“I’m sorry it’s taking so long,” I said.
“Take as long as you like,” she said, waving aside my apology. “It’d be a shame to come all this way for nothing. Besides, Cam needs a break. Stay right where you are,” she growled at her husband, who’d been sidling furtively toward the door.
Though soft-spoken and small of stature, Donna had the command presence of a five-star general. Cameron froze as if he’d been zapped by a stun gun and peered timidly at his wife. The Velesuonnos, it seemed, weren’t the only ones living near an active volcano.
“Donna,” he began.
She overrode him. “If I let you into the house, you’ll take one look at the week’s schedule and go straight back to work. Do you want Lori to walk to Wellington?”
“No, but—”
“Do you want to break your promise to Bill?” she demanded.
“No, but—”
“Then stay where you are.” Donna folded her arms and glared at her husband, then appealed to me. “Cam hasn’t taken a day off since they started making those Lord of the Rings films. He’s earned a holiday.”
A devilish smile curved my lips as I glanced at Cameron, whose face had turned crimson.
“Your husband didn’t tell me that he was involved in the films,” I said.
“He’s not,” said Donna, “but every other professional horseman in New Zealand is. When they ran off with the circus, their regular clients came running to us. Cam’s never been busier. He’s training horses, instructing riders, flying all over the country to judge competitions. . . . He’s working himself to death while his mates are prancing around in capes and wigs and armor and I-don’t-know-what. If he doesn’t slow down, he’ll end up in hospital.” She cast a fierce, protective glance at her husband. “Well, I won’t have it. His crew can manage without him for a few days, whatever he may think. He needs a break.”
“I understand,” I said, and I truly did. Bill’s work ethic was, alas, very similar to Cameron’s.
“I’ve made reservations for you at the Copthorne on Oriental Parade,” Donna said to her husband. “If you need the plane, Trevor can fly it down to you. I’ve packed enough clean clothes to last a week.” She exchanged her duffel bag for Cameron’s, then pointed imperiously to the attached garage. “Get in your car and go, Cam. I don’t want to see you back here until you’ve done what you set out to do. Nice to meet you, Lori. Good luck finding Bree!”
She kissed her husband, scooped up the exuberant terrier, went back into the house, and slammed the door. A moment later, the garage door swung open. Cameron heaved a heavy sigh and trudged toward it. I took a last look at the misty outline of Kapiti Island and followed him.
Cameron’s black Land Rover looked as though it had been driven through every mud puddle in New Zealand, its seats were liberally sprinkled with wisps of straw, and it exuded a bouquet of fragrances I normally associated with horses, but it didn’t stink of fish. As an added attraction, a shiny, chintz-patterned biscuit tin sat on the dusty dashboard. A peek inside confirmed my suspicion that Donna had baked a fresh batch of cookies for us.
I clambered into the passenger seat and swapped the full tin for the empty one in my day pack while Cameron deposited our duffel bags in the back. When he slid into the driver’s seat, I nudged him with my elbow.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Considering the fact that my wife has just given me a royal bollicking,” he said, “I’m not doing too badly.”
“It’s none of my business,” I said, “but she does seem to have your best interests at heart. She wants you to take a break because she loves you.”
“I know.” He rested his hands on the steering wheel and stared pensively through the windshield. “But there’s no need for her to act as though I’m the only responsible horseman in New Zealand. Film work isn’t as easy as Donna makes out, Lori. It’s a demanding, difficult, and dangerous job. It takes expert riders to pull it off without injuring themselves or their horses. I have nothing but respect for the men and women who are working on the Ring trilogy. They’re earning their pay.”
“So are you,” I said. “If everyone traded real life for the movies, who would teach the police commissioner’s granddaughter how to ride? ”
Cameron managed a weak smile.
“Listen,” I said, pivoting to face him. “If you have more important things to do—”
“Forget it,” he interrupted. “If I go back to work right now, Donna will chop me into little pieces and feed me to the dog.” He straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin, and turned the key in the ignition. “Next stop, Wellington.”
Fourteen