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Smoky Mountain Home
Lynnette Kent


It's The Only Home She's Ever Known And Ruth Ann Blakely isn't going down without a fight! The equestrian trainer has lived and worked in the stables of The Hawkridge School her whole life. She can't allow some big-city architect to tear it all down…even if Jonah Granger is as attractive as he is persuasive.When Jonah moved to North Carolina to be near his stepdaughter, he didn't expect to be raked over the coals by an outspoken horse trainer. Passionately opposed to the new stable he's designing, Ruth Ann is a force to be reckoned with. In more ways than one…









Giving in to Jonah now would make it that much harder to hold out against him in the fight for her barn


Ruth Ann leaned back, pulling away from his mesmerizing kiss. His hold loosened, but instead of stopping, he took the kisses from her lips to her cheeks, her eyes and her chin, which was almost as devastating.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “You don’t.” Pushing him, she managed a step backward. And another, breaking the circle of his arms.

Jonah stood motionless, staring at her. Finally he took a deep breath and straightened. “You’re right. The situation is complicated and what just happened didn’t make anything better. My apologies.” Walking past her, he left the stall. Moments later she heard a truck engine start.

She simply couldn’t afford to leave herself vulnerable where Jonah Granger was concerned.


Dear Reader,

Like many little girls, I enjoyed a love affair with horses. I read Black Beauty and also loved historical novels, where the characters went everywhere on horseback or in carriages. Like most teenagers, however, I eventually got busy with homework and boys, and my horse obsession died away.

Or so I thought. When my own daughter wanted to ride, I drove her to the stable. While glancing around at the pastures, I was hit by a wave of intense longing. The stable owner walked up, we introduced ourselves and I said, “Can I ride, too?”

That was almost eight years ago. These days I’m the devoted caretaker of five horses and twenty-two acres of land. I believed I’d left my junior high school dreams of a life with horses behind. Now I can’t imagine living without them.

The heroine of Smoky Mountain Home, Ruth Ann Blakely, shares my passion for horses. She’s also passionate about Jonah Granger—passionately opposed to his plan to replace her beloved, historic stable with a new equestrian center. Yet she’s desperately in love with the man himself. Does Ruth Ann have to sacrifice her past in order to have a future with Jonah?

I hope you enjoy spending time with Ruth Ann, Jonah and all the horse characters I had fun creating for this story. I love to hear from readers—please feel free to contact me at my Web site, www.lynnette-kent.com, or by letter in care of Harlequin American Romance.

Happy reading!

Lynnette Kent




Smoky Mountain Home

Lynnette Kent










ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Lynnette Kent began writing her first romance in the fourth grade, about a ship’s stowaway who would fall in love with her captain, Christopher Columbus. Years of scribbling later, her husband suggested she write one of those “Harlequin romances” she loved to read. With his patience and her two daughters’ support, Lynnette realized her dream of being a published novelist. She now lives in North Carolina, where she divides her time between books—writing and reading—and the horses she adores. Feel free to contact Lynnette via her Web site, www.lynnette-kent.com or write her at P.O. Box 1012, Vass, NC 28394.


For Angela,

consummate horsewoman and incomparable friend




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen




Chapter One


Jonah Granger was exactly what she’d expected.

His straight black hair had been styled into a perfect tousle, no doubt at a salon in New York City which had charged two hundred dollars for the privilege. He wore gray flannel slacks with a dark-brown turtleneck sweater, probably cashmere, and managed to look artistic but still businesslike while showing off his strong, square shoulders and his flat belly. Add in Italian loafers and a discreet, hideously expensive gold watch. Everything about the man screamed class and money.

Ruth Ann Blakely gritted her teeth as she watched the architect explain his design, and watched The Hawkridge School’s board of directors melt under the warmth of his smile. Even Jayne Thomas, their usually pragmatic headmistress, seemed swept away by the grandiose plans displayed on Jonah Granger’s easel.

“Thirty-foot ceilings,” he was saying, “for air circulation and light, with a series of archways creating unique visual effects.”

“Like a Gothic cathedral.” Board chairwoman Miriam Edwards sighed. “How wonderful.”

Ruth Ann rolled her eyes.

“Exactly,” Granger said, aiming the spotlight of his attention right at Miriam. “The clerestory windows provide ventilation in the summer and a solar-heating effect in the winter.”

“Smart.” Harry Hopkins nodded. “Save on the heating bills.”

Examining the backs of her hands, which testified to twenty-five or so winters spent working in an unheated stable, Ruth Ann bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.

“The stall floors will be textured concrete, but the aisles of the stable will be paved with brick.”

Oh, no, they won’t. Ruth Ann shifted in her chair. My horses aren’t spending their lives standing on concrete, not even if it’s underneath the mats you haven’t mentioned.

“I’ve provided a lounge for parents and students.” Granger flipped the page to reveal an artistic rendering of what looked like a nightclub. “Sofas for conversation, tables and chairs for meals prepared in the full-sized kitchen equipped with marble counter tops and professional appliances, plus a complete audio-video system.”

Ruth Ann burst out laughing.

The thirteen board members sitting around the conference table turned to stare at her. Jonah Granger raised his straight black eyebrows and looked down the slope of his nose at her. “Is something funny?”

She tried to control herself, but whenever she glanced at the drawing, she couldn’t help another cackle. “S-sorry,” she said finally, wiping her eyes. “That’s a—a really nice room.”

“Thank—”

“If you’re building a house or a hotel,” she interrupted. “But my barn doesn’t need so much—” she waved a hand “—stuff.”

Those slashing brows moved higher. “Your barn?”

Jayne Thomas cleared her throat. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce you, because Ms. Blakely arrived after the presentation started. Jonah Granger, this is Ruth Ann Blakely, The Hawkridge School’s equestrian trainer and instructor.”

“Ah.” Jonah Granger sent her a cool nod. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Blakely. I’m sure we’ll be able to work well together.”

“I’m not.” Ruth Ann got to her feet. “This so-called stable you’ve designed might be pretty, but it won’t work for horses or their caretakers. On the other hand, the stable we use now was designed by people who understood the art and science of equines.” She glanced around the conference table, making eye contact with the few board members who weren’t pretending to study their notes. “All my barn needs is some renovation and restoration to make it as good as new. If you’d like to discuss those possibilities, Mr. Granger, I’ll be more than happy to talk with you. But I’m not signing off on a new barn that’s more about looking good in the parent brochure than about caring for the animals and giving the girls safe, productive lessons.”

She left the conference room by the nearest door, and congratulated herself for not tripping or running into a chair on her way out. Sometimes her feet forgot their main job, especially when she was nervous. Facing down Jonah Granger had definitely made her nervous. He was so cool, so controlled, so…

“Arrogant,” she muttered as she reached the grand circular staircase descending to the first floor. “Contemptuous. Conceited.” Her riding boots sounded like the horses themselves as she hurried down the marble steps. “Egotis—”

She stopped moving and muttering as she rounded the curve and saw a girl sitting on the bottom step. “Hello, there. Can I help you?”

The girl turned to look at her as she came the rest of the way to ground level. “No, thank you. I’m just waiting.” She would be about thirteen, with dark hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, a round face and a chubby body dressed in tank top and jeans a size too small.

“Waiting for what?” Ruth Ann leaned an elbow on the newel post. The fall semester didn’t start for another week, and all the students had left campus for a brief vacation.

“My stepfather.” The girl stared straight ahead. “Mr. Granger.”

“Ah.” That might explain the odd air of withdrawal, as if she’d walled herself off from the rest of the world. He’d be a demanding parent, which played hell with an adolescent’s self-esteem, in Ruth Ann’s experience. “I just left that meeting. He should be finished in a few minutes.”

A nod was the only response. But then, with a sideways glance at her breeches and boots, the girl said, “You ride? Horses?”

“I’m the trainer here. Do you ride?”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I mean, I do, kinda. But it’s really scary.”

“Maybe you haven’t had the right horse. What’s your name?”

After hesitating a moment, she said, “Darcy.”

Ruth Ann offered a handshake. “I’m Ruth Ann Blakely. Good to meet you, Darcy.”

Jonah Granger hadn’t taught his stepdaughter how to shake properly. She barely grazed Ruth Ann’s palm with her own, then let her arm fall back to her lap.

The approach of voices from upstairs announced that the meeting had ended. Darcy jerked her head up, got to her feet, and scurried to the other side of the entry hall, like a mouse caught on the counter when the kitchen light comes on.

Ruth Ann’s temper started to simmer again. What had the man done to make this girl so nervous?

Flanked by board members, Jonah Granger came down the stairs, carrying his big box of useless drawings and smiling at the compliments of people who wouldn’t know a hoof pick from a hay hook. At the bottom, he spoke with each and every one of them as they left by the front door, before finally deigning to notice his stepdaughter.

“Darcy, there you are.” He grinned at the girl and summoned her with a gesture. “I thought you’d still be in the library.”

To Ruth Ann’s surprise, Darcy moved quickly to join him. “I didn’t feel like reading. I went for a walk instead.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Did you like what you saw?”

The girl shrugged. “It’s pretty.”

“When you come back to start classes,” Jayne Thomas said, “you’ll get an extensive tour, and you can see how beautiful Hawkridge really is. We have hiking paths on the mountain and, of course, the riding trails.” The lift of her eyebrow in Ruth Ann’s direction promised a reprimand as soon as they had a private moment.

But Ruth Ann was more interested in the fact that Darcy would be attending Hawkridge. “Maybe you’d like to sign up for some lessons,” she told the girl. “I promise to keep you safe, and you’ll have a good time.”

Jonah Granger’s smile vanished. “Darcy’s had her fill of horseback accidents, I believe. But she’s an excellent pianist, and plays several other instruments, too.”

The teenager gazed at her toes, their nails painted a glittery blue.

“She’ll have lots of choices,” Jayne promised, with a warning glance at Ruth Ann, who had opened her mouth to protest. “And lots of time to decide what she wants to do.” Setting a hand lightly on Granger’s shoulder, she ushered him toward the door. “You’ll be coming in from New York next week—”

Aha! Ruth Ann thought.

“—to bring Darcy for Moving-In Day. Let’s arrange another meeting then. We can review your plans in more detail. Ruth Ann will give us her input at that time.”

From the double doorway, Jonah Granger threw Ruth Ann a glance that could have been called challenging. Or just spitting mad.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he told the headmistress, his voice as smooth as black ice.

Jayne went outside with Granger and Darcy. Staying within the shadows, Ruth Ann peeked around the door frame in time to see the architect and his daughter fold themselves into a dark-blue Porsche. With a roar of the engine and a squeal of tires, the sports car streaked around the circular drive.

“Showoff,” Ruth Ann muttered. “Just what I’d expect.”

Jayne remained on the front steps until the forest surrounding them hid the Porsche from sight. Returning to the entry hall, she closed the doors and stood for a moment facing the carved mahogany panels, holding onto the big brass handles.

Ruth Ann decided not to wait for the lecture to start. “Look, I’m sorry I was late. I scheduled the vet visit for one o’clock three months ago, but he had an emergency and didn’t arrive until after two. I couldn’t just walk off and leave him with six horses to handle on his own. Nobody consulted me when they set up this meeting.” She gave a disgusted sniff. “Not surprising. The board would probably have preferred I never show up at all.”

“Especially when you started talking.” Jayne crossed the marble-tiled entry hall and entered the school’s office suite. “Let’s go to my office and sit down.”

Once they’d settled into the chairs on either side of Jayne’s big desk, she shook her head. “Your opposition to the new stable doesn’t make a lot of sense, Ruth Ann. Why wouldn’t you want a new building with all the amenities? Surely an up-to-date facility would make your job easier?”

Ruth Ann propped her elbows on the armrests and stared at her linked fingers as she constructed the answer in her head.

“Why don’t we tear down the Manor and build a new, state-of-the-art classroom building? We could have computer hookups at every seat, modern labs for the science classes, high-tech recordings for the language teachers, an auditorium and a dining room and—”

Laughing, Jayne held up a hand. “Enough, already. I agree—there’s a great deal of historic value in all of the buildings on the estate, including the stable.” She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out again. “The board—”

“Meaning Miriam Edwards.”

“The board,” Jayne repeated firmly, “believes the current facility is unsafe for the students.”

Ruth Ann characterized that opinion with a single rude word.

“Maybe,” Jayne conceded with a tilt of her head. “We’ve never had an accident involving the building itself. And,” she said before Ruth Ann could, “we’ve never had a girl seriously hurt while riding. You’re a great trainer and instructor, Ruth Ann. You’re a terrific therapist—you and your horses have made a real difference for a number of girls the rest of us had just about given up on.” The Hawkridge School served as a refuge and, often, a last resort for girls whose emotional problems had driven them into troublesome, even dangerous, behavior.

Blinking hard, Ruth Ann said, “I’m glad. I love my job.”

“Good. What we’re going to have to do is find some way to compromise on the stable. I don’t know what that means, yet, except that you’ll need to cooperate with Jonah Granger as he works on the design.”

“Why can’t he design a renovation?” Ruth Ann sat forward in her chair. “The old barn needs some work, some updating, sure. Can’t Granger simply fix what’s wrong and leave what’s right?”

“That’s not what he does.”

“Then find someone who will.”

“The board wants Granger. He built a house and barn for Miriam’s sister up in Connecticut, and she’s just wild about his work.”

“So let him build something new for her. He can leave my barn alone.”

Jayne’s brown eyes were kind, but she said, “It’s not actually your barn, Ruth Ann.”

“My dad took care of it until the day he died. Literally—his heart stopped while he was sweeping the aisle that night.”

“I know.”

“My grandfather and his father before him worked in that barn taking care of the estate’s horses. How am I supposed to walk away from that?”

“It’s just stone and wood, sweetie. You and the horses are what matters. Those would be the same in a new stable.”

“I don’t think so.” Ruth Ann got to her feet. “Call me superstitious or just plain weird, but my barn is a special place. The horses know it and the girls know it—the ones who really care, anyway. Moving the equestrian program to a new stable would be a mistake.”

Jayne stood up. “As a friend, I’m asking you to cooperate. Please…for my sake?”

Ruth Ann frowned at her. “Unfair.” Then she sighed. “Okay. For your sake, I will listen to what he has to say. Are you going to ask him to do the same?”

“Of course.”

“For all the good that will do,” Ruth Ann muttered, once she’d closed the office door between herself and the headmistress. “I’ll bet my bottom dollar that Jonah Granger listens to no one’s opinion but his own!”



RUTH ANN BLAKELY was not what he’d anticipated.

Jonah admitted he’d been expecting someone like his ex-wife, Darcy’s mother—slim and neat, with polished boots, hair combed into a sleek ponytail and a lipstick smile. More, he’d expected to be listened to, consulted, and then given the go-ahead on the stable project.

Instead, she’d laughed at him, dammit. Made fun of his plans. He simply couldn’t believe it. What did she know about architecture, anyway? She spent her days mucking out stalls and teaching kids to ride. Who did she think she was, criticizing his work?

He’d known she was trouble as soon as she entered the conference room—late, to begin with—after Jayne Thomas had introduced him and he’d started his presentation. Her skepticism, her resistance to his project, had surrounded her like a force field. He doubted a word he’d said had gotten through.

She certainly hadn’t gone to any trouble to impress him. She’d stalked in wearing riding breeches, dusty boots and a T-shirt with a huge green smear across the front, as if some horse had used her for its napkin. Face shaded by the baseball cap she hadn’t taken off, her damp ponytail drooping through the hole in the back, she’d conveyed quite clearly that he was interrupting her important work. As she’d stomped out again, he’d noticed that she was tall, well built on generous lines, and furious.

Well, that made two of them.

Darcy stirred in the seat beside him, and Jonah realized he should be talking with her instead of silently venting his frustrations. “So what did you think of the school?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s okay.”

He refused to be daunted. “The Hawkridge estate was built in the early 1900s as a wealthy businessman’s personal home. His daughter turned it into a school in the 1960s.”

His stepdaughter yawned. “Looks like a castle. Maybe it’s haunted.”

Jonah chuckled. “Maybe.” When she didn’t say anything else, he tried again. “I thought the headmistress was pleasant. She doesn’t seem like the type to be hiding instruments of torture in her office.”

After a long silence, Darcy said, “The riding teacher was nice.”

So much for diverting his thoughts from the belligerent Ms. Blakely. “What did you talk about?”

“Riding. She said the right horse would make it less scary.”

Nice of her, giving an opinion on something she knew nothing about. On the other hand, Darcy needed all the encouragement she could get. “Maybe you can do some riding when you’re at school.”

“Mom told me I was useless around horses.”

“Your mother…” Jonah clamped down on the impulse to speak his mind concerning his ex-wife. “She was upset that day, Darcy. You’d just fallen off and broken your arm. The horse was still running loose. You know she didn’t mean what she said.”

He glanced over, and saw that Darcy’s long-fingered hands were clamped into fists in her lap. “She said it later, too. While they were putting the cast on my arm.”

“Damn her.” This time the curse erupted before he could stop it. He couldn’t believe even Brittany would be so cruel to her own daughter. Brittany, of course, hadn’t bothered to confess what she’d said until a month later, while they sat on opposite sides of the emergency room waiting for the doctors to pump half a bottle of pain pills out of Darcy’s stomach.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Obviously, I have some serious problems with your mother, or else I’d still be married to her.” He wanted to share a smile with Darcy, but she was staring out the window. “You’re with me now, so don’t worry about getting hassled like that anymore.”

She didn’t turn around. Finally, though, she murmured, “The teachers…”

“The teachers at Hawkridge are there to help you, and not just with schoolwork. They’re more like friends you can count on to listen and support you when you’re having problems.” He hoped so, anyway, for Darcy’s sake. No thirteen-year-old girl should be desperate enough to attempt suicide.

His stomach rumbled, and Jonah switched to a more cheerful topic. “It’s been a long afternoon and I’m starving. How do you feel about pizza for supper? I hear there’s a pretty good place in town. We could stop there before we go back to the hotel.”

Darcy gave him another of those defeated shrugs. “Pizza’s fattening.”

More of her mother’s wisdom, no doubt. “We’ll walk around town afterwards, look in the shop windows and work off the calories.” His stepdaughter didn’t answer. “Or we could go swimming in the hotel’s heated pool.”

“I can’t wear a swimsuit.”

“Darcy…” Jonah started to protest, but pulled himself up short. He wasn’t sure what the right response would be—as the only child of two only children, he lacked the sisters and female cousins who might have provided experience. His instincts about women were obviously lousy, otherwise he would never have gotten involved with Brittany…or Cindi or Annelise or Jacqueline…in the first place.

At least Brittany was the only mistake he’d married.

“Well,” he said, braking as they approached the town limit of Ridgeville, “most pizza restaurants offer salads, too. But I hope you’ll have a piece or two of the pizza. Otherwise, I’ll have to eat the whole thing myself. And then I’ll have to walk for hours to work it off. I might not get to sleep tonight.”

He thought he heard a snort of amusement from Darcy. He’d take that as progress.

But he hoped The Hawkridge School could do better. And he prayed that Jayne Thomas and her staff would show him how to avoid making mistakes with this fragile soul for whom he’d taken responsibility. Now that Brittany had transferred custody to him, he planned to move to Ridgeville within the next few weeks. Living nearby, and without his ex-wife’s constant interference, Jonah hoped he could learn to be the parent Darcy needed.

Business-wise, planning and construction of the school’s stable, along with his other projects in Atlanta and Charlotte, would allow him to start up his solo firm in North Carolina on a solid financial basis. Without the Hawkridge commission, though, he couldn’t cover his expenses. He’d have to spend another year in New York, working with his prima-donna boss and going not-so-quietly insane.

So whether she knew it or not, Ms. Ruth Ann Blakely held his future in her hands. If he didn’t win her support on the stable, he wouldn’t be his own boss for at least another year. More important, he wouldn’t be able to give Darcy the support he knew she needed.

But the argumentative, assertive Ms. Blakely would not be easy to win over. And given his lousy track record with women, Jonah didn’t have a clue what approach to take!




Chapter Two


Someone had set fire to the sky.

Or so it looked to Ruth Ann, studying the sunrise during her walk from her cottage, on the main campus, to the stable. Red-gold clouds hovered just above the treeline, reflecting pink light onto the mist rising off the mountains.

“Red sky in morning, sailor take warning,” she told herself. “I wonder if that still holds true when we’re four hundred miles inland and a mile above sea level.”

Two hours later, with her horses fed but half the stalls still needing to be cleaned, she propped her chin on her hands, gripped around the handle of a manure fork, and gazed at the gentle rain falling outside the barn windows. “I guess it is true. We’re going to have rain for Moving-In Day.”

Waldo, the twenty-three year old Percheron, stuck his huge white head over his stall door and whickered in her direction. Ruth Ann moved closer to rub the soft white hair on his cheeks and throat. “No time for a ride today, old man. I’ll be down at the school until dinnertime, helping the girls get settled.”

He pushed his nose into her hand, and she knuckled the velvety pink skin between his nostrils. “Yes, even in the rain. We’re all gonna be chilled and damp by the end of the afternoon. I hope they’re planning spaghetti for dinner.”

The horse lipped her fingers. “This new cook makes some strange choices, though. She served spinach quiche for lunch one day during summer school—whatever made her think teenagers who’d spent the morning hiking and swimming in the summer heat would want eggs and spinach for lunch? What do you suppose Cook thought when most of the pieces of her green and yellow pie returned to the kitchen untouched?”

Lightning flashed outside, followed quickly by the growl of thunder. Waldo turned away and paced to the outside door of his stall, settling in to contemplate the weather.

“Just as well,” Ruth Ann murmured to herself, and to the horses around her as she hurried to finish her work. “I’ve got to be at the dorm by nine. I hope there are more dads here this year than last. I really don’t want to spend all morning schlepping luggage in the rain.”

Just in case, though, she donned her raincoat and pulled rubber boots over her sneakers. She checked the various buckets set under the leaks in the roof and emptied those more than a third full.

“That’ll hold us till lunchtime,” she told Patsy, a dark bay thoroughbred mare. “I’ll rush back while the girls and their folks are eating. Be good.”

The Hawkridge stables were located half a mile from the main house and the dormitories, an easy walk across the lawns and meadows of the grounds. Driving her pickup truck to avoid the rain required Ruth Ann to use the four-mile service road running through the forest surrounding the estate. Here and there, the trees were starting to show a few yellow-edged leaves and some splotches of red. After a hot, dry summer, the welcome rain had already washed away lots of dust, leaving the woods a deep green against which the autumn colors glowed brightly.

Due to the weather, parents would be unloading their cars as close to the dorm as possible, so Ruth Ann left her truck in the faculty parking lot near the main house—the Manor, Howard Ridgely had called it, a title that had stuck—and walked to the more modern student residence behind. Inside, the usual controlled chaos of Moving-In Day ruled. Because the girls on each grade level roomed together on a hallway, all students would be relocating today, whether this was their first year at Hawkridge or not.

Alice Tolbert, the head of the literature department, sat at a table on one side of the big room, checking in first-time students. Across the open space leading from the front door to the staircase, the new physics teacher, Teresa James, occupied the table where returning students would pick up their room assignments. Having just graduated from college herself, Teresa was still making the adjustment from student to authority figure.

Ruth Ann went to stand beside her. “How’s it going?”

Brushing shiny blond bangs back from her face, Teresa produced a tense smile. “I think I’m doing this right. I’ve had a few complaints, though.”

“Someone’s always going to be unhappy with their new room.” Ruth Ann pulled up a chair and sat down. “They complained last year, they’ll complain next year. Just ignore it.”

The physics teacher glanced around. “I want them to like me,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve heard I’m replacing the most popular teacher in the school.” Then she winced. “I mean, you’re a teacher and I’m sure they all like you—”

“Don’t worry.” Ruth Ann grinned. “Mason Reed was definitely popular—he was the only male, he’s handsome as sin and a really nice guy. But now he’s in Boston with his new wife, starting classes in engineering himself, God bless him. And we are going to carry on just fine without him.” She nodded at the girl who came to the table. “Hi, Sherry, good to see you. This is Ms. James, the new physics teacher. And your room this year will be…”

The morning passed quickly. Ruth Ann stuck by Teresa James until the young teacher seemed to feel more at ease. Then she helped new students convey bags and boxes to their rooms, making conversation to ease the difficult moments. Most parents bringing their daughters to Hawkridge carried with them some kind of guilt or a sense of failure. The girls themselves were often resentful as well as scared—they’d been brought to this school because they couldn’t be trusted to follow the rules anywhere else. And Hawkridge rules were tough—no alcohol, cigarettes, drugs or sex, no piercings, no makeup or jewelry other than a watch, no unescorted trips off-campus.

Of course, not all girls complied with all of the rules. But the success rate at Hawkridge was high. Most students left with a good sense of self-esteem and real, reachable goals for their lives. Ruth Ann took pride in the part her horses played in that process.

As she returned to the lounge after carrying a heavy pair of suitcases to the fourth floor, she saw Darcy Granger standing in the midst of the traffic flowing through the room. Clutching a bed pillow in a pink cover against her chest, she looked completely bewildered, on the verge of tears.

Had her stepfather dropped her off without making sure she got where she belonged? Jonah Granger was probably worried his Porsche would be hit by one of the other parents’ cars.

Ruth Ann approached Darcy. “Hey, there. I’m glad to see you made it. Have you checked in yet?”

Darcy shook her head, her eyes wide and her lips pursed as she stared at the bustle around her.

“Okay, then, you come stand here.” With a light hand on Darcy’s shoulder, Ruth Ann led the girl to the check-in line. “Is your da—Is Mr. Granger coming back?”

“I think so.”

“Good. He’ll see you if you stay in the line.” Ruth Ann looked around for other girls who needed help, but this late in the morning, almost everyone had arrived. Lunch in the Manor dining hall with their parents would be the opening of the school year. Then would come all the tearful—and quite a few not-so-tearful—goodbyes.

Alice Tolbert was talking to Darcy, going over papers and forms in a gentle voice. And still Jonah Granger hadn’t made an appearance. Ruth Ann heaved a big sigh, shrugged into the slicker she’d discarded a couple of hours ago, and went out into the rain to find him.

What she found first was a mountain of luggage right outside the front door. She counted ten suitcases, four large and four medium plus two huge athletic bags, stuffed until the seams had started to pull. Each was labeled with a lime-green luggage tag which read Darcy Granger.

As she stared at the pile, a man came around the corner of the building nearest the parking lot, wheeling a handcart on which rested a full-sized footlocker—the kind the military issued for recruits to store all of their gear. This one was shiny black, with silver metal on the corners, and Ruth Ann had a feeling that—even if she hadn’t recognized Jonah Granger’s tall, lean frame—this, too, would have Darcy’s name on it.

When Granger reached the bottom of the steps he stopped, straightened up and blew out a long breath. Then he glanced up and saw Ruth Ann.

“This is the last of her gear,” he said, his voice even, emotionless. “If you’ll point the way to the elevator inside, I’ll get everything to her room.”

Ruth Ann struggled with the smile she knew would only infuriate him. “I’m afraid we don’t use the elevator on Moving-In Day. It’s only for emergencies.”

He leaned an elbow on the upturned edge of the footlocker. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shook her head. “Afraid not.” Today, he wore jeans and boat shoes and a leather jacket softened with wear—but not too much—in all the right places. His wet hair had fallen into very natural and appealing spikes across his tanned forehead, and his long eyelashes had caught several beads of water. Did the man ever look less than gorgeous?

His blue gaze remained locked on her face for a moment, the expression changing from surprise to irritation to a steely resolve. “Okay, then. No problem.” Grabbing the handle of the handcart, he began to bump it up the steps. When he reached the top, Ruth Ann opened the door for him to back through.

“Thanks,” he said, without looking at her.

When she came inside again, he was standing with Darcy and Alice, getting an explanation of where Darcy’s room would be. He glanced at Ruth Ann, and lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t have to carry those. We’ll manage.”

Ruth Ann would have shrugged, but the two athletic bags were slung over her shoulders and in each hand she held a large suitcase. “That’s what I’m here for. And you haven’t got much time—lunch is at noon. Which room, Alice?”

“Two East, Fourteen,” Alice said, meaning the east wing of the second floor, room fourteen.

“That’s a good one,” Ruth Ann told Darcy as they started up the steps. “You’ll get morning sunshine and cool afternoons.”

Darcy didn’t answer. Behind them, her stepfather bumped the footlocker up a step at a time.

As they walked down the hallway, Ruth Ann could see that the door to room fourteen stood open. “Your roommate must be here already. Did Ms. Tolbert tell you her name?”

Darcy shrugged one shoulder. “Um…Eve, I think.”

One step over the threshold, however, she stopped dead and actually shrank back. Ruth Ann unloaded the luggage she carried outside the room, next to the wall, and then peered around Darcy to see what the problem might be. A mother and daughter occupied the room’s two chairs, the younger practically a mirror image of the older—fashionably thin, wearing designer jeans, shoes and tops, their faces perfectly made up, ash-blond hair perfectly styled.

Confronted by the double dose of chic, Ruth Ann suddenly felt like the ugly green giant. As an adult, however, she was required to handle the situation, not run away from it.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Hi, Eve. This is Darcy Granger. She’ll be your roommate.” Moving Darcy further into the room with a gentle push, she offered a hand to Eve’s mother. “I’m Ruth Ann Blakely, the equestrian trainer at Hawkridge.”

Limp fingers brushed briefly against hers. “Nina Forrest.”

Eve’s expression didn’t change. She barely glanced at Darcy. “Hi.”

Nina looked beyond Ruth Ann. “And you are…?” she purred.

“Darcy’s stepfather, Jonah.” He reached past Ruth Ann for a handshake, nudging her arm in the process. She fought a surprising urge to shy from his touch like a startled horse.

Nina Forrest had no such qualms and offered him a feline smile along with her hand. “It’s good to meet you, Jonah. I’ve heard about your work, of course. Who in New York hasn’t?”

“Thanks.” Letting go of Nina, he looked at Eve. “It’s good to meet you, Eve.”

Her smile was as predatory as her mother’s. “Thank you, Jonah.”

Ruth Ann drew in a deep breath, half annoyance, half surprise at the girl’s lack of respect. Before she could say anything, though, a bell chimed twice in the hallway.

“That’s the lunch bell,” she told the two girls and their parents. “You’ve got five minutes to get to the dining hall.”

As the four of them left the room, Jonah Granger looked at Ruth Ann. “I need to get the rest of Darcy’s bags. Could you take her to the lunch room and I’ll—”

She shook her head at him. “Nope. You two go on to the dining hall,” she ordered, emphasizing the last two words. Hawkridge possessed nothing as mundane as a lunch room. “I’ll carry up the rest of the bags.”

“You can’t bring all those big bags up the stairs,” he protested.

“I won’t.” Ruth Ann grinned. “I’ll use the elevator.”

“But—” He glared at her. “You said—”

“I’m staff.” She pushed him toward the exit in Nina Forrest’s wake. “There are some rules I get to break.”



DARCY felt sick to her stomach, so she took an extra roll when the plate got passed to her. Food made her feel better.

Her roommate ignored the rolls. And the lasagna, the applesauce and the milk. She took some salad when the bowl came by and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher in the center of the table. Eve refused dessert, too—chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream—and she only ate half of the salad on her plate. No wonder her waist was the size of a pencil.

Eve’s mother ate the same way—salad and water. At least she had the excuse that she never stopped talking to Jonah long enough to chew. Jonah, meanwhile, had gone into defensive mode. He knew how to deflect women like Eve’s mom with smiles and nods that made her believe he listened to every word, while in fact he was thinking about something else, probably a building design. Darcy had seen him deal with her mother that way. Before the fighting got really bad.

Looking around, Darcy noticed that the parents at most tables seemed to be talking to each other, but the girls didn’t say much. It wasn’t like the beginning of the year at a regular school, where you were glad to get back with your friends…if you had any. Hawkridge was a school for girls with “issues.” As far as Darcy was concerned, parents seemed to be the real reason kids had issues to begin with. So it made sense they wouldn’t talk to their parents.

This lunch was really kinda painful, though. She would have liked it better if they’d just let Jonah say goodbye and abandon her to her fate.

The chocolate cake was delicious, so Darcy took a second helping while the headmistress was giving her welcome speech. If they had meals like this three times a day, plus decent teachers, maybe Hawkridge wouldn’t be so bad. Darcy could face almost anything, with good books and good food.

Well, except for her mother.

“You have fifteen minutes to get the last of your belongings into your rooms and say goodbye downstairs,” the headmistress, Ms. Thomas, said. “The student floors are now open to students and staff only. Parents, we’ll be starting our program here at Hawkridge at 2:00 p.m. and you’ll be on your way home. Have a safe trip!”

Everybody stood and started to leave the big dining hall. Eve’s mother turned to Jonah.

“Let me give you my card,” she said, with the smile that reminded Darcy of a hungry panther. “I represent some very nice properties in Lower Manhattan, Chelsea, Tribeca—you might find yourself looking for a new place to live, now that Daisy is in school here.”

Jonah took the card between two fingers. “Darcy,” he corrected. “I will be relocating, as a matter of fact. To this area,” he continued, when Nina started to say something. “While I’m involved with projects around the southeast. But—” He gave her his smooth, won’t-happen grin. “I’ll call if I need something.”

Judging by Nina’s smile, she expected a call tonight. “Please do.” Then she turned to Eve. “Come on, darling. Kiss Mummy goodbye.”

Darcy saw Jonah roll his eyes as he turned away. He put a hand on her shoulder as they walked into the big entry hall and out onto the front steps. His palm felt warm, heavy in a nice way. That was just one of the good things about being with Jonah—he didn’t mind holding hands, even giving hugs. Her mother, Darcy had learned early, didn’t touch. Not little girls, anyway.

Standing a couple of steps down so they were pretty much eye to eye, Jonah looked at her. “I thought I’d get to help you unpack,” he said, frowning. “Are you going to be able to handle it by yourself?”

Darcy blinked hard. “I guess so.” She should be used to goodbyes, used to being alone. She’d survived most of the summer by herself, once her mother had left for Europe, until Jonah had found out and rescued her. The last few weeks with him had been a lot more fun.

So letting him go was hard. When she lived in her mother’s house, at least she knew all the servants’ names. Here, she knew nobody, except for Eve. Some comfort.

“Darcy?” Jonah tapped her lightly on the chin with his fist. “I’m going to be around, you know—I’ve got a meeting about the stable tomorrow morning. I’ll bet we can run into each other every time I’m out here, if we work it right.”

He looked worried, and she didn’t want him to worry. “Sure,” she said, working up a smile. “I’ll look for you between classes tomorrow.”

“Great. I—”

“Hey, Darcy, there you are!”

She turned around to see Ms. Blakely standing in the doorway.

“You’d better hurry,” she said, beckoning for Darcy to join her. “You definitely don’t want to be the last one to sit down—that means you have to stand up first to introduce yourself to the school.”

Looking back at Jonah, Darcy found him grinning. “Go on.” He nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

Should she give him a hug? With a teacher watching? Did he care? Darcy wasn’t sure.

Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Be safe,” he whispered.

Darcy nodded. “Bye.” She ran up the steps and past Ms. Blakely, who pointed her toward the dining hall. A few girls were still coming down the big circular staircase, so she hustled ahead of them and managed to grab a chair in time. She wasn’t going to be the last to sit or the first to say her name.

No way was she starting out at a new school as a geek!



JONAH watched Darcy disappear, then looked back at Ruth Ann Blakely, standing above him on the steps. The rain had stopped during lunch and she’d taken off her olive-green raincoat, revealing jeans and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt. Though less snug than her breeches, those jeans left him in no doubt about the feminine curves underneath. Without makeup, and with her hair pulled back in the apparently habitual ponytail, she should have been, well, ordinary. Few women, in Jonah’s experience, appeared at their best without cosmetic assistance of one kind or another.

But the trainer’s face looked fresh and natural, as if she’d washed it in the morning’s rain. Her pink cheeks evidently owed their color to fresh air and plenty of exercise. She had to be strong, judging by the way she’d carried Darcy’s suitcases as if they weighed nothing at all. He couldn’t be sure about her eye color, which might be hazel or green, but that zestful spark was unmistakable. There was an air of energy about Ms. Blakely, a vibrancy he’d rarely encountered.

“You can leave now,” she told him. “You’re free.”

She also had to be one of the rudest women he’d ever met. “I’d planned to help Darcy unpack,” he said, keeping his tone level. “Is that possible?”

“Nope.” She shook her head, and the ponytail bounced. “Darcy will manage just fine. It’s her stuff, after all. I’ve got to ask—how did you get all of that in your tiny little Porsche? Did you tie the suitcases on top?”

“I drive a truck when necessary,” Jonah told her, feeling his patience start to shred.

“You mean an SUV, right? One of the big, gas-guzzling fancy models with leather seats and Surround Sound and individual heating vents?”

“No. I mean a six-year old diesel pickup with a dented right rear side panel where I hit a fence post.” He stopped to think a second. “It does have leather seats.”

Arms crossed over her chest, she nodded. “Of course.”

“So could I stay around and take the suitcases away when Darcy’s finished with them?” He hated leaving her alone in this place where she knew no one.

Ms. Blakely descended to stand beside him. “Each floor of the dormitory has a box room where the girls store their luggage. Darcy will put all her bags—and whatever’s in them that doesn’t fit into her room—there.” She gripped his upper arm with one strong hand and gazed into his face. “Really, you can leave. We’ll take care of her.”

Hazel. Ruth Ann Blakely’s irises were a mosaic of green and gold flecks, Jonah realized, framed by thick brown lashes. He read empathy in those jade-and-topaz eyes, maybe even compassion. He was surprisingly tempted to accept her understanding, to trust the reassurance she offered.

Fortunately, he came to his senses in the next moment. “Thanks. I’m sure you will.” Pulling out of her grasp, he ran down the remaining steps and only then stopped to look back. “By the way, we have a meeting tomorrow morning at nine. I’d appreciate your timely arrival. My schedule is rather tight. Since your input is vital to the project, I’d like to get started as early as possible.”

He walked away without waiting for her to respond.

And he pretended not to hear when she said, “Oh, yes, sir, of course, sir, Mr. Architectural Pain in the Rear! Sir!”




Chapter Three


Ruth Ann entered the Hawkridge Manor library at twenty minutes after eight the next morning. She settled herself at the far end of the table from the easel set up for Jonah Granger’s use and set about finishing her cinnamon roll and coffee while she waited.

At eight forty-five, Granger strode into the room. Without glancing in Ruth Ann’s direction, he extracted his work from a carrying case and placed the sheets on the easel. Flipping through them, he changed the order a couple of times.

Ruth Ann grinned to herself. The great man seemed a little nervous about his presentation.

What he didn’t have to be nervous about was his appearance. Today’s V-necked sweater in a heathery green wool, worn over a T-shirt and dark jeans, looked every bit as good as last week’s dressier outfit. The man was incapable of showing up unprepared, unlike Ruth Ann, who had to make a special effort to leave the barn without wearing pieces of hay and smears of horse feed.

She would give him the style points, but she claimed a victory when it came to patience. Twice, he looked at the clock on the wall and verified the time there with his watch, then glanced at the doorway and shook his head. Ruth Ann didn’t doubt he was waiting for her to show up.

The third time he checked the clock, she decided to grant his wish. She cleared her throat loudly, taking great pleasure in his jump of surprise.

“What the—?” He jerked around and saw her sitting at the end of the table, relaxed and grinning. His brows lowered in a frown, almost meeting on the bridge of that arrogant, aquiline nose. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough. You just knew I’d be late, didn’t you?”

“I’m surprised that you aren’t.” He fingered through the drawings once more—regaining control, Ruth Ann thought. “I checked in with Jayne on the way up. She’ll be here as soon as nine o’clock classes start.”

“Exactly what is this meeting about, anyway?”

Paging through a notebook, Granger didn’t spare her so much as a glance. “You.”

The answer caught her unawares. Ruth Ann sat up straight in her chair, letting her boot heels thunk on the floor. “What about me?”

He snapped the notebook closed, put it down, then stepped over to prop one hip on the corner of the table.

“You’re the one with the major objections to the project. You’re the one who would be working in the building I design. Therefore, you are the person who has to be convinced that my ideas for the new stable at Hawkridge are feasible.” The grin he sent her had a malicious edge to it. “Don’t you like being the center of attention?”

“No.” She had lost the upper hand somehow. On her feet, Ruth Ann headed for the door, needing light and air, a chance to think….

Jonah Granger stood at the same moment and moved to block her path. Her momentum brought her right up against him, with her chest pressed into his ribs. His hands closed over her shoulders, vetoing any move to escape.

“You’re going to run away instead?” He lifted one eyebrow, giving his face a sardonic expression. “You don’t have the guts to face the situation and really decide which of us is right?”

Ruth Ann glared up at him, speechless with too many emotions to name—foremost among them being fury that he read her too easily, along with a weird sort of shiver as her body touched his. “I—You—”

“Here we are.” Jayne Thomas entered carrying a tray with a coffeepot and cups. Miriam Edwards followed, bearing a basket of pastries and bagels.

Suddenly free, Ruth Ann took a long step back at the same time as Jonah pivoted to face the new arrivals. “Good morning, Miriam,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Miriam gushed over him, paying Ruth Ann no attention whatsoever. And Ruth Ann was grateful, for once, because she could feel her face flaming red, the way it did whenever she was embarrassed. While the others poured coffee and debated over calories, she walked back to her chair at the end of the table, rubbing her hands over her shoulders to erase the tingles lingering there. Picking up her favorite mug—the one with a cartoon of the front end of a cute pony on one side and the tail end on the other—she took a deep breath, then turned to confront the situation.

“Okay,” she said, glad that her voice didn’t shake. “I can’t spend all morning in here—I’ve got work to do at the barn. What are we supposed to accomplish?”

She heard Jayne sigh at her bluntness, but Miriam was the one who spoke. “Now, Ruth Ann, dear, I know how attached you are to the old stable, and for good reasons—certainly your family has a history there and we understand that means a lot to you.”

Miriam was a well-preserved sixty years old, a lawyer’s wife who advertised his success with cashmere sweaters, triple strands of real pearls at her throat and diamonds set in platinum on her fingers. Her coppery hair gleamed in the light from the library’s overhead lamps and swung smoothly around her face as she nodded. She kept a string of hunters and polo ponies in her own stable, and wanted the barn at Hawkridge named in her honor.

“I’ve been thinking since our meeting last week,” she continued, including Jonah in her glance, “and it occurred to me that perhaps we don’t have to raze the old building. Once we’ve built the new equestrian facility, we could get the old one cleaned up and use it for…some other purpose.”

Before Ruth Ann could object, Jayne leaned forward in her chair. “Come and sit at this end of the table, Ruth Ann. You’ll be able to see better. And I can pour you some fresh coffee. I know you live on the stuff.”

Reluctantly, Ruth Ann sat down beside Jayne, with Miriam across the table and Granger sitting closest to the easel. A glance at his superior smile set her teeth on edge. Once Jayne handed back her mug, Ruth Ann made sure that the back end of the pony faced Jonah as she took a long sip.

His eyes narrowed as he took in her message. In the next instant, though, the frown smoothed away as he got to his feet. “Miriam, I think that’s a good idea, though we’re not quite to the stage yet where Ms. Blakely has agreed to cooperate. I thought I would go through my elevations and floor plans again, Ms. Blakely—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she interrupted. “Call me Ruth Ann. It’s hard to argue effectively using last names.”

His grin, now filled with real amusement, surprised her. “True. I’m Jonah. As I was saying, I thought this would give you a chance to voice any thoughts, ask any questions that occur to you.”

For Jayne’s sake, Ruth Ann bit back the sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue. “Go ahead,” she told Jonah. “Impress me.”

The exterior drawings were beautiful renderings of an imposing structure fit for a king, not merely the king’s horses. Ruth Ann looked at the headmistress. “Our girls should have such nice quarters. Why don’t we make this the new residence hall, instead of a stable?”

Jayne frowned at her. Miriam said, “My sister’s new barn blends with its environment and looks like it’s always been there. I expect Jonah can do the same with this building, by the time construction and landscaping are complete.”

“My stable blends with its environment,” Ruth Ann countered, “because it’s been there for more than a hundred years. Howard Ridgely used the same brick and stone and timber for the house and the barn. You’ll never get new materials to match.”

“You’d be surprised what can be achieved with the right tools.” Jonah shifted the pages to display an interior view. “A new building can be aged to complement its surroundings.” He held up a hand when Ruth Ann started to say something. “Without the kind of deterioration that natural aging inevitably brings about. You get a stronger building with a similar appearance.”

And so it went. For every objection Ruth Ann raised, Miriam and Jonah had an explanation of how their stable would be superior. High ceilings, expensive materials, too much space or not enough…nothing she could say broke through their certainty. Jayne appeared to be listening to both sides, but Ruth Ann couldn’t tell what conclusions she drew. Anyway, she was only the headmistress—the Board of Directors would tell her what they wanted done and she would execute their orders.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Ruth Ann said, once Jonah had finished his presentation. “I mean, I’m sure some people would feel privileged to have a barn like this for their horses. But it’s too big, for one thing—the number of extra steps you would add to my day would become miles before long. The tack room down there,” she said, pointing to the room plan, “and the stalls over here—you’ve got me carrying saddles and bridles and blankets from one end of the place to the other.”

“These details can be modified,” Jonah replied in a stiff voice.

“There’s no room for hay storage without using stall space. The feed room is on an interior wall, meaning I’ll have to bring bags through the aisle rather than being able to use an outside door.

“As for upkeep—have you seen the cobwebs a barn ceiling can accumulate? How am I going to clean those clerestory windows thirty feet off the floor? Horseshoes chip brick floors. Horses chew wood and kick walls—how are you going to feel when your mahogany stall paneling gets smashed? The amount of money needed to keep a place like this in good shape and the number of people required for maintenance are way beyond what the school has been willing or able to fund in the past. I can’t—”

“Enough.” Jonah held up a hand. “Clearly, this plan doesn’t meet with your approval.” He looked at Miriam. “I can make changes, of course, to bring the project more in line with Ms. Bla—Ruth Ann’s ideas.”

Miriam folded her hands together on the table, where her rings twinkled under the lights. “Well, to be frank, Jonah, Ruth Ann doesn’t have final approval for the stable plans. We’ve solicited her advice, of course, because she’s good at her job. But in the end, the board will decide what’s to be done about the equestrian facility.” Her gaze conveyed no warmth as she glanced in Ruth Ann’s direction. “With or without her.”

Ruth Ann hadn’t expected anything else, though she hadn’t thought to hear the truth expressed quite so blatantly this morning. After a couple of seconds, she cleared her throat and nodded. “I understand the situation, Mrs. Edwards. I’ve already explained my position to Ms. Thomas. I like working at Hawkridge. I think my horses are good for the girls. My stipulation for staying is that we use the old barn—a building constructed by men who knew and loved horses, managed for a century by men who felt the same. My barn has flaws, I grant you, but nothing a careful renovation couldn’t correct. I believe the history of the old stable makes it as valuable as the Manor itself to Hawkridge School.”

She shrugged. “If the board doesn’t see it that way, I’ll find another job.”

Standing, she moved toward the library exit, careful not to touch Jonah as she passed him. On the threshold, she turned. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the terms of Howard Ridgely’s will, as well as my grandfather’s and father’s wills, are quite clear. The stable does, as you say, belong to the estate and the school.

“But the horses are mine. If I leave, so do they.”

Miriam’s gasp was the last thing she heard before she left the room.



IN THE AFTERNOONS of this first week of class, new girls were taken around in small groups to meet the staff members in charge of extracurricular activities. Cultural pursuits—music and various art disciplines—as well as individual and team sports were available, and girls were encouraged to participate in whichever pastimes drew their interest.

Darcy’s group visited the stable on Thursday afternoon. She and seven other girls, including Eve, arrived with their upper-class guide, Ingrid, at three-thirty.

“Right on time,” Ruth Ann said as she greeted them. “Which is what you should be if you decide to come for lessons or unstructured rides. It’s not fair to me or to the horses to leave us standing around waiting for you.”

She led them into the stable. “Our horses spend about half the day inside and half out. I bring the darker horses inside during the day, to keep their coats from bleaching in the sunshine. They eat breakfast and dinner inside, then spend the night grazing in the field. Not one of them would bite you out of meanness, but if you hold one finger out, they might think it’s a carrot and reach for the treat.” Her pantomime of a horse biting off the tip of a finger made the all the girls giggle. Well, all except Eve.

“So keep your fingers together. If you want to pet a horse, you can use the backs of your knuckles softly on their cheeks.” She demonstrated on the girl nearest her, provoking smiles. “Feel free to visit up and down the aisle, say hello to any horse that strikes your fancy. Their names are on the stalls.”

Most of the girls dispersed along the length of the barn, and soon the horses began poking their heads over the locked bottom halves of their doors, hoping for treats but settling for attention if that was all they could get.

Eve, however, went to the barn entrance and stood looking out, away from the animals.

Ruth Ann went to join her. “You’re not into horses?”

The girl shook her head. “They smell. This place smells.” She sniffed, then coughed. “Gross.”

“I’m willing to concede that the smell of horses and barns isn’t appealing to everybody. What do you like to do instead? Tennis? Softball?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Gag me. Who wants to hit a stupid ball around? And the clothes? Yuck. I run. Alone.”

“That’s a great workout for your heart and lungs. Do you do any strength training? Keeps your bones healthy, you know.” The girl needed some muscle, as well. Her wrists weren’t much bigger than broomsticks.

Her response, however, was an impatient sigh. “How much longer do I have to be here?”

Too long, as far as I’m concerned, Ruth Ann answered silently. “Until the rest of the girls are ready to leave. If you’d like to sit in the tack room, there are a few magazines on the table. Maybe even one or two that aren’t about horses.”

She showed Eve to the tack room, ignored her sniff of derision when she saw the worn sofa and scarred coffee table, then went back to the horses. The girls had evidently picked their favorites and Ingrid, one of her longtime riding students, had been to the feed room for carrots and was supervising the careful delivery of treats.

Darcy, however, had not homed in on a particular animal. She stood in the center of the passage instead, carefully studying each horse, but making no move to get close enough to touch.

“Can’t make up your mind?” Ruth Ann asked.

The girl shook her head. “I like white horses.”

“Grays, you mean?” When Darcy nodded, Ruth Ann said, “Come with me.”

She led the way outside, across the cobble-stone stable yard with its curving brick walls, and out to the pasture. “These are our grays,” she told Darcy. “Maybe one of these would be your favorite.”

A drawn-out “Oooh” was Darcy’s comment as she folded her arms on the top board of the fence and propped her chin on her hands. “They’re so beautiful!”

Ruth Ann had to agree—the grays were her pride and joy. The eight of them looked over, ears pricked, as she and Darcy approached, no doubt wondering if dinnertime had come earlier than usual today. Gradually, the animals went back to grazing the fall grass, creating a portrait of peace in their pale-green pasture against a backdrop of dark evergreen and gold-tinged hardwood trees, with the blue-green Smoky Mountains in the distance.

“Tell me about them,” Darcy commanded. “What are their names?”

A glance over her shoulder told Ruth Ann that the rest of the girls—minus Eve—were coming to join them. After more exclamations, she included them all in her introductions.

“Waldo is the largest of all the horses we have here, and the oldest, at twenty-three. He’s a Percheron gelding.” She spelled the breed name for them. “Percherons were developed to do heavy work, like plowing or pulling carriages. They’re very much like the horses knights would have ridden into battle in the olden days, wearing armor and carrying shields and swords.” In answer to a question, she said, “Gelding means that his testicles were removed so he can’t mate with the mares. That happened to him a long time ago.”

After the giggles died down, she introduced the mares—Sheba and Gizelle, both Arabians, petite and fast, the lovely dappled gray Dutch warmblood, Silver Filigree, and the thoroughbred sisters Crystal, Diamond and Lainey, short for Porcelaine.

“Are they triplets?” one of the girls asked.

Ruth Ann shook her head. “Horses usually only have one baby at a time. Lainey’s ten years old, then Diamond is nine and Crystal eight. All three are really good jumpers.”

“What’s the tiny pony’s name?” Darcy asked. “Do you ride her?”

“That’s Snowflake.” Ruth Ann led the girls along the fence, closer to the pony in question, only about forty inches tall. “She’s a miniature horse—this is as big as she’ll ever get, and she’s already thirteen years old. We have a cart she can pull, but we don’t have anyone small enough to sit in it right now, so she has a good time just hanging out in the pasture.”

Snowflake ambled up to the fence and gave everyone a chance to stroke her nose and sides. Then Ruth Ann herded the girls back to the barn and into the tack room with Eve, where she explained about taking lessons and the types of riding they could learn.

“You’ll get a form to fill out on Friday,” she told them, “where you can list the sports and other activities you’d like to try, in the order you’re most interested. If riding is your number-one favorite, you should put it at the top. Next week I’ll be setting up lesson schedules and we’ll get started. Any questions?”

Eve raised her hand. “Can we leave now?”

Fortunately, several other girls had legitimate questions, so Darcy’s roommate would have to wait. Finally, though, Ingrid headed them toward the Manor and the dorms. Darcy hung back as everyone left.

“Did you have a question?” Ruth Ann collected the magazines Eve had left scattered over the table and on the floor.

“C-could I…” Darcy shook her head. “Never mind.” She got out the door before Ruth Ann managed to catch her hand and stop her.

“What did you want? Darcy, look at me.” Finally, she had to turn the girl’s face toward her to see her dark-brown eyes. “Ask your question. It’s okay.”

“I just wondered if…if I could watch you feed the horses.”

As Ruth Ann stared, the words came tumbling out. “I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t touch them or anything, I promise. I won’t make them mad or hurt them. I just want to watch.”

“Whoa.” Ruth Ann took one of Darcy’s hands in both of her own. “Slow down. Relax.” She saw that Ingrid was holding up the rest of the group, waiting for Darcy. “She’s staying here,” Ruth Ann called. “I’ll bring her to dinner myself.”

Ingrid nodded, waved, and turned away, with the girls following. Still holding Darcy’s hand, Ruth Ann went back into the tack room. “Sit down for a second.”

Looking scared to death, Darcy dropped onto the couch. She had a habit of keeping her arms folded around her waist, for protection or camouflage, Ruth Ann wasn’t sure which.

Moving the magazines, Ruth Ann sat on the coffee table directly across from Darcy. “You’re welcome to stay and watch,” she said. “I need to see how you are around the horses, to be sure that you’re safe. Jonah said you’d broken your arm earlier this year?”

Darcy nodded. “In May, at a horse show. Rufus jumped a crossbar fence and I fell off. Before they caught him, he ran through a couple of other fences, tripped, and strained his leg. It was gonna take him months to get better.”

“That’s too bad for Rufus. I guess your broken arm needed a few months to heal, too, didn’t it?”

The girl shrugged. “It was okay. I don’t like swimming, anyway, so I stayed in the house.”

“Maybe Rufus doesn’t like jumping in the summer heat, either.”

“Oh, no.” Darcy looked shocked at the idea. “He loves to jump. My mother was going to take him to Europe with her, until he got hurt. He would have competed with some of the best three-year-olds in Germany.”

“You were jumping on a three-year-old? Have you done that much riding, Darcy?”

“Since I was five.” She sighed and shook her head. “But I don’t seem to get better at it.”

“What’s Rufus like?” Ruth Ann asked the question, though she thought she could predict the answer.

“He’s a seventeen-hand chestnut thoroughbred with a white blaze and four white socks,” the girl recited, as if she were reading off a sale list. “Really eager, jumps four feet and over, no problem.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d be scared to death sitting on a young horse that big.” Ruth Ann stood up and motioned for Darcy to do the same. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I’d give him another two or three years before I’d trust him not to dump me at a fence.”

“Oh, he didn’t dump me. I just…fell. I’m too fa—clumsy to ride.”

“Right.” Ruth Ann relaxed her jaw and tried not to hate Jonah Granger and his wife. “Okay, the way this works is, I clean up a stall, then walk the horse out to the pasture and bring one in. It’s kind of labor-intensive, but since I’m the one doing the work, nobody complains. All these horses are calm—no Rufuses here to worry about. So you just stand there and talk to them while I muck out. Okay?”

Darcy nodded. “Okay.”

Four horses later, as they walked back in from the pasture with Filigree, Ruth Ann asked casually if Darcy wanted to hold the lead rope. “Fili is a very sensible lady,” she promised. “She knows how to walk quietly beside you without making a fuss.”

“O-okay.” Darcy took the rope and held it correctly, about a foot from Fili’s chin with one hand, gathering the rest in her other hand. As Ruth Ann dropped back slightly, the girl and the mare walked without incident to the waiting stall. Darcy was so busy talking to the horse that she didn’t even think about leading Fili into the stall, where she turned her around, unbuckled the halter and stepped back outside to shut the door.

“Very good,” Ruth Ann told her. “Seeing you handle Fili, I can believe you’ve been around horses since you were little. You’re good with them, Darcy, calm and sure of yourself.”

The girl blushed bright pink, and she didn’t say anything. But her eyes shone with happiness.

Once they’d led the grays in, Ruth Ann set the manure fork aside. “I’ll clean up the last four stalls after dinner. We can just take these guys out to the pasture, and then I’ll walk you back to the Manor.”

The glow in Darcy’s face faded. “Okay.”

Leaving the indoor horses with hay to munch on, Ruth Ann showed Darcy the path from the stable back to the Manor. “You’re welcome to come visit any time. You don’t have to ride if you don’t want to. Horses are fun just to talk to or look at. As Winston Churchill said, ‘The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man.’ Or woman.”

“Maybe I will,” Darcy said. But she didn’t sound very certain. “I have to get my homework done, too. And practice my music.”

“That’s true, though I always thought there was time enough for horses and homework. I never got to do music.”

“Did you go to Hawkridge?”

“No, I went to the public schools out in town. But my dad managed the stable, so I was here every afternoon and all weekend, working with him.”

“Was it fun?”

“Well, sure. I loved being with the horses.”

“Did you like working with your dad?”

Now there was a tough question. “He could be picky, sometimes, and he’d get mad if I didn’t do something just the way he wanted it. But he was a great trainer and taught me all I know about horses.”

Once they reached the manicured lawns surrounding the Manor, they could see other girls heading toward the dormitory to prepare for dinner. Ruth Ann glanced at the jeans and sneakers and sweatshirt Darcy had worn to the barn.

“Guess you’d better get changed in a hurry.” She checked her watch. “You’ve got ten minutes before the warning chime.”

“Okay.” That seemed to be Darcy’s favorite word. As she veered away, though, she stopped and looked back at Ruth Ann. “I had fun this afternoon. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Darcy. Like I said, come back anytime.”

Ruth Ann watched the girl walk with dragging steps toward the residence hall. In the two hours they’d spent together, she’d gained the impression that Darcy’s energy level was dialed to Low—she simply didn’t put out much effort, even with the horses. She seemed competent with the animals, but uncertain of herself, reminding Ruth Ann of a child outside the toy store, nose pressed against the window as she stared at the gifts she knew she couldn’t buy, wouldn’t receive.

Jayne Thomas would be able to provide an explanation for Darcy’s behavior. Maybe a conference with the counselor and Darcy’s teachers would be a good idea. Ruth Ann wanted to know what she would be dealing with as she worked with Darcy, what sore points to avoid and what counseling techniques to use.

She was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. When a hand closed around her elbow, she gasped and automatically assumed a defensive posture.

Jonah Granger gave a derisive snort. “Going to take me out with a kick and a karate chop?”

Ruth Ann jerked her arm free. “Why are you sneaking up on me? What are you doing here? Parents aren’t allowed to visit until Thanksgiving.”

“But architects are,” he countered. “So I came looking for you.”




Chapter Four


“Looking for me? Why?”

Before Jonah could answer, a bell rang inside the building.

“Dinner,” Ruth Ann explained, at his questioning look. “What do you want?”

He gave a brief laugh. “For dinner?”

She didn’t get the joke. “What—do—you—want—” she said slowly, emphasizing syllables and consonants, “—that compels you to come searching for me on Thursday evening at dinnertime?”

A glance at the Manor showed Jonah the brightly lit dining-hall windows. Inside, girls were congregating at tables as the staff set out food. Some of the teachers he’d met were present, as well. “Are you supposed to be in there?” He nodded in the direction he’d been staring.

Ruth Ann shrugged one shoulder. “I usually have dinner in the hall, so I don’t have to cook. But I’m not assigned to a particular table this year.”

“In other words, you don’t have to check in for the meal?”

“No.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What are you getting at?”

“Why don’t we go into town and get something to eat? Then I can explain why I’m here.”

The only part of Ruth Ann that moved in response to his question was her jaw, which dropped and left her mouth hanging open.

When she didn’t say anything, Jonah nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on.” He grabbed her wrist and turned toward the Porsche, parked in the circular drive.

But Ruth Ann—of course—pulled free. “I won’t go three yards with you, let alone to dinner.”

Hearing the venom in her tone, he swung back around. “What are you so mad about?”

“I just spent a couple of hours with your stepdaughter. And the only thing I’m left to wonder is how she managed to become such a likeable girl, given the way she’s been treated.” She lifted her chin and actually looked down her nose at him, as if he were a slimy creature just come out from under a rock. “With parents like you, the poor girl certainly doesn’t need any enemies.”

Pivoting on her heel, she started to walk away. But Jonah caught up, grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back around. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ruth Ann glanced down at his hand, then back into his face. “Let go of me.”

Jonah gave her arm a sharp shake. “Not until you tell me what I need to know. What did Darcy say?”

She ignored the question. “I’m telling you again—let go. Or you will be sorry.”

“If you’d just—” He saw the spark in her eyes, realized she was about to explode and released her arm. “Okay, okay.” He raised his hands and backed up several steps. “Look, I don’t care what you think you know—I’ve never hurt Darcy in my life and I don’t believe she told you anything different.”

“Darcy said she was put on a horse she was scared of, a horse far too big and green for any but the most experienced adult rider. She fell off at a jump and got blamed because the horse—a poorly trained and badly managed animal, I’m sure—hurt itself. And then she was told she fell because she was clumsy and fat. How cruel could you be?”

Jonah dropped his chin to his chest. “Brittany—her mother, my ex-wife—that’s who the poison came from.” Shaking his head, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t there, though I’d be glad if Darcy never went near a horse again, since broken bones and an overdose of pain medicine is all she’s achieved with the beasts so far.”

When he looked up, Ruth Ann was staring at him with a shocked expression. “Darcy took too much medicine?”

He nodded. “We had to have her stomach pumped. That’s why she’s here. At Hawkridge.”

The cool darkness fell around them as they gazed at each other across ten feet of grass. Finally, Ruth Ann stirred. “Maybe we do need to talk. I have to know more.”

“Let’s go.” This time, he simply motioned her to walk toward the car ahead of him. The lady was dangerous to the touch.

But she didn’t move, and he heard her deep intake of breath. “I can’t go anywhere in these clothes. I’d have to change. And some of the horses haven’t been fed. I can’t leave until my work is finished. So, really, it’s just a bad idea. Maybe we could meet tomorrow morning—”

Jonah shook his head. “We tried that today.” Now that he’d come up with the idea of dinner with Ruth Ann, he couldn’t face going back to town to eat dinner alone in his hotel room. “How long will it take you to feed the horses and change?”

“An hour, at least. Too long for you to wait.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s barely six o’clock. Most people in Manhattan don’t eat until nine.”

“This isn’t Manhattan.”

“Thank God. So here’s what we’ll do—go back and feed your animals, then meet me in Ridgeville. What kind of food do you want? Not that we have many options—there’s the pizza place, the café, the diner or the steakhouse. I’ve eaten in all four this week already. Take your pick.”

Ruth Ann made a helpless gesture. “I—I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll choose. The café has a more varied menu, so I’ll see you there in an hour.” When he reached the Porsche, he glanced back, just to be sure she’d started toward the stable.

But, no, she was still standing where he’d left her. “Ruth Ann!” Jonah yelled. “Get moving!”

To his relief, she whirled and disappeared into the dark.

He sank into the seat of the Porsche, not bothering to stifle the groan this time, and put the key in the ignition. Before he could start the engine, though, his cell phone beeped, indicating a missed call. He flipped the top open and noted the number with a curse.

“The last person on the planet I want to talk to,” he muttered, turning the car key. “I don’t need your particular brand of harassment right now, Brittany.”

Nevertheless, once he’d reached the café parking lot and set the emergency brake, he returned his ex-wife’s call.

“It’s about time you got back to me,” she said, in place of hello. “I called an hour ago.”

“What do you want, Brittany?”

“I want to know how Darcy is doing, of course. Is she simply miserable at that school you insisted on sending her to?”

“I didn’t think she looked miserable on Monday, which is the last time I saw her.”

“You haven’t checked on her since Monday?”

“Parent visits tend to upset the girls, I’m told. The counselors suggest staying away until they’ve had a chance to work with the student and make some progress.”

“Are you sure this school is legitimate? Maybe it’s just a—a front for child molesters.”

Jonah thought of Jayne Thomas’s kind eyes, Ruth Ann’s blunt honesty. “Darcy is in good hands, Brittany. If that’s all—”

“No, don’t hang up.” She hesitated, which was unusual for Brittany. “I’ve been thinking about you, Jonah. About us.”

Just what he needed. “There is no us. I have legal papers to that effect. And canceled alimony checks.”

“But we have a child, Jonah. She draws us together.”

He snorted into the phone. “Give me a break. You abandoned your daughter in July when you flitted off to Europe with…what was his name? Jean? Gilles? Jacques? What about that draws us together?”

“I know I deserve all of what you’re saying, and more. But I’m willing to change. Just give me a chance.”

“Listen carefully, Brittany. No way. In fact, there is no way in hell I’d let you back into my life. Don’t worry about Darcy and don’t bother me again.” He cut the connection with a flick of his thumb. Before he could toss it into the passenger seat, it rang again.

He checked the caller ID, and, as soon as he said, “Hi, Stephen,” his business partner in Manhattan launched into a tirade about the latest abuses and demands of his own clients, interspersed with accusations concerning Jonah’s mistakes relating to the company and its affairs. Though the two of them pursued their design projects separately, Stephen enacted this ritual of complaint and blame several times a week as a way of asserting his control of the firm. Jonah made noises of agreement or disagreement where expected until the storm passed over and hung up. Then he dropped the phone on the passenger seat and left the car.




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