My office mandated cell phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a brand new iPhone, so new that I haven’t even taken the plastic film off the screen yet. I slip it out of my pocket, frowning at the unknown number.
INTERNATIONAL NUMBER is splashed across the screen.
That could be anyone. An old colleague. A friend from New York. Or it could be a member of the American press. I haven’t given anyone this number yet, but that doesn’t mean anything in this day and age.
I let it go to voicemail, biting my lower lip. Then as soon as I get a notification of a new voice message, I press play and put it to my ear. I’m only half listening as I turn and head back to the party.
Mostly, I’m really hoping that Pippa is around. I spent an hour and a half getting myself ready for this event… I’d hate to just go back to the party and skulk around, wasting all my efforts.
When the voice mail finally plays, I almost drop my phone in surprise.
“Hi. It’s your mother calling.” There is a sound on the line, like the crinkling of a bag of potato chips. “I just found out that not only did you move out of the state, you frigging moved all the way across the ocean. I thought you said the last time we talked that we were going to keep in better touch with each other. Guess that doesn’t matter to you though, does it?”
I break into a sweat. My mom always makes me so nervous. Even though I’m well past the age of having to worry about when and if she would ever show her face at home… it’s hard to overcome a lifetime of that.
“Anyway,” she continues. “Your little friend called me. What’s her name? Abby? No… Something with an A. She said she had a lot of questions about you.”
I pale. About me? An uneasy feeling slithers through my gut.
“I said I’d have to talk to you first.” Mom smacks her lips. “I think you and me should talk, baby girl. Give me a call back quick, else I think I’m going to have to talk to that nice lady.” She hangs up.
As I lower the phone, I realize that my hands are shaking. I haven’t actually heard from my mom in almost a year. The last time we talked, she hit me up for money.Again.
And now some idiot reporter has unearthed her somehow?
Pippa’s face appears around the corner of the hedge maze. “Hey! I have looked everywhere for you. Come on, there are people that I want you to meet.”
Scrunching my face up, I nod. “Okay…”
I head back toward the party, but my mother looms large in the back of my mind, a specter of ill omens.
Chapter Fourteen
Stellan
Istand beside the gray gelding, petting him absently. Standing in this riding ring takes me back to my childhood days. The colors of the landscape, heather and green moss, dark colored earth and endless blue skies, all blending together seamlessly. The air here is full of strangely comforting scents: fresh cedar chips, sweet horse feed, the baser scent of horse dung.
I swear, nothing here has changed since I was a little boy, first learning to ride. The world around me back at the palace never seems to slow down. But out here, in the ivy-covered stables only a twenty minute helicopter ride from the palace?
It’s just a whole different world. Time stands still. I think it’s because everyone has to dress in riding gear. I’m currently wearing dark riding pants, a loose white button up, and knee-high boots almost shiny enough to see myself in.
Stroking Karl’s muscular neck, I stare off into space and just… relax. Being who I am is not easy; everyone needs something from me, all the fucking time. Every minute of every day is jam-packed full of doing things to help other people.
I’m not complaining. But it’s not often I get to zone out. Just… let my mind drift.
When Margot clears her throat gently, I tense up. My time is up, it seems.
I turn, eyeing her. My eyes widen a little bit. She’s wearing the khaki jodhpurs and chestnut riding boots that were brought along for her… but on top, she wears a black t-shirt that reads The Smiths. Her riding pants are skintight. And her t-shirt is loose and full of holes, one especially large that shows off her neon pink bra.
God, why haven’t I taken her riding before now?
She blushes under my inspection. “You are making me feel even more like an alien from another dimension than I did when I walked out of the changing room.”
I shrug. “I can’t help it if you look…” I pause, trying to think of how to word my thoughts diplomatically. “Eye catching.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Cool it. Are we going riding or what?”
“Ja, ja. Look, the stable hand is bringing in the gentlest of our mares for you now.” I point over to the fence, where a stable hand leads in a sleek-looking black horse. “Okay?”
