know.”
“Maybe,” Lisa said noncommittally. “But there’s always so much going on here. It’s exciting. Fun! My family is just plain boring.”
“Well, I’ll give you that,” Stevie agreed. “Living here isn’t boring. Crazy, maybe. Certainly not boring.”
Lisa looked down at the pot of goo she was stirring. “Guess what? I think it’s
time.
”
Stevie smacked her lips. “Okay, then it’s time to mix.” At Lisa’s signal, Stevie poured the Rice Krispies into the melted marshmallows and Lisa began stirring. When the mixture had gotten wonderfully gooey and impossibly sticky, they began pressing it into the square glass baking dish, using butter-covered utensils. That didn’t mean that the sweet mess didn’t get stuck on them anyway, but it didn’t matter. That simply gavethem an opportunity to lick it off, getting a taste of what was to come.
“Not a bite. My brothers won’t get even the tiniest little taste,” Stevie vowed. “You and I’ll hoard it for ourselves.”
They were getting down to the serious business of contemplating how delicious the concoction was going to be when a car pulled up in the Lakes’ driveway and the doorbell rang.
A few seconds later, Alex burst into the kitchen, uninvited. “Stevie, it’s that photographer lady—Jackie something. She says she’s got some pictures to show you. She seems all excited.”
At the very mention of the photographer’s name, the girls’ glamorized images of the Life of a Model came rushing back into their minds. “Maybe the pictures of us were
really
good,” Stevie said. “Maybe—”
“Maybe we actually do have a chance, you mean?” Lisa asked.
“Maybe,” Stevie said. “So let’s find out!”
They washed their hands quickly and dropped their cooking utensils in the sink. Then they covered their snack with waxed paper and headed for the living room, where Jackie was waiting for them.
“I was in the neighborhood and I just couldn’t wait to show you, girls! What luck that you’re both here together! The pictures are wonderful!”
“They are?” Lisa asked.
“Do we look good?” Stevie piped up.
“You look fabulous!” Jackie exclaimed. “Come see!”
She opened up the portfolio she was carrying and began spreading photographs all over the coffee table and the sofa. “Look, here are the boots,” Jackie said, showing them a perfectly nice photograph of a pair of high boots and then one of some jodhpur boots. “Isn’t the composition terrific?”
“Uh, sure,” Stevie said. “Really nice.”
“And here’s the horse blanket.” The girls looked to see Comanche standing perfectly still, modeling a navy-blue horse blanket. There was no sign of Lisa, who had been hiding on the horse’s far side, nor of Stevie, who had been off to the side, getting Comanche’s attention.
“And look at these pictures of the bridles! Look, there you are, Lisa.”
Lisa’s ears perked up when she heard her name. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She leaned over the table, eager to see herself—and she did. At least, she saw her hands. They were holding the reins of the bridle, but her grip was improper.
“You can’t use that picture!” Lisa said in dismay. “I’m not holding the reins right.” Lisa wanted to kick herself. Her big chance, and she’d blown it!
“You’re not?” Jackie asked in surprise. The girls bothtold her it was true. Any rider would recognize that the reins had to go between her third and fourth fingers. In this photograph, she was just grasping them. “Oh, don’t worry,” Jackie said. “I can crop that part out. What’s important is the bridle.”
Lisa sighed. So much for her career as a model.
“There’s your knee, Stevie,” Jackie said. The girls looked. It was a photograph of a saddlebag. There was a knee visible. The knee
could
have been Stevie’s.
“Look how nicely
this
saddle came out,” Jackie said, showing them one of the saddles perched on the wooden saddle