What she found first was a mountain of luggage right outside the front door. She counted ten suitcases, four large and four medium plus two huge athletic bags, stuffed until the seams had started to pull. Each was labeled with a lime-green luggage tag which read Darcy Granger.
As she stared at the pile, a man came around the corner of the building nearest the parking lot, wheeling a handcart on which rested a full-sized footlocker—the kind the military issued for recruits to store all of their gear. This one was shiny black, with silver metal on the corners, and Ruth Ann had a feeling that—even if she hadn’t recognized Jonah Granger’s tall, lean frame—this, too, would have Darcy’s name on it.
When Granger reached the bottom of the steps he stopped, straightened up and blew out a long breath. Then he glanced up and saw Ruth Ann.
“This is the last of her gear,” he said, his voice even, emotionless. “If you’ll point the way to the elevator inside, I’ll get everything to her room.”
Ruth Ann struggled with the smile she knew would only infuriate him. “I’m afraid we don’t use the elevator on Moving-In Day. It’s only for emergencies.”
He leaned an elbow on the upturned edge of the footlocker. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head. “Afraid not.” Today, he wore jeans and boat shoes and a leather jacket softened with wear—but not too much—in all the right places. His wet hair had fallen into very natural and appealing spikes across his tanned forehead, and his long eyelashes had caught several beads of water. Did the man ever look less than gorgeous?
His blue gaze remained locked on her face for a moment, the expression changing from surprise to irritation to a steely resolve. “Okay, then. No problem.” Grabbing the handle of the handcart, he began to bump it up the steps. When he reached the top, Ruth Ann opened the door for him to back through.
“Thanks,” he said, without looking at her.
When she came inside again, he was standing with Darcy and Alice, getting an explanation of where Darcy’s room would be. He glanced at Ruth Ann, and lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t have to carry those. We’ll manage.”
Ruth Ann would have shrugged, but the two athletic bags were slung over her shoulders and in each hand she held a large suitcase. “That’s what I’m here for. And you haven’t got much time—lunch is at noon. Which room, Alice?”
“Two East, Fourteen,” Alice said, meaning the east wing of the second floor, room fourteen.
“That’s a good one,” Ruth Ann told Darcy as they started up the steps. “You’ll get morning sunshine and cool afternoons.”
Darcy didn’t answer. Behind them, her stepfather bumped the footlocker up a step at a time.
As they walked down the hallway, Ruth Ann could see that the door to room fourteen stood open. “Your roommate must be here already. Did Ms. Tolbert tell you her name?”
Darcy shrugged one shoulder. “Um…Eve, I think.”
One step over the threshold, however, she stopped dead and actually shrank back. Ruth Ann unloaded the luggage she carried outside the room, next to the wall, and then peered around Darcy to see what the problem might be. A mother and daughter occupied the room’s two chairs, the younger practically a mirror image of the older—fashionably thin, wearing designer jeans, shoes and tops, their faces perfectly made up, ash-blond hair perfectly styled.
Confronted by the double dose of chic, Ruth Ann suddenly felt like the ugly green giant. As an adult, however, she was required to handle the situation, not run away from it.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Hi, Eve. This is Darcy Granger. She’ll be your roommate.” Moving Darcy further into the room with a gentle push, she offered a hand to Eve’s mother. “I’m Ruth Ann Blakely, the equestrian trainer at Hawkridge.”
Limp fingers brushed briefly against hers. “Nina Forrest.”
Eve’s expression didn’t change. She barely glanced at Darcy. “Hi.”
Nina looked beyond Ruth Ann. “And you are…?” she purred.
“Darcy’s stepfather, Jonah.” He reached past Ruth Ann for a handshake, nudging her arm in the process. She fought a surprising urge to shy from his touch like a startled horse.
Nina Forrest had no such qualms and offered him a feline smile along with her hand. “It’s good to meet you, Jonah. I’ve heard about your work, of course. Who in New York hasn’t?”
“Thanks.” Letting go of Nina, he looked at Eve. “It’s good to meet you, Eve.”
Her smile was as predatory as her mother’s. “Thank you, Jonah.”
Ruth Ann drew in a deep breath, half annoyance, half surprise at the girl’s lack of respect. Before she could say anything, though, a bell chimed twice in the hallway.
“That’s the lunch bell,” she told the two girls and their parents. “You’ve got five minutes to get to the dining hall.”
As the four of them left the room, Jonah Granger looked at Ruth Ann. “I need to get the rest of Darcy’s bags. Could you take her to the lunch room and I’ll—”
She shook her head at him. “Nope. You two go on to the dining hall,” she ordered, emphasizing the last two words. Hawkridge possessed nothing as mundane as a lunch room. “I’ll carry up the rest of the bags.”
“You can’t bring all those big bags up the stairs,” he protested.
“I won’t.” Ruth Ann grinned. “I’ll use the elevator.”
“But—” He glared at her. “You said—”
“I’m staff.” She pushed him toward the exit in Nina Forrest’s wake. “There are some rules I get to break.”
DARCY felt sick to her stomach, so she took an extra roll when the plate got passed to her. Food made her feel better.
Her roommate ignored the rolls. And the lasagna, the applesauce and the milk. She took some salad when the bowl came by and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher in the center of the table. Eve refused dessert, too—chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream—and she only ate half of the salad on her plate. No wonder her waist was the size of a pencil.
Eve’s mother ate the same way—salad and water. At least she had the excuse that she never stopped talking to Jonah long enough to chew. Jonah, meanwhile, had gone into defensive mode. He knew how to deflect women like Eve’s mom with smiles and nods that made her believe he listened to every word, while in fact he was thinking about something else, probably a building design. Darcy had seen him deal with her mother that way. Before the fighting got really bad.
Looking around, Darcy noticed that the parents at most tables seemed to be talking to each other, but the girls didn’t say much. It wasn’t like the beginning of the year at a regular school, where you were glad to get back with your friends…if you had any. Hawkridge was a school for girls with “issues.” As far as Darcy was concerned, parents seemed to be the real reason kids had issues to begin with. So it made sense they wouldn’t talk to their parents.
This lunch was really kinda painful, though. She would have liked it better if they’d just let Jonah say goodbye and abandon her to her fate.
The chocolate cake was delicious, so Darcy took a second helping while the headmistress was giving her welcome speech. If they had meals like this three times a day, plus decent teachers, maybe Hawkridge wouldn’t be so bad. Darcy could face almost anything, with good books and good food.
Well, except for her mother.
“You have fifteen minutes to get the last of your belongings into your rooms and say goodbye downstairs,” the headmistress, Ms. Thomas, said. “The