Perfect Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 3)

by Michele Scott

  The next few minutes move too quickly for me as I lead Harmony to the mounting block and get on. Austen walks up next to us. “You’ll be fine. Treat this like any other lesson. Okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” It’s all I can muster. I’m so not okay.

  “I’ll be on the rail of the arena. I’m water boy today.” He holds up four bottles of water—two in each hand.

  “Okay.” My insides are fluttering, but in a bad way, and Harmony is sensing my tension as she hops up and down. I take a deep breath and place my hand on her neck, leaning in close. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “We’re okay.” I do my best to muster some kind of calming energy, and create a picture that shows her that I’m still in control.

  I spot Holden walking toward us from the top arena. “Hey, Vivienne, listen, there’s been a change to the schedule.”

  “There has?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yes. You’ll be having a private lesson with me today, instead of working with . . . Mr. Taylor.”

  At first I’m not sure what to say to this. I’m not sure what to feel. A familiar sense of abandonment surfaces, but it’s mixed with relief and some anger too. I shake my head. “You know who he is, don’t you? You know who he is to me?”

  Holden slowly nods. “I do. We spoke last night. He felt that it would be a lot of pressure for you to be taught by him and I agreed.”

  “Pressure for him, or for me?” Tears sting my eyes. “Is he just too afraid to face me? Because he’s a coward, is that it? It’s fine! He’s nobody to me.”

  “Hey, hey, listen, maybe today isn’t the best day for you to ride. Maybe you just need to think.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. No. I’m good. I need to ride. That’s why I’m here. I need to get in the ring and focus.” I’m now giving myself the necessary pep talk. It’s true, though. What good would it do me to go back to the cabin and mull this all over? No good at all. I’d just start to feel sorry for myself, and that would be plain stupid.

  “Okay then, let’s get it done.”

  We head to the smaller dressage court. I glance over to the larger one, which is on the opposite side of the jump arena. I can see my father in there beginning to teach Lydia, Tristan, and Riley. Austen is over there as well. He spots me and I can feel him sending me some good vibes.

  I decide to ignore all of that and just go to work with Harmony. Our lesson starts out with working on extended trot. Once I have her working forward with a nice extension, Holden has me do some leg yields with her and sit the trot. “Leg on. Good, good. I like this, Vivienne. Now, I want you to go back to a collected trot doing a shoulder-in to the right.”

  We do what he asks, and Harmony feels like she’s dancing in midair. She’s light and fluid. We typically don’t do so well in dressage, but today we both seem to be in sync. Maybe it’s Holden. I think there’s something about him that gives us both a great deal of confidence.

  “This is very pretty. Now, let’s work on collecting and extending the canter. Do that a few times.”

  We do exactly what he’s asking.

  “Okay, let’s do some walk to canter and canter to walk transitions,” he says.

  Everything is going smoothly. I take in a deep breath and relax as we move into the downward. I feel her come over her back and the connection is so sweet and as perfect as it could be. I look at Holden and say, “Who knew that I would love dressage—ever?”

  “When ridden correctly, it is the best feeling in the world, isn’t it?” He smiles.

  “Truly!”

  By the time Harmony and I are finished with the lesson, I’ve nearly forgotten everything else—nearly.

  I walk Harmony over to Holden. “I know I mentioned the thing with her eye to you, but I’d really like to have it looked at. She’s not entirely herself and I just want to be sure we’re good to go before we start schooling cross-country.”

  He shoves his hands into his breeches. “I understand. Why don’t I give the vet a call today and schedule something. He’s supposed to be great. Faith and all of the other trainers and coaches here have given him kudos.”

  “Okay. Let me know.” It takes all I have not to blurt out the fact that Harmony keeps telling me herself that her eye is bothering her. Wouldn’t that be great? I can see it now: “Hey, Holden . . . I’m like a teenage female Dr. Dolittle, only with horses, but yeah . . . and Harmony is saying that she isn’t seeing so well out of her right eye and it bugs her.” No, no, no. There’s no way I’m going to do that—unless I want to be committed to a mental hospital. Although, given how crazy I’m feeling these days, maybe that’s where I belong.

  I can’t help but take another glance over to the large dressage court before walking Harmony back to the barn. Looks like Riley is running through a test on Melody, and the other two are watching. I hear my dad say, “Good job, Riley!”

  He sounds sincere. He sounds like my dad. I want to put Harmony away quickly. Maybe we can just keep avoiding each other all summer. Maybe I can just have private lessons with Holden on the days that I’m supposed to be coached by . . . by . . . my father. That would work for me. Avoidance. Riley didn’t think I’d be good at it, but it turns out I can be. In fact, avoidance might be what I prefer.

  I have Harmony in the wash rack for her rinse when everyone else comes into the barn. I don’t look up. I just keep rinsing. I go to turn the water off and start scraping her down. And there he is. Right off to the side of the cross ties. Frank—my father.

  “Hi, Vivienne.”

  I can’t speak. I just stare up at him for several long seconds, until I finally hear myself say, “Hello.” He looks a little bit older. But even with a few more wrinkles around his warm brown eyes and his blond hair looking thinner, he’s definitely my dad. I’ve never thought we looked alike. I definitely take after my mom with auburn hair and hazel eyes. I have to tilt my head up to look into his face. He’s tall, over six feet. Not like me. I’m more like my mom in that department too, since I’m not quite five three. He takes a step forward and I hold up my hand. “I don’t want you to hug me.”

  He nods. “I think we need to talk.”

  Part of me wants to respond with, “What’s the point?” and walk away. There’s definitely something nice about the avoidance strategy. But instead, I think of all the advice I’ve gotten from Riley, Austen—and heck, even Harmony—and instead, I say, “I guess we should.”

  “How about dinner this weekend?” he asks. “You can come to the farm.”

  I don’t know about that. Dinner? That sounds like a long time to sit and visit. Before I can respond, he adds, “You can bring Austen. I haven’t had a chance to visit with him and I’d like to see him too.”

  I start to shake my head, when Austen walks right up to us and says, “That sounds great, Mr. Taylor. We’ll be there. What time?”

  I give Austen one of my “are you kidding me?” looks.

  “Friday night. Seven?” Frank says.

  “Seven it is,” Austen replies.

  He walks away and I turn to Austen, “Really? What did you just do?”

  “Trust me. Okay? Trust me.”

  I shake my head, untie Harmony, and say, “Fine. But I don’t like you very much right now.”

  “I’m good with that,” he replies. “You’ll like me again. I know you will.” He makes the fart sign and, yes, I can’t help but laugh. If there’s one thing I know is true, it’s that Austen is good for me.

  “By the way, we are going to have to wait on seeing each other tonight,” I say. “I’m having dinner with Riley. He’s had some bad news about his horse.” I tell him about Santos.

  He frowns. “That’s rotten.”

  “I know. He’s pretty bummed. I’m also hoping that I can ask him some things about Joel and their old crew. I don’t want to push it, though. I’ll see how it all goes tonight.”

  “Am I
going to see you at all later?” He smiles.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Even though you’re mad at me?” he asks.

  “That’s right; I am mad at you. Telling my dad we would come to dinner at his house!”

  “Tackle this thing head on, sweetie. It’s the only way to do it. You’re strong and you can handle it. You can’t just go all summer without dealing with it.”

  “I know. I know. I wish he wasn’t here. I wish I could’ve just kept on going the way I have been for so long.”

  “Maybe you’ll finally get the answers you need from him.”

  “Maybe,” I reply, realizing that this summer certainly has a theme to it—truth seeking. It appears I’m on several truth-seeking adventures. Where this is all going to lead me, I really don’t know.

  CHAPTER eighteen

  Riley has his Jeep with him, so we decide to go into town and find a place to eat. The lush green landscape looks really pretty in the dusky light. But I’m glad the Jeep has AC, since it’s still really hot and humid even as dusk is descending.

  We find a place that looks promising and head in. We both order the specialty—fish n’ chips. As we wait for our food, I finally say, “How are you?” I know the answer already, but I need to ask.

  “I can’t believe it, Vivvie. I had everything planned out perfectly. I’ve even been in touch with Klaus Schwitzer about going to Germany to train with him. He was totally open to it, but now . . .” He gazes down.

  “I didn’t know the plan had gotten that far,” I say. I don’t bother talking about how amazing Klaus Schwitzer is, because it might bum him out. But the truth is, it sounds like quite an opportunity, since Schwitzer is one of the world’s most respected dressage riders, not to mention an Olympian and a world-class coach and trainer. I know how much Riley loves dressage and wants to excel in the sport. Being able to go work for someone like Klaus would be incredible for him. “You can’t give up on this chance,” I say.

  He looks up at me. “Really? How do you suppose I make it happen? I don’t even have a horse. I’m sure my parents won’t be willing to buy me a new one. I’ll have enough to buy one with the money I get when I graduate, but then there won’t be enough left over to go to Germany.”

  “I know there’s a way. There are all sorts of grants and ways to get it done. We’ll find you a way.”

  He smiles. “You’re always an optimist.”

  “Is there another way to be?”

  “I guess not. I don’t know how you do it. I guess I should take note. How are you dealing with this stuff with your dad?”

  The waitress sets our order down. It smells and looks delicious. I take a bite before answering his question. Perfectly greasy, flaky, and tasty. “I’m not handling it all that well. But let me tell you, I think I could be better at avoidance than you give me credit for. My first instinct is definitely to run away and ignore the problem. But both you and Austen have convinced me that’s not the way to go.” I can’t tell him that my horse has given me the same advice. “In fact, Austen and I are going to dinner at my dad’s house in a few days. He wants to talk.”

  “Big step.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want him back in my life, Ri. I’ve done pretty well without him. I’m sorry, but there are just certain things a parent can’t take back or do over. Frank acting like my dad now, when I’m almost eighteen, doesn’t really seem like a good plan for me.”

  “I can understand that. How will you deal with him this summer, then?”

  “I haven’t thought too much about it. I guess I’ll hear him out and go from there. Any ideas?”

  “You’ll know more after the dinner. If you’re still opposed to any kind of relationship at that point, you do what you need to. If it were me, I’d be as professional as possible. Take the lessons. The man is good at what he does.”

  “Yeah? Was it a good lesson with him today?”

  “It was. I haven’t been that confident on Mel yet, and Frank helped me. He helped me get into sync with her.”

  “That’s good.” It is good, but to know that my dad is good at something kind of bothers me. Some part of me kind of wishes he wouldn’t be good at anything—I guess an angry part. But it’s nice to hear he helped Riley.

  “Oh my gosh, Riley. I know this might sound crazy, but what if you found a way to buy Melody back from Kayla? That way we know for sure Tiffany would never get her. Plus, you two seem to be clicking now. She does really well with guys. She adored Joel.”

  Riley slowly nods. “Maybe. Maybe that would work. You don’t think Kayla would sell her back to Tiffany?”

  “That I don’t know. I’d like to say no, but you know how the horse business is. And, with Kayla, maybe you could work out a payment plan, or maybe even work off some of the money by doing things around Fairmont.”

  He smiles. “Have I told you lately that you’re full of crazy ideas?”

  “What other way is there to be?”

  “Right.” He dunks a couple of French fries into some ketchup and eats them. “This food is good.”

  “It is. Hey, so is it weird to have Tiffany coaching? I know you worked with her before you came to Fairmont.” I don’t want to bombard him with questions, but I really do want him to open up.

  “Yeah, I rode with her for a couple of years. But I wanted to event, so after doing her jump lessons, I eventually moved on. Joel stayed and did the jumpers. His real three-day eventing experience only started when he came to Fairmont.”

  “What do you think of her?”

  He takes a sip from his drink. “I think she’s dirty. She only has the job here now because she and Joel’s dad bought the place. I don’t like her, but she’s a decent instructor, so I’ll take what I can get out of it. I suggest you do the same.”

  “Who owned Liberty Farms before, when you were here?”

  “Irene Yates. She was an old horsewoman with good sense. She was kind of grumpy, but you couldn’t help but love her. She loved running this place. She adored the horses and she liked me, so we never had any issues.”

  “What happened?”

  “She got Alzheimer’s, and her kids put her in a home. I heard she died a few months ago.”

  “Makes sense. The Parker family then comes in and buys the estate, and now they’re the new owners. Was Mrs. Yates the one who fired Tiffany?”

  “I wasn’t here then. I was already at Fairmont, but my guess would be yes. Irene was by the book and if there was any whiff of a scandal like what surrounded Tiffany after the accident with the pony, then I’m sure she was unhappy.”

  “Why do you think they’re so secretive about owning Liberty Farms?” I ask.

  He shoves another fry into his mouth and studies me. “I didn’t know that it was a secret.”

  “I spent months trying to find out who owned the place before we came out here, with no luck.”

  He leans back in the booth and studies me. “I think they want to keep a low profile. Maybe their plan is to keep Tiffany’s name out of the headlines, and they hope that once people come out and see the farm, they’ll forget about the scandal. That would be my thinking. But, you’re not all that concerned about who, how, and why they own Liberty Farms. This is about Joel. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vivvie, I told you not to mess with that.”

  “Why?” I lower my voice. “Riley, what’s the deal? What do you know? Why was Joel afraid of Chris? For that matter, why is everyone afraid of that guy? Even that kid Wills acted subservient to him at the pool, even though he normally jokes with everyone. Talk to me.”

  “Oh, Wills is unpredictable. I met him a few times around here before leaving for Fairmont. He and his little sister, Anna.”

  “He spent some time in juvie apparently. Chris was giving him hell about it in front of everyone, and, like I said, the kid didn’t
do a damn thing to defend himself. What is Chris Haverly’s story, Ri?”

  “Not here, okay? I’ll tell you what I do know,” he whispers, “but not here.”

  “Then finish your dinner, because I need to know.”

  CHAPTER nineteen

  Once we’re back in the Jeep and heading to the farm, I say, “Start talking.”

  “Look, Vivvie, I’ve told you that I don’t know much, but everyone is afraid of Chris because he’s untouchable.”

  “What do you mean he’s untouchable?”

  “His family is extremely wealthy.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything to me. So what?”

  “It’s not just that. His uncle is Senator Haverly. Did you know that?”

  “The senator who the news keeps saying is going to run for the presidency?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not only does Chris Haverly come from old money, but his family is tied into Washington politics,” Riley says.

  “Okay. I’m confused, why does that make everyone afraid of him? More to the point, what is there to be afraid of?”

  “What I know is secondhand. Okay?”

  “It’s better than anything I have.”

  “I met Chris at Liberty Farms through Tiffany and Paisley. He started riding there about six months before I moved to Fairmont. I didn’t like him from the get-go. He digs up dirt on people. It’s creepy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the guy is a lunatic, like serial-killer kind of crazy, okay? Within a month of meeting him, he pulls me aside one day—and keep in mind that I’d never talked to him—and seems to know everything about me. He tells me he knows my parents are religious fanatics and that he’s positive I’m gay, but haven’t told my family. I denied that, of course. He tells me what kind of home we live in, how many siblings I have, where I go to school, and on and on.”

  “What was the point?”

  “I never found out exactly what he wanted. I asked him, of course, but he just said that, in time, he’d tell me. That sounded ominous. But luckily for me, I’d already gotten into Fairmont and was moving on. Joel obviously was stuck there, however.”