Jane Austen Girl - A Timbell Creek Contemporary Romance

by Inglath Cooper

  There had been other times, not that this was one of them, when Bobby Jack and his brother set their sights on the same girl, and Darryl Lee always won in the short run because he threw everything he had into the contest. As soon as Bobby Jack got wind of Darryl Lee’s intention, he’d always backed off, for the most part because getting into a pissing contest with his brother was a no-win proposition. With a couple of those girls, it wasn’t that Bobby Jack didn’t think he had a chance. He just cared more about his relationship with his brother than Darryl Lee seemed to care about his relationship with him.

  For the sake of everyone involved, Bobby Jack hoped that Darryl Lee hadn’t decided to rekindle his old flame with Grier. He had a damn good marriage with Dreama, if he could only open his fool eyes and see it. They had three beautiful boys, and Dreama had made a good home for them.

  There had been a time when Bobby Jack would have given anything if Priscilla could have been like her, determined to make a home for him and their daughter, stitched together a life that made sense for all of them and not just for herself. But she hadn’t. And Darryl Lee didn’t. And that was that. There wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  He wasn’t going to do a single thing but mind his own business.

  It is impossibly difficult to be a teenager in today’s world. We are pitched fast food ads on one TV channel while the very next one lifts up stick figure women as the ideal to aspire to. It’s hard to know what to do with that as an adult – how is a teenage girl supposed to reconcile the two?

  Grier – Blog at Jane Austen Girl

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  By eleven o’clock that morning, Grier had long begun to wonder what she’d been thinking to take on the crazy task of picking one single girl from this hopeful sea of teenagers on the basis of a few skimpy interviews, an essay, and their ability to throw a dinner party. What girl in this day and age, at sixteen, would know how to throw a dinner party?

  Since arriving at the Inn this morning, she’d reached for her cell phone no less than six times with the intent of calling her network contact and cancelling the whole thing. It was only the ensuing vision of her sure to be tattered career that had stopped her.

  It had seemed like such a great opportunity in the beginning, a chance to get her business out in front of potentially millions of people via the reality TV show special. A chance to prove that she could come back home and no longer feel the wounds of her life here. But now it seemed like the proverbial apple in the Garden of Eden, and she wished she had never taken that first bite.

  They had narrowed the selection to twelve, among which Andy Randall was one. The relief in her eyes when Grier called out the names was so palpable that Grier could not even begin to let herself think what would happen if it came to the point where she was cut. Grier would not have the final say among the last six. Two network executives would be flying in to take part in the last round of judging.

  While she had initially not really cared to share that last part of the decision-making, Grier was now exceptionally glad of it.

  The session ended at one, and Grier felt a gigantic sense of relief for a reprieve from the pressure. The clutch of girls who remained in the room was as buoyant as a flock of goslings on choppy water. They had survived the most recent storm and lived to tell about it. Grier tried to be happy for them and not dwell on the other group of girls who had trooped dejectedly from the room just minutes earlier.

  “Wow, that was intense.”

  Grier looked up from the front table where she was still sitting to find Andy smiling a sympathetic smile.

  “Yeah,” Grier said. “Really.”

  “I don’t envy your job.”

  “Kinda wondering why I took it,” Grier said. “I don’t think I realized I would have to break so many hearts.”

  “Not everyone can win. Hope I can remember that in a couple of days.”

  Grier didn’t really know what to say to that, so she just smiled back.

  “What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Andy asked.

  “I don’t really know,” Grier said. “Thought I might revisit a few old haunts.”

  “I’d be happy to take you around, show you some of the new stuff,” Andy said hopefully.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Andy,” Grier said.

  “No, really, I’d love to.”

  “Are you sure your dad would—”

  “He wouldn’t care any.”

  Grier wondered at the accuracy of that, but she wasn’t looking forward to spending the rest of the day alone anyway. “If you’re sure,” she said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do you have clothes to change into?”

  “Yeah, in my backpack.”

  “Why don’t I just run up and change into jeans, and I’ll meet you back at the front desk?”

  “Okay,” Andy said.

  It didn’t occur to Grier until she started up the stairs to her room what others involved in the contest might wonder about her spending time with Andy. The more she thought about it, the less wise it seemed. Granted, when it came to the final decision, she would only be one vote. She thought her own professionalism would lead her to make what she truly considered to be the best choice based on the parameters she had been given. That didn’t mean anyone else would agree with that.

  By the time she’d changed and headed back to the front desk with Sebbie in tow, she’d decided to explain all of this to Andy in the hope that she would understand the potential conflict of interest. But when she saw Andy standing by the front desk with a look of anticipation and excitement so clearly etched on her face, Grier didn’t have the heart to change the plan.

  “Hey,” Andy said.

  “Hey,” Grier said. “Andy, meet Sebbie. Sebbie meet Andy.”

  “Hey, Sebbie,” Andy said, squatting and giving him a two-finger rub under the chin.

  Grier liked her all the more for that, since most people patted him on the head, which he hated.

  “Aren’t you the cutest thing?” Andy said.

  “Oh, no doubt he thinks so,” Grier agreed.

  Sebbie wagged his tail.

  They walked out to Grier’s BMW, newly replenished with oil and returned earlier by Marty from the tow shop. She clicked the remote, opened the door and pushed the button to roll back the convertible top.

  She picked Sebbie up and set him in the front seat. “Okay if he rides on your lap?”

  “Sure,” Andy said, clearly thrilled. “You have the coolest car!”

  “Thanks,” Grier said, “You up for some lunch?”

  “I’m starving.”

  “What’s your recommendation?”

  “Good local food?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, you can’t beat Sullivan’s out on Arrowhead Point.”

  “Is Sullivan’s still there?” Grier asked, surprised.

  “It is.”

  “Was it there when you were growing up?”

  “Sure was.”

  They drove out of town and headed down one of the quieter county roads to Arrowhead Point. As far as the lake was concerned, it had been one of Grier’s favorite places to go when she had been a girl, and an opportunity had arisen, like a church youth group trip. The place had a beach where anyone could come and hang out, and the restaurant sat right on the water with a clear view of passing skiers and fishing boats.

  “There’s music on the iPod,” Grier said. “Pick something.”

  Andy scrolled through the song list and punched play. “I can’t believe you like country,” she said.

  Grier smiled. “Oh, yeah. From way back.”

  The song was just right for a sunny day cruising for the lake with the top down. It was something Grier almost never did. City life didn’t exactly allow for it often.

  Sebbie sat on Andy’s lap with his paws on the doorframe and his face pointed joyfully into the wind.

  They were silent until they reached the entrance to Arrowhead Point. Grier lower
ed the volume as they rolled down the short gravel drive to the back of the restaurant where a line of pickups and cars sat parked in the nearly full lot.

  Andy stared hard at one particular truck and then said, “Maybe we ought to go somewhere else.”

  Grier glanced at the truck’s logo, realizing that it was Bobby Jack’s. “Will he mind you being here with me?”

  “No, it’s not that. We just had kind of a little fight this morning.”

  “Ah,” Grier said. “I was looking forward to one of those grilled cheese sandwiches—”

  “We can still go,” Andy said, getting out and helping Sebbie from the car. “It’s not a problem.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  They walked inside then, and Grier asked the hostess if it would be all right to bring Sebbie in if they ate outside.

  The young girl smiled and said, “Sure thing,” picking up two menus and leading the way through the restaurant.

  Most of the tables were still full, the deck less so, maybe because of the warmth of the day. Grier saw him immediately from the corner of her eye, awareness shooting through her like sugar-tipped needles, sweet and ill-advised. She was just beginning to wish she’d gone along with Andy’s suggestion that they go elsewhere when one of the men at Bobby Jack’s table called out, “Hey, Andy! What are you doing out here?”

  Forced then to look their way, Grier planted a smile on her face and followed Andy to the table where the men sat.

  “Hey, Daddy,” Andy said.

  “Hey, punkin. Grier,” Bobby Jack said. “Y’all finish up early?”

  “We did,” Grier said. “Andy offered to tour me around for a bit.”

  Bobby Jack nodded once, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Well, she sure knows the county,” one of the men said. “The lake at least. She’s helped build enough houses out here.”

  Andy immediately looked embarrassed. “That’s not true.”

  “You know it is,” he disagreed. “I’m expectin’ you to take over your daddy’s business one day.”

  Andy shook her head and said, “Hardly.”

  Grier didn’t miss the immediate hurt that flashed across Bobby Jack’s face or the way he stood quickly, dropped some money on the table, and said, “Boys, we better get on back to work.”

  “Yeah, that house ain’t gonna build itself, is it?” the man said, looking at Andy with disapproval.

  Andy looked down, as if she might have regretted her harsh reply.

  “Y’all enjoy your lunch,” Bobby Jack said and walked off without another word.

  Grier saw Andy look after him, start to call him back, and then just as quickly press her lips shut.

  The other men followed Bobby Jack’s path, a couple of them murmuring, “See ya, Andy,” the others ignoring her.

  Grier and Andy sat down at their own table then, leafing through the menu in silence.

  “Sorry about that,” Andy said. “He just makes me so mad sometimes.”

  “Well, if you were looking to hurt him, I think it worked,” Grier said.

  “That’s not what I want to do. It’s just—”

  “Hey, I know. It’s not easy being a teenager. Might want to think about the fact that it’s probably not all that easy for him either. Your being one, I mean.”

  “I know.” Silence and then, “Did you fight with your parents when you were a teenager?”

  “I never knew my dad. And my mom and I didn’t really argue. She was kind of—” Grier hesitated and then said, “Caught up in other things.”

  “Her work and stuff?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What then? I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay. She drank. A lot.”

  “Oh,” Andy said. “Is that why things seemed weird between you yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “I talked to her for a few minutes. She seemed like a nice lady,” Andy said and then pressed her lips together as if she thought that might not be what Grier wanted to hear.

  “Except for when I was very young, I never really knew her like that. Without the alcohol, I mean.”

  “That’s awful,” Andy said.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  The waitress came then and asked for their order.

  Grier went for the grilled cheese, adding on impulse a Dr. Pepper. It was what she’d always gotten here as a teenager. And it seemed like a day to relive a little bit of that.

  “I’ll have the exact same,” Andy said, and they smiled at each other, partners in corruption.

  “Do you ever miss her?” Andy asked once the waitress had gone to get their drinks.

  “I don’t really know how to answer that,” Grier said. “I guess I miss what might have been. But no, I’ve never missed the way our life was when I left.”

  “I’m sorry,” Andy said.

  “Don’t be. I just did what I thought I had to do.”

  “She didn’t look too well,” Andy said. “Yesterday at the Inn.”

  The words made Grier’s heart flutter a little, and she realized she hadn’t allowed herself to look at her mother long enough to notice much more than her obvious aging. How sad was it that this girl, whom Grier had just met, knew more about her mother than she did?

  “I could find out more if you wanted me to,” Andy said.

  “No,” Grier said, her voice sharper than she’d intended, and then, a softer, “That’s okay.”

  The waitress arrived with their Dr. Peppers. Grier thanked her, stuck a straw in her glass and took a long sip.

  “How long has it been since you had a Dr. Pepper?” Andy asked, as if she felt the need to lighten the atmosphere.

  Grier couldn’t even remember, but the sweet taste somehow mingled with memories of being here with other kids when she’d been Andy’s age, laughing about silly things. It suddenly hit her then that she had allowed the bad things in her life to color the entire picture, so that she had not let herself remember the good.

  Sitting across from a young girl who looked at her as if she had answers to important things, Grier wanted to tell her that she didn’t have answers to anything. Anything she thought she might have figured out over the years now seemed questionable at best.

  “I’m sorry for bringing all this up,” Andy said, taking another sip of her drink.

  “Don’t be,” Grier said. “It’s not your fault. What happened, happened, and none of it is erasable.”

  “If you decide you want to see her, while you’re here, I could—”

  “I won’t, Andy. I can’t.”

  “Okay,” Andy said. She changed the subject, and from then on, they didn’t talk about anything personal at all. Andy told Grier about how much the lake had grown up in the last ten years, how many houses her daddy had built, to the point, really, where he worked way more than he even wanted to.

  “I’d love to see some of the ones he’s built,” Grier said.

  “Maybe when we leave here, we could drive by a few.”

  “That would be great.”

  They ate their grilled cheese and French fries with equal enthusiasm, and it wasn’t until they’d finished that Grier said, “I don’t even want to think about how many miles I’m going to have to run to make up for that.”

  “You look awesome. You don’t have to make up for anything.”

  “Hah,” Grier said. “I will if I eat like that very often.”

  “Guess you don’t want to split a sundae then?” Andy said, teasing.

  “I don’t have an inch of room,” Grier said.

  “Me, either, actually,” Andy agreed.

  They left the restaurant and drove around for an hour or so, Andy proudly pointing out house after house that her dad had built over the past several years. They were impressive to say the least, styles varying from Cape Cod to English Tudor to Old World French. The one ingredient they had in common was size. They were enormous, ten thousand square feet plus. Grier
marveled that such wealth had found its way to rural Timbell Creek.

  “Your dad does incredible work,” she said.

  “He’s pretty smart,” Andy agreed. “He gets on my nerves a lot, but he always tries to be there for me.”

  “You can’t ask for much more than that,” Grier said.

  “He could let up on my curfew.”

  They both laughed then, and Grier pointed the car back toward town.

  They finished the drive mostly in silence, the music blaring, Sebbie snuggled up asleep now on Andy’s lap. Grier wondered how the two of them had gotten so comfortable with each other so fast.

  When they pulled up at the Inn where Andy had left her truck, Grier turned the music off and said, “Thank you for that. I really enjoyed it.”

  “Me, too,” Andy said, looking as if she wanted to say more, but bending down to give Sebbie a kiss on the head. “Later, sugar.”

  Sebbie sat on the seat and wagged his tail, clearly sad to see her go.

  I don’t want to be bitter. I just want to forget.

  Grier – at twenty-five to the first therapist she allowed herself to be honest with

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Grier remembered the Sunset Years Retirement Home as a place where old people sat on the front porch in rocking chairs, looking as if they had nothing left to do in this life but wait for the end. Growing up, she’d driven by with her mother nearly every morning on the way to school. She actually remembered asking once why people had to end up at a place like that, and her mother had said, “Well, I suppose it’s when they don’t have any place else to go.”

  The memory of that answer arrived with a stab of guilt sharp enough to bring an ache to Grier’s midsection. If her mother really was living there now, and she supposed it was true, was that the point she had reached? No place else to go?

  The straight county road gave way to curves and hills, the asphalt narrowing in this more rural section of Timbell Creek. Grier drove without letting herself think about what she would do when she arrived at the home, telling herself she just needed to see it.