HALEY SHOUTED AS she rushed through the front door, barely pausing to toss her jacket in the general direction of the closet. She was already mentally adding up the minutes and seconds it would take to tack up Wings, ride out to the cross-country field and school him over a few jumps, cool him out, do her chores, then get back into the house in time to throw on something clean before Mr. Vandenberg showed up. “Haley.” Aunt Veronica appeared in the kitchen doorway when Haley was halfway up the stairs. “Stop.” Aunt Veronica was a petite, slightly plump woman with rosy cheeks and an angelic smile. But her softness was backed with steel. When she gave an order, even her tough old farmer husband always obeyed instantly. Haley stopped with one foot halfway to the next step. “Yes?” “Mrs. Vandenberg called.” Aunt Veronica wiped her hands on the dishrag she was holding. She almost never stopped moving—if she wasn’t in her home office working as a freelance computer programmer, she was cleaning or cooking or weeding the garden.
