City Secrets (22 page)

Weird.
My e-mail address was already typed into the box. No password, but I had no idea why my e-mail address would be in the box.

Heather doesn't use Hotmail, duh,
I reminded myself. My address was probably still there from the last time I'd checked my e-mail on Heather's computer, days ago. In my rush to get out of Canterwood, I'd forgotten my own laptop, and Heather had said I could use hers if I needed to.

I started to type in my password.

“I've gotta run, Troy, talk to you later,” Heather said quickly. She tossed down the phone, ran across the room, and snatched the laptop from me.

“Hey!” I said. “What're you doing?”

“Excuse me,” she said. “What are
you
doing?”

“Checking my e-mail,” I said.

Heather closed the laptop. “So you just take someone's laptop and use it?”

“I asked you! You were on the phone and I whispered if I could use your computer. You nodded, so I took that as the universal gesture of ‘okay.'”

Heather's shoulders relaxed. “Sorry,” she muttered. “You did ask. I just was so into my talk with Troy, I forgot I said yes. Here.” She started to hand it back to me.

“Never mind,” I said. “We're watching TV. I'll check it later,
after
I'm sure that you heard me ask you.”

Heather smiled. “Okay. Deal. I'm going to ask Helen for a snack. Be right back.”

Settling back against a couple of fluffy pillows, I shook my head. I couldn't figure her out sometimes. I thought we were past Heather thinking I'd snoop through her personal stuff on her laptop. And it wasn't even like I'd try to sneak away with it, lock my guest-room door, and use it. I was checking my e-mail right in front of her.

Heather walked back with a tray of food and closed the door with her foot. “TV time,” she said.

“Most def.”

And minutes later I'd forgotten about the weirdness over the laptop and we were laughing at the ridiculous antics of the latest cast of
Our World: NYC
.

 20 

IT WAS BARELY DAWN ON FRIDAY MORNING when Heather and I stood near the front door, pulling on our riding boots.

“I'm so ready to practice,” I said. I was surprisingly awake this early in the morning, but the vanilla cappuccino Helen had made me earlier
might
have had something to do with it.

“Me too,” Heather said. We were both in black breeches and long-sleeve shirts. My cranberry-colored shirt was waffle knit and Heather's hunter green v-neck looked sophisticated with her breeches.

“Heather?”

I wanted to hurry into the hallway the second I heard Mr. Fox's voice.

“Yes, Dad?” Heather called.

“What's your plan for today's session?” he asked, striding into the room.

He held a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a copy of
The Wall Street Journal
in the other.

“We're going to work on everything,” Heather said, picking up her helmet from the floor. “Flatwork and jumping. We're doing posture exercises, too, and some new techniques I read about—almost like yoga in the saddle.”

Mr. Fox nodded, his dark eyes on Heather's face. “That sounds like a solid plan. I want you to call me if you have any trouble finding a space to practice and I'll phone Pam immediately.”

“I will,” Heather said.

Mr. Fox sipped his coffee and turned, leaving the foyer.

“What would he do?” I whispered. “Have Pam throw riders out of the arena?”

“He'd try,” Heather said. “But Pam's like Mr. Conner. She wouldn't put up with that. She'd tell him no way.”

I picked up my own helmet and we headed for the car. I couldn't wait to get on horseback. I felt more at home in the saddle than I did at the Foxes' penthouse. And! A chill ran down my arms. Only two more days till I'd
be riding
my
horse. I pictured Charm's face as we walked down the hallway. I couldn't wait to hug him and start training together for the schooling show.

More than half an hour later Heather and I walked down Chesterfield's aisle. We tacked up Limitless and Cora and led them toward the indoor arena. It was empty.

“Guess no one else is as crazy as we are to ride this early,” I joked.

“Very true,” Heather said.

We did a standard warm-up—walking, trotting, and cantering the horses so they wouldn't be stiff when we started a serious workout.

“Want to split up for a while and work on our own issues, then jump?” Heather asked.

“Sounds good,” I said.

Heather rode Cora to the right end of the arena, and Limitless and I took the left. I started working him through spirals, paying attention to my hand and leg cues as I took him through the exercise. After a few spirals, we worked through circles, and then I stopped him. I dropped the reins around his neck and raised my arms out to my sides. I twisted a few times in the saddle and felt my back muscles loosen. I leaned down
and touched my toes, then straightened. I ran through a few more posture exercises before Heather rode Cora over to me.

“I think we've got flatwork down,” she said. “If you're ready to stop and jump.”

I glanced at the round wall clock. We'd been practicing for an hour but it felt as if I'd only been riding for a few minutes.

“I'm always ready to jump,” I said.

There were a few portable jumps folded up along the wall. Heather and I dismounted and ground-tied the horses. Limitless cocked a back hoof and seemed glad for a break. I smiled as I walked away from him to help Heather set up the jumps. He was a good horse—I'd definitely miss him when I went back to Canterwood.

Together Heather and I set up five verticals of varying height. It was a simple course, but we'd run through it a couple of times.

“You can go first if you want,” I said.

“Okay,” Heather said. She heeled Cora into a trot and didn't waste any time guiding her toward the first jump. The mare leaped over the vertical. I loved how she landed without jarring her rider.

The next vertical was only a few strides away, and,
like the jump before it, Cora took it without hesitation. Heather had no trouble over the next three jumps. She rode Cora back to me with a smile.

“I don't even have to say it,” I said. “That was amazing. Maybe you should steal Cora and take her back to Canterwood. You guys make a great team.”

Heather laughed. “I'm sure Aristocrat wouldn't mind a break from a few practices.”

“Probably not. I know Charm would sooo much rather spend time eating than practicing some days.”

I gathered the reins and sat deep in the saddle. My turn.

Like Heather I didn't feel the need to circle Limitless before taking the first jump. We were ready, and I had jumped him before.

His canter was smooth and even as we moved forward. We reached the first jump and Limitless pushed up off the ground at the right second. The first jump wasn't too high, so he didn't need to expend much effort to clear it. Strides later the second vertical was in front of us. It was only a couple of inches higher—Limitless didn't even seem to notice. He soared over the red-and-white poles.

He snorted when he landed and we cantered toward the third vertical. I rocked in the saddle to his canter and rose
into the two-point position at the right time. Limitless cleared the jump as if it were inches off the ground, and his hooves didn't even come close to touching the rail.

We took the fourth jump as if it wasn't even there and I let him out a notch for the final vertical. His canter quickened and he gathered his forelegs under his body as he launched into the air and over the rails. I grinned when he landed and cantered away from the jumps. Patting his neck, I rode him back to Heather.

“That was good,” Heather said. “But wipe the grin off your face. We're not even close to being done.”

“Yes, Mr. Conner,” I said. I saluted her and she rolled her eyes.

“For that we're doing the next round without stirrups,” Heather said sweetly.

Now it was my turn to make a face. But we were doing what we had to so we'd be as prepared as possible for the schooling show. And if riding without stirrups was what it took, I was game.

 21 

“SILVER! SIIILVER.”

I woke up to Heather shaking my arm.

“What?” I asked, looking at the clock. It was barely eight. “It's Saturday. We can sleep in a little, can't we?”

“Nooo,” Heather said. “Not unless you want to miss our spa appointments.”

That
made me sit up.

“Spa appointments? Really?”

Heather grabbed my hand and yanked me out of bed, shoving me toward my closet.

“Really. Massages, facials, hot towels—all the good stuff. Dress in comfy clothes and meet me in the breakfast nook. We'll eat, and then we have to go.”

Heather disappeared and I closed the door so I could
get dressed. I pulled on yoga pants and a soft cotton T-shirt. I picked up a pair of flip-flops and carried them into the bathroom, where I combed my hair and brushed my teeth. Before meeting Heather I dropped my flip-flops by the front door.

Heather was seated at the breakfast table, and there was a spread of food already laid out like a buffet. Immediately I went for the waffles and doused two of them with powdered sugar, syrup, and fruit.

Heather filled her own plate with eggs, two pieces of bacon, and French toast.

I almost inhaled my breakfast—I wanted to get out of there and go to the spa.

“I've
never
been to a spa, ever,” I said. “Do we get to wear robes and everything?”

Heather nodded, finishing the final bite of her eggs. “Yep. And they'll wrap your hair in a towel so it won't get in your face mask.”

“I'm sooo excited! This is going to be awesome.”

We finished breakfast and met Paul at the car. I almost couldn't buckle my seat belt—my fingers were shaky!

“Calm down,” Heather said. “It's a spa. It's supposed to be
relaxing
?”