“See your ’puter.” One of the double Bs pulled her to the desk that had been half hidden by the open door. “We gots one, too.”
“Only yours is bigger.”
Her school books were lined up on the shelf above the computer and monitor, along with a dictionary and some other reference books. The shelf above that held her model horse collection and a framed photograph of Major that said Love, from Amy.
DJ turned to her mom. “Are you sure this is all for me, that you didn’t adopt someone else while I was gone?”
“Yes, we’re sure. That’s why it seemed so perfect when you were going to Brad’s at moving time.”
“We really did want to surprise you. This gave us extra time to finish.” Robert sat down on the bed. “There’s a trundle under here for when you want to have someone sleep over.”
“Has Amy seen this?” DJ swept the room with her arm.
“Sure did. She brought you that picture for her room-warming gift.”
“They were going somewhere tonight, or she’d have been here waiting.”
DJ walked around the room, touching the paper slots, opening a drawer, checking out the closet. Her clothes hung neatly in place, as if she’d left them only moments before.
“See the bathroom.”
“And the ’cuzzi tub. It makes noise.”
“And bubbles.”
DJ fell asleep that night with guilt on her mind. And she’d been wondering if her family really cared. “God, I sure messed up again, didn’t I?” Was that a heavenly chuckle she heard or merely the wind in the trees outside?
Her week passed in a blur. Monday she got eighty percent on her algebra quiz, her best grade ever. Major was no longer limping, hadn’t been for four days. So she got to ride him, nice and easy but a good workout.
Tuesday her three girls welcomed Andrew back into their class and made him laugh till he forgot to be afraid. Wednesday Gran and Joe left for New York. Thursday she got to take a dressage lesson. She still hesitated to jump Major, but she could tell he felt good.
Friday she left school early so the entire family could take her into San Francisco for her art weekend. They stopped in front of a three-story Victorian mansion with the trim painted in white and three shades of purple.
“It’s huge.” DJ gulped. And here she’d been wondering how there would be room enough for ten kids.
“It probably has a basement, too,” Robert said, shaking his head. “How I would love to have one of these old ladies to renovate.”
“I do hope you mean the house,” Lindy said. She snagged a hand of each of the boys, who were on their way to check out the wrought-iron fence.
“Funny.” Robert turned to DJ. “You got everything?” At her nod, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “I know the paper says all your expenses are taken care of, but you might need some money.”
“But Mom already gave me—”
“That’s fine. This is just to be sure.”
DJ took the money and put it in her backpack along with the ten from Lindy. She took in a deep breath. “Guess I better go up there.” The ancient concrete stairs from the street up had moss and a fern growing out of the cracks. A fuschia so old its gnarly trunk was thicker than her wrist dropped pink and purple petals, like drooping dancing ladies, on the lichen-covered rocks and gray stairs.
“I’ll go with you and make sure we’re in the right place.” Robert took her duffel bag and started up the steps.
Looking up at a round stained-glass window in a dormer on the third floor, DJ shook her head. What was she getting into now? And what she wouldn’t give to be back at the barns!
Chapter • 8
DJ knew she was in love.
And it had nothing to do with guys.
The way Isabella Gant used her pencils and charcoals to create her drawings was nothing short of miraculous in DJ’s eyes. She watched carefully as the artist used overheads and slides to show the progression of strokes. While she already understood some about the value of lines, now it made even more sense. And never before had she heard of negative space.
By Saturday afternoon she was looking at the world through entirely new eyes.
She hated to take breaks, wanting to learn every bit that she could. But talking with other kids who loved to draw was fun, too. So was walking the hills of San Francisco with a sketch pad in hand.
Sunday morning they were sent out two by two with instructions to bring back three drawings, each one with a different purpose.
Paired with redheaded Sean Maclaine, she raced him down the long steps from Broadway to the marina district. Sun and a good breeze brought San Francisco Bay alive with sailboats running before the wind over swells deep enough to send spume flying over the bows. Golden Gate Bridge arched high above the bay waters, for once not hidden by the fog that hung out on the horizon.
“Do you sail?” Sean asked, pausing to point out a double-masted catamaran with full sails flying.
“No. Not unless you call taking a horse over jumps sailing. We sail through the air, not water.” DJ pulled out her pad to do her six-line sketch of a pot with tulips. “Do you?”
“Some. I crew for a local boat during the races sometimes.”
“Really?” DJ flipped the paper over and tried again. Sean, too, was sketching away.
DJ looked down the length of steps. They’d stopped on the halfway landing. Primroses, pansies, and tulips lined the concrete steps, along with some flowering shrubs she didn’t recognize. Late-blooming pink and white camellias colored the shade from the eucalyptus trees bordering the Presidio, an army base in existence since the early settlement days of San Francisco.
If only she could capture color with pencils. One of these days she’d be taking oils and acrylics in art class. She had worked some with pastels, but her fingers seemed to like pencil best. For now.
When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they jogged the remaining blocks to the Palace of Fine Arts, a monument left from the San Francisco World Fair in 1939. A path circled the pond inhabited by ducks and geese along with several pairs of swans. DJ stopped to sketch a turtle dozing in the shade of drooping grasses.
So many things to draw. She set to work, filling one page after another.
“We have half an hour before we have to start back.”
“Already?” She looked up and caught the shadows of the domed building with arches. “Just a few more minutes.”
She sketched with all the speed she could muster, getting the main lines down and hoping she would remember what to fill in later.
Sean stretched and DJ sketched the angle of his arm. He had an easy-to-draw face with a strong square jaw and straight nose. Copper hair flopped over one eyebrow, and a diamond stud twinkled in his earlobe.
While she drew him, he drew her.
“Two minutes. You think we can run those stairs in two minutes?”
DJ slung her things into her backpack and shoved both arms in the straps. “Not if we sit here any longer.” Off they went, pounding along the sidewalk.
“You’re in … good … shape.”
“You … too.” They stopped halfway up the stairs to get their breath.
“We’re … late.” Puff, pant.
“Then … what … are we … waiting … for?”
DJ’s legs shook so badly she could barely lift them over the last step. And they still had a block to go. Other kids from the group were straggling in same as they were.
Ms. Gant met them at the door. “So you found things to draw?” She looked at her watch. “But you are late. I think there is no time for lunch.” At their groans, she laughed, a full-bodied laugh that invited them all to join in. “Come, Ramona has lunch on the table. We will talk while we eat.”
DJ’s drawing of the turtle was pinned up as a good example of light and shadow. It seemed she could draw more than just horses after all.
“I hope you will continue to draw,” Ms. Gant said as DJ put her th
ings away after the final session on Sunday afternoon. “You have an unusual talent for someone your age for getting a feeling across in your pictures. Many people spend a lifetime trying to learn that.”
DJ swallowed. “Th-thank you. I really loved being here—with you.” She followed the other students as they left, all of them saying their goodbyes.
Sean met her at the door. “It was fun working with you. I’d like to go drawing with you again. I live in Palo Alto, you know, but I can drive.”
“I have a horse show at the Palo Alto Equestrian Center in June. You could come to that if you like.” She shrugged. “Not that I’ll have time to draw, but you could.”
“Good. I’ll bring my sketch pad.” He stopped, looked at his feet, then at her. “Could I have your phone number? We had fun talking.”
DJ could feel the heat climbing from her chest to the roots of her hair. “I … I guess.” She gave him her home phone, then laughed. “I got a private line in our new house, but I don’t even know my own number.”
Sean laughed, too. “See ya.” He ran down the steps to where a Mercedes waited at the street and turned to wave. “Bye, DJ. Keep on drawing.”
Wait till Gran hears about all this, DJ thought as she walked down the stairs when her family drove up. She talked nonstop all the way home.
“I think she had a good time,” Robert said when they turned in the drive.
“What was your first clue?” Lindy asked, then caught herself on a yawn. “I think all this moving is catching up with me.”
“Aren’t you glad you don’t have to go into the office in the morning?” Robert propped his arms on the steering wheel. “I sure am.”
“Me too.” DJ caught herself in surprise. She was glad. Her mother seemed more relaxed, and the frown lines between her eyebrows weren’t so noticeable.
“Daddy, I hafta go to the bathroom.”
“Me too.”
Robert groaned. “All right, so much for kicking back a minute.”
“Daddy, you can kick up when we get in the house.”
DJ snorted as she reached in the back for her duffel and her bulging art carrier. Kick up. What funny guys.
“You going to show me your drawings?” Lindy sat with the car door open and her feet on the ground. She sniffed the air. “You smell that?”
DJ sniffed, too. Something was blooming, that was for sure. The fragrance perfumed the air all around them. “They might not mean much without having heard the instructions.”
“That’s okay. I just like to see what you do.”
Together the two of them strolled up the curving walk to the front door. Robert leaned against the doorjamb. “My two favorite women. What a picture you make.”
They headed straight for the kitchen, where DJ spread her work out on the counter for her mother to see. As soon as Robert finished giving each of the boys a string cheese stick, he joined them.
DJ pointed out which were the beginning ones and which were the last.
“I’d say you learned a lot.” Robert picked up the turtle picture and tapped the paper. “Any chance I could have this one?”
“It’s not done yet.”
“Okay, when you finish.”
“Sure, but what for?”
“I’d like to frame it and keep it in my office. Makes me relax just looking at it. I can feel the sun on my back and …”
Lindy yawned again. “Look at me. You say the word relax and I yawn.” She gave DJ a one-arm hug. “I think the sun got to me. I’m going to lie down for a while. Don’t let me sleep long.” She stopped at the doorway. “Darla Jean, I am real proud of you. Not only the drawing but you in general.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“That goes double for me.” Robert helped her gather her drawings up to put in her canvas portfolio case. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“Now what?”
“You might consider an art class at Mount Diablo College this summer or one of the classes in the city. Maybe Ms. Gant offers some.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed both his arms and his legs. “If you don’t have to work so hard for money at the Academy, you might have time for that. Besides, you’ve had money-making schemes in the past.”
DJ kept a straight face with great difficulty as she remembered the loose critters in the garage and Lindy’s great dislike for them. “You weren’t thinking of getting the boys hamsters or mice, were you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Good thing.”
They shared a grin at her mother’s expense.
“I do plan on a dog or two, though.”
“Cool.”
“You have any requests?”
“Other than horses?”
“You got that right. I’ve got Bridget looking for either two POAs, or she suggested a Welsh pony or cross.”
“Ponies of America are small horses, so they’re not as stubborn as Shetlands. They’d be cool.” She raised an eyebrow. “I always wanted a Newfoundland puppy.”
“Then we won’t need two horses. The dog can fill in. DJ, those things get monstrous. You got time to take it to an obedience class?”
“Well, you asked.”
“I was thinking more along the line of a golden retriever or Lab. Your mother suggested a Jack Russell terrier because they like to play so much. Smart little dogs, too.”
“Just so we don’t get a yappy dog. I hate that.”
“Me too.”
DJ cocked one eyebrow. “How about a boa constrictor? I have a friend who has one, says they’re really full of personality and friendly.”
“That the guy who took the runaway hamsters?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t really want a snake for a pet.”
“Should we ask Mom?”
“You want to keep your head?”
The boys charged in.
“You guys ever think of walking in the house?”
“We’s in a hurry.” Bobby grabbed DJ’s hand.
“We are in a hurry,” Robert corrected.
“We are? Where we going?” The two began dancing in place.
Robert groaned. “Come on, let’s go read a story.”
DJ laughed at the look of defeat on Robert’s face. He let the boys drag him over to the bookshelf, sending DJ a help-me look. She ignored him. “Have fun, guys. I’ve got homework to do.”
But before she hit the books, she called Amy on her new phone and told her all about the weekend.
When DJ slowed down, Amy said, “I got the cards from the printshop. When can we put the packets together?”
“Tomorrow night, depending on how much homework I have.” DJ made a face at the stack of books on her desk. She’d been caught up on Thursday, but not now. Why did teachers give extra over the weekends? Didn’t they want kids to have any kind of life outside of school?
“I’m done.”
“Good, come and do mine.”
When they hung up, DJ sighed and started with her journal. She had plenty to write in that. The ringing phone made her jump. She wasn’t used to having a phone in her room yet.
“So how was the art class?” Brad’s voice sounded extra deep.
“Great.” By the time she told him everything, another half hour had flown by. She glanced at her portfolio case. If only she had time to work some more on a couple of the drawings.
And if only she had six or ten more hours in a day. Since she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in San Francisco, her eyes felt as though someone had thrown a handful of sand in her face. Maybe a short nap would help.
She got up and stretched, went in the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face. If she lay down now, she’d never get up until morning. If then.
When her chin bumped the top of her desk, she gave up. She must have read the same page in history five times and still had no idea whether they were talking about a war or a dance.
By Monday night DJ was sure she was caught in a blender with the lid on tight.
She didn’t have to work Patches, so she should have had plenty of extra time. But putting the note packets together took up three hours, and they weren’t completely done—there were just enough to send to the shop in Connecticut that her aunt Julia’s friend owned and some for the tack shop at the Academy. They also matted some of the prints of Stormy, leaving others plain.
“No, you guys go on. We’re busy.” DJ shooed the boys away for the third time.
“You girls ready for dinner?” Lindy called from the kitchen.
“In a minute.” DJ taped the box for the gift shop and Amy applied the label.
“Did you put the invoice in?” Amy glanced around the long table they had set up to work on in the empty living room.
“I think so.” DJ picked up a stack of prints—and groaned. “No, it’s right here.”
“We’ll send it in a separate envelope, then. No biggy.”
“You think we’ll ever sell this many?” DJ motioned to the remaining box of cards.
“Just you watch. Next time we’ll have to print double this amount.”
“Let’s eat and then stuff some more. I have to work on my term paper, and if you say you have yours done already, I may have to stomp all over you.”
“Nope, but I do have the research done and I’ve started the writing.”
“Wish I could hire you to do mine.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough, even if it weren’t cheating.”
“Robert’s stuck in traffic, so we’ll eat without him.” Lindy set the platter of sliced meat loaf in the middle of the table. “There, let’s have grace. Bobby,” she nodded to the boy on DJ’s right, “will you say grace?”
“I’m Billy.”
Lindy groaned. DJ snickered to herself. She’d known that.
“Just say grace.”
“Come Lord Jesus …” For a change he didn’t ask Jesus to bless everyone he knew, naming each and anything else he could think until the food got cold.
“You girls go on and finish what you were doing. The boys and I will clean up,” Lindy said after the apple crisp dessert had been devoured. “Thanks, Mom.” DJ and Amy headed back to the living room.
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