Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma

by Debra White Smith

  “So good to see you!” Nate exclaimed and gripped his cousin’s shoulder. He cast a cursory glance toward Haley, and his eyes bugged. “Haley! I didn’t realize that was you! How did I miss you?”

  Haley grappled for something to say as her desire to keep the date with Roger “our secret” mingled with her chagrin over seeing Nate. He was the first person who’d tell Amanda and the last person who needed to know.

  Why did I ever think I’d be able to get away with this? she fretted and wondered if this was some kind of divine justice for trying to be so sneaky. Your sins will find you out. The cliché she’d heard so many times now took on a haunting new meaning as she recalled all the stories of married people being caught in secretive relationships. Although she wasn’t married and there was nothing sinful about her relationship with Roger—unless being sly and late back from lunch could be counted sinful.

  A knowing veil settled upon Nate’s features and filled his dark eyes with a mischievous glint. “I didn’t know you two were—”

  “Nobody knows,” Haley rushed and once again silently implored Roger to understand.

  He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, and never had such a small gesture communicated so much insight. Haley’s legs wobbled.

  “Can we keep it that way, Nate?” Roger asked.

  The very thought of dessert, no matter how sweet and delectable, now left Haley spinning in a fresh wave of nausea. The tingles spreading from Roger’s thumb heightened the effect.

  Nate’s brows flexed as a new understanding mingled with the mischief. “Of course we can,” he agreed with a sage nod.

  “Good.” Roger nodded, too, and shared a meaningful glance with Haley. “I hate for us to run like this,” he continued, and tugged Haley’s hand, “but I’ve got an important meeting ten minutes ago, and I’ve still got to take Haley back to work.”

  “I can give her a ride,” Nate offered.

  “Would you?” Roger said, then turned to Haley. “Do you mind?”

  “Not in the least.” She shook her head. “But I can take a taxi.”

  “Absolutely not.” Nate nodded toward Roger. “I’m glad to help. Just a minute,” he said and waved toward the klatch of men and women hovering near the register. “Go on without me. I’ll meet you at the office in thirty minutes.”

  They returned his good-byes and disappeared into the lobby.

  “There. It’s all arranged,” he said with an assuring smile.

  “Great!” Roger said. He offered Haley another pulse-stopping grin and threw in a sassy wink.

  She wiggled her fingers at him. As he hurried from the restaurant, Haley hoped he understood her weak smile had nothing to do with a lack of enthusiasm and everything to do with feeling lightheaded.

  “So you’re getting sneaky these days?” Nate teased, politely nudging Haley’s elbow as the two walked toward the lobby.

  “Maybe . . . I don’t know . . .” she hedged. “It’s just that—”

  “Amanda’s too nosy for her own good. That’s what it is,” Nate groused.

  “I never said that,” Haley defended.

  “You’re right. I did. And I mean it,” Nate parried. “We all love her to pieces, don’t we? But sometimes she means too much good.”

  Haley laughed. “I really don’t know what to say.”

  “So say nothing.” Nate paused by the baroque wooden door and opened it. He extended his hand for Haley to exit while delivering a smile every bit as cocky as Roger’s was charming. “And I’ll say nothing, as well,” he added.

  “Thanks,” Haley breathed and had never appreciated Nate Knighton more than now.

  Twenty-Seven

  The morning of the corporate party, Amanda knew beyond doubt that Haley Schmitz was hiding something—or someone. The clues were too clear and too frequent. Haley’s being late from lunch last month had begun the whole scenario. After Amanda had combed the shopping center with no sign of Haley, she’d arrived back at the office to find her secretary placidly typing away at her computer.

  She stopped long enough to show Amanda her new peach blouse and vaguely mentioned that time had gotten away from her, she’d seen Nate, and he gave her a ride back to work. Relieved that her friend was safe, Amanda hadn’t bothered to further pry into Haley’s lame explanation for being so late. Since Haley had an impeccable work record, Amanda decided to give her some grace.

  But in the last month, Haley had strained that grace. She now arrived late from lunch about once a week. She’d even been late for work three mornings and complained of being up too late. And five minutes ago, she’d just hung up from a phone call a little too quickly when Amanda entered the room and asked for a file. That was the fourth guilty hang-up in two weeks.

  Amanda sat at her desk and tapped the front of the file with the silver-plated pen that bore her name. She’d been impressed with herself for keeping up with Nate’s gift without losing it again. On top of that, she’d maintained a clutter-free desk for a whole month. This had to be some kind of record.

  But now, being impressed with herself was the furthest thing from Amanda’s mind. Instead, she was worried senseless that Haley was in the mix again with Roger Miller. She possessed no definite evidence—only a strong intuition that Haley was trying to hide a Roger revival.

  The phone’s distant buzz announced another incoming call. Amanda eyed the blinking orange light and was tempted to silently pick up the receiver so she could determine if this call was from Roger, as well. With her index finger hovering over the button and her other hand on the receiver, Amanda talked herself out of this eavesdropping session. At some point, she was going to have to learn to let Haley make her own mistakes, even though she wanted to help her as much as she was helping Samuel Adair.

  Nate had offered to take Goldie. Samuel couldn’t be happier. He was even coming to the Wood-Priebe International party tonight as Amanda’s special guest. Even though this annual event was very much for the corporation, Amanda used it as a way to thank special people in her life and to get to know others a little better.

  She dropped the pen and decided to leave the contents of the folder until later. She’d narrowed the applicants for the management position in the Brisbane branch down to three. It might take all three to replace Ken-the-working-machine. She’d planned to take a few minutes poring over the résumés once more because she’d invited all three to tonight’s party. But the time had come to get to work on the party itself. Betty Cates would be here soon. She and Amanda would be putting the final touches to the décor. Thankfully, Janet French was getting her hair and nails done for the party tonight, so she wouldn’t be here to help.

  Amanda grimaced and wondered at her own lack of logic. The last thing she should be thankful for was Janet’s making herself more beautiful for tonight. Amanda imagined Nate’s focusing on Janet all evening and was tempted to gnaw the silver pen in half. Even though the man was regularly back in her life, the wall between them seemed to grow thicker by the day. Amanda was beginning to expect him to announce his engagement any time. Or worse, just elope without a word to her.

  She stood, pushed aside the folder, and likewise shoved everything else out of her mind. Tonight’s party must take precedence over all else.

  The intercom’s buzz interrupted Amanda’s journey. She pressed the button and said, “Yes, Haley?” in as natural a tone as she could conjure. During the last week, Amanda found herself straining to keep all threads of suspicion from her voice and couldn’t decide if she was convincing or not.

  “Angie’s on line one,” Haley said. “I’ve just been chatting with her. She’s wondering if there’s anything last minute she can do for tonight.”

  “Wonderful,” Amanda replied. “I’ve got a shopping list she can take care of.”

  “That’s what I told her,” Haley said and hesitated. “Or at least I told her that’s what I thought you’d say.”

  “Thanks!” Amanda released the intercom, pressed the button for line 1, and picked
up the receiver. “Hello, Ang,” she said.

  “Amanda,” Angie replied, “I was just talking to Haley about how I could help, and she said you’ve got a shopping list.”

  “I do, and I’d kiss your feet if you’d be willing to take care of it.” Amanda’s mind whirled with the mental recollection of those who’d be arriving by seven. Since no one new had been added to the list, that meant the count was still at eighty-five—the same as last night. “I’m beginning to feel the crunch.”

  “You know I’m thrilled to do whatever you need, dear,” Angie crooned.

  “I’m afraid it’s not a very glamorous list—things like toilet tissue and a new vacuum cleaner bag.”

  “No problem at all. Would you text it to me? I’ll hit the shops and bring it early tonight.”

  “Great!” Amanda said. She picked up the list sitting under the brass piano posing as a paper weight.

  “One other thing, Amanda,” Angie continued. “I also wanted to call and ask a favor. Franklyn’s back in town. But I guess he told you already.”

  “No, as a matter of fact he didn’t!” Amanda exclaimed and stood. “I haven’t heard a peep out of him since he left.”

  She’d been so busy the last few weeks, she’d hardly given Franklyn West a thought. In retrospect, Amanda realized he hadn’t even so much as texted her. All at once these facts seemed rather odd for a man who’d been on the brink of proposing weeks before, and doubly odd for a woman who’d debated if she was falling in love.

  “Well, I was wondering if you’d mind if he came to the party tonight with Wayne and me.”

  “Not at all,” Amanda enthused and sat on the edge of her desk. Eighty-six, she thought and was thankful she’d told the caterer to prepare for a hundred. Yesterday morning only seventy-eight had been scheduled to come.

  “Bring him,” Amanda encouraged. “I can always use somebody like him. He’s full of life and funny. He’ll be perfect.”

  “Great,” Angie said and hesitated. “Did you say you haven’t heard anything from him?”

  “Not a word,” Amanda admitted and realized she felt nothing in regard to his lack of communication. Nothing at all. She’d been too focused on planning the party and wondering when Nate would elope and what Haley was hiding and trying to help Mr. Adair find a home for Goldie that she’d hardly given Franklyn a thought.

  “That’s odd,” Angie said. “I’d really hoped . . .”

  “I don’t think we’re meant to be, Angie,” Amanda said, and understood that all she’d felt for Franklyn was the natural reaction of a young female to an attractive bachelor and nothing more.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Angie replied with a resolve that wasn’t foreign to Amanda. She’d felt everything Angie was implying when she was certain Mason was the one for Haley. Amanda covered her face with her hand and nearly groaned. Mason was the last person she wanted to think about today.

  “Amanda? Are you still there?” Angie prompted.

  “Yes.” Amanda stood and tapped her finger along the side of the receiver. All the while, she debated the least abrupt way to tell Angie her stepson never would be the one.

  “You’ve gotten really quiet,” Angie observed, and Amanda lowered her gaze as if Angie were present. “Are you sure you’re okay about Franklyn not keeping in touch?”

  “Absolutely!” Amanda responded and hoped she didn’t sound as if she were faking enthusiasm in order to cover disappointment. “Really,” she added with less emphasis, “I’m perfectly fine. I guess I’m just distracted over the party tonight.” She gazed toward the elephant mural, then the Leaning Tower of Pisa replica. Presently, she could identify more with the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

  “Good, then,” Angie said, but her voice held the weight of a concerned mother. “I’ll see you about six fifteen.”

  “Six-fifteen is great!” Amanda chimed, then cheerfully added, “G’day!” before hanging up the phone.

  Amanda strode around the desk and headed toward Haley’s open door. She stepped across the threshold, placed a piece of paper onto Haley’s desk, and said, “Will you text this shopping list to Angie? I’m going to the lobby to finish decorating, if you need me.”

  Haley looked up from a pile of paperwork. The dark circles under her eyes had gotten worse as the day progressed. Haley looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “Sure,” she said through a yawn.

  “Are you going to be able to make the party tonight? You look like you could just drop, and it’s barely one-thirty,” Amanda said and eyed the flickering candle on the edge of her secretary’s desk. The ocean breeze scent seemed the antithesis of everything Roger Miller offered.

  “I’ll make it,” Haley claimed with a tired smile. She stood, stretched, picked up the candle tin, and blew out the flame. A tendril of smoke spiraled from the wick. “But not without some coffee. I’ll make a fresh pot and bring you a cup, okay?”

  “Okay,” Amanda replied.

  Out of nowhere, a brainstorm nearly knocked Amanda flat. Franklyn West and Haley would really look great together! His fair hair, blue eyes, and height would perfectly complement her darker hair and eyes and petite frame. Furthermore, Franklyn was the ultimate extrovert while Haley was more the introvert. They’d be like two halves of a whole. No sooner had the idea entered her mind than she relived that prayer she’d breathed in Angie’s bathroom . . . something about repenting of matchmaking. She also recalled the amendment she’d made to that prayer: I won’t play matchmaker again unless it’s absolutely necessary.

  Given the probability of Haley’s seeing Roger again, Amanda determined this was an absolutely necessary situation. Despite her earlier thoughts toward allowing Haley to breathe chicken feathers and the fumes of cattle for life if that’s what she wanted, Amanda still couldn’t shake the desire to see her friend settled better. She envisioned Haley, bone thin and sunburned, feeding chickens in a tattered dress and holey shoes.

  Yes, this is absolutely necessary, Amanda thought. When Haley is forty and married to a successful physician, she’ll thank me.

  “You’re staring at me,” Haley said. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No! Nothing. Not in the least. Nothing at all. I was just thinking. I was thinking, that’s all.” Amanda pointed toward the hallway. “Well, I guess I’ll go on and finish the decorating. Betty should be here any minute.” She backed away from the door, waved at Haley, then scurried toward the hall.

  Twenty-Eight

  Nate stood on the edge of the party and watched Amanda work the crowd. The hum of voices and the smell of crab puffs blended with the band’s inviting sounds to create a pleasing atmosphere that could only have been better if Nate and Amanda were throwing the party as one. The musicians merged one light jazz number with another and provided the perfect ambiance for a relaxing and rewarding evening.

  One married couple on the edge of the crowd expertly twirled and stepped in time to the upbeat music while a few others looked on with admiration. Nate imagined the couple being him and Amanda, and his fingers tightened against the glass of club soda. He inserted his index finger between his shirt and neck, tugged, then smoothed his hand along the silk tie. He lifted the tie and looked at the purple number Amanda had given him for Christmas along with the gray shirt. He’d bought the charcoal-colored suit to match and wondered if Amanda would notice. Nate touched the silk scarf in his breast pocket. It perfectly matched the tie. Amanda had barely looked at him all evening, let alone registered he was red-free.

  She’d spent extra time with several people and none with Nate. One of those people was Mr. Adair. At Amanda’s bidding, Nate had walked over and escorted him and his wife to the party. Amanda fondly referred to the Adairs as her new neighbors and fussed over Goldie as much as she fussed over her cat, Cuddles. Fortunately, Goldie was much better mannered than Cuddles. As far as Nate was concerned, that sour-tempered feline needed a few years in cat prison.

  He sipped his club soda and savored the carbonated
tingle as it slid down his throat. He wondered why he’d even bothered to come. With Franklyn back in town, Amanda had other things to ponder. She and Haley and Franklyn were in a semicircle, discussing who knew what. When Janet French joined the group, Franklyn seemed to forget Amanda existed.

  Nate narrowed his eyes. How Franklyn could flirt with Amanda one second and ignore her the next went beyond Nate’s comprehension. While Janet did look lovely, Amanda stole the hour in her chocolate-brown crushed-velvet number. The short jacket emphasized her waist while the skirt hugged her hips and flared to just above her ankles. The spike-heeled boots set off the whole outfit and gave her that “bigger than dreams” appearance that Mason said he liked so much.

  Thoughts of Mason made Nate grimace. He looked into his short glass, swirled the liquid, and downed the final drops of soda. The last thing he wanted to do was think of that buffoon and his tasteless wife tonight. Every time Nate had attended Mason’s church in the last few weeks, Sonja had spent so much time focused on him that he was left with no doubts about her thoughts. And those thoughts made him highly uncomfortable.

  A movement out of the corner of his eye tugged his attention toward Samuel Adair, who was moving to the edge of the crowd with Goldie in the lead. Nate stepped forward and touched Mr. Adair’s arm.

  “Want to come stand by me?” Nate questioned.

  “Of course. I thought I remembered your heading off this way,” Samuel replied. He lifted his chin toward Nate and smiled. “And here I’ve found you. Quite a party Amanda is throwing.”

  “Yes, quite,” Nate agreed, and gazed toward the cutouts of oversized jazz instruments covered in glitter and attached to the wall. “She does this every year,” he added and noted that the life-sized cardboard replica of Ella Fitzgerald was now commanding the same corner John Wayne had ruled from last year.

  Nate reached down to scratch Goldie’s ears, then remembered Samuel’s earlier warning. No one was allowed to touch Goldie except Samuel when she was on duty. That meant no playing, petting, or eating.