The ride was uneventful, which was a super good thing. Not falling off was a big win. But then it was time to dismount, and the ground looked far away, and for some reason, my body felt rigid and stiff. I don’t think I could have gotten off the horse if Timothy hadn’t lifted me down. That was a scary thought. Stuck forever on top of a horse?
I could barely walk when Timothy set me on the ground. It felt like someone had taken my body away and replaced it with an old person’s. Timothy laughed when I told him that, but he said it would get better as we walked. He was right. I felt almost my real age by the time we returned to the house.
“A hot shower will remove any aches,” Timothy told me. He was right again.
Breakfast had been delish, and lunch was even more so. We had fresh greens from the garden and turkey sandwiches with a side of the most incredible potato salad I’d ever eaten. Chef Stevens seemed pleased by my praise and told me that the secret was in using Greek yogurt instead of mayonnaise. Plus, he’d put in sweet pickles, celery, and sliced up boiled eggs. I could willingly have made a meal of the potato salad. But, of course, I didn’t.
Cake decorating. What can I say? It was hilarious. Timothy was the only male there, and the women all wanted to stand next to him and gush over his muscled bod, but he gave all his attention to me. We decorated our cake with chocolate icing, my choice, then piped pink icing on the top which said Happy Birthday, Andrew. Timothy wasn’t sure when the chauffeur’s birthday was, but he said it must be soon.
“Does Andrew like cake?” I asked, and Timothy just smiled and shrugged.
‘Have you and Penelope been together long?” one of the women asked, giving Timothy a come hither look.
I said, “no,” and Timothy said, “yes,” which seemed odd to the others. Then he clarified. “Not long in time, but I recognized her from the moment I saw her. She’d been in my dreams forever.”
“Ahhhhh,” the women all murmured.
I elbowed him, and said, “Cheesy?”
“Maybe, but sincere,” Thankfully, he said that into my ear, and the others probably thought he was kissing me.
After we piped our pink, we were supposed to do roses on the side. Actually, we did them on waxed paper and needed to transfer them onto the cake. Poor Andrew would probably think we’d given him a cake with pink cheetah spots.
When the teacher came to our cake, she raised her eyebrows forehead high and asked, “Is this your first cake decorating class?”