Eric stood at the sign for Gate Twelve at the Raleigh/Durham airport with baited breath. It had been weeks since Nicky had left for the detox center in Virginia. Holding tight to the thick manila-colored paper Mrs Potts had written the flight information on, he closed his eyes and prayed for his lost little girl to have found herself in Virginia. A young man in a tailored navy business suit exited the flight ramp, then a mother flanked by two middle school looking boys. Several more passengers followed, greeting loved ones in the waiting area and heading down escalators to claim their luggage. His heart might not last if she didn’t get off that plane.
Steven had offered to make the trip to the airport, but Eric needed to do this himself. Besides, Steven seemed preoccupied with Chelsea these past few days.
A thin man in ragged jeans and a torn tank top exited the plane ramp, followed by a bright faced flight attendant. Eric’s heart sank. She hadn’t made the flight. She didn’t complete the program. He slumped down into a nearby chair, his body suddenly too heavy to stand. Another six weeks of rehab might do Nicky in. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his eyes. Then the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard called his name from beyond the arrival gate. A woman, looking ten years younger than Nicky, with a flawless complexion and a zest for life that resonated in her stride, appeared at the door.
“Dad!” Nicky waved. “I made it! I’m here, Dad.”
* * * *
The next several days passed for Chelsea in a continuous blur of stolen kisses behind stall doors and passionate nights spent wrapped in her lover’s arms under mint colored sheets. Just to think of the things Steven had done sped up her breath and caused beads of perspiration to form across her brow. He was a gracious lover, she thought, twisting her thick hair into a braid down her back and tracing the line of her neck where he’d spent hours kissing the night before. Soft and pleasing, he saw to it that her needs were met. Then, with the hunger and fury of a wild savage, he took, leaving nothing but two limp piles of melted flesh lying tangled together as one. On this morning, the day before Eric’s sixty-fifth birthday, he had pulled the curtains shut and turned off her alarm before dawn.
She should have been mad. With a week before the Charity show, now wasn’t the time to get sloppy. The extra hour of sleep had allowed her the most wonderful dream of Steven, standing in Eric’s office, now his office, offering her the training position. In the dream, her father laughed at something Mrs Potts said in his ear. The look on Aden’s face, secure and proud, made her never want to leave the land of slumber and dreams again. Her internal clock had become accustomed to her early ritual, and she found herself wide awake by six in the morning.
Upon inspection of the barns, Steven had already helped Mario and the others feed and muck stalls. Again, she felt like she should be at least a little mad, but the thought of having her morning open to spend with Acer and Lexus won out.
By seven, Judy showed up, wearing skintight riding jeans and a new pair of buff colored riding boots. The endless amounts of wasted money usually irritated Chelsea, but not today. Nothing could ruffle her feathers the day before the big party.
Her father hadn’t agreed to attend the event yet, but when she talked to Aden last, she found out Judd Bradley might crack for his grandson. Given another twenty-four hours, Aden would have the man bending to his wishes.
Eric had extended the invitation to her friends. She hated to tell him she only had one, but Analeigh accepted with only minor hesitation. Once Chelsea explained her closet of designer dresses at her father’s and offered Analeigh her pick for the party, she was all in. Judy mounted Acer without one question about Steven’s whereabouts.
“Take the inside lead,” Chelsea instructed Judy, who by some miraculous act of God had begun to listen and follow her directions. Judy’s bottom left the saddle as Acer picked up his inside leg. Chelsea silently cheered in victory.
“Now bring him to a halt.”
Judy bounced the reins back in her hands and Acer planted four feet neatly on the sawdust floor.
“Now back him up, walk forward, then park out.” She held her breath. Any judge worth their salt would ask for this workout at the end of Judy’s class. She’d left it until last to work on, hoping to keep Judy calm about it.
Judy bounced the reins again, backing Acer three steps. She let go, giving him his head and he stepped forward with both front feet. With a slight rock of Judy's hips, Acer spread his front legs far from his back and parked out just as she had asked him to do.
With that last movement, it became official. Chelsea had turned Judy Holloway into a show girl. Now all the pressure fell on her. Acer still hadn’t seen the inside of the indoor arena for the show, and his inexperience in the ring might prove to be problematic. Chelsea had to push that worry from her mind. Judy showed in a week, leaving no time to rectify the horse’s lack of show experience. At a quarter until eleven, Chelsea tacked Lexus for the twins' lesson then heard the creak of the stall door behind her.
“You better get out of here,” she warned without turning around, sensing Steven. “My boyfriend’s hanging around here somewhere.”
An arm slid into place around her waist and her breath caught as warm, moist lips descended on her neck.
“Is that what I am to you?”
She hadn’t realized she’d used that word out loud. She’d thought it many times over the past few days, but never said it. The word hung in the air between them while she waited for his response. His lips trailed down the recess of her neck to her shoulders. “I like it,” he said, then pulled her around to face him with one strong arm.
With expert precision, he found her lips, letting her taste him before entering into the dark recesses of her mouth. He smelled of mint, and she found herself wondering if their meeting had been by chance or design.
When he pulled her closer and took complete access of her mouth, she let the thought slip from her mind.
Two young voices broke the serene moment and Steven pulled away slowly as if taking a mental picture of her, leaning back against his arm.
“Ms Chelsea, Ms Chelsea,” the boys chimed in unison until they rounded the corner of the door and saw Steven. They both swallowed their words and looked at the mass of a man with intrigue. Following behind, Liam rounded the corner, and she understood Steven’s fresh breath. He’d planned his chance encounter in the barns just in time to declare her off limits to Liam Johnson, or any of Liam’s friends. By the look on Liam’s face, he heard the message loud and clear. Liam went back to his habit of reading his paper in the office while Chelsea prepared the boys for the show as best as she could. They fought over Lexus again, but relaxed when she told them they could take turns.
After the lesson, she inquired about Ted and the arrival of his daughter’s horse, then asked if Liam and the boys planned to attend Eric’s party.
“Mom’s coming if she can find her way out of some man’s pants,” the younger twin said. Liam turned red, then purple, shooting a hand over the boy’s mouth.
“Tom!”
“Well, that’s what I heard you tell Grandma on the phone this morning.”
Chelsea felt her own cheeks blush and she cursed it. Poor Liam had become a victim of a young mouth and ears. A place she’d found herself in many times during her divorce from Chase.
“It’s all right,” she offered the man with mortification stretched over his face like a mask. “He probably didn’t hear you right on the phone.”
“No,” Tom struggled from under Liam’s hand. “That is what he said.”
Liam’s hand stretched over the redhead’s mouth as he swept the boy up with his other arm.
“We’ve just separated,” he said, holding the boy to his side.
Chelsea tried not to smile. The last few days of acquired glances from Liam suddenly made sense. She remembered when she’d found out about Chase’s indiscretion. Her first thought had been to get even, hunting the local bars looking for someone to flaunt in Chase’s face. In the end she couldn’t go through with it. “I understand.”
Liam looked paler by the minute as he tried to herd the boys from the arena.
“Don’t forget about the party,” she said after them, sure Liam would avoid it like the plague.
* * * *
Steven had hated to leave her alone with Liam. Jealousy didn’t suit him. He smiled slowly into the rear view of the truck as he barreled down Highway Nine. She had called him her boyfriend. Their relationship had a name, and he had some claim to her, even if in title alone.
And she had thought he’d be mad about the deal with Eric. He laughed, thinking of the night she’d told him. The look on her face spelled out pure terror, but something inside him had eased at her admission. In her explanation of fearing being let go, he heard her loyalty for Brigadoon, and for Eric. In the past few days and nights, he’d felt her loyalty for him. As for Reggie, he thought, merging the Dually and trailer off the main highway at the Brigadoon exit, time would tell. Reggie would be at the party tomorrow night to deliver Monty, and Chelsea’s reaction to the trainer would tell him everything he needed to know. In the past few days she hadn’t mentioned Reggie, or the argument they’d shared about him. He drove the truck down the gravel road leading to the farm, now flanked with delivery trucks from the party rental store in town. White fold-out chairs rested in stacks across the sides of his training barn, while workers in black polos erected a white tent in the center of the outdoor ring. Tomorrow would be a total loss for training, but it didn’t matter. Eric Chandler turned sixty-five only once, and the day would belong to him.
Steven stopped the truck short of the indoor arena and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Sadie’s name appeared on the screen and he pushed the buttons to dial her number.
“Did you get him?” She sounded happier than he’d heard in a month.
“I did,” he said, scanning the driveway for Eric’s town car. Steven had wanted to pick Nicky up that morning, taking the pressure off Eric if she didn’t show, but Eric insisted. Their late return to the farm was a good sign things had gone well.
“She’s been in the arena all morning.” Sadie answered his next question without being asked.
“Good. I’ve got Aden’s pony in the back. Can you keep Chelsea occupied until I unload him in the barn?”
Sadie answered yes then bounced down the front steps of the main house and into the arena. He gave her a minute, then drove the Dually and trailer past the open doors and down to the barns. The pony―he’d decided to let Aden name it later―walked out of the trailer with little trouble and seemed more than happy to be shuffled into a stall full of fresh water and mounds of alfalfa hay. Steven pulled the cell out again and redialed. Before he could clean out the trailer, Sadie bounced into the barn wanting to be the first to see his good deed.
“Aden is going to love him,” she said, twirling wisps of mane around her fingers while the pony grazed.
“Let’s hope,” Steven said.
* * * *
Chelsea awoke earlier than normal the next morning. It wasn’t her internal clock this time that wouldn’t let her sleep but the pounding outside her window.
Light broke over the hills of the far pastures as she pulled the curtains of her bedroom window back. Large white tents with plastic windows dotted the landscape. Round tables still void of covers intertwined with bales of hay, white bows, and chairs wrapped in pale, neutral fabrics. The farm had been transformed into a wonderland of sorts.
Set to the side and lining the path to the big house, stretched an endless row of rectangular tables. Chelsea guessed they would be covered with food and drinks before long.
After dressing in her usual jeans and tank, she ran a comb through her hair and pulled it into a high pony tail. With her toothbrush still hanging out of her mouth, she looked at the depressing selection of dresses hanging in the closet Steven had painted a few days before. Judd had agreed to bring some of her clothes from the house when he came, but her hopes weren’t high on him attending. Just in case, she wanted a game plan for the party, and she needed some selections to offer Analeigh when she arrived that afternoon. Settling on a yellow cotton off-the-shoulder sundress, she rinsed her mouth and headed out into the party preparation madness.
“If I’m going to tell you where it all goes, I might as well do it myself.” Mrs Potts shouted orders to two men wearing matching company polos as Chelsea entered the kitchen through the back door.
“Yes, ma’am,” the taller of the two retorted and they both brushed by on their way out the kitchen door.
“Oh.” The housekeeper’s eyes shot to Chelsea at the door then filled with embarrassment. “I didn’t see you standing there, honey. These guys have me chasing my tail with all their questions. I wish I could just do it myself.”
Mrs Potts rubbed her temples and leaned a hip on the edge of the counter.
“Oh, Mrs B, everything will be fine.” The female voice came from the dining room. Chelsea guessed it came from Nicky.
“I don’t know.” The older woman wrung her hands before picking up a kettle as it whistled on the stove. “I just don’t have a good feeling about tonight. And the weatherman on Channel Nine is calling for rain.”
Nicky appeared in the doorway. “You fret about the same things every year, and every year the party’s a great success.”
Chelsea took a second look at the woman now standing beside Mrs Potts. Nicky had always been striking, but now, with a glow of youth and vitality, she looked even more perfect. Her long, pale blue dress hugged new curves around her waist, and Chelsea thought the added weight only accentuated her body. She’d been much too skinny and frail looking before.
There was no hint of a new tan, but Nicky’s skin glowed with life and her bright eyes bounced from the older woman to the window where Eric talked to yet another man in a black polo.
“Papa will love it, you’ll see,” Nicky added, giving the housekeeper a squeeze before turning her gaze to Chelsea. “Chelsea.” Nicky eyed her as if she hadn’t noticed her standing there before. “I’d hoped to see you this morning. I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Sadie while I was away at rehab.”
Mrs Potts gasped and Nicky held up her hand in defiance. “No, it’s all right. I told Sadie where I had been last night, and I think everyone else had already guessed.”
Chelsea nodded her head. “Sadie is a joy to be around. I was happy to have her company.”
“I hope she didn’t get in your way too much…with Steven, I mean.”
Chelsea's eyes flickered, and Nicky went on as if she understood.
“Sadie admires him a lot, almost like a father, and I was afraid she’d have a hard time accepting you.”
At a loss for words, Chelsea nodded then looked to Mrs Potts for help.
“I’m glad he finally found someone,” Nicky went on and Chelsea sighed in relief. “He’s a good man. We just didn’t have the chemistry between us. He really likes you.” Nicky’s face softened, and Chelsea’s unease settled.
The oven buzzer sounded. Mrs Potts loaded a basket with fresh blueberry muffins and the three women sat at the kitchen table, discussing the circus taking place outside the bay window. The muffins were reduced to crumbs by the time Nicky’s cell rang and she excused herself from the table. Chelsea had to admit the air felt lighter with her out of the room.
“I was hoping things would go this well,” Mrs Potts said, clearing the table. Chelsea picked up her own plate and cup and walked to the sink. “I didn’t know Nicky and Steven had been…an item.”
“Not for some time.” Mrs Potts filled the sink with water and Chelsea picked up the drying rag from the counter. “They dated a few years back when Nicky’s husband left, but not for very long.”
The housekeeper gave a discerning look to the rag in her hands and Chelsea frowned. “I can’t work horses out there in the chaos. I’ve got to have something to do.”
Mrs Potts shrugged her shoulders then went to work on the pile of china in the sink.
“He does really like you,” the older woman said after a short silence.
“You really think so?” Chelsea took a plate and wrapped it in the towel.
“I’ve noticed how little time he spends here lately. And you’ve put a skip back in his step.” Mrs Potts smiled, handing her another plate. “Even Eric sees it, and it’s about time.”
Chelsea kept her eyes on the drying towel. She hadn’t anticipated being embarrassed by the conversation.
“Now, don’t get bashful on me. It’s about time you learned to love again, too.”
Chelsea shot her eyes up.
“There aren’t many secrets around a family like this.” Mrs Potts put her hand on Chelsea’s. “You are a part of this family.”
Chelsea fought the tear burning the edge of her eye. “My mother died before I was old enough to date.” She took a plate from the rack and turned it over in the towel. “I always wondered what it would be like to talk to her about boys.”
“You poor child, I had no idea.” Mrs Potts stopped rinsing the dish in her hand. “You and Steven have more in common than you think.”
Something outside fell, causing the dishes on the drying rack to reverberate against each other. Mrs Potts put her hand on her hip and cursed at the bay window where two men stood over a stack of white chairs piled on her herb garden.
“I might just kill someone before this day’s over,” the housekeeper sighed. “Chelsea.” She held the washing sponge up in a request. “Would you mind finishing these while I save what’s left of our yard?”
Chelsea nodded, and the older woman pulled her apron from around her waist and set off, wagging her finger and shaking her head.
Chelsea finished the sink of dishes, washed down the counters, then poured the last of the coffee into an earth-colored mug and took a seat in the worn wicker rocker on the porch. She had only sat long enough to enjoy a few sips when Sadie bounced up the front stairs and took the chair next to hers.
“Is Aden coming tonight?” Sadie’s blond hair blew across her face and she had to pull strands from her mouth as she spoke.
Chelsea laughed at the young energy the girl possessed, wishing she could feel that alive and free again.
“At last check, he almost has his grandpa convinced.”
“Good.” The young girl smiled, grinning like a cat about to pounce on a poor unsuspecting mouse.
“What are you up to?” Chelsea put the mug on a small wicker side table and turned to face the girl. Sadie’s eyes grew bright and large as if the secret they held back would bulge out of them any second.
“Oh,” Sadie sighed deeply. “He’s going to kill me, but I can’t stand it anymore.”
Chelsea was about to ask who was going to kill her, and for what, when Sadie grabbed her hand and pulled her from the chair and down the stairs.
They passed though groups of workers and tents to the training barn, where Steven had taken refuge from the party preparations.
He rose from his seat by the door, sponge in one hand and polished bridle in the other. “Oh, Sadie. You didn’t?” His tone was flat, but his face stayed soft.
“I can’t help it,” she squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a child on her first trip to Disneyland.
“Well, you’ve spoiled the surprise now. I guess we should just show her.”
Chelsea felt like the third wheel in the conversation as they bantered back and forth about something she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Sadie was obviously excited, and Steven seemed more reserved and almost fearful of her reaction.
“Will you two just tell me what’s going on?” Chelsea asked, trying to be playful, but feeling butterflies grow in her stomach.
Steven wheeled his oil covered sponge in Sadie’s direction. “Go ahead, open the stall.”
Sadie had the door open before he finished his sentence. She took a small red halter off the wall and disappeared behind the door, reappearing with a chestnut colored pony.
“Don’t you just love him?” she said, pulling the pony around in circles, giving Chelsea a chance to see him from every viewpoint.
“He’s wonderful, but who does he belong to?”
Sadie’s eyes sketched a path across the barn to Steven.
“For Aden?” Chelsea asked.
Steven stood, wiped his hands on a dust covered rag, and nodded. Chelsea’s hands flew to her face involuntarily. “Oh, Steven, he’s going to love a pony.”