Page 68 of Capture the Moment

“I know,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment. “Pops’s bike has a flat tire. This was my only transportation option.”

Frankie shook his head with a smirk. “A BMX. Kid, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your cool on?”

“I’mnota kid,” Maisie said, frowning. “So what are you doing here, anyway?”

“Menial labor without pay,” Frankie grumbled, setting down the wheelbarrow. “The handler’s short-staffed, so Coop volunteered me.”

“I was hoping there’d be space for me on today’s trail ride,” Maisie said wistfully, glancing at the saddled horses.

“Yeah, there’s plenty of space,” Frankie replied. “The ride starts in about half an hour. See that lady over by the saddled horses? She’ll have you sign a lengthy release form so you can’t sue anybody if you fall off the horse and break your neck.” He paused, squinting at her. “Wait a minute. Have you ever ridden a horse?”

Maisie looked down at her sneakers. If she answered this truthfully, she may not be able to go on a trail ride. She lifted her head. “Fun fact. The horses used for trail rides are bred and trained specifically for being, well, trail horses. They undergo specialized training to ensure they are well-behaved, responsive to commands, and suitable for riders of various skill levels.” She’d read that very thing in a brochure at the visitor center.

Frankie chuckled. “Well, these trail horses are ready for retirement at Shady Acres. Tell that lady that the trail boss said you’re fit for our ride.”

“Wait.” Her heart started to pound. “Are you going to be on this trail ride too?”

“Yep. I’ll bring up the rear. I just need to finish cleaning a few more stalls first.”

Maisie stared at him. “Is there nothing you can’t do?” Frankie was UH-mazing.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “I can’t seem to stop myself from getting kicked out of boarding schools.” He picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow and went off to the compost pile to dump it.

Maisie went over to speak to the woman and signed the papers for the trail ride. Then she went looking for Frankie and found him in a horse stall, mucking it out. “So why do you keep getting kicked out of boarding school?”

Frankie looked up from his task, a mixture of surprise andannoyance on his face. “Because it makes my dad mad.” He heaved his pitchfork’s load into the wheelbarrow. “Then he gets back at me by forcing me into indentured servanthood each summer.” He straightened his back to stretch. “It’s a game we play.”

“Where does your dad live?”

“Washington DC.”

“What about your mom?”

A shadow crossed his face. “She’s dead.”

She felt stupid for being so nosy. “I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t know.” Frankie waved off her concern and resumed work.

“Well, I’ve never even met my dad. He vanished when my mom told him she was pregnant.”

Frankie took a break from shoveling. “Where is your mom?”

“Right now?” Maisie leaned against the stall door. “She’s at some kind of spiritual retreat.”

“So that’s why you’re staying with your grandfather?”

“Yep. Mom got fired from her art teaching job cuz she only let the students use black and gray and brown colors.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, it was a watercolor class for spring flowers. Supposed to be cheerful.” She sighed. “Anyway, then we had to move out of the apartment cuz Mom couldn’t pay the rent. This nice lady named Rebecca Woodbine let us live in her basement and then treated Mom to this retreat. Rebecca thinks Mom’ll find herself there.”

Frankie smirked. “Like, your mom’s gone missing?”

“Not exactly, but kind of. Like, some of her has gone missing. At least, that’s what Rebecca told Mom. Something about how she needed to dig deep to find herself.” Maisie had to piece it all together from bits of conversation she’d overheard. “Rebecca told Mom that this retreat would belife-changing.” From thelatest texts she’d sent, it didn’t sound like that was happening. “My mom doesn’t like to be told what to do.” Or how to think.

Frankie placed the pitchfork against the stall wall. “Your mom should meet my dad. They sound a lot alike.” He pushed the barrow past her and out to the compost pile.

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