Carole (3 page)
Authors: Bonnie Bryant
Anyway, something Lisa said while we were talking gave us our new idea. “Maybe Deborah Hale is Max’s new girlfriend,” she suggested. “That would explain his acting weird and forgetting stuff. He might be nervous around her.”
Stevie and I thought about that for a moment, then I shook my head. “I can’t believe that Max would be interested in someone like her. She doesn’t even ride.” That much was
clear just from watching Deborah in action that day. She hardly knew one end of a horse from the other.
Still, thinking about Max’s love life—or to be accurate, his total lack of any love life that we know about—made us realize that poor Max isn’t getting any younger. He’s almost thirty already! If he’s going to have any hope of passing Pine Hollow down to his heirs someday, he needs to find a wife soon. And we figure The Saddle Club is the perfect group to help him find the perfect woman!
That’s when Stevie had an even more brilliant idea. “I’m one step ahead of you guys,” she told us. “I was thinking about a certain annual event at Pine Hollow that would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Max to hundreds of eligible women.”
“I give up,” Lisa said after a moment. “All I can think of is the picnic.”
“Same,” I agreed, remembering that Pine Hollow’s annual Fourth of July picnic is coming up next weekend.
“Right!” Stevie cried. “The Fourth of July picnic!”
“But it’s not the type of thing that draws single women,” I reminded her. “Usually it’s just the riders and some of the parents.”
“Don’t you see?” Stevie waved her hands around so much that she almost tipped her water glass into her blueberry-and-pineapple sundae. “That’s where we come in. It’ll be up to The Saddle Club to bring in every prospective wife we can think of. Then Max can choose one—with our advice and consent, of course.”
That gave me something to think about. I’d never even
considered the possibility that Max might end up marrying someone we didn’t like. It was a scary thought. After all, we’ll end up stuck with whoever he marries for as long as we ride at Pine Hollow, so it would be a whole lot better if he just found someone nice in the first place.
As usual, it didn’t take Stevie long to swing into action. She started by making a list (on her napkin) of qualities we should look for in a potential mate for Max. I remember the whole list because it pretty much sums up what I was thinking, too: Mrs. Max must be (1) horsey (or at least very interested in learning about horses), (2) friendly, especially toward Max’s students, (3) interested in helping Max out around the barn, (4) in good health, (5) smart, (6) beautiful.
But that wasn’t all. Before we left TD’s, Stevie almost managed to convince our waitress to come to the Fourth of July picnic. It turned out she has to work that day, but it’s probably just as well. The waitress fits most of the categories, but she’s a little weak in number two, at least when it comes to Stevie. I have the funniest feeling she’d be perfectly happy if Stevie never came in and ordered another one of her crazy mixed-up disgusting sundaes ever again!
It was yesterday evening that Lisa came up with Tiffani. Then this morning Stevie convinced her science teacher from last year, Ms. Cartwright, to come to the picnic and bring her two single sisters along with her. Actually, the only reason Stevie was talking to Ms. Cartwright in the first place was because she never turned in her final project, but that’s Stevie for you. She can almost always turn a negative situation into a positive one if she puts her mind to it.
It was getting to be my turn to come up with some candidates, and luckily I had the perfect opportunity, since today was Bring Your Daughter to Work Day at Quantico. While Dad was busy taking care of work,
I
was busy tracking down every nice single woman on the base, including my old riding instructor, Margery Tarr. She’s definitely my top choice. Margery is twenty-six, she’s as horsey as can be, she’s super-nice, smart, and beautiful. No offense to Stevie’s and Lisa’s women (not to mention my dad’s administrative assistant and the others I invited to the picnic), but I’m sure Max will love Margery so much that he won’t even notice the others are there.
In any case, writing about running into Margery reminds me of my old diary. I only read a little bit the other day, like I planned, but now I can’t seem to stop thinking about it. I know I really should make some notes here about the problems Starlight and I were having with those serpentines (that’s why I picked up my journal to begin with, after all), but maybe that can wait a little while.
Dear Diary:
I thought it would be a lot harder than usual fitting in at this school, since it’s so different from what I’m used to. But the kids here are mostly really nice—it turns out they’re not that different from the kids at any of the base schools. Well, not very different anyway. It still feels kind of strange to be the only military brat in most of my classes, or having to explain the difference between a sergeant and a colonel and a general, or having people think that Dad drives a tank to
work and has top-secret meetings with the President. It’s only been a couple of weeks, though. I’m sure I’ll eventually get used to that stuff, too
.
School may only be okay so far, but Pine Hollow is downright great. It’s even more wonderful than it seemed at first—I could tell right away I was going to love it. I guess that’s really no surprise, though, since I’ve loved every stable I’ve ever seen. But Pine Hollow is really pretty special, I think, even compared to other stables
.
I started off riding a really sweet old dapple gray named Pepper. Once Max (that’s the owner’s name, Max Regnery—he inherited the stable when his father died a few years ago, and he runs it now with some help from his mother. Everyone calls her Mrs. Reg for short.) saw that I know what I’m doing, he suggested that I try riding a few of the more challenging horses. My favorite so far is Delilah, who’s a gorgeous palomino with great gaits and a really sweet, gentle temperament—though I also like this lively bay gelding named Diablo and also Comanche, who is a deep chestnut gelding with a ton of spirit and a mind of his own. Another girl in my riding class usually rides Comanche, though. Her name is Stephanie Lake, but everyone calls her Stevie. She’s good friends with a girl named Dinah Slattery, who usually rides an Arabian named Barq. They’re sort of nice, though in my opinion they could both stand to be a little more serious about riding. They spend way too much time playing pranks on this snobby rich girl in our riding class named Veronica diAngelo. None of them (Stevie, Dinah, Veronica) goes to my school. They’re all students at this private
school across town called Fenton Hall. There are a few kids in my riding class who go to my school. There’s this really quiet, nice girl named Lauren Michaels, and a less quiet (but still nice) girl named Polly Giacomin who is a pretty decent rider. Most of the other kids are from Fenton Hall, but some of them seem nice, like this really pretty girl named Meg Roberts and this other girl whose first name is Anna, and I think her last name is McCormick or McMahon or something with a Mc in front. I’m hoping to get to know some of them better, especially Polly and Meg and Lauren. I think maybe I could be real friends with them
.
And like I said, I already know I’m going to be great friends with Delilah and Diablo and all the other horses. They’re wonderful. Of course, that’s not stopping me from still trying to convince Mom and Dad to buy me my own horse soon, like maybe for my birthday this year (that’s coming up in just a couple of months, after all) or Christmas, or maybe even both. I wouldn’t need any other presents if I had my own horse. I think Mom is mostly on board with the idea, especially after I spent two hours talking to her about it last Sunday afternoon while helping her pull weeds out of this overgrown flower bed at the side of the house where she wants to make a rose garden. Plus she already sort of promised I could have my own horse someday soon, after I found that lost pony while we were living in that rented house this past summer. Dad seems a little more skeptical about the whole idea, but I think he may be coming around. We’ll see. I’m keeping my fingers crossed, because having a horse of my very own at last would make our new home perfect!
Okay, I opened this journal to make some notes about mounted games, but I’ll get to that in a second. First I just have to write down something that happened at Pine Hollow earlier today, because it was so strange. It had to do with Max, of course. These days
everything
strange seems to have to do with Max.
My friends and I had made plans to go for a trail ride together. Stevie was late because she’d been stuck at home negotiating with her younger brother, Michael, to do her chores for her. That meant Lisa and I had already tacked up our horses by the time she finally arrived, but we left them tied outside and went in to help her with Topside.
As we were leading Stevie’s horse back out a few minutes later, we heard Max instructing someone on how to tack up. “That’s weird,” Stevie commented. “Doesn’t he have a lesson in about two minutes?”
Lisa nodded. “Yeah, and usually he’d get another student to help, or ask Red.”
She was right about that. Mostly Max counts on all of us students to help each other out—he thinks that makes us better riders. But Red O’Malley always pitches in, too. That’s why he’s such a good head stable hand.
We came around the corner and saw Delilah cross-tied in the aisle. Max had a bridle slung over one shoulder and a saddle in his hands. That reporter, Deborah Hale, was with him.
“Now, do you remember how to put the saddle on?” Max asked her, gently and patiently.
Deborah stared at Delilah’s back. “Umm,” she said nervously, “you, um, put it in the middle of the back?”
I cringed on her behalf, figuring she was in for one of Max’s famously stern lectures. When he teaches someone something once, he expects them to remember it. And we all knew that he’d taught Deborah this particular lesson before.
But Max just bit his lip and nodded. “Right,” he told Deborah. “That’s right. That is definitely right.
Eventually
the saddle should be just about in the middle. But the important thing to remember is that you put the saddle forward on the withers and then slide it back toward the croup—and not vice versa—so that the hair underneath lies flat. Okay?”
Deborah nodded. I thought she looked kind of unhappy. “Okay,” she said.
Stevie, Lisa, and I looked at each other in amazement. Whatever had been getting to Max earlier in the week was obviously still distracting him. I mean, he was about to be late for a lesson, and as far as I know, Max Regnery the Third has
never
been late for a lesson in his whole life.
“Why don’t we offer to help out?” I whispered to my friends.
“I’ll take Topside and wait outside,” Lisa offered. “You guys tack up Delilah, since you’re a little faster.”
I handed Topside’s reins to Lisa, and she led the bay gelding away. Then I turned to the adults. “Hi, Max. Hi, Deborah.”
They looked up in surprise. I guess they’d been so engrossed
in what they were doing that they hadn’t noticed we were standing there watching them.
Deborah seemed kind of relieved at our interruption. “Hi, girls,” she greeted us warmly. “How are you?”
“Fine,” Stevie said. She glanced at Max. “Listen, I know you’ve got that adult class starting right now, so why don’t we tack up Delilah for Deborah?”
Max just stood there for a few seconds, as if he didn’t even understand what Stevie was talking about. He stared from Deborah to Stevie and me and then back again. “You really want to tack up Delilah?” he asked us at last.
“That’s right,” I said cautiously. It might have been my imagination, but I thought Max looked a teeny bit annoyed with us for some reason.
“Well, all right,” Max said. “But make sure you check over the tack carefully.” Then he took off for his lesson.
The whole thing was pretty weird. But enough about that. I’ve really got to think of some good mounted games to play at the Fourth of July picnic. That’s sort of because of the idea I had to make sure our plan to fix Max up would really work. My friends and I were talking about the picnic on our trail ride after we helped Deborah with her tack, and we were a little worried that even with all those single women coming, Max might be so busy with the students and horses that he wouldn’t even notice how smart and beautiful and friendly they are.
“Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Maybe we could do some kind of introduction to the horses at Pine Hollow. We’ll just say that our friends want to try riding and learning more about horses.”
“Do you think he’d do it?” Stevie asked, meaning Max.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Look how nice and patient he was with Deborah. I was thinking—I’ll bet he’s like that with all the single women.”
“You think so?” Lisa asked, looking a little dubious.
“Sure,” I replied. “Why else was he being so nice? I’ve never watched an adult lesson, but I’m sure he’s easier on them than on the younger riders.”
“Actually, he gets after them, too,” Stevie said. She explained that she had once given a jumping demonstration to a beginning adult class, and that Max had been barking commands nonstop.
Still, we all agreed that my plan just might work. “If he’s as nice to the women at the picnic as he is to Deborah, they’re all going to think he’s wonderful,” I pointed out. “And he’s bound to find at least one of them irresistible.”
Stevie nodded. “Okay,” she said. “So who’s going to be the one to tell Max that more than a dozen strangers—who also happen to be young, attractive, single women—are coming to the picnic?”
None of us was looking forward to that. But it turned out to be surprisingly easy. First of all, we ran into Mrs. Reg when we got back to the stable. She started talking about how many new adult riders had started taking lessons lately, and how that was great for Pine Hollow because it meant a lot of their friends might also decide to start taking lessons. So that should help make all the extra people we invited seem a little more normal.