Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  “Lame alert. You don’t have to chase him, and dating Grady and resuming your career don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Is someone going to state the obvious here?”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  “I am not!”

  “Are, too. You’ve never been this upset about anyone. You invited me to come here. You never ask that kind of favor. Never. You’re Miss Independent. He’s gotten to you.”

  Amanda was silent for several moments, listening to the horse’s soft hoofbeats, then sighed. “I’m not in . . . what you said. Am I? But too bad if I am because I have to focus on my career.” She examined Vern’s mane. “And maybe I’m just not cut out for that kind of thing. Look what happened with Rick. There are people who shouldn’t be in relationships . . . maybe I’m one of them.”

  Beth halted Smooch. “Stop.” Amanda halted Vern and looked over to see Beth wearing her get-real face. “And stop it. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. For one thing, Rick was a self-centered bastard who was only concerned about getting ahead. He was using you just like he used what’s-her-name. You aren’t supposed to be alone; you’re just supposed to be with the right person.”

  “You can’t know that.” Amanda tried to ignore how her stomach was doing backflips. “Maybe I’ve been so focused on horses, I’m . . . romantically deficient. I’m great in a barn, bad in a relationship.”

  Beth stared at Amanda with narrowed eyes. “You’re not serious.” When Amanda said nothing, Beth hung her head.

  Amanda twirled Vern’s silky black-and-white mane around her fingers for several moments.

  Beth looked at her. “Vogel, there is nothing wrong with you, and you know I’d tell you if there was, like this deficit you think you have in your character. You can’t use Rick the dick as a yardstick. The fact is, you’re terrific, but you’ve been so buried in riding and showing, you never meet anyone—ninety-nine percent of the men on the circuit are gay. This summer you’re out of the horse-show cluster, and what happens? That farrier asked you out the moment he met you, and Grady Brunswick is in love with you.”

  “He’s not.”

  “I bet he is. God, if I’d known the number Rick did on you, I would’ve slapped some sense into you long ago. Forget that worm. You are a fully functioning adult, completely capable of excelling in romantic relationships and lifetime commitments, okay? My God, you’ll be better at it than most.”

  “Ha.”

  “You’re a surrogate mother to those girls.”

  “That is a huge exaggeration.”

  “I can see it, the way they were with you. You care, you’re generous, and you don’t even see it, which is extra appealing.”

  “Anyone else would have done the same—”

  “I wouldn’t. Trust me on this, and if you’ve never listened to me before, listen to me now. You are exceptional, a great catch, and Grady is a smart man.”

  They walked without speaking for several moments and listened to the rhythmic creak of the leather and the sounds of hooves and birds.

  Beth spoke. “Are you going to give him a chance?”

  “He thinks I’m crazy. Besides, even if by some miracle he no longer believes me to be certifiable, I have to build a client base from scratch. You know how much work that is and how much time it takes. He’d get second billing, and that would go over like a lead balloon. How could I possibly ask him—and his daughters—to put up with that? And I’d be in Florida—”

  “You could be in California, where you’d have three students right away, financial security, and Grady Brunswick for a boyfriend.”

  “I won’t have financial security! I will not depend on him for money! And as for students, they’re not exactly the caliber I’m used to.”

  “He can get you more. Rich people know rich people. Rich people have good horses.”

  “I don’t want to depend on him for anything.”

  “Just how hard do you want to make this? And, more important, do you want him or not? And yes, I mean in every sense of the word, including biblical.”

  Amanda looked at Beth, certain that despair showed on her face. “It’s know him in the biblical sense. And . . . I don’t know. I do, I guess. But it’s all . . . so . . . messy.”

  “What are you, a dressage queen? Life is messy. Roll with it.”

  Amanda thought back to the ice cream parlor when she had said the same thing to Grady. She now realized where she’d gotten the phrase.

  “Love is messy, too,” Beth added, and winked.

  The next day, Saturday, after lessons with easy jumping courses to boost the girls’ confidence for the show, Amanda, Beth, Wave, and Solstice bathed the horses, clipped their ears, muzzles, and fetlocks, and trimmed their manes. Both horses gleamed. Rainy looked like an expensive hunter and Bramble looked like a stately—if somewhat portly—gentleman. Amanda and Beth would braid their manes in the morning so the horses couldn’t rub the braids out overnight. Amanda showed the girls how to polish their boots, then packed the trailer. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, she and Beth defied Grady’s order and went into the house to lay out the girls’ show clothes.

  In Jacqueline’s office, Beth and Amanda went over driving directions with Jacqueline.

  Jacqueline spoke softly. “Beth, would you please excuse Amanda and me?” Beth gathered the girls and ran to the barn.

  Jacqueline continued, “This is your private matter but, for what it is worth, whatever disagreement you and Grady had, I do not think it is permanent.”

  “You know he kicked me out.”

  “He can be impulsive when something is important to him. Or, should I say, when someone is important to him.”

  Amanda decided to trust Jacqueline. “He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I might have a panic attack and somehow hurt the girls.”

  “Oh, that man! He can be so foolish. That is what he said? Was Estelle nearby?”

  “Yes.”

  “That woman is like a plague. But I must tell you—every time Grady calls, he asks about you. Every time, Amanda. In addition, in the six years I have known him, he has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.” She smiled a feline smile. “I am French. I know these things.” Jacqueline patted Amanda’s hand, marking the first time the woman had ever touched her aside from shaking her hand. “I have also seen how you look at him.”

  Amanda felt her face flush and stared at the edge of Jacqueline’s desk.

  “It is okay, Amanda.”

  “I can guarantee he won’t look at me that way anymore, if at all.” Amanda pressed her lips together as she squeezed Jacqueline’s hand. “Thanks.” She stood and turned to leave.

  “I would not be so certain,” Jacqueline said. “There is one more thing.”

  Amanda stood in the office doorway, facing Jacqueline. “I was told,” Jacqueline said as she gathered her T-shirt above her hip, “that you would be interested in this.” She pulled up the shirt and lowered the waistband of her skirt to reveal her tattoo. Three words, stacked in flowery script: “Leibe. Love. L’amour.”

  Amanda was in such a funk, the irony didn’t even faze her. She smiled and said, “Thank you, Jacqueline.” She knew they had crossed a threshold of sorts, and she was honored.

  The woman returned her smile. “He will be at the horse show tomorrow, Amanda. Give him a chance. He is worth it.”

  The women locked eyes. Amanda gave her a small we’ll see smile and left for the barn.

  That evening Grady arrived at the Aspen airport alone, since Priscilla had decided to stay in LA. This was fine with Grady. Fewer complications and obligations. Besides, she had been talking up the stylist idea to Solstice.

  After he said good night to his daughters, Grady joined Harris in the entertainment room. They were watching baseball on the giant screen TV and drinking a gimlet and a Pepsi, respectively. Grady, like Amanda, thought Harris might be ab
le to cheer him up.

  “Brunzy. We have to have a man-to-gay talk. Not to put too fine a point on it, but what the fuck are you doing?”

  Grady laughed. “Can you narrow that down for me?”

  “I’ve spent the past two weeks with one very distraught riding instructor.”

  “Wellll . . . My mother opened Amanda’s mail. Not that she was within her rights, but because of it, I learned that Amanda had been in a mental hospital not that long ago. Knowing this, along with how she was when Solstice sprained her ankle—remember how she had a flashback to her friend’s accident and went into shock?—I hate to agree with my mother on anything, but I was forced to admit that Amanda might not be fit to care for Solstice and Wave. I limited her contact with them. What if she has a flashback while she’s driving them somewhere? Suppose one of their horses runs away with them and she can’t tell them what to do?”

  Harris got up and started to look around as though he’d dropped something on the floor.

  Grady asked, “What’re you looking for?”

  “The needle on my bullshit detector just flew off the dial. See it anywhere?”

  “Ha ha.”

  Harris sat. “Brunzy. Come on. You are grasping at straws so hard, your palms are bleeding. You don’t really believe Amanda is putting your offspring in danger. She’s the best thing to happen to them since I started cooking their meals. What’s really going on?”

  “It’s the truth,” Grady said, but that niggling feeling was back, and stronger. If anyone could ferret out motives, it was Harris. Or Amanda.

  “Let me refresh your memory from Sunday morning,” Harris said, and related what Amanda had told him. “You want my take?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Two possibilities. You’re either jealous of Amanda because she breezed in here like a French teen model on the catwalk and those girls of yours fell at her feet in abject adoration, while you can’t even get them to eat their veggies. Or—”

  “That’s not it. I’ll grant you, I might have resented her relationship with them at first. But that’s all in the past. Let me take a stab at your other theory.” Over the past two weeks, the niggling had gone from a pesky script to a multimillion-dollar film production. It was too big to ignore and, what’s more, it felt right. He knew it was true. As ugly as it was, he knew it was true.

  Harris pantomimed locking his lips with a key. He sat, looking at Grady expectantly, hands folded primly in his lap.

  “The other possibility is . . . I . . . Damn it, Harris, she told that bastard before she told me. Jesus Christ almighty, she hardly knew him and she goes blabbing about her suicide attempt. Meanwhile, I tell her about Annie and how I want to do theater. I asked her opinion about the kids. I admitted I was a lousy parent. I told her about the year after Annie died, and you know how much I hate talking about that. She could’ve told me so much sooner. She knew that moron for a few hours and she told him. A few flippin’ hours. And I got shoved to the back of the bus.”

  “I assume that the ‘bastard’ and ‘moron’ is Mr. Lucas McCabe. And I think you’re right. Bravo, Brunzy! I give you an A-plus for self-enlightenment. Especially for a straightie who’s accustomed to women falling all over him.”

  Grady drained his Pepsi. He regarded Harris and said, “Was she that crazy about him? Was it love at first sight? She’d never tell me.”

  Harris threw his head back and barked a laugh. “Ha!” He grinned. “You are so precious when you’re insecure. For the record, Amanda Vogel was neither crazy about him, nor is she crazy. It was not love at first sight. Or second or third. Since I’m such a nice guy, I’m going to give you a nugget of gold: she dated him to stop thinking about you. She told him about her suicide attempt in an attempt to bond. It backfired because he wanted her to quit the Olympics thing. That was the end of that. Poor chap never had a chance.”

  “Why’d it take her so long to tell me?”

  Harris tut-tutted. “You were doing so well. Okay. Connect the dots. She dates someone because she thinks about you too often. Why in the world would she hesitate to tell you she almost killed herself? Come on, Einstein.”

  “She was afraid I’d be turned off.”

  “Give the man a cigar.”

  “What do I do now? She thinks I think she’s crazy and don’t trust her.”

  “My work is done here. This is as far as I go. You two lovebirds have to figure out how to fly in formation. Speaking of lovebirds . . . are you in love with her?”

  Blam! Adrenaline shot through Grady and he struggled to hide his reaction from Harris, his best friend for almost fifteen years, the closest thing he had to a brother. It was a losing battle.

  “Aha.” Harris smirked, his perfectly placed dimples fully activated.

  “Stop. I am not in love with her.”

  “What. Ever,” Harris said, with a dose of snark.

  “My head hurts. I have to unpack.”

  “You’re unpacking yourself?”

  “Sometimes I like being a regular person. See you tomorrow.” He got up and slapped Harris’s shoulder.

  “Nighty-night,” Harris said, and smiled.

  Beth and Amanda braided the horses’ manes before dawn on Sunday. Amanda was excited for the girls, but dreaded the inevitable interaction with Grady. If only he had remained an absentee father! The Grady she knew in May wouldn’t have bothered to come. Would it be bad if she started drinking right now?

  Beth read Amanda’s thoughts. “I know you don’t want to see him, but I can’t wait to meet the guy.” Their fingers flew through the task they had done hundreds of times, keeping them warm in the chilly September morning.

  “Just remember, you’re my wingwoman.”

  “I’ll do what’s best for you.”

  Amanda squinted at her, not reassured in any way.

  When they finished braiding, Jacqueline called Amanda. “It may be wise for you to come up here. To Solstice’s room.”

  Amanda went to the house, leaving Beth to finish loading the trailer. In Solstice’s room, Jacqueline sat on the bed and looked at the two girls. Wave was adorable in her tiny gray jacket, pale pink shirt, beige jodhpurs, and paddock boots. Her hair was in two thick blond braids secured with bright pink ribbons. Solstice looked like a young Jackie Bouvier Kennedy with her dark hair tucked under her helmet, a navy jacket, peach shirt, beige breeches, and shiny black boots.

  “You look great,” Amanda said. “Perfect. However, take those boots off, or you’ll get shoe polish all over everything. Put them in the boot bags. Put your helmets in the helmet bags, and hang your jackets up. Jacqueline, everything should go in the suit bags. Pack clothes to change into when you’re done. But you guys look terrific! Are you excited?”

  “Yeah!” Wave said, but Solstice was silent. Amanda put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

  “You’re going to do fine. I wouldn’t let you go if you weren’t ready. Okay?”

  The slender girl sighed. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “I promise, if you don’t have fun today, you’ll never have to be in another show again.”

  “You won’t even be here.”

  Amanda felt as if a girl-sized fist had just buried itself in her gut. “Well. I’m sure your dad won’t make you. But I think you’re gonna have a blast. You’ll see.”

  The day dawned bright and clear, promising to be pleasantly warm. The girls’ classes were all in the morning, so they would avoid the late-afternoon thunderstorms that frequented the mountains. The show was ten miles from Aspen Creek at a hunter/jumper boarding stable with a thirty-stall barn, an indoor arena, and two large outdoor rings. There were pastures, a field with jumps, and trails that wandered into the mountains. Everything about the place was neat and clean, but modest—this was not the barn where people who cared about appearances boarded. This was the kind of facility Amanda liked best, where the horses were the priority and the people came second—she knew this because the small office needed a paint job and had a dingy cou
ch and battered desk, but the barn aisle was spotless, the stalls well-maintained and the residents shiny and in good weight.

  In addition to the main barn, a ten-stall shed row was being used to house some of the horses in the show, and Amanda was one of the lucky entrants to have snagged stalls. The rest of the competitors had to tie their horses to their trailers parked in the field.

  After unloading the horses and settling them in, Amanda checked in at the show office, then tied the identifying numbers around the girls’ jackets so that the numbers practically covered their backs. Amanda felt as calm as was possible, considering she’d see Grady soon.

  When it was time, Amanda hoisted Wave into Bramble’s saddle and led the sumo wrestler of a horse to the warm-up ring to join six other girls and one boy. Amanda looked commanding in beige breeches, tall black boots buffed to a high sheen, her lucky deep pink oxford shirt with sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a belt crusted with sparkly rhinestones. The belt was completely out of character for Amanda—far too blingy—but was one of her non-negotiable good-luck show-day traditions. And, of course, she wore her Devon cap. While she coached Wave, out of the corner of her eye she noticed Harris, Jacqueline, and Grady sidle up to Beth and Solstice on the rail.

  Jacqueline hugged Solstice and smoothly introduced Grady and Beth.

  “What’s the class?” Amanda heard Grady ask Beth.

  “Walk-Trot Equitation on the Flat. They walk and trot, and ‘equitation’ means the rider is judged, not the horse. ‘Flat’ means there’s no jumping.”

  The announcer welcomed everyone to the show, then played a tinny recording of “The Star-Spangled Banner” over the loudspeakers. After the anthem, Amanda led Bramble out of the warm-up ring to just outside the main ring for Wave’s class. Amanda made Wave drink some water as the girl’s cheering section ambled over.

  The ring steward called for the riders, so Amanda gave Wave a few more words of encouragement, wiped off her boots with a rag, and sent Bramble on his way with a pat on his neck. She moved to the fence to watch the class and gave Harris some tips on videoing horse shows, his job for the day. Eventually the rest of the Brunswick posse congregated next to her. She greeted them perfunctorily, noting Grady was wearing his Hollywood disguise of a retro New York Giants baseball cap and dark sunglasses. He slid the Oakleys down his nose and winked at her, causing a quiver in her center.