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horse."
    Roanna slid into her seat and fastened her gaze on her plate. She didn't bother responding to Jessie's malice, To do so would only provoke even more nastiness, and Aunt Gloria would seize the chance to put in her two cents' worth. Roanna was used to Jessie's zingers, but she wasn't happy at all that Aunt Gloria and Uncle Harlan had moved into Davencourt, and she felt she would doubly resent anything Aunt Gloria said.
    Tansy served the first course, a cold cucumber soup. Roanna hated cucumber soup and merely dabbled her spoon around in it, trying to sink the tiny green pieces of herb that floated on top. She did nibble on one of Tansy's homemade poppy seed rolls and gladly relinquished her soup bowl when the next course, tuna-stuffed tomato, was served. She liked tuna-stuffed tomato. She devoted the first few mmutes to painstakingly removing the bits of celery and onion from the tuna mixture, pushing the rejects into a small pile at the edge of her plate.
    "Your manners are deplorable," Aunt Gloria announced as she delicately forked up a bite of tuna.
    "For heaven's sake, Roanna, you're seventeen, plenty old enough to stop playing with your food like a two-year-old."
    koanna's scant appetite died, the familiar tension and nausea tightening her stomach, and she cast a resentful glance at Aunt Gloria.
    "Oh, she always does that," Jessie said airily.
    "She's like a hog rooting around for the best pieces of slop."
    Just to show them she didn't care, Roanna forced herself to swallow two bites of the tuna, washing them down with most of her glass of tea to make certain they didn't lodge halfway.
    She doubted it was tact on his part, but she was grateful anyway when Uncle Harlan began talking about the repairs needed on their car and weighing the advantages of buying a new one. If they could afford a new car, Roanna thought, they could certainly have afforded staying in their own house, then she wouldn't have to put up with Aunt Gloria every day. Jessie mentioned that she would like a new car, too; she was bored with that boxy four-door Mercedes Webb had insisted on buying for her, when she'd told him at least a thousand times she wanted a sports car, something with style.
    Roanna didn't have a car. Jessie had gotten her first car when she was sixteen, but Roanna was a rotten driver, forever drifting off into daydreams, and Grandmother had stated that, in the interest of the safety of the citizens of Colbert County, it was best not to let Roanna out on the roads by herself. She hadn't resented it all that much, because she would much rather ride than drive, but now one of her demon imps raised its head.
    "I'd like to have a sports car, too," she said, the first words she'd spoken since entering the dining room. Her eyes were round with innocence.
    "I've got my heart set on one of those Pontiac Grand Pricks."
    Aunt Gloria's eyes rounded with horror, and her fork dropped into her plate with a clatter. Uncle Harlan choked on his tuna, then began laughing helplessly.
    "Young lady!" Grandmother's hand slammed against the table, making Roanna jump guiltily. Some people might think her mispronunciation of Grand Prix had been the result of ignorance, but Grandmother knew better.
    "Your behavior is inexcusable," Grandmother said icily, her blue eyes snapping.
    "Leave this table. I'll speak to you later."
    Roanna slipped from her chair, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
    "I'm sorry," she whispered and ran from the dining room but not fast enough to keep from hearing Jessie's amused, malicious question: "Do you think she'll ever be civilized enough to eat with people?"
    "I'd rather be with the horses," Roanna muttered as she slammed out the front door. She knew she should go back upstairs and change into boots again, but she desperately needed to get back to the stables, where she never felt inadequate.
    Loyal was eating his own lunch in his office, while he read one of the thirty horse care publications that he received each month. He