Track Record

by Bonnie Bryant

  As her mother continued chattering about Scott’s manners and upbringing, Lisa’s thoughts briefly lingered on Alex. At times, usually late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she still found herself wondering if she’d done the right thing by calling it quits. What if Scott hadn’t been right there to ask her out, tempting her with an interesting new option to her comfortable old relationship? Would she still have decided that she and Alex had outgrown each other? Or would she have wanted to try at least one more time to work things out, salvage what they’d had together for the past year?

  I guess I’ll never know, she thought, feeling vaguely unsettled at the idea. Lisa liked getting things right—that was one reason she’d always excelled in all her classes at school—and it disturbed her to realize that maybe some questions didn’t have one correct answer. At least not one she could ever possibly know for sure.

  She tuned back in to the present moment as her mother walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “So where is your charming young man taking you this evening, dear?”

  Lisa winced at the choice of words but did her best to answer calmly. “We’re going to that new French place over in Mendenhall,” she said. “You know—it’s called Paris, and the chef is that guy who used to cook at that nice place in Georgetown.”

  “Ooh-la-la and la-di-da!” Mrs. Atwood batted her eyelashes dramatically. “Fancy schmancy. It must be nice to be dating a guy who has money—and isn’t afraid to spend it on you.” She winked and then turned away to fuss with the fire.

  Lisa gritted her teeth, staring at her mother’s back and feeling awkward. She hated it when her mother acted that way. It’s like she forgets she’s my mother, she thought. Instead she wants to believe we’re wild-and-crazy single roomies, swapping stories about our latest dates. Ugh!

  Biting her lip to stop herself from responding, she forced a smile. She didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings. Mrs. Atwood had had a tough couple of years, and the last thing Lisa wanted was to deny her any spark of pleasure.

  I just wish she’d find pleasure in something other than my love life, she thought. It’s tough enough being in a new relationship without having Mom hanging on our every move. Especially considering that everybody else in the world is already watching us. Or, rather, watching Scott.

  She grimaced at that thought, hating how petty it made her feel. What was the big deal, anyway? So Scott was popular. What was wrong with that? Was she really so needy that she required his full attention every second they were together?

  No, of course not, she thought. But it would-be nice if, just once in a while, he acted like I was more important than some buddy from his chemistry class.

  She shook her head, cutting herself off before her thoughts could continue down the same old path as always. It didn’t do any good to dwell on it. She had tried to talk to him about the issue once or twice, but he’d just laughed it off.

  How could he possibly understand how I feel? she thought resignedly. Growing up in his family, with a father who’s exactly the same way, he probably has no idea there’s anything weird about the way he acts. So if I want to be with him, I guess I’ll just have to get used to it, too.

  She was trying to work on that. But she was still jealous of any private time she could steal with him. That was why she’d begged off when Stevie had invited the two of them along with her and Carole and their boyfriends that evening. Lisa was looking forward to an intimate date with Scott that night—especially since they weren’t too likely to run into any high school friends or acquaintances at such an expensive, out-of-the-way restaurant—and she didn’t want to share him, even with her best friends. Luckily Stevie and Carole had understood, but Lisa still felt a little guilty. She hadn’t even mentioned the invitation to Scott for fear he would eagerly suggest canceling their private, romantic plans to join the group fun.

  Noticing that her mother had turned to warm her hands in front of the fire, Lisa took the opportunity to stand up and step toward the door. “Listen, I’d better go up and get changed,” she said. “I have no idea what I’m going to wear tonight.”

  “All right, dear.” Mrs. Atwood turned and smiled at her. “Trust me, I understand—you want to look your best for such a special evening.”

  Lisa smiled weakly, then headed for the stairs. As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. She did want to look her best that night. She wanted to look so good that Scott wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her, no matter what.

  THREE

  Where is she?” Carole muttered as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time. It was almost seven o’clock, and her stomach was grumbling irritably about the small apple she’d had as an after-school snack. Besides that, she and Ben were supposed to meet Stevie and Phil in town at seven-fifteen, and Carole didn’t want to be late. She glanced into the stall in front of her, which belonged to a school horse named Comanche. Ben was inside, pulling the chestnut gelding’s mane. “What do we do if she never shows up?”

  Ben glanced over his shoulder, pausing for a moment in his task. “Don’t know,” he said. He shifted the metal comb he was using to his other hand and looked at his watch. “Did Max leave?”

  “Uh-huh. He and Deborah took off about forty-five minutes ago.” Carole leaned on the half door and frowned. “I wish we were gone already, too. Didn’t that girl say she’d be here by six-thirty at the latest?”

  Ben didn’t respond. He returned to gazing at Comanche’s mane with a critical eye.

  “Oh, there you are, Hanson,” Maureen said, rounding the corner. “So what do you think? Is this kid going to show or what?”

  “Who knows?” Carole straightened and turned to face Maureen, feeling frustrated. Why did this have to happen that night of all nights? Any other time she wouldn’t have minded puttering around the barn until all hours, and she was sure Ben wouldn’t, either. But that night they had plans.

  Ben stepped out of the stall to join Carole in the aisle. “She might have had trouble loading her horse or something,” he said quietly.

  Carole sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. “What, don’t they have phones in her old stable?” Still, when she thought about it, she had to admit that Ben had a point. “But you could be right,” she admitted reluctantly. “She’s not that late. Yet.”

  “I guess. Still, I’m sure Max wouldn’t want all of us hanging around all night.” Maureen shrugged and tapped her jacket pocket. “If you’ll just wait around long enough for me to slip outside and have a smoke, you two can take off. I’ve got some paperwork to do in the office, so I was going to be here late anyway. I’ll cover it if the girl turns up.”

  “Really?” Carole had never been that comfortable with the idea that Maureen smoked on the property, but she knew that Max had spoken to her about where he would and would not allow it, so she figured there wasn’t much she could say about it anymore. Besides, she couldn’t help being pleasantly surprised at the older stable hand’s offer—it wasn’t really like Maureen to be so generous. And if they hurried, she and Ben could still make it to the restaurant on time. Carole wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks, Maureen. The stall’s all ready and everything—Ben even filled the water bucket—so all you’ll have to do is show her where it is and get her settled in.”

  “No prob,” Maureen assured her. She dug into her jeans pocket. “Now, if I can just find some matches—”

  “Hey,” Ben interrupted, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the front doors. “Did you hear that? Sounds like a truck.”

  Carole cocked her head. Sure enough, the growl of a large engine and the crunch of gravel were clearly audible even over the sound of thirty-some horses chewing their dinner. “Uh-oh. That must be her. Fashionably late.”

  Maureen swore under her breath and shoved her cigarettes back into her pocket. “Talk about rotten timing,” she muttered. “Well, back to work, then.”

  As she disappeared through the main doors, Ben glanced at Carole. �
��Damn,” he said softly. “If Maureen had offered to let us leave five minutes sooner …” He didn’t bother to finish the sentence.

  Carole nodded and grimaced. “Too late now,” she muttered. “Our fate is sealed. Come on, let’s go meet the new horse.”

  It wasn’t until both of them were hurrying out the door that she really realized what Ben had just said. He’s disappointed, she thought in something just short of awe. He wishes we’d left earlier. That means he’d rather be alone with me—well, me and Stevie and Phil—than here meeting a new horse. Wow!

  She wasn’t sure anyone else would appreciate how much that meant to her. But she understood Ben because he was so much like her in certain fundamental ways. Horses were a top priority in his life, as they were in hers. One of the most important and exciting things in the world to him was meeting a new horse, making sure it got settled in comfortably and helping it adjust to its new home. For the first time, Carole dared to think that maybe she was becoming a top priority to Ben, too. Maybe even a step above his work at Pine Hollow. And she felt the same way about him.

  It was such a momentous concept that she stopped in her tracks, wanting to savor the moment. But Maureen’s voice interrupted. “Carole!” she said sharply. “Earth to Carole.”

  “Oh!” Carole snapped out of it immediately, glad that the evening darkness hid her dazed smile. Maureen and Ben were standing at the cab of a large horse van, talking with the burly man who had just slid down from the driver’s seat. “Sorry,” Carole called. “I’m coming.”

  When she joined the little group, she discovered that the man was a driver for a professional transport company. “The kid and her mother were right behind me most of the way over,” he said, tipping back his cap and scratching the bald spot on the top of his head. He glanced down Pine Hollow’s long gravel drive. “Must’ve lost them coming through town. Should be here soon, I reckon.”

  As if on cue, a beige SUV pulled into the drive. Spinning gravel from under its tires, it skidded to a stop a few yards behind the van. Before the motor cut off, a short, slender girl with reddish-brown hair hopped out of the passenger’s seat. “There you are, you maniac!” she snapped, storming over to the driver. “Do the words speed limit mean anything to you?”

  Carole blinked, taken aback by the girl’s tone. She didn’t know any other twelve-year-old who would speak to an adult the way this girl had just spoken to the driver.

  The man seemed unperturbed. “Let’s get that ramp down,” he said calmly, already heading to the side of the truck. Ben and Maureen stepped forward to help, while Carole turned to smile tentatively at the girl and the driver of the SUV, who had just climbed out of the driver’s seat. Judging by her auburn hair and narrow features, the woman had to be the girl’s mother.

  “Hello,” Carole greeted them both. “Welcome to Pine Hollow. We were starting to think you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

  “It’s certainly not our fault,” the mother huffed, seeming slightly put out by the comment.

  Carole gulped. “Um, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that. We were just, um, worried. But anyway, we’re glad you’re here now,” she added hastily, eager to change the subject. “My name’s Carole Hanson, and that’s Ben over there, and Maureen.” She pointed out her coworkers, then smiled at the younger girl. “You must be Kelsey Varick.”

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Who else would I be?” she commented. Frowning slightly, she turned to glance at the van. “What’s taking them so long over there?”

  “Come on,” Carole said through clenched teeth. She liked to consider herself a fairly patient, open-minded, and forgiving person, but Kelsey’s attitude was already wearing on her nerves. “Let’s go see.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment,” Mrs. Varick said. Leaning against her car, she pulled a cell phone out of her coat pocket. “I have to make a call.”

  Ignoring the small cluster of intermediate students gathered in the stable doorway who had obviously heard the commotion and come out to spectate, Carole hurried over to the horse van with Kelsey at her heels. As they arrived, the driver, with Ben and Maureen’s help, finished carefully lowering the ramp. Then the man stepped back, brushing off his hands. “There you go,” he said.

  Carole stepped forward along with the others, her eagerness to see the new equine arrival overshadowing her irritation with Kelsey. A tall, leggy chestnut gelding was tied in the slanted truck stall. The glow from Pine Hollow’s outdoor spotlights brought out a soft gleam on the horse’s sleek, muscular rump. He craned his neck, trying to see out the door, and Carole pursed her lips admiringly at his elegant Thoroughbred profile.

  “Nice-looking bit of horseflesh,” Maureen commented, echoing Carole’s thoughts.

  Kelsey smiled, looking pleased. “Yes, isn’t he gorgeous?” she said. “His show name’s Flamethrower. I came up with that myself. His registered name is sooo stupid I was embarrassed to tell anybody.”

  Carole could tell that Kelsey was just dying for them to ask her what that name was. But somehow, she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Besides, they’d all wasted enough time already waiting for her. “Why don’t you go ahead and bring him out?” she suggested, sneaking a peek at her watch.

  Kelsey blinked, seeming surprised. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “She means bring him out,” Maureen said, sounding a little impatient. “Unless you’re expecting us to drive this truck right into his stall or something.”

  “Duh, I’m not expecting that,” Kelsey snorted. “But I thought you guys worked here. So do your job and unload him for me.”

  Maureen’s jaw dropped, and she stared at Kelsey in open astonishment. Knowing that the older stable hand had a wicked temper, Carole spoke up hastily. “I’ll get him,” she offered. “No big deal. Um, Maureen, you can go in and get the paperwork if you want. Ben and I can handle things at this end.”

  “All right,” Maureen said tightly. “That’s a good idea.” Spinning on her heel, she headed inside.

  Carole breathed out a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted to deal with was breaking up a fight between Maureen and some snotty twelve-year-old. She turned to face Kelsey. “How is he about unloading? Anything I should know?” she asked.

  Kelsey shrugged. “How should I know? My trainer’s groom always deals with that stuff at shows.”

  Oh boy, Carole thought, sneaking a grimly amused glance at Ben. Max is going to have a field day with this one. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s a kid who wants to ride but thinks she’s too good to take care of all the other details that go into horse care.

  That thought made her feel a little better. Kelsey might be obnoxious, but if she wanted to ride at Pine Hollow, she would have to shape up fast. Cautiously entering the van, Carole pushed Kelsey out of her mind and talked soothingly to the chestnut gelding. As she reached out to pat him, she realized that Flamethrower was even more beautiful up close. He seemed a little nervous about what was going on outside, though he was clearly accustomed to riding in the trailer. While he kept flicking his ears back and forth and twisting around to look out the door, he offered no resistance as Carole untied him and coaxed him down the ramp, murmuring comforting words to him all the while.

  As soon as all four of the horse’s delicate hooves were on solid ground, however, he shied to one side, head held high and nostrils flared as he looked around nervously. “It’s okay, boy,” Carole crooned. “I know it all looks strange now, but you’ll be right at home soon.” She turned and offered the lead rope to Kelsey.

  The younger girl took a step away, eyeing her horse suspiciously. “He’s acting weird,” she said. “What if he kicks me?”

  “Don’t go near that horse, Kelsey!” Mrs. Varick called from her spot near her car, lowering the phone from her ear. “I don’t want you getting hurt! Let the help deal with him until he calms down!”

  Carole sighed and exchanged glances with Ben. She had the funniest feeling they weren’t going to
be able to escape anytime soon. She can’t unload her horse from the trailer, and she can’t lead him once he’s out, she thought. What are the odds she’s going to be able to take care of stuff like getting him into the stall and taking off his shipping bandages?

  “Can you handle this for a second?” she murmured, passing the lead rope to Ben. “I just want to run inside and call Stevie.”

  “Whew!” Lisa patted her mouth with the edge of her cloth napkin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so full in my life. But I just couldn’t stop eating—everything was so amazing!”

  Scott smiled, looking pleased. “I thought you might like this place,” he said, spearing one last piece of asparagus with his fork. “I came here with Callie and my folks when it opened, and we all loved it.”

  “I can believe that.” Lisa glanced around the restaurant, feeling content. So far the evening had been everything she had hoped it would be. Scott had arrived right on time to pick her up, looking unbelievably handsome in his sport jacket and tie, and had managed to charm her mother while also making a quick escape. He had spent most of the drive to the restaurant telling her how incredible she looked in her favorite black dress and upswept hairdo.

  And sometimes it really is pretty cool to go out with someone sort of famous, Lisa thought, smiling as she remembered how the maître d’s eyes had lit with recognition as soon as they’d entered. Even though another couple had been waiting in the lobby, she and Scott had been ushered straight to their table, which was located in a cozy windowed nook overlooking a peaceful view of a moonlit herb garden and a large holly shrub. She was also quite impressed with the restaurant itself. Mom was right, she thought, once again taking in the tasteful chandelier and elegant velvet draperies. This place really is … well, la-di-da.

  As she returned her attention to her own table, she noticed that Scott was gazing at her, the golden light from their candle picking up flecks of blond and red in his thick brown hair and casting dramatic shadows on his chiseled features. Suddenly feeling shy, Lisa smiled at him. “By the way,” she said, “thanks for bringing me here. It’s really nice.”