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it and put itover in the mystery pile? Then we can piece everything together later.”
    “Oh, whatever,” groaned Veronica. She got up and walked to the tack room, returning in a few minutes with some saddle soap and rags. Stevie watched her as she gingerly rubbed the soap into the leather, then polished it to a soft, supple glow. Though she was careful not to chip her nails or get any dirt on her clothes, Veronica was actually doing a halfway decent job of cleaning the tack.
    “Looks good,” Stevie said as Veronica’s pile of clean tack slowly grew.
    “Hnnnh,” Veronica grumped. “I thought this was what they paid people like Red O’Malley to do.”
    “Yes, but it’s fun to learn how to do it yourself, don’t you think?” Stevie replied pleasantly. If she was going to be stuck with Veronica, they might as well try to get along.
    “I don’t see any point in learning to do anything that you can pay somebody else to do for you,” Veronica snapped. “Particularly when you’re only going to do it once in your entire life.”
    “But you don’t know that,” said Stevie. “You might love driving and want to do it all the time. It looks like a lot of fun to me.”
    “Some of the driving costumes look fun,” repliedVeronica. “I’ve seen pictures of great teams of horses pulling these magnificent coaches. And all the drivers and passengers are dressed in satin clothes and white wigs. And there’s even a footman who rides in the rear and blows a horn to announce their arrival!”
    Stevie snickered at the idea of Veronica blowing a horn to announce the Pine Hollow wagon. “I don’t think we’re quite ready for a horn-tooting footman. And everybody would die laughing if we showed up in satin clothes and white wigs!”
    Veronica shot a look at Stevie. “Well, what had you planned on wearing for this demonstration?”
    Stevie shrugged. “I thought our good show outfits would be okay.”
    “Our good show outfits?” Veronica rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. We’ve got to come up with something else. My oldest, most worn show outfit makes your very best one look like something from the rag bag. You’ll only embarrass yourself if you wear it.” Veronica sniffed. “You’ll embarrass me, too, come to think of it.”
    “And just what’s wrong with my good show outfit?” Stevie was suddenly so mad the tips of her ears were hot. She loved that outfit; she had worked hard babysitting to earn the money to buy it.
    “Well, it’s just so … so … so
prêt-à-porter
,” Veronica sniffed. “Off the rack. Ready to wear. My coats and breeches are all specially tailored at Horseman’sHaberdashery in Washington.” She gave Stevie an indulgent smile. “They even have a special dressmaker’s dummy with my name on it.”
    “What an honor!” cried Stevie. She could no longer resist temptation. “Now not only one, but two dummies are named Veronica diAngelo!”
    “How dare you—” Veronica’s words were cut short by a muffled beep. Stevie watched as she withdrew a tiny cell phone from the pocket of her breeches. “Hello?” she said quietly, turning her back to Stevie.
    Stevie started working with the tack again as Veronica got up and paced around the hallway, murmuring into the phone. Finally, as Stevie heard her say good-bye, she could have sworn Veronica’s voice cracked with some kind of strong emotion. She looked up. Veronica was quickly stuffing the cell phone back in her pocket.
    “I’ve got to go,” Veronica announced, her voice like ice.
    Stevie frowned. “Go? You just got here.”
    “I know, but something’s come up. My parents are sending their car. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.”
    “Well, all right,” Stevie said in amazement, watching as Veronica wiped at one eye and strode off toward the locker room.
    Stevie turned her attention back to the box asVeronica disappeared down the hall.
How strange
, she thought.
Veronica shows up here to work for about five minutes, then