Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (9 page)

Tim Mitchell … 
TM
.

No, she was not going to indulge her private obsession and wonder whether Tim Mitchell was the mystery man who starred in her stepmother’s diary, the TM who, according to the pages Jordan had read over and over, had changed Nicole’s life. The question of whether Nicole had betrayed their father was always in the back of Jordan’s mind, troubling her to the point where any man between the ages of twenty and sixty-five with the initials TM was a possible suspect.

The only exception was the man standing beside her. Travis Maher belonged to that rare breed of good, honorable men. But the mystery of who TM could have been nagged at Jordan. For some reason she couldn’t let go of her compulsive need to figure out who might have been involved with Nicole. And when in its grip, she would pull out Nicole’s diary from its hiding place in her closet and read it, searching for clues. The diary was loathsome, its existence a dark ugly secret shared among Margot and Travis and her, one none of them wanted revealed to Jade. At times she wanted to throw it away or burn it, but it didn’t feel right to throw away her stepmother’s private writings. And so the bright pink journal with its equally shocking prose sat on a shelf in her closet, buried under a pile of clothes.

“Tim’s a good rider,” she said. Tim Mitchell wouldn’t
have been Nicole’s type. Compared to RJ, her father, Tim had the charisma of a doormat.

“Yeah, he’s got a good seat and light hands. And he likes our horses. Cascade might be a good match for him. An additional plus is that Tim would let us train Cascade. But before we draw up a bill of sale, we’ll have to see whether Margot can bear to let this guy go. Colchester and Gulliver were hard enough for her.” He reached out his hand, letting the colt catch his scent before scratching the underside of the foal’s jaw.

She smiled. “It’s funny how Margot’s so disciplined and focused—even driven in some respects, and such a softie.”

“Saying good-bye to any horse you’ve cared for is hard. Gulliver was tough because he was the first horse she met when she came home after your dad died. And Colchester, well, he was so fine, even I had a lump in my throat when we loaded him into the van. All of us will understand if she decides she can’t sell Mystique’s first foal.”

Jordan loved Travis for being sensitive enough to cherish what made Margot special. “She’s going to make a great mother.”

“Margot? Yeah, she will.” There was such love and pride in his voice.

“I hope you two are getting serious about baby-making. My kids need some cousins to play with.”

She never would have thought to see Travis blush, but there it was, two bright flags coloring his lean cheeks, visible even in the subdued light. “We’re working at it,” he said.

“I hope so. As they say, practice makes perfect.”

A slow grin split his face. “I don’t think we can get much more perfect, but I’m always happy to try.” More seriously he continued, “But I don’t want to rush Margot before she’s ready. She’s got her career to think of. The contract for the Dior campaign’s almost up, so she and Damien are booking as many shoots as she can fit into her schedule to create a financial cushion for Rosewood.”

“We’re doing okay with the farm, aren’t we?”

“Better than I’d have thought, given the size of the hole we were in. But every year in the horse business is different. I’ve been mulling over a couple of ideas about how to add to our revenue. A number of horse owners—some die-hard fox hunters and a few who like to compete in local shows—have approached me about the possibility of buying our horses and boarding them here, so I could offer training sessions, perhaps even lessons. I know RJ would never have considered opening up Rosewood this way—”

“But we’re not Dad,” she said firmly. And she was as determined as Margot not to repeat the ruinous mistakes he’d made. “Times change. Rosewood Farm will have to change, as well. So we should definitely consider all the options available to us. But, Travis, won’t offering lessons and training sessions add to your responsibilities tenfold?”

“We’d have to start small, increasing the number of boarders and lessons only once we’re sure they aren’t causing a negative impact on the breeding and training program. But as to the extra work, I wouldn’t mind it. I love what I do. For now, though, this is simply a fallback idea in case we find we can’t get the farm’s finances into the black, or if Margot decides to take a break or even say good-bye to modeling.”

“Well, you can count on my support.” Whatever decision was reached, she knew Travis would never sacrifice the quality of care and training of any horse. “And if I get this interior decorating business running, that’ll bring in money, too—not the kind Margot makes, but at least it will be something to add to the kitty.”

“Speaking of taking on too much, I have a hunch that working for Nonie Harrison won’t be any picnic. She’s got a reputation for putting people who work for her through the wringer.”

“I’m sure she won’t be that bad, though I confess to feeling unusually warm and fuzzy toward her right now,” she
said with a smile as she stepped out of the box stall. Travis gave the colt a final scratch on the neck and drew the latch behind them.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, as they walked toward the barn door. As Travis hit the lights, shutting off all but the center row, she stepped outside.

Only a few errant clouds marred the night sky. Tomorrow would probably be as fair as today. When she talked to Nonie in the morning, she’d ask whether she could drop by the cottage with some paint chips so she could look at the colors with the light pouring in through the windows. She was eager to start work. It wasn’t everyone whose first commission entailed putting the finishing touches on such a great renovation project.

The sound of Travis’s boots on the gravel courtyard roused her from her introspection. “The weather’s getting so lovely,” she said, still looking up at the night sky. “I’m going to start serving dinner out on the back porch. Better yet, maybe I should serve dinner for you and Margot out there. You two don’t get enough time to yourselves.”

“Jordan, if there’s anyone who needs private time, it’s you. You do everything for the kids, you run the house for the rest of us, and now you’re starting this business. Don’t you think you need to do something for you alone? Not all guys are like Richard—”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, Travis. Really. With a few exceptions—you and Ned and the rest of the guys at Rosewood—I’ve decided the male species is vastly overrated. Thanks to Nonie, I now have something far more interesting to think about.”

Jordan lowered her tea mug to the kitchen counter with a loud clank. “You’re saying you’ve changed your mind? You want Owen Gage’s firm to decorate the cottage?” There was no way she could suppress the reed-thin note of disappointment in her voice.

Nonie didn’t seem to notice, answering breezily, “It makes such better sense, Jordan. Owen and I talked after you left and the longer we discussed the pros and cons, the more I realized I’d really rather have Owen’s firm do the interior. With Owen I won’t have to worry about anything going wrong, and everything will come out just as I want. I’m sure you understand how it is. Listen, dear, I must fly, I have a hair appointment. Let’s lunch again soon. And you must come and see the cottage when it’s finished.”

Like hell I will
, Jordan retorted. The words went unspoken, though, for the phone clicked on the other end of the line and she was left with dead air.

Anger welled inside her as she slammed the receiver onto its cradle. She could just imagine what Owen Gage had said to change Nonie’s mind. He’d probably shot down every one of her ideas within minutes of her departure. Damn Nonie, too, for being so easily persuaded. Given her penchant for gossip, she bet Nonie would be sharing the results of her decision with everyone she met at the hair salon, the local market, and every single party she attended in the coming weeks. It galled that her best chance to get her business off to a flying start had just crashed to the ground.

Shoving her stool away from the counter, she stood, grabbed her tea mug, and went over to the sink to dump its tepid contents before putting it in the dishwasher. Her movements jerky, she closed the dishwasher with barely controlled violence.

Damn, damn, damn, she thought. Why couldn’t things go her way for once? Hadn’t Richard done enough damage? Why did her first attempt to make something of herself professionally have to be snatched away, and by the likes of Owen Gage, too? He had everything: good looks, charm, success … and greed galore. How embarrassing to think that while her heart had been fluttering madly in her chest simply because he’d lowered his face to hers, he’d
been plotting to steal the decorating commission from her. Men were such cheating, underhanded bastards—

“Hey, have you seen my car keys?” Jade asked, hurrying into the kitchen, a bulging bike messenger bag slung across her shoulder. “I swear they were in my bag but I can’t find them anywhere and I’m going to be late for class if I don’t leave in, like, thirty seconds. Mr. Jawolski is a headcase about coming late to class.”

“Try Olivia’s Sesame Street Playhouse. Or Max’s fire truck. Olivia was playing with them earlier in the library.”

Jade dropped the heavy book bag at her feet, spun around, and dashed out of the kitchen. Less than a minute later she was back, keys clutched in her hand. “They were in the truck. I gotta tell ya, Jordan, your kid is deeply weird and possibly a klepto. What’s with taking my stuff all the time?”

“Because it’s yours, Jade. She thinks you hang the moon in the sky.”

“Well, you should tell her she’s risking any chance to ride Doc if she keeps making off with my wallet and keys.” She stopped, her gaze narrowing on Jordan’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing.”

“Come on, you can’t fool me with that super-calm look. What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you have to go to school? Have you forgotten Mr. Jawolski?”

“For God’s sake, Jawolski can suck an egg. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just a little disappointed. Nonie Harrison decided not to hire me.”

“What!”

“She’s decided to give the job to Owen Gage’s firm.”

“That fat witch. I can’t believe it—No, I take that back. I can totally believe it, and it’s my fault. She’s getting back at you because I got Blair suspended last year.”

“Don’t be silly, Jade. Nonie made it perfectly clear it was because she preferred Owen Gage’s ideas to mine, which is completely within her rights.”

“There’s no way he could have better ideas than you.”

Jordan smiled. “It’s nice of you to say that, but I’m afraid you don’t know how good he is.”

“Here’s what I know,” she countered. “One, Mrs. Harrison’s a vindictive cow. Two, I should never have turned Blair and Courtney in last year. It’s not like anything good came of it.”

“Doing the right thing isn’t like winning the lottery. Often it’s hard and difficult and scary. But that doesn’t make it any less important. And do you really think that things at school would be easier if you’d let Blair and her friends continue to bully you?”

“But now it’s not just hurting me, it’s affecting you, too.”

The last thing she wanted was for Jade to feel guilty because Nonie Harrison happened to be selfish and status-obsessed.

“Nonsense,” she said briskly. “I’m a big girl and more than able to take care of myself. There’ll be other interior decorating jobs—and until then there’s loads to do at the farm helping Margot and Travis. You better get going or you’ll be late for Mr. Jawolski’s class. This is the spring semester of your junior year. Grades are crucial.” She didn’t know why she was saying this when her little sister never brought home a grade lower than an A and she’d scored above the ninety-fifth percentile in all her standardized tests.

Clearly of the same opinion, Jade rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the newsflash. You and Margot should give the college thing a rest. I’m not even sure I want to go. It’s ridiculously expensive, and as far as I can tell we’re about fourteen vet bills away from being broke. Besides, everything I want to learn about is inside our three barns.”

Jordan suppressed a sigh. “Thanks to Margot, we’re a whole lot better off financially than last year. We both realize
how important Rosewood is to you, but the farm will always be here for you. College offers experiences far beyond the classroom and course books. And who knows, you might discover some interests other than horses.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jade’s laugh was a rich mix of amusement and patent disbelief.

“Your mom would have wanted you to go to college.”

Jade’s mirth vanished, replaced by a stony expression that made Jordan’s heart ache. It didn’t matter how often or in what context one brought up Nicole, Jade’s reaction was unchanging: shuttered and unyielding.

Suddenly absorbed with adjusting the strap of her messenger bag, Jade said, “It’s time I split.” She reached out and plucked an apple from the bowl.

“Please don’t tell me that’s your breakfast.”

“Nope, haven’t had it. This is for Aspen. He needs a special treat since Travis and Ned are giving him his shots this morning. See ya. Oh, and remember to tell Olivia not to swipe my keys or I’m gonna ground her big time. Seriously.” With that she loped out the kitchen door, car keys in one hand, a bright green Granny Smith in the other.

What a funny kid. One minute Jade was the quintessential teenager—nonstop drama—the next she revealed an altogether different and surprisingly mature side to herself. Her patient yet firm manner with the children showed real insight into their characters, especially Olivia’s. Those car keys wouldn’t go wandering again once Olivia heard that Aunt Jade would bar her from Doc’s back if she took them to Ernie and Bert and Cookie Monster’s house.

Jade was similarly gifted when it came to handling the young horses she rode. Admittedly she’d been taught by the best in the business, Ned Connolly and Travis, but they wouldn’t have assigned her more youngsters to work with if she hadn’t possessed a knack for “reading” a horse so well. The early experiences of a green horse were too important to risk with careless or heavy-handed training.