Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma

by Debra White Smith

  “Yes. After this party,” Franklyn repeated.

  “I . . . well, I’m probably going to have to do some cleaning up,” she said and hoped Franklyn understood she was sincere and not trying to get out of a date. She gazed across the reception room. The trash can was overflowing. Crumbs dotted the carpet. And whatever the caterers left would have to be refrigerated. Normally Amanda relied on Betty Cates to take care of party cleanups. But the etiquette of a big-hearted woman wouldn’t dream of allowing Betty to clean up after her niece’s party. It was unthinkable.

  Amanda’s attention shifted to Nate. Even though he was still talking with Janet, his gaze skipped toward Amanda, then Franklyn. And Amanda received the vague impression that Nate wasn’t happy about something specifically to do with her. Confused, Amanda tried to focus on what Franklyn was saying but somehow missed the whole gist.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was sizing up the mess and missed what you were saying.”

  “I was going to ask you out for coffee or a late movie or something, but since you’ve got all this, I thought maybe you could use some help,” Franklyn repeated.

  Amanda, stricken with his warmth and willingness, silently gaped at him.

  “As in me,” he added, and leaned toward her. “I’m offering to help.”

  “Absolutely. That’s superb!” Amanda replied. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  “It’s the least I can do since you’ve agreed to paint my father’s and my portrait. I’m sure your work will become our family heirloom.”

  “Maybe you should wait before you jump to any rash conclusions.” Amanda patted Matt’s back and eyed the baby’s rapt expression.

  “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about your art . . . and you,” Franklyn added. “My stepmother has so praised you, I fully expected a halo.” He examined the top of her head. “And I do believe I see one.”

  “You do know how to flatter a woman, don’t you?” Amanda asked and didn’t bother to hide that she was shamelessly enjoying the flirtation.

  “Who said this was flattery?” Franklyn parried.

  Amanda looked down and couldn’t deny the quiver in her stomach. While she’d expected Wayne’s son to be terribly good-looking and suave, she’d never expected to be met with such silver-tongued, blatant charm. And never had Amanda enjoyed it so much. Franklyn was everything Angie said he was and more.

  Baby Matt squealed and slapped the fish tank. The lion fish jerked as if it had been zapped with an electric shock.

  “Oh no!” Amanda shifted Matt out of reach of the glass. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “That can’t be good for the fish,” Franklyn said.

  “It’s not,” Amanda said. “The man who helps me maintain the tank says the fish can kill themselves running into the glass, and just tapping on the tank can make them sick.”

  Matt gurgled in fish talk again and pointed at the eel that slithered along the tank’s bottom while the lion fish retired to the other end of the tank, toward Franklyn, where life was less eventful.

  “There you are old boy,” Franklyn crooned at the fish. “I certainly know how you feel. I wasn’t expecting to be hit tonight, either,” he said and slid a wink toward Amanda.

  Thirteen

  Several weeks later, Amanda sprinkled the food flakes into the aquarium and watched as the brightly colored fish devoured their meal. Streaks of blue and red and orange zipped through the tank as the fish darted to fill their tummies. The pump’s gurgling cheered them on.

  The lion fish continued to fascinate Amanda the most with his tawny and white stripes and plethora of fins. She watched the king of the tank gracefully float to the top, gobble some flakes, and move to the next patch of food.

  She dropped another pinch of food into the water and rubbed her fingers together. They now smelled like shrimp, and Amanda made plans to wash her hands as usual. Despite the urge to feed the fish another big pinch of food, she put the lid back on the flake canister. The expert who serviced her tank warned against overfeeding her finned pets.

  She touched Baby Matt’s fingerprints, still smudging the tank’s glass. Amanda had told Betty Cates not to clean off the infant’s marks. They were a perpetual reminder of his sweet presence and his aunt’s doting admiration. The smudges also continually connected Amanda to the memory of the man who was standing beside her when Matt was touching the tank. That night had proven to be the beginning of a budding relationship with Franklyn West.

  The sigh of the agency’s front door prompted her to turn around and investigate.

  “Flowers for Miss Priebe?” a young man called from the entryway as he walked toward the agency’s lobby.

  “Yes, I’m Amanda Priebe,” she affirmed. Amanda set the fish food in the opened cabinet over the tank and hurried from the aquarium.

  “Good.” The dark-skinned man held a huge bouquet of red roses in one hand and a corsage box in the other. “Looks like somebody wants to wish you a merry Christmas,” he said with a broad smile.

  “I guess so!” Amanda exclaimed and accepted the offerings. “Thanks so much,” she called as the man hurried back into the warm sunshine as quickly as he’d arrived.

  Amanda moved near the enormous Christmas tree in the room’s corner and made use of the row of straight-backed chairs lining the wall. She set both the corsage box and the bouquet on the chairs and knelt beside them. The smell of roses blotted out the whiff of fish food on her fingers as Amanda fumbled with the card that read “Wood-Priebe International.”

  Secretly she hoped the bouquet was from Franklyn. Over the last month they had become very pleasant friends, to say the least. Franklyn had never said a word about romance or even tried to hold her hand, but he’d been her companion for many lunch dates and had even sat with her in church. He also remained more complimentary than any man Amanda had ever known.

  As she’d promised, Amanda had painted a portrait of him and Wayne and allowed Haley to offer more than her share of input. Given all the time she’d spent with him, Amanda was as close as she’d ever been to forming a romantic attachment, and the prospect was growing more appealing by the day.

  At last she withdrew the card from the tiny envelope and eagerly read the message: “All my love, Mason Eldridge.”

  “Mason?” Amanda exclaimed.

  She reached for the corsage box, ripped out the card, and read the same inscription. Squinting, Amanda read the envelopes again and affirmed they said Wood-Priebe International. There was no person’s name, although the delivery man had specifically asked for her. Amanda stood.

  The memory of Nate’s suppositions left her face cold. “Mason Eldridge doesn’t have one thought for Haley Schmitz. . . . Mark my word, it’s not Haley he’s after. It’s you!”

  “No,” Amanda whispered. “It can’t be.” Lowering herself onto a chair, she stared at the card. Nate can’t be right. I won’t let him . . . because he’s not right!

  “There’s been some mistake,” she whispered and fingered the textured linen paper.

  Last night, Amanda had sent an email to Mason, telling him Haley would not be at the church Christmas party tonight due to a dreadful upper respiratory infection. The doctor had put her to bed yesterday and said Haley would probably be in bed several more days.

  When Mason hadn’t responded to the email or even called Haley, Amanda had been a bit offended. Of course, she’d not allowed Haley to detect her irritation when she went by her flat this morning and played nurse. Nevertheless, she’d been on the verge of thinking Mason self-centered and insensitive.

  Suddenly the truth broke through to Amanda. These flowers aren’t for me! They’re for Haley! She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead and leaned back. “Of course!” Amanda reexamined the envelope and affirmed that her name was not to be found—only Wood-Priebe International. It all made perfect sense now. Mason wanted her to give the flowers to Haley. This was his response to her email.

  Amanda checked her watch a
nd decided lunch was close enough for her to take her break. She’d promised Haley she’d come back to her apartment and make some chicken soup at noon. But Amanda would be offering much more than chicken soup. Smiling, she buried her face in the roses, relishing their velvety softness and delightful smell.

  Haley’s head had never hurt so bad. While she’d experienced upper respiratory infections in her days, she’d never felt like the whole back of her head was exploding. The doctor mentioned that the infection was also in her sinuses. Her eyes half closed, Haley stirred in bed, moaned, and thought about getting up and watching TV for a while. But she just couldn’t get her body to cooperate.

  Her eyes stinging had nothing to do with the December sun erupting upon the room and everything to do with the lump in her throat. Amanda told her she would email Mason with the news of her illness last night. This morning Amanda confirmed that she had sent the message, but so far he hadn’t even phoned.

  Haley eyed the silent phone sitting on the nightstand near the digital clock. Amanda made certain the phone was within reach before she left. But the effort was wasted. No one had called. No one.

  Roger would have already called. Last spring when Haley sprained her ankle, Roger arrived within two hours of her call. He’d had his sister, Esther, with him. After fussing around Haley like a doting grandfather, he’d left Esther with Haley all night and gotten a nearby hotel room for himself.

  Haley sighed and wiped at the tear seeping from the corner of her eye. She sat on the side of the bed and reached for the unscented hand lotion Amanda brought to her last night. Upon slathering on a layer of the cream, Haley replaced the tube and picked up her bottle of antibiotics. She read the blurry label and comprehended something about every four hours. After trying to remember the last time she’d taken the medication, Haley decided she ought to down another.

  Amanda had also left a tray with a pitcher of water on the nightstand. Haley poured a cupful of water and swallowed her antibiotic. It stuck at the back of her throat, then slipped down in the river of cool liquid. With another sigh, Haley stood and planned to hobble toward the restroom when the doorbell chimed.

  She glanced at the clock to see the noon hour near. Probably Amanda, she thought. She’ll let herself in. Amanda had promised she’d be back to make Haley eat chicken soup. The very thought left her queasy. Her head’s severe pounding supported her stomach’s complaint.

  Haley was inching closer to the restroom when Amanda’s cheerful voice erupted against her hurting brain.

  “How are we doing this afternoon?” she called.

  Leaning against the wall, Haley groaned. “Why does she have to talk so loud?”

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Amanda called in a singsong voice.

  Haley lolled her head against the wall, clutched at her cotton nightshirt, and slid a glance toward the hall’s entry.

  Amanda appeared with a massive bouquet of roses. And all Haley could conjure for an expression was a slight twitch of her brows.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she breathed.

  “Oh, but I didn’t!” Amanda exclaimed and bounded forward. “Mason did! They’re from Mason especially for you! ‘All my love, Mason,’” she said. “That’s exactly what the cards say. Look!” She held up a box. “There’s a corsage, too.”

  Haley couldn’t stop the pool of tears trickling down her cheeks. “He remembered me,” she whimpered.

  “Of course he did, sweetie!” Amanda crooned. “Oh Haley, don’t cry.”

  She sniffled, and her sinuses hurt all the more. “It’s just that—that I thought he didn’t even care.”

  “He cares! Look! I’ll show you!” Haley pivoted and watched Amanda as she hurried into the bedroom, placed the roses and corsage on the dresser, and removed the cards from the envelopes. “See!” Amanda hurried back to Haley’s side and lifted the cards to her face. “’All my love, Mason,’” she read.

  Haley grasped the cards and held them to her heart. “He loves me,” she cried.

  “Of course he does!” She wrapped her arms around Haley and patted her back.

  Trembling, Haley rested her head on Amanda’s shoulder and couldn’t ever remember feeling so weak. “I wish so b–b–bad I could go to the—to the party tonight,” she rasped. “I want to see Angie’s new house. And Mason might—might even k–k–kiss me!”

  Amanda’s hug tightened. “Haley, I’m so sorry you’re sick. It’s just awful!”

  “I feel awful, too,” Haley croaked. The smell of Amanda’s jasmine perfume made her nose sting.

  “Of course you do!” Amanda crooned. “Go on and get back into bed. I’ll pin the corsage on you. It will make you feel all better. Then I’ll fix you a nice big bowl of chicken soup.”

  “Okay, but I’ve got to go to the restroom first,” Haley said and pulled away. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time.” Amanda patted her back again and said, “I’ll go fluff up your pillows. Do you want me to fix you some juice or anything to drink while the soup is warming?”

  “Yes.” Haley frowned and tried to remember the juice she wanted. “The kind that’s orange,” she finally said.

  Fourteen

  Amanda strode up the steps of Angie’s new home. Her father had dubbed it a mansion, and Amanda hadn’t argued with him. Neither had anyone else in town. The enormous, two-story home featured the latest in architectural design and had been the talk of the town for months. Sitting on the edge of Highland, the brick home appeared to hover over the neighborhood like a sentinel forever guarding the city’s entrance.

  She couldn’t have been happier for her former governess. Angie deserved everything she got and then some. She had sacrificed her youth to be at Amanda’s side. Now that she was in her midforties and Amanda was all grown up, she warranted God’s every blessing.

  Balancing two platters of goodies along with her red purse, Amanda paused on the porch and debated how she was going to ring the doorbell. She examined the platter of cookies and tray full of candies. She’d gone to the deli and bought the best-looking cookies and candy they had, then placed them on decorative dishes. Maybe somebody would think she actually made them from scratch, but that would be her little secret.

  The summer sun, sinking toward the western horizon, produced beads of perspiration along her neck. Amanda had taken extra care with her appearance tonight, but she still wondered if she wore way too much red for her hair color. On top of being a redhead in red, the last thing Amanda needed was going into the party profusely sweating.

  Finally she decided to set the platter of cookies on the wrought-iron porch table. Then she was able to push the doorbell. A man wearing a black suit and a long face opened the door.

  Amanda started to smile at Joe but decided not to waste the effort. She realized months ago Angie’s doorman was born smileless. “Do you mind taking one of these platters?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” Joe said, his saggy mouth never losing the droop.

  “I’ll take them both and place them with the other food. There’s enough in there to feed all of Highland. I can’t imagine anyone bringing more.” He peered past Amanda.

  She turned to examine the car-lined curb. A Hummer purred past the house but didn’t stop. Amanda figured she was the last guest. She’d stopped by Haley’s on the way here and was fifteen minutes late. The visit had done Haley good. She’d even wrote Mason a thank-you note, and Amanda was now anxious to deliver it. She had planned on Mason being closer to proposing by now and began to hope for a fall proposal and wedding in early winter.

  “I guess I’m the last one here,” Amanda stated as she stepped past Joe and into the chandeliered entryway.

  He nodded and walked ahead of her toward a bright room filled with the drone of voices, laughter, and music. Amanda maneuvered the marble entryway in her new shoes and wondered at the wisdom in wearing three-and-a-half-inch heels on the glasslike surface. By the time she reached the carpeted party room, Amanda feared she wa
s going to act like Haley and twist her ankle.

  Thoughts of Haley brought to mind her special note once more. As Amanda scanned the crowd, she checked the outside pocket of her evening bag. When her index finger touched the corner, deep in the pocket, she was assured the note was still in place.

  Tonight’s Christmas party consisted of the Young Adult Bible Study class taught by Angie and Wayne. Already the room was full of people in the twenty- to forty-year-old range, all dressed in their Christmas finest. The smell of warm apple cider mingled with the aroma of fresh-baked goodies and reminded Amanda she’d eaten nothing but a bowl of chicken noodle soup for lunch.

  “There you are, Amanda!” Mason’s exuberant voice floated from her right.

  She paused and turned a smile his way.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever get here,” he said as his eyes widened. “Wow! You look great!”

  “Thanks,” Amanda said and looked down the length of her brick-red dress. “I wondered if this was all too much with my hair. I was afraid I looked like a big candy cane.”

  “No way!” Mason said, his blue eyes a bit too warm for a man whose girlfriend was sick in bed.

  “Did you get the corsage and flowers?” he asked and glanced toward her shoulder.

  “Oh yes! Yes, we got them. I took them to Haley today at noon. She was so thrilled.”

  “Oh, really? That was nice of you,” Mason said and tilted his head to the right for an odd staring session.

  Fully expecting Mason to ask about Haley, Amanda paused to allow him that opportunity while she reached into her purse for the note.

  “Did you bring the candy and cookies I saw Joe carrying in?” Mason asked.

  “Yes,” Amanda replied while scrounging for the note.

  “So not only are you beautiful, you’re also a chef!” Mason cheered.

  “No,” Amanda vigorously shook her head, “not by any means. I bought those things at the deli.” She pointed at Joe as he entered the service bar area. Then she resumed the note pursuit.