“Oh, Miss Amanda! There you are!” Betty’s shrill voice ricocheted off the spacious entryway.
Amanda hunched her shoulders, darted a glance toward the party room, and stopped herself from hissing, Sssshhhh!
“Hello, Betty,” she said instead and peered toward the party, then back at Betty. She’d chatted with dear Betty only once in the food line but hadn’t crossed her path since.
Who could I talk to with Mason in my hair all night? she thought. Amanda hadn’t been able to say a word to Franklyn without Mason barging into the conversation.
The one conversation she’d shared with the housekeeper had involved Betty’s apology for crashing the Young Adult Christmas party. But Amanda had assured her no one minded. Betty said she’d come for Janet’s sake.
“Do you remember I mentioned a little secret I’d share with you later?” Betty whispered and rubbed her palms along the front of her cotton dress as if it were her cleaning smock.
While Amanda nodded, she noticed a smear of hot pink lipstick near Betty’s nose. Unfortunately, the shade was wrong for Betty’s orange dress, her thin lips, and her pudgy nose.
“Well, here’s the secret,” Betty whispered. “Someone has sent Janet a baby grand piano for Christmas!”
“What?” Amanda gaped.
“Yes!” Betty pumped her head up and down. “Believe me! It’s the truth, Amanda! It’s sitting in my living room as we speak. And get this!” She grabbed Amanda’s arm, looked from side to side, then lowered her voice even more. “It’s from her secret admirer!”
Amanda attacked her gum like a starving woman devouring her first meal in weeks. “Her secret admirer?” she repeated. Her eyes wide, she began a mental search for a man who’d do such a thing.
He’d have to be rich, that’s for sure, Amanda thought. “Baby grands cost thousands.”
“Tell me about it!” Betty crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip like the prime authority on all Janet’s business.
“Does she have an admirer in Queenstown?”
“She says she doesn’t, but Janet is so infernally modest.” Betty shook her head. “If it’s not someone in Queenstown, I’ve decided it has to be someone she’s just met. Maybe he’s even here tonight,” she hissed and pointed toward the party room.
In Amanda’s mind, Nate Knighton had to be the primary candidate. He’d been talking to Janet when she arrived, and he sat by her during the performances. He spent most of Janet’s party with her, and he’d told Amanda he thought Janet was pretty the first time he met her.
Amanda chomped on the gum with a vengeance. Her heart thumped as ferociously as her jaws worked. She imagined Nate and Janet standing at an altar while a solemn minister recited the “I dos,” “I wills” and the “duly, doethlys.”
“This is just awful,” Amanda breathed and clutched her purse with the grip of a woman losing her life . . . or a friend who’d been there for life.
“Why is it so awful?” Betty squinted.
“Oh, I mean, uh, I . . . uh . . . did I say awful?” she said and blinked so rapidly she hoped she convinced Betty of something—anything but “awful.” “I guess I should have said mysterious, shouldn’t I?”
“That’s what I think.” Betty shifted her weight. “It’s mysterious and so romantic!” She looked toward the ceiling and sighed in melodramatic theatrics that could have won an Oscar.
“Would you look at that chandelier?” Betty gasped. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
Amanda glanced toward the ceiling and noted the brass-and-crystal fixture that she’d helped Angie pick out. The piece truly was a masterpiece.
“There you are, Amanda!” Mason’s whiny voice interrupted the chandelier moment, and Amanda nearly jumped.
Oh no! she thought. Not the leech again!
Mason hurried across the foyer and stopped within inches of Amanda. He placed his arm around her waist and looked at Betty as if she were an interloper.
“Amanda and I were just going out on the deck,” he hinted. “Angie says it’s gorgeous out there, especially in the moonlight.”
“Oh,” Betty said, her pink lips remaining in the O shape. And Amanda couldn’t imagine what her lifelong friend must be thinking.
She stepped out of the minister’s reach and said, “Mason, I don’t think I can stay any long—”
“Of course you can,” he insisted and propelled her across the entryway to a hall door she knew led to a massive deck overlooking a landscaped yard.
Amanda, feeling like a cruise ship being bullied by a tugboat, tried to resist but grappled with keeping her balance on the stilts posing as shoes. Mason flung open the door and urged Amanda forward. Before the door snapped shut, she shot a panicked glance over her shoulder. Betty gaped after Amanda, her bugged eyes magnified threefold by her thick glasses.
Seventeen
Amanda stumbled onto the deserted deck with Mason pulling her hand. “Please, Mason,” she panted as the balmy air swathed her. “I really need to go. Haley’s waiting on me. She’s sick, remember?”
“Who can think of Haley at a time like this?” Mason declared. “I’ve got something that needs to be said. I’ve decided to tell you how I feel.”
“How you feel?” The smell of earth and ferns reminded Amanda of the relaxing evenings she’d spent chatting with Angie near the heated pool. This visit was anything but relaxing.
“Yes, I’ve got to say it or I’ll burst. Besides, with the likes of that Franklyn barging in . . .” He nudged her toward a shadowed alcove near the pool, but Amanda refused to budge another inch.
I’m bigger than he is, she thought. Why am I letting him drag me around?
Mason grabbed both her hands and said, “Amanda, surely you know what I’m thinking?”
She silently shook her head from side to side. “Mason, I—”
“You’ve got to know that I’ve been crazy about you ever since our date at O’Brien’s.”
“Our date?” She tried to extract her fingers from his sweating paws.
He tightened his grip. “Of course! You asked me out!”
“No!” Amanda jerked her hands from his and stumbled backward. “No!” she repeated. “I asked you to meet Haley.”
“Ah, come on, babe.” His eyes heavy, Mason closed in. “You know you asked for you.”
“No, I didn’t!” Amanda yelped and promptly swallowed her mint gum. “I invited you for Haley,” she said and hacked against the wad slithering down her throat. “I thought you liked Haley!”
“Haley? Who’s she?” He waved away the very thought of her.
“She’s my best friend!” Amanda stomped her foot. “And I refuse to allow you to two-time her!”
“Two-time her?” Mason laughed and reached for her waist.
Amanda scurried back another few feet.
“I barely even know what she looks like. It’s you I’m all about.”
“But—but—but—” Amanda stumbled into a wrought-iron chair and plopped on the cold metal. The legs squeaked on the wooden deck as her body crashed against the chair’s back. Her purse plopped at her feet.
“I’m so about you. . . . I’m here to ask you to marry me.” He bent on one knee and earnestly gazed into her eyes.
“Mason!” Amanda gasped. “We barely know each other.”
“I know enough to know you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with!”
“But I’m nearly twice your size,” Amanda babbled. “Haley is so much more suited for—”
“That prawn?” he scoffed. “No! I like my women bigger than dreams, like you!” Mason stood, placed his hands on either side of the chair, and inched toward her face.
“Mason, no!” Amanda said and shoved against his chest. He was amazingly strong, and her resistance did little to stop his progress toward the kiss.
“I’ve got to kiss you, Amanda, or I’ll explode,” he mumbled, his gazed fixed on the object of his words.
“No!” Amanda
gritted her teeth and shoved with all her might.
Mason’s face contorted. He yowled, jerked backward, and grabbed at his shoulder.
Amanda, shocked that her effort had reaped such results, scrambled to her feet—only to notice Nate Knighton towering behind Mason. Furthermore, Nate’s fingers were biting into Mason’s shoulder with enough pressure to make even Amanda wince.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mason hollered and jerked away from Nate.
“I’m protecting the lady,” Nate growled.
“Nate!” Amanda panted. “How long have you been out here?”
“If you’re wondering if I heard everything, the answer is yes,” Nate replied and glowered at Mason. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“I’m not leaving!” Mason retorted, his face darkening.
“Amanda?” His features accented by the deck’s lighting, Nate silently encouraged her to make Mason’s departure imminent.
“Mason, I . . .” Amanda shook her head. “There’s been a terrible, terrible misunderstanding.” She rubbed her temple. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you in any way, but understand me when I tell you I had no idea you were even remotely interested in me. I thought you were all for Haley.”
Amanda lowered her hand and helplessly gazed down at the minister. “If I’d known, I would have—”
“I thought you knew when you finished the portrait,” he defended. “I wanted to take it home because it was your art, remember?”
“We thought you took it because it was of Haley,” Amanda explained.
“No, it was because you painted it!” His voice rose, and the shadows intensified his stricken expression. “And how could you not know how I feel after the flowers?” he accused.
“I thought you meant them for Haley.” Amanda’s voice had never sounded so tiny; neither had she ever felt so small, so naïve. Nate had been right, and she’d scoffed his every warning.
“And Haley thought . . .” His eyes widened.
“Yes.”
“And the same about the portrait?” Mason prompted.
“Yes.”
“How could you do this to me?” he demanded.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” Amanda squawked. “I was just trying to find someone for Haley.”
Nate’s deep laughed echoed across the backyard.
Mason stiffened and glowered at Nate. While the seconds stretched, he began to visibly tremble.
As if he were bent upon doing what he shouldn’t, Nate laughed again. This time he had the decency to cover his face. “Oh man,” he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that—” He broke into another chortle.
Mason turned and stomped toward the door. He banged through it with the force of a man scorned.
Only the distant sounds of Highland’s traffic and the crickets remained. Amanda eyed Nate, who solemnly observed her, before bursting into a fit of uncontrolled laughing.
“This is not funny, Nate Knighton!” Amanda exclaimed and placed her hands on her hips.
“No, it’s hilarious!” Nate wheezed as he covered his eyes. “You should have seen your face when you came out here.”
“So you really were out here during the whole thing?”
“I told you I was.” Nate bit his bottom lip.
“Why didn’t you say anything then?”
“What could I say?” He lifted both hands.
“You eavesdropped on us!” Amanda accused.
“Well . . .”
“How dare you! That’s the rudest thing anybody could ever do!”
Nate laughed again. “You’re a fine one to say that.”
Amanda’s face warmed as her traitorous mind flashed through instance after instance of her eavesdropping. The final image involved Haley’s letter she’d just read. While that wasn’t technically classified as eavesdropping, she still partook of information Haley meant for someone else.
But it was for her good! Amanda argued and observed Nate.
For some unknown reason, she was reminded of his comments from the villa’s balcony—something about his being a man and not being one of her girlfriends. If he did have a mystery woman, then Amanda was sure that lady appreciated the way his brown eyes might make a lady remember she was all woman . . . or the way his trim physique fit so well in a suit . . . or his prominent brows that made him resemble a classic Greek statue.
“You know, Amanda,” Nate said. “You really shouldn’t try to play God. It’ll backfire on you every time.”
“Play God?” she repeated and tried to forget what the mystery woman might or might not appreciate about Nate. What she thought was really none of Amanda’s concern. “Whatever do you mean by that?” she asked and relived the last few months of vigorous matchmaking like a dying soul whose life is flashing before her.
But I repented! she defended. In the bathroom!
Then she thought of poor, poor Haley, who believed Mason Eldridge was in love with her. Amanda wanted to groan with the weight of responsibility. Her eyes stung in sympathy for the sweetest lady who ever lived. She was so innocent and so susceptible to manipulators like Mason. The longer Amanda thought about the whole wretched situation, the more her eyes stung and the greater her soul churned with the need to release the frustration.
Nate sighed and debated how to explain his comment without getting into the Roger–Haley issue all over again. The last time they’d talked about that romance, they’d argued. He rubbed the side of his nose and stared toward the pool, frosted in the moon’s radiance. The enchanted water seemed much more inviting than the heat of this conversation.
“I guess what I’m saying,” Nate finally drawled, “is that maybe you should let some relationships flow along and not, well, not try to, you know . . .” he shrugged, “uh . . . alter things.”
Amanda stared at him in wide-eyed appraisal, and Nate had no choice but to calmly stare back, despite the fact that his legs felt like gelatin. He’d thought Amanda was more beautiful than ever when she sat at the piano, but he hadn’t imagined the magic of a bright moon on a clear, Tasmanian night. Amanda’s hair glimmered as if it were alive with fairy dust. Her deep-red dress heightened the effect. And Nate couldn’t say that he blamed Mason for thinking he’d explode if he didn’t kiss her.
But even if Mason thought that, the cad didn’t have to act on it! Nate fumed.
He glanced away and grimaced. Nate had never been a fight-monger, not even as a child. But when other boys bullied him or hurt some weak, defenseless kid, he was ready with all his might. Tonight he’d been tempted to grab Mason by the hair and sling him into the pool’s deep end.
A cry erupted from Amanda, and Nate dashed a concerned glance back to her. Her shoulders hunched, she stepped toward the wrought-iron chair and dropped into it. Sniffling, Amanda picked up her purse and dug through it until she pulled out a package of tissue. She propped her elbow on the patio table, covered her eyes, and hiccoughed over another sob.
Nate’s heart dropped. He was having enough trouble exercising willpower without having Amanda crying on him. He hardly remembered seeing her weep and didn’t quite know how to handle the shocking experience.
What if she decides to cry on my shoulder? he stressed.
Despite all his worries, Nate was propelled to her side. And before he even registered what he was doing, he hovered over her, patted her back, and muttered several original platitudes such as, “There, there, Amanda.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to dooooo!” she wailed and covered her face with her hands. “I’ve made such a royal mess of everything! Poor Haley! Poor, poor Haley! There she is in—in—in bed, sicker than sick, thinking that—that—that Mason has sent her flowers!”
She threw the used tissue on the table and fumbled with the plastic wrapper in quest of another. Finally Nate relieved the wrapper of its misery, neatly extracted a tissue, and tucked it into her hand. She dabbed at her eyes and hiccoughed.
“Then you laughed at me!” she huffed.
Nate groaned and sat in the chair next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said and stroked her fairy-dust hair. “It’s just that, well, I . . . uh . . . I saw it all along. Then . . . oh well,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have laughed anyway, especially not after Mason tried to force himself on you. That made me mad, actually.” Nate resisted the urge to plunge his fingers deeper into her hair and relish the texture. Upon that resistance abounded the urge to bury his nose in her soft locks and drink of the heavenly scent she’d called jasmine. He lowered his hand instead.
Amanda lifted her face, rubbed at her eyes, and glanced toward him. “Thanks,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I guess he’s stronger than he looks.”
“Yeah.” Nate nodded and wished he could caress her cheeks.
“I really don’t think he’d have done anything but kiss me,” she said.
“Which is too much if you didn’t want him to.” Nate leaned away from her, told himself not to touch, and folded his arms. If he had to, he’d sit on his hands.
“I know.” Amanda sniffed and smiled weakly. “What have you been doing with yourself these days?” she asked and blotted her cheeks.
“Working. The Christmas rush is on, y’know.”
“Yes.” She glanced down, fidgeted with her tissue, and looked toward the pool. A stray tear wandered from the corner of her eye, and she dabbed at it with unsteady fingers.
“I’m sorry to get so emotional,” she quivered out. “But it’s just been a b–bad—a really bad—bad night.” She sucked in an unsteady breath.
“Yes, I know,” he assured.
Out of nowhere, Nate wondered what she’d say if he told her he loved her. Would that make you feel any better, Amanda? He blinked.
Is Roger right? he questioned as a prickly rush swept him. Incredulity followed. He leaned back, gazed toward the stars, and used every ounce of willpower to maintain a calm persona.
Oh God, he silently pleaded, show me. Show me what’s going on. Am I really in love with her, or is this just some sort of infatuation that’s going to pass?
The first thought that entered Nate’s head involved the quality of woman he wanted to spend his life with. She’d have to be full of life, smart, witty, with an independent streak. She needed to be someone whom Nate could respect. Someone who could look him eye to eye and hold him tit for tat in any verbal interaction. And while she might possess external beauty, Nate was more interested in her heart and her character.
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 13
