How To Trap a Parent. Joan Kilby
Stephanie dug her heels into Magoo’s belly. The dapple gray tore off at a gallop. Cherry leaped forward, almost jolting Mary Kate out of the saddle. She clung on, trying not to drop the reins. The wind whistled in her ears and the pounding hooves seemed to vibrate clear through to her chest. She leaned forward, low on Cherry’s neck, and forgot to breathe. Magoo’s gray rump was mere inches in front of Cherry’s outstretched nose.
The trees on the far side of the meadow rushed closer at an alarming rate. Mary Kate started to pull back on the reins but she needn’t have worried. As Stephanie slowed Magoo, Cherry automatically dropped to a canter then a trot. Mary Kate bounced lopsidedly in the saddle, then, grinning from ear to ear, she righted herself.
“Wow! That was better than the roller coaster at Six Flags,” she exclaimed.
Stephanie laughed. “Don’t tell Dad we galloped. I was supposed to take it easy with you the first time.”
“Can we do it again?” Mary Kate asked eagerly.
“No, we’d better walk the rest of the way,” Stephanie said. “It’s not far and the horses need to cool down.”
Mary Kate fell in behind Stephanie as they entered a thinly wooded section where grass grew between widely spaced trees. Beyond the trees was the paddock at the back of Stephanie’s house.
They came to the fence, and Stephanie leaned over and unlatched the gate, skillfully maneuvering her horse so that the gate swung open and Mary Kate could pass through on Cherry. Stephanie closed it again and they rode across the paddock to the stable. Cherry quickened her pace to a trot as she neared home. Mary Kate gripped with her thighs this time and tried to lift herself off the saddle with every step the way Stephanie did.
They came to a halt and Mary Kate flung her leg over the back of the saddle and dropped to the ground. Her legs felt all wobbly as she staggered around to the front of her horse.
“You’ll be sore tomorrow, but a few more rides and you’ll be fine.” Stephanie looped Magoo’s reins over the fence and showed Mary Kate how to remove the saddle.
They groomed the horses and put their halters back on. Mary Kate helped carry buckets of water to fill the old bathtub that served as a water trough. Then she and Stephanie put away the saddles and bridles.
The heavy hollow clump of hooves sounded on the wooden stable floor strewn with straw as Cherry and Magoo came into their stalls looking for food. Stephanie peeled off two flakes of hay from an open bale and handed one to Mary Kate to throw into the manger for Cherry. Cherry whickered softly and bobbed her head before getting down to serious munching.
“I wish I had a horse,” Mary Kate sighed, running her hand over Cherry’s glossy reddish-brown neck.
“You can ride with me anytime,” Stephanie offered. “Dad only rides on Sundays and even then he doesn’t have time every weekend.”
“Cool.” Mary Kate touched Stephanie’s arm as they turned to leave the stable. “Remember what I said about that photo Mom kept in her underwear drawer? Don’t say anything to your dad. Mom would have a fit if she knew I’d told you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JANE TURNED into Cole’s driveway and motored slowly between rows of vines heavy with clusters of ripening grapes. Finally the house appeared; single-story cream-colored brick with a wraparound veranda and pale green roof.
She parked behind Cole’s car, the older-model convertible Porsche. Interesting, the solid family man had a rakish streak. She grabbed her tote and knocked on the front door. When there was no answer she walked through the carport to the back of the house. A stable stood off to the right and beyond it was a fenced paddock. In the other corner of the yard was a concrete shed shaded by a gum tree. The door to the shed stood open.
“Hello?” Jane called, shielding her eyes from the slanting afternoon sun. “Anyone home?”
Cole appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the space. He’d changed out of his suit into casual pants and a forest-green polo shirt that brought out the color of his eyes and showed a vee of tanned skin. “I see you found the place.”
Jane walked across the short dry grass. “Where’s Mary Kate? Is she ready to go?”
“They’re back from their ride. But I don’t know if she’s ready to leave.” He glanced over to the stable just as the door opened and a pair of giggling girls tumbled out. “They’re getting along like a house on fire.”
Mary Kate saw Jane and bounded over, beaming from ear to ear. “Mom, I had the best time. Riding is, like, brilliant! This is Stephanie.”
“Hi, Stephanie. We’ve met but it was a long time ago.”
Despite her misgivings Jane had to smile at Mary Kate’s enthusiasm. With her tangled hair and grubby jeans, she looked less like a would-be Paris Hilton and more like a happy, healthy young girl. Which was wonderful, as long as she didn’t get too attached to Red Hill.
“We’re going to listen to music on Mary Kate’s MP3 player,” Stephanie said. Before either Jane or Cole could object, the girls ran toward the house.
Jane turned to Cole, one eyebrow raised. “Brilliant? What have you, like, done to my daughter?”
“Hey, don’t blame me. I just live here.” He motioned inside the shed. “I was about to open a bottle of wine. Would you care to join me for a drink?”
“I just came to pick up Mary Kate but okay, thanks,” Jane said. “We do need to talk about the farm.”
“Among other things.” Cole led the way into the shed.
Once she was out of the sun, the temperature dropped about ten degrees. The pleasantly cool air was filled with the sweet musky scent of fermenting grapes. Shelves stacked with bottles of wine on their sides lined the back wall. A covered stainless-steel vat stood waist-high off to one side, and near it, an oval oak barrel rested on blocks. A heavy wood table held wine-making paraphernalia—beakers and thermometers and other items she didn’t know the names of. Another barrel, on which two wineglasses sat upside down on a tray, provided a makeshift tasting counter.
“This is quite the hobby you have here.”
“I like to experiment.” He turned over the glasses and went to the fridge for a bottle of white wine. “I’ve got a hectare of Chardonnay and Shiraz grapes. Two years ago I put in Pinot Grigio.”
There was a wistful note in his voice and he ran his hand lovingly over a row of wine-making books.
“You planned to study viticulture and own a commercial vineyard. What happened?”
Cole unscrewed the Stelvin closure and poured the wine. “I counted on taking over the farm someday. But then Dad had the car accident and died, leaving a lot of debts. My mother had no training and Joey was only a kid. When Dad’s partner offered me a job at the real estate agency, I considered myself lucky.”
“It’s too bad. If anyone should have gotten out of Red Hill and made something out of himself, it was you,” she said. “You had talent and ambition.”
“What makes you think I don’t still?” He handed Jane a glass. “What shall we drink to?”
“World peace?” she suggested.
He met her gaze with a wry smile. “I’d settle for détente in Red Hill.”
Jane touched glasses, her glance shifting. His eyes, his smile, still had the power to make her stomach take a tumble. She held her wine up to the light coming through the doorway. It was a clear straw-yellow.
“The color will deepen to gold with age.” Cole swirled the wine, put his nose inside the glass and breathed deeply.
Jane took a sip and rolled the perfumed liquid around on her tongue. “I love that buttery nutty flavor.”
“That’s the malolactic fermentation,”