Chapter 17
Samantha
“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” Maya Angelou
I successfully avoid interactions with Richard’s father for almost a month.
The weekend that he came into town to see my first horse show, he actually came into town to talk to Richard about some business stuff.
They left my show a bit early to make it to a meeting, and he was occupied pretty much constantly from then on.
He comes in one other time, but I fake a cold and hide in the barn.
Richard’s father’s afraid of getting sick, so that worked.
He was supposed to come for Thanksgiving, but that time he actually got sick.
Apparently he suffers from a terrible case of The Man Cold when he gets one.
Richard finds it pretty funny, as someone who works through illness.
But now, as Christmas draws closer and closer, the day has finally come that I can’t come up with a reasonable excuse to avoid meeting him.
“I can’t believe you’re going to dinner with a real, live duke,” Natalie says. “It’s insane.”
“No, it’s inconvenient,” I say. “You got your i words mixed up.”
“Well, that too.” Natalie wipes sweat off of her forehead and smears light blue paint across her eyebrow.
“Um.” I pull a face and toss my head at her forehead.
“I did it again, didn’t I?”
“She’s going to notice that, and we’re going to have to confess. There’s no blue paint in the tack room, so what would you tell her?”
“Like she’d know what color the tack room is,” Natalie says.
“We can’t get her to ride more by guilting her about it.
” I sigh. I wish I knew the right way to get Vanessa to stop hiding behind her part-time job and actually hang out with us, ride with us again, but the more we do with horses, the more shows, the more riding, the more trail rides, the less inclined she is to even try.
Part of me wonders why she even agreed to join us trying to run a horseback-based tourism business if she won’t ride horses at all.
“At least our little riding clinics have earned us enough money to cover our costs while there are hardly any guests,” Natalie says. “That was a decent idea.”
It was her idea, so of course it was decent.
“Have I mentioned yet that I hate these Christmas family photo shoots? Because I do.” That’s another idea Natalie had, to get families, mostly ones with young girls, to come check out the horses and the barn.
We’re offering family and individual photo sessions to people.
You can pay to use the horses and Fortwilliam’s scenery as backdrops, or you can actually pay for the photos too, and Natalie will take the pictures for you.
Most people are choosing that option, and since Natalie’s taking and editing the images, I feel obligated to prep the horses and get the mostly inept first-time riders on the horse and posed for their photos.
“But you’ve gotten two new regular riders added to your lesson rotation,” she says. “And that keeps the horse-tour leg of the business profitable. It’s currently floating the whole thing.”
“You’re annoying,” I say.
“Whereas you look absolutely lovely in your navy sheath dress.” At least she clearly knows I didn’t really mean it. “You’re just crabby because you’re nervous.”
“Shut up.” I pull out a small mirror and check my face for blue spots and streaks.
My face is much cleaner than Natalie’s, but I find two small ones.
We’re nearly done with repainting, and then we just have a few really neat old paintings to hang, and we’ll be ready to give Vanessa the remodeled cottage for her mother-in-law.
“She might want to move here herself.” Natalie stands, bending backward and groaning. “It’s nicer than the place she’s at now. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“It’s too small for her,” I say. “Two bedrooms, two baths.”
“You made that storage room pretty nice,” she says.
“It could totally be made into a third bedroom. Plus, boys can use a wardrobe. Even Trina could. She’s tiny.
” She shakes all over, and then she refills her paint tray.
“This kitchen is bigger and brighter than hers, and it has a gorgeous view. Plus, that shed outside is basically a garage. Or, you know, we could build a small covered walkway and it would be.”
“Kind of sounds like you want it.” I’m smirking though. I know she’s just being positive. I’m sure once Trish has her own place, Vanessa’s going to be delighted, and we won’t have to feel bad about moving her out, because this place is now as nice as we could make it.
“What about that resin how-to reel I sent you? I think those little tables would be the coolest end tables if we did that resin pour over the glass on the top? We could make it an Irish design, or something with horses?”
Only Natalie would already be coming up with new projects before we’ve even finished this massive one. “Let’s focus on the house we’re remodeling before we start furnishing it, alright?”
“Fine, fine.” I think Natalie’s powered by the energy of new tasks she adds to her list. The longer her to-do list becomes, the more manic she becomes.
I slide my mirror back into my handbag, and I spin. “I look okay, right?”
Natalie sighs. “You look like Uma Thurman in Gattaca. Actually, I think you look better than she ever did, and you’re forty.”
“Forty-one,” I correct. “And I have never looked better than her. She’s a movie star.”
“Agree to disagree,” Natalie mutters. She may be intense, and she’s pushy, and she’s never, ever satisfied with things, but I couldn’t love her more.
“But you look more than okay. If that old codger doesn’t like you, you tell me where to come start lobbing crumpets.
While I do it, I’ll yell, ‘Down with the British,’ and we’re in Ireland, so I bet other people will join in. ”
She’s so stupid, but it makes me laugh. “Okay, well, let’s hope that’s not necessary. I’d hate to cause another uprising.”
She starts to hug me, remembers she’s covered in paint, and stops. “Don’t worry. It’s going to go great.”
The gardener’s cottage that we’re renovating is down a little walkway past the barn. I’m barely to the barn when I nearly run headlong into Vanessa.
“I just saw Rían and he said you haven’t been at the barn since lunchtime.” She peers around my shoulder. “Where were you?”
I clear my throat, trying to buy some time. If I blow the surprise a week before it’s ready, Natalie’s going to kill me. “Uh, well, there’s a—” I wince. “A squirrel infestation.”
“What?” She frowns.
I gesture behind me wildly. “You know those expensive screens we put on the west side of the arena?” I nod.
“Some squirrels have moved to the roof of the arena, and they’re running up and down the screens.
It’s scaring the devil out of the horses.
” That happened at my old barn in Florida, and it was actually kind of a disaster, especially for the lesson kids who kept getting chucked off their plodding old horses.
I really hope I didn’t just put that out into the universe, because I would hate to deal with this for real.
Scout would likely un-alive me if a squirrel darted by us on that screen without warning.
“You were hunting around for squirrels in a sheath dress and heels?” She scans my outfit with skepticism.
“Not hunting,” I say. “But I’m about to go to dinner with Richard and I forgot my phone in the barn. When I came out to get it, I saw one, and then. . .” See, that’s a good explanation, right?
“Did you find them?” she asks. “A nest?”
“No, but I think I got close. He lost me at the fence.” I point. “Devious little jerks.”
“What can we even do about that, if they’ve moved in around the barn?”
I shrug. “I was thinking of getting a gun and shooting the little boogers.”
She laughs. “This isn’t Texas. What are you really going to do?”
I wasn’t prepared to solve a fake problem, so now I’m just making even more stuff up. “Well, uh, you know, squirrels love pecans, so maybe I can poison them.”
Vanessa looks like I just throat-punched her.
Now she’s spluttering. “You want to—what? Are you kidding? Think of the birds and the other little creatures that could get into that poison, not to mention our barn cats. Plus, the squirrels don’t deserve to die, just because they’re scaring the horses. ”
“Right.” I shake my head. Another two minutes of interrogation, and I’ll be late for Richard’s lunch. That’ll sure impress his father. “Well, I’ll give it some more thought for sure.”
“I don’t want to ride in the arena until we figure this out,” she says. “So maybe I’ll do some internet searching.”
Oh, boy.
Natalie uses that phrase all the time, and now she has me saying and even thinking it.
“Look, Vanessa, don’t worry too much. I’m sure between the two of us, Natalie and I will come up with a way to solve it.
” I don’t want her wasting time on a fake problem because it’s the only excuse I could come up with for why I’d be walking around back here and not riding. We have more than enough real problems.
“Right.” She nods, her mouth compressed. “I guess you will.” She tilts her head. “And hey, when’s your dinner? Shouldn’t you be going?”
Thank goodness. It’s a parachute at just the right moment. “I’m about to meet Richard’s father.” I make big eyes.
Her mouth forms a round ‘o.’ “Shoot. Did all my talking make you late?”
“Not yet, but it could if we talk much longer.” I’m smiling, so she knows I’m not upset.
Vanessa waves me by. “Go, go, but text me after and tell me how it went. If you need it, I have a mean right hook.”
Yeah, right. “Or, there’s always Jack, right? I hear he took Jeremy out.” I’m laughing as I leave, and I’m delighted to see that she is, too.
“Jeremy deserved it,” Vanessa says. “Jack—he was just protecting me.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” I say. “That’s why we like him.”