Hay Fever (3 page)

It was a cherished dream among The Saddle Club that their children—who would naturally be horse-crazy girls, as they were—would learn to ride at Pine Hollow, just as they had. If Max weren’t around to teach them, then it was only fitting that Max the Fourth do the job. The current Max Regnery—
their
Max Regnery—was the third Max to own and operate Pine Hollow. Naturally, the girls wanted to ensure that there would be a Max the Fourth to succeed him at the stable.

“One thing’s for sure, you can’t have a Max the Fourth without a Mrs. Max,” Lisa said.

“Don’t forget,” Stevie pointed out, “there’s always the chance that he would only have daughters.”

“That’s okay,” Lisa replied, smiling. “Maxine the Fourth would be just fine. Maybe even better.”

They all laughed.

There was a devious twinkle in Stevie’s eye. “So is everyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

“You mean about finding Max a wife?” Carole said.

“And that it’s a perfect job for The Saddle Club?” Lisa chimed in.

“Exactly,” Stevie replied. “But I’m a step ahead of you guys. I was thinking about a certain annual event at Pine Hollow that would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Max to hundreds of eligible women.”

Lisa and Carole thought for a minute. Hundreds of eligible women? Stevie obviously knew something they didn’t. The only summer event coming up was the Fourth of July picnic next weekend. Every year all the students, parents, employees, and friends of Pine Hollow gathered at the stables for a day of horses, socializing, and barbecuing. But it wasn’t as if attractive women in their twenties and thirties flocked to the party!

“I give up,” Lisa said. “All I can think of is the picnic.”

“Same,” Carole said.

“That’s it!” Stevie cried. “The Fourth of July picnic.”

“But it’s not the type of thing that draws single
women,” Carole commented drily. “Usually it’s just the riders and some of the parents.”

“Don’t you see?” Stevie answered. “That’s where
we
come in. It’ll be up to The Saddle Club to bring in every single prospective wife we can think of. Then Max can choose one—with our advice, of course.”

Carole and Lisa nodded. It hadn’t occurred to them that Max might pick out some completely unsuitable bride, but it
was
a possibility. And they all knew from being around horses how important good bloodlines, temperament, and conformation were in breeding the perfect offspring. If Max found some undesirable woman and married her, The Saddle Club would be stuck with her and her progeny for as long as they—not to mention their children—rode at Pine Hollow.

“Good thing we’re getting involved now,” Carole said.

“Without us Max might find some awful woman to marry—or forget about marriage altogether,” Lisa said.

“I’m sure he’ll thank us at the end,” Stevie predicted. She whipped a stub of a pencil out of her jeans pocket and began to scrawl on a napkin. After a few minutes she pushed the napkin toward Carole and Lisa. “Anything I should add?” she asked.

They looked at the list. It read:
Mrs. Max must be: (1) horsey (or at least very interested in learning about horses), (2) friendly, especially toward Max’s students, (3) interested
in helping Max out around the barn, (4) in good health, (5) smart, (6) beautiful
.

“Sounds perfect to me,” Carole said.

“That definitely sums up the perfect wife for him,” Lisa agreed. “I just hope we’ll meet some women who fit the description.”

“Don’t worry—there’ll be tons of them,” Stevie assured her confidently. “Oh, good, here’s dinner.” She licked her lips with anticipation as the waitress set a huge brownie sundae down in front of her.

“If you were my kid and ate that for dinner, I’d take away your allowance,” the waitress announced.

“Yeah, well, you see, my mom—” Stevie began. Then she stopped suddenly and stared at the waitress. She was tall, lanky, had good balance (from carrying trays of sundaes), and a healthy glow to her skin. Friendly, they could work on. Putting a super-friendly smile on her face, she looked up at the waitress sweetly. “Would you mind turning around?” she asked.

The waitress looked surprised at the sudden change in subject. “What is this? Some kinda mind game?” she asked suspiciously.

Stevie shook her head. “Oh, no. What I meant to ask you was, are you married?”

“What’s it to you?” the waitress shot back.

“Do you like to ride horses?” she asked.

“Are you giving me the third degree?” the waitress
asked. “Sure, I like to ride. I’ve only been twice in my life, though.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Stevie said. She made an effort to make her voice sound casual. “So how would you like to come to a nice, old-fashioned Fourth of July picnic at the stables where we ride?”

The waitress laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to work. That’s one of our biggest days here.”

Stevie’s face fell. “Oh, well.” She sighed. “Back to the drawing board.”

The waitress gave her a funny look, left the check on the table, and turned to go back to the counter. Watching her walk away, Stevie sighed again. “Too bad. I have a feeling Max would appreciate her sense of humor.”

N
ORMALLY
L
ISA BARELY
noticed when her mother invited friends or co-workers over for dinner. Mrs. Atwood worked part-time at the local mall as a hand model. That meant when the salesmen needed a picture of a salad on a plate, Mrs. Atwood’s hands would be the ones pouring the dressing onto the lettuce—or stirring the stew or putting a casserole into the oven. A couple of times she had brought a lonely food photographer or kitchen-wares salesman home for a good, hot meal.

But tonight, when Lisa sat down at the table for dinner opposite the guest, her jaw dropped.

“Lisa, dear, this is Tiffani, one of the new models at Paris Chic.”

In a daze Lisa held her hand out to shake with Tiffani.
Paris Chic was the most expensive clothing store in Willow Creek, known for its stylish dresses and suits, which were all imported from France.

“It’s Tiffani with an
i
,” the model said. Lisa nodded and stared. The woman was tall, slim, and gorgeous. She had the sleekest, straightest blond hair Lisa could imagine, and huge green eyes.

“How old are you?” Lisa blurted out.

“Lisa!” Mrs. Atwood reprimanded her. “That’s not a very polite question.”

Lisa glanced at Tiffani. “Sorry,” she said.

Tiffani giggled. When she smiled, her lips parted to reveal a perfect row of pearly whites. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’m twenty-three.”

“Perfect!” Lisa cried.

Mrs. Atwood gave her a shocked glance.

“I mean, uh, that must be a perfect age for enjoying a lot of things,” Lisa explained lamely.

Tiffani giggled again. “It sure is, Lisa,” she said.

The phone rang and Mrs. Atwood went to answer it. “It’s probably your father,” she said to Lisa. “He’s working late tonight.”

While her mother was out of the room, Lisa decided to risk a couple more questions. “Do you have to exercise a lot to keep yourself so thin?” she asked.

“All the time,” Tiffani said. “Some people think modeling is really easy, but it’s actually hard work.”

Lisa nodded. She knew all about that. Once she and Stevie had been selected to “model” for a tack-shop catalog. They had been incredibly excited. But it turned out all they got to do was stand around for hours at a time, moving saddles, bridles, and horses for the photographer. It had ended up being a tiring and boring day. From the looks of her, though, Tiffani probably got to do more glamorous jobs than they had.

“Do you ever go riding?” Lisa asked.

“You mean for exercise? Not really. I usually run or do aerobics,” Tiffani said. “But once I did a commercial for Windswept perfume, and I had to ride a horse across a field.” She giggled. “It was fun.”

Lisa wasted no time. Her mother would be back in a second. “You could go again with me sometime. I ride at Pine Hollow Stables. Come to think of it, there’s the Fourth of July picnic coming up. That would be the perfect time for you to come. And did I mention Pine Hollow’s
wonderful
owner? His name’s Max, and he’s really smart and good-looking and—” Lisa stopped abruptly as she heard her mother hang up the phone.

Tiffani giggled. “Sounds fun. Count me in,” she said.

Lisa smiled and said nothing.

“I hope you’re both hungry,” Mrs. Atwood said, reentering the room with a huge dish of lasagna.

“Sure am, Mom,” Lisa said with a grin. She could hardly believe her luck. She’d hardly even started to
look, and already she had a beautiful candidate for Max. Beautiful and friendly and—well, you couldn’t have everything.

“H
AS IT STARTED
yet?” Carole’s father called from the kitchen.

“No, we’ve still got at least five minutes of commercials,” Carole called back. She and her father were planning to eat dinner in front of the TV so they could watch the movie
The Longest Day
together. They had set up card tables to hold the plates of food, and Colonel Hanson was getting out ketchup, mustard, and pickles for the bacon cheeseburgers he had made.

Carole’s mother had died a few years ago, and she was very close to her father. Watching old movies—especially war movies—was a tradition in the Hanson household.

“
Bon appétit
,” Colonel Hanson said as he brought in the condiments.

“Yum,” Carole said. “These look like they could become your new specialty, Dad.”

“Better than microwave pizza?” Colonel Hanson queried.

Carole took a big bite out of her burger. “Absolutely,” she said.

Eating dinner with her father reminded her of The
Saddle Club matter at hand. “Dad, would you say an ability to cook is a must in a possible wife?” she inquired.

Colonel Hanson looked suspicious. “Why?” he asked. Ever since Carole’s mother had died, well-meaning but meddlesome people had been trying to set him up with women.

Carole reassured her father. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just that Lisa and Stevie and I realized today that Max is very lonely. Not only that, he’s getting kind of old, and unless he gets married and has children soon, he might never find a wife. Then our children wouldn’t be able to take lessons with his heir—Max the Fourth—and they’d have to learn to ride from a total stranger, so we decided to find him a wife, and we made up a list of attributes she had to have, and I was just thinking maybe we should have put ‘cooking skill’ on the list.”

Colonel Hanson laughed. “Boy, you’re pretty worked up about this, aren’t you?”

“Dad, it’s not funny. We’re serious about this. The future of Pine Hollow is at stake.”

Colonel Hanson paused, chewing thoughtfully. Carole waited eagerly for his response. She was positive that he would be on their side.

Finally he spoke. “It’s not that I think your trying to help Max is funny, Carole. But you have to remember that there are some things a person has to do for himself.
For example, people are always pushing unmarried women at me. And the only one I’m interested in is someone I met on my own, right?”

Carole nodded. Her father had been dating Mrs. Dana for several months. And he had decided all on his own to ask Mrs. Dana out on a date. But wait a minute, Carole thought. First, I became friends with Mrs. Dana’s daughter. That’s how Dad and Mrs. Dana met.

Without Carole’s help, both her father and Mrs. Dana would still be putting up with blind dates. Her father might think he’d done it on his own, but Carole knew otherwise. She’d been directly involved.

Colonel Hanson turned toward the TV. The theme song to the movie had just begun.

“Thanks, Dad,” Carole said, patting him on the arm.

Colonel Hanson beamed. “Anytime,” he replied. “Imparting wisdom is part of my job as your father.”

Carole grinned and settled in to watch the movie.

At the first commercial break, Colonel Hanson turned back toward his daughter. “Do all these soldiers remind you of anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Carole replied.

Colonel Hanson pretended to swoon. “I’m crushed, but I hope you’ll still be able to find time to come to the base tomorrow. Remember? It’s ‘Take Your Daughter to Quantico Day.’ ”

“Oh, Dad, now I remember! Of course. You said that
everyone in the battalion is invited to bring his or her daughter to work to see what their parents do all day. I can’t wait.”

“Even if it cuts into your riding time?” Colonel Hanson asked. He knew that Carole could have a one-track mind about how to spend the day, every day.

“I’m sure Starlight will understand,” Carole said. “I’ll just tell him that the Marine Corps needs me,” she joked.

“That’s right, ma’am,” Colonel Hanson replied, saluting smartly. “We’re always looking for a few good women.”

“Yes, sir!”

T
HE TINKLE OF
the dinner bell called the Lake family to the table. When the five of them—minus Chad who was putting the finishing touches on his gourmet dinner—had sat down, Stevie looked piteously across the table at her brothers. A few minutes before, her twin Alex and her little brother Michael had announced that they were both starving and could hardly wait to see what Chad had whipped up. Poor souls, Stevie thought. If only they’d had the presence of mind to eat a brownie sundae an hour ago. She was hardly hungry at all now, and she figured it would be easy enough to push the food around on her plate and avoid actually eating any of it.