’t really been enough exercise after his light workout with Ben the day before.
Still, it’s not really my fault, she told herself. Red needed the big paddock for that colt he’s breaking, and Max had a class in the main ring.…
She put it out of her mind. Starlight would survive, and she had other things to think about right then. She was trying to figure out what to do with Samson. She’d been planning some simple conditioning hill work in the rolling north meadow, but the previous day the gelding had been a little difficult to handle, and she was afraid he was getting bored with all the flat exercises and grid work she’d been doing with him lately. Like people, horses liked some variety in their routine, and Carole knew that with a spirited, intelligent horse like Samson, it was especially important to keep him interested in his work. She had been spending almost half their time on jumping—it was hard to resist, since Samson was in such superior physical condition that he probably could have jumped every day with little problem—but now she realized that the horse must need a real break from his serious training.
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