Home for Christmas (15 page)

I pushed update just as a car door slammed.

“Good timing,” I said. “And thanks for the dance, Clare. You now have to do that
every
time I update Chatter.”

“Will do,” she said.

I inhaled through my nose, letting the air out slowly through my mouth. I had no reason to be so insanely nervous. The person on the other side of the door was my
sister.
Yes, we'd had our not-so-very-nice moments, and we still had a lot of issues to work through, but Char was my family.

“We're going to head upstairs,” Khloe said, motioning to herself and the rest of the girls. “You need time for a family moment.”

“You don't have to go,” I said immediately. “Char knows you're here.”

“We're not going to disappear,” Lexa said. “We'll be in the guest room hanging out. You can bring Charlotte up to meet us when she's settled in and stuff.”

I nodded finally. “Thanks, guys.”

As they headed upstairs, I grabbed my coat and slid on shoes. I opened the door, a blast of cold air rushing inside, and stepped onto the landing. I took one more breath and went down the stairs and hurried along the sidewalk to the driveway.

Immediately, I spotted brilliant blond hair flowing from under a black knit beanie.

“Char!” I called.

My sister turned away from the SUV and let go of her suitcase handle. “Lauren!”

I ran over and wrapped my arms around my sister. Charlotte embraced me back, and for the first time, we squeezed each other like we never wanted to let go. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Becca watching us, smiling.

“Girls, let's get the luggage inside and then you can say hi, okay?” Dad asked.

Char and I pulled apart. We smiled at each other, and her beautiful blue eyes looked extra blue with the thin line of black kohl liner that rimmed them.

“It's really good to see you,” I said, taking a red travel suitcase from the back of the SUV.

“You too, Laur,” Charlotte said. “Thanks for helping with my stuff.”

I nodded, and the five of us carried and wheeled Charlotte's suitcases into the house.

“I'll take the heavy ones upstairs,” Dad said. “Laur and Becca, will you help Char with the rest?”

“Sure,” I said.

Becca nodded in agreement. She took off her coat and sneakers, looking
très
cozy-chic in a white sweater with a glittery snowflake on the front and black yoga pants.

“I'll go make you a cup of your favorite tea, honey,” Mom said to Charlotte. Char slid out of her wool coat and sported a Sarah Lawrence hoodie over skinny jeans. She took off her hat, running her fingers through her long blond hair. I wondered when Pantene would find Char and offer her a hair-commercial deal.

“Thank you, Mom,” Char said.

Char, Dad, and I got Charlotte's stuff up to her room. We lined the suitcases up along the wall, and Dad reached out to hug Charlotte.

“We've all missed you,” he said. “I'm the happiest dad on the planet to have all of my girls home for the holidays.” He kissed Char's forehead and left the room.

Char flopped onto her back in the middle of her bed. Her room's color scheme was done in Sarah Lawrence College colors—green and white. Char's bed had a fluffy
white comforter, white pillows, and a green iron headboard twisted with leaves and vines. Above her bed hung a gold-framed image of a gryphon—the school's mascot. I'd had to Google “gryphon” when Char had told me it was her school's mascot. I stared at it for a second—it had the head, wings, and front feet of an eagle on a lion's body. She had photos of herself and her friends in thin gold frames cascading up the wall by her closet.

“It is
so
good to be home,” Charlotte said. “Finals were the worst ever.” Her eyes were closed as she massaged her temples.

“We're glad you're here,” Becs said. “I'm going to get your tea from Mom, Char.”

I shot Becca a
what are you doing?
look. I was a little nervous to be alone with my sister, despite our friendly greeting.

“Thank you, Becca,” Charlotte said.

Becca left the room, and Charlotte sat up and patted a spot in front of her. “Sit for a sec?” she asked.

I gingerly sat down. “I have to, um, leave in a few minutes,” I said. “My friends and I have to be at the horse rescue for our shift.”

Charlotte smiled. “No worries. What I want to say won't take long.”

C'mon, Becca,
I thought.
Hurry up!

“I e-mailed you because I'm betting you were probably nervous about me coming home,” Charlotte said.

I played with the edge of my sweater, then nodded.

“I was nervous too,” Charlotte said. “You and I are so much alike that it's always caused this rift between us. But I've been away. You've been away. I really,
really
want to give Mom and Dad the best Christmas present I can think of. . . .”

I looked at her as she trailed off.

“What?” I asked.

“You and I getting along. Mending our relationship and letting go of the past.” Charlotte nudged my knee with her hand.

“What do you think?” she asked.

I'd never heard my sister sound so sincere. Our fighting did put stress on our parents. I wanted the small amount of times that all of us were home to be great. Not full of squabbling.

“I think we'll be able to give them an empty wrapped box and then explain their present once they've opened it,” I said, smiling.

Charlotte hugged me again, and I hugged her back.

“Sorry,” Becca said as she came into the room. “Didn't
mean to interrupt. I'm leaving.” Becs put a Santa mug on Char's nightstand.

“You're not interrupting,” I said. “I have to go, but Char has a gift idea for Mom and Dad that she probably wants to tell you about.”

Smiling, Charlotte nodded. “Can we catch up a little, Becs?”

“Um,
yeah
,” Becca said.

I got up and Becca took my seat.

“Laur, when you get back, I'd love to meet all of your friends,” Charlotte said. “If that's cool.”

I grinned. “It's totally cool.”

I waved good-bye and scurried toward the guest room to gather everyone and leave. Who would have thought that giving an
empty
box might be one of the best gifts of all?

18

Sasha

I WAS BUSY READYING TO
groom my second horse of the morning—a sweet bay gelding named Watson. He was tall, like Charm, though his bone structure was much finer and he was leaner. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. I had a new text message.

Sasha, pls come to BC after the adopt-a-thon on Saturday @ 7pm. Having a little Xmas bonfire. Bring your friends! xo, Kim

A bonfire sounded liked the perfect way to unwind after the event. I'd get to visit Charm and hang out with everyone at my old stable. Smiling, I put my phone back in my pocket.

“Quinn told me a little bit about you,” I said to Watson. I'd just taken him from his stall and clipped him into crossties.

Quinn had gotten everyone else started with jobs too. Jacob and Paige were helping put up Christmas decorations with a group of people who, like them, weren't experienced equestrians. Quinn had said decorating the stable was so important for the adopt-a-thon, and potential adoptive people always raved over the festive feel.

Callie had been asked to feed a list of horses, so she was in and out of the feed room with different grain mixtures, depending on the horses' needs, and flakes of hay.

Alison and Brit were in the outdoor arena lunging horses. Heather had been asked to groom, tack up, and ride a horse that had been tagged as one ready to go to a home as a pleasure horse.

“Make all of the mistakes that a beginner rider might,” Quinn had told Heather. “Let a stirrup iron flap for a few seconds, don't double-check the girth, drop a brush or two, really do anything you can think of to test this horse. Take note of his behavior and what scares him or doesn't. We've put him through so much already that by now he should be a safe ride for a fairly new rider.”

I focused back on Watson. “So you, mister,” I said,
“just came off the track a few months ago. You were fast, but not fast enough for your owners, huh?” I hugged his neck. “I know that's not true. It's their loss to have let you go, Watson. You're going to get a much better home, where you'll be the speed demon of the stable!”

Watson shifted his weight as I swiped his left shoulder with a body brush. He was barely four years old, and I couldn't let my guard down around him for a second. He wasn't mean or intentionally dangerous, but he was definitely energetic and hot-blooded. His dark-brown ears stayed pointed toward the stable exit, and he yanked on the crossties.

“Easy, shhh,” I said. “I bet someone will exercise you today.”

I kept whispering to Watson, trying to keep him calm. He danced in place, almost stepping on my toes.

“How's it going?” a soft voice asked. Quinn slipped under the crossties and placed a gentle hand on Watson's neck.

“He's a great horse,” I said. “Is anyone exercising him today, though? I'm worried he'll kick a hole in his stall if he doesn't get a chance to stretch his legs.”

Quinn scanned her clipboard, then looked back at Watson, frowning. “No one's free to ride him today. Well, no one with the experience to handle him.”

“I can,” I said quickly. “I'd love to ride him.”

Quinn looked at me, her mouth open as she paused. “Sasha, I know from your paperwork that you're a skilled rider. Watson is fresh off the track. He's still a bundle of energy, and his exercise schedule still includes allowing him to gallop around the track with another horse. We're working on teaching him not to always feel he has to ‘win,' but also giving him a sprint on the track because he'll go stir-crazy otherwise.”

My entire body tingled. I wanted nothing more than to ride this ex-racehorse around a track. For a second, my silks—the outfits jockeys wear—flashed in front of my eyes. Pink and white with a glittery stripe down my helmet. Not exactly traditional, but they were my
daydream
silks.

“Quinn,” I said, “I promise you that I can handle Watson. I would
never
say that if I didn't mean it. I would be putting his safety at risk—not just mine. Please let me ride him.”

Quinn stared at me for what felt like hours. Finally her head dipped. “Okay.”

“Thankyou, thankyou!” I said, grinning.

“Let me see who's going to be your exercise partner,” Quinn said. She ran her pointer finger down the clipboard.

“Oh! Well, this works out great,” Quinn said. “You'll be exercising with someone from your school. Do you know . . . Lauren Towers?”

19