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“I know this place means a lot to Lennon,” I state.
“I wasn’t talking about the town, young man.” He smiles at me. “Good luck with your senior year, Caleb. I have no doubt you’ll accomplish a lot.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
Tom winks, then continues down the street.
I stay in place for a minute, feeling like I was just spun around in a circle. Not only from the topsy-turvy ride of trying to figure out what Tom Stradwell was talking about, but also from the unexpected revelation Lennon already has a job offer in Landry after graduation.
Eventually, I stop standing on the sidewalk like a fool and walk toward my truck.
There’s no sign of Lennon when I park by the barn. I’m not surprised. I’m sure she’s looking over feed schedules and exercise charts with Louis, the barn manager.
I climb out of the truck and stretch before taking a long sip of the iced coffee I just bought. The August sun is relentless, beaming down like a spotlight. The cold liquid barely counteracts the heat.
“Caleb?”
I turn to see my mother. She’s wearing a floral print dress and a confused expression as she approaches my truck.
I school my expression carefully. “Hi, Mom.”
She pauses a few feet away from me. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Just for today. I’m helping Lennon move.”
My mother’s lips purse. “Move?”
“She’s transferring to Clarkson.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’rehere, Caleb.”
I exhale, knowing she’ll probably take this about as well as the check I wrote Lennon. “Her horses were moved here this morning. I arranged everything with Louis. Let me know if you want me to pay room and board for them.”
Her expression hardens, turning into a cold mask. “When will you be back in Landry?”
“No idea,” I reply. Lennon is taking any incentive to return with her.
She nods, realizing the same. “Well, I’ll be at the New York penthouse for the next few months.”
“Fine.”
“What about Thanksgiving?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to Lennon yet. We’ve been busy figuring other things out.”
My mother swallows a couple of times, then fiddles with her pearl necklace. “All right. Let me know after you…talk to her.”
Voices sound, right before Lennon emerges from the barn. Her face is lit up as she talks to Louis, who followed her outside.
When she turns toward me a second later, her steps stutter. But she continues, walking over to my side and offering my mom a polite smile. “Hi, Mrs. Winters. How are you?”
“Fine, Lennon. I hear you’re transferring to Clarkson?”
Lennon glances at me, then back to my mother. “Yes.”
“Best of luck. I’m sure it will be an adjustment for you.”
My jaw is clenched so tightly it hurts. I can’t figure out why my mother insists on acting like this. Why accepting Lennon is some Herculean task to her.
