Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel by Laura Moore Page A

doesn’t have anything to do with what happened between Jade and Blair at school—as I already told Jade. You two are far more upset about this than I am.”
    “Because we love you.”
    “Which I’d have to be dense not to know. But even so let’s keep a sense of proportion, okay? Nonie is not the only woman who has a house in need of redecorating in Warburg. I’ll get in touch with Marla Hamilton next week. Her youngest is going off to college in the fall, so I’m sure she’s got it in the back of her mind to do a major renovation project. And Marla would be fun to work with. So you see, all is not lost.”
    “No thanks to Nonie,” Margot muttered.
    “Again, this is not a big deal. I’ve got other things to focus on right now. Like this colt here. Ned won’t let me go near Turner again if I don’t do a good job with him.”
    “As if you’d ever do a bad job with any of the youngsters or mares. They go all mellow when you handle them. You’re soothing.”
    “Or so boring I put them to sleep.”
    Andy, walking Mistral on the rail, shook his head. “Not so, Jordan. A bored horse isn’t a happy horse. Just look at Turner. He’s paying attention to everything that’s going on but he’s relaxed. A happy horse,” he added deliberately.
    “Let’s see whether I can keep him this way while you guys are cantering. Oh, and did you know that Miriam’s a big fan of the band Airborne Toxic Event? They’re playing in D.C. next month. I think she mentioned that tickets go on sale this Saturday.”
    He was such a sweet guy, trying to fight back the grin that spread over his face. Surrendering, he beamed. “Good to know. Thanks, Jordan. You’re all right.”
    She smiled. “And don’t you forget it.”
    Jordan hadn’t intended to ride Sava in this direction. It was doubtless because of the conversations she’d had with her sisters about Nonie Harrison and of being forced to extol Owen Gage’s skills and his firm’s excellence that she found it so difficult to get the dratted man out of her head or to squelch her curiosity about Hawk Hill.
    She realized that it had been ages since she’d ridden out this way, what with her pregnancy with Olivia, and then with the turmoil of the divorce and settling into a new life at Rosewood. And from what she could see as she slowed Sava down to a walk and emerged from the wooded trail into the clearing around Hawk Hill’s open fields, it had been an equally long time since anyone had done the most basic maintenance on the Barrons’ old house.
    Drawing the mare to a halt, she loosened her grip on the reins, letting Sava rub the side of her head against her foreleg. While the mare stood docilely, Jordan took in the sorry state of the Federal-style home. Its wood shutters hung askew, some torn off their hinges entirely, giving the façade a dilapidated look. The twin chimneys were in dire need of attention. From her perch on Sava, she could see daylight streaming through large chinks where the bricks were missing. That either chimney was still standing was a miracle, and Jordan had a sudden vision of Olivia’s red sneakered toe shooting out, connecting, and sending the remaining weathered bricks flying through the air as easily as one of her cardboard towers.
    The roof was hardly in better shape, with shingles missing or warped, curled like the dried leaves that spilled out of the damaged gutters that, wrenched by winds and dislodged by ice, listed drunkenly. The elements had taken their toll onthe paint and siding, too. Near the damaged gutters she saw ugly black patches, the discoloration a telltale sign of rot. Many of the clapboards were badly split or warped. They, too, would have to be replaced.
    Nudging the mare forward with her boot heels, she said, “Come on, Sava, let’s take a closer peek at the old lady.”
    She knew she was being fanciful to anthropomorphize the house, but she couldn’t help it, any more than talking to horses. Sava had listened to her