“My uncle’s afraid she won’t be here much longer. I’m trying to decide whether to go back home for the duration or to stay here awhile longer. I’ve taken off this semester in my studies. In June I start my internship, so I’m having a bit of a vacation before I do that. Anyway, I’d planned to spend most of it with my father. Now this. She’s not been healthy for quite some time.”
“If you really think she might be dying,” Haley said and hoped she didn’t sound too eager to have him leave the country, “don’t you think it’s best to be with her?”
Franklyn stared across the room, then snapped his attention to Haley. “If only it were that easy,” he mused and gazed out the window. “I haven’t been that close to my father. Now we’re really becoming great friends. I’m so enjoying it all. And then there’s—” He stopped, looked down, and creased the edge of his linen napkin.
Amanda shrugged and widened her eyes, and Haley’s mind spun with possibilities. Perhaps Franklyn’s “And then there’s—” involved his not wanting to return to London because of her!
“I guess I forgot to tell you.” He looked at Haley. “I have your portrait out in Angie’s car. I didn’t want to bring it in. I guess we can just shift it when we leave.”
“Thanks,” Haley said.
“You did a great job on that piece, Amanda,” Franklyn said.
“Thanks.”
“But then,” he turned his attention to Haley, “you had a beautiful subject.”
Haley’s face went cold and she went into flight mode. “Heaven help me!” she gasped. “I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room!”
Amanda looked at her as if she’d broken out in purple hives. “Are you okay, Haley?” she questioned while Franklyn discreetly rose as if women always called upon the heavens when attacked with the need for the ladies’ room.
Thirty-Two
“Amanda, I need to speak with you in person. Can you come over?” Angie’s urgent phone call at seven in the morning had driven Amanda to quickly shower, throw on a pair of sweats, and hustle to Angie’s new home. After a chilling rain, the neighborhood birds were invigorated and ready to wake the world. Amanda glanced down at her damp sneakers and wished she’d grabbed a jacket on the way out.
She shivered, rang the doorbell, awaited an answer, and expected the worst. Her first thoughts were for Wayne. Months ago, Angie had confided that he had high blood pressure. As intense as his job was, Amanda was not surprised. She hoped he hadn’t been hospitalized. Angie had waited so long for a good husband and a happy life, Amanda cringed to think Wayne’s health might be faltering. She pressed the doorbell again and breathed a prayer that no ill had befallen him.
When the doorknob turned, she fully expected Joe, the smileless one. Instead she encountered Angie, still wearing her satin robe. Her hair was mussed, her face pallid.
“Where’s Joe?” Amanda asked and wondered if the emergency might involve him. As cheerless as the fellow was, he’d swiftly become a part of Angie and Wayne’s family.
“It’s Sunday, his day off. Remember?”
“Oh yes.” Yawning, Amanda stepped into the spacious entryway. This time the marble floors posed no threat for a pair of rubber-soled sneakers.
“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” Angie said and fiddled with her robe’s tie.
“Is Wayne okay?” Amanda asked, the aroma of gourmet coffee beckoning her further into the room.
“Yes, he’s fine.” Angie snapped the door shut, rapidly blinked, and gripped Amanda’s hand. “We need to talk,” she admitted and tugged Amanda across the entryway.
“So I’ve heard.” By the time Angie led Amanda down the hallway and to the breakfast nook, Amanda was nearly as jittery as Angie.
“Here. Sit down.” Angie pulled out a wicker chair, picked up a silver-plated urn, and filled a fragile cup with steaming coffee. After sloshing the liquid into the saucer and bumping the cream dish, Angie plunked down the urn and exclaimed, “This is all so dreadful! Just dreadful!”
“It’s okay, Angie,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “It’s just cream.” She took her seat, grabbed the cotton napkin, and blotted at the white liquid.
“Not the cream, silly,” Angie scoffed. “Wayne’s sister!”
Amanda stopped blotting. “The sick one?”
“Yes. Except she’s not sick anymore.”
“You mean she—”
“Yes!” Angie said, her lips strained. “I can’t believe she was really sick. And here all this time I thought—” She shook her head. “If I’d known she was really ill . . . I just have to say I respect her so much more now that . . .” Angie worked her mouth and plopped into her chair.
“Now that she’s dead?” Amanda questioned and couldn’t help but feel sorry for Franklyn. She knew he must care for his aunt as much as she cared for Angie.
“Well, it’s just that . . .” Angie fiddled with her half-eaten grapefruit. “I honestly thought she was just putting on an act to keep Franklyn in London. He’d planned this break in his education to spend time with Wayne. And her illness just worsened so . . . so . . . conveniently—or at least that’s what I thought,” she admitted.
Amanda picked up her coffee cup and partook of the hazelnut brew.
“But none of that is the reason you’re here,” Angie explained.
“It isn’t?” Amanda placed the cup back in the pool of coffee claiming the saucer.
“Absolutely not.” Angie balled her fists atop the table, leaned forward, and whispered, “You’re never going to believe this. Just never! I can’t even believe it myself!” Angie’s eyes reddened.
Amanda leaned forward and awaited all sorts of horrid news.
“It’s you I feel so terribly sorry for.” She gripped Amanda’s arm.
“Me?” Amanda bleated and tried to follow the logic.
“Yes, you, dear.” Angie shook her head. “Wayne is taking Franklyn to the airport now. He’s catching the first flight back home to London. And he’s taking Janet French with him.”
“Janet French!” Amanda exclaimed.
“Yes! Can you believe it?”
Amanda blinked and shook her head. “Whatever for?”
“They’re engaged,” Angie stated.
“Engaged? Janet French and Franklyn West?” Amanda leaned back in her chair and stared at the Monet print claiming the wall. The painting reminded her much of that particular morning, all gauzy and rainy and hazy gray. Trying to make sense of this news perfectly fit the painting and the morning. The facts were as hard to absorb as the details of a fog-cloaked countryside.
“They’ve been engaged for months,” Angie explained. “They met when Franklyn visited months ago when you were in Paris.”
“Poor Haley,” Amanda breathed as fresh irritation nibbled at the edge of her spirit.
“Poor Haley?” Angie squeaked. “Poor you! You’re the one who was falling in love with him.”
“No!” Amanda shook her head and relived the times Franklyn had flirted with her. “No. I thought maybe—maybe before he left the second time. But when he came back, I knew. Remember, I told you before the party that I hadn’t even thought about his not contacting me?”
“Yes, but I thought you were just being—”
“I was being honest,” Amanda stated and reflected upon her worries that Franklyn was going to propose that evening Nate came over. Whatever he was trying to tell her, she realized it had nothing to do with her marrying him.
Maybe he wanted to tell me about Janet, she thought. If that was the case, his reaction to Nate’s ringing the doorbell made perfect sense. He’d looked upward and said, “Maybe this is your way of saving me from myself.” Perhaps he wanted to ask my advice, Amanda deduced, and the whole episode was beginning to make perfect sense.
Angie slumped against her chair. “Well, I guess this changes everything then.”
“Actually, I was beginning to think he was interested in Haley,” Amanda explained.
“No.” Angie shook her
head. “He told us this morning he’d done his best to keep his cover. He and Janet both agreed it was best for him to seem flirty, rather than anyone suspect the two of them were together.”
He used us! He used Haley and me both! Amanda thought. “The piano,” she said. “He’s the one, isn’t he?”
“Positively yes!” Angie said.
“Why all the secrecy?” she raised her hands.
“Because Franklyn is his aunt’s sole heir, and she didn’t like Janet.” Angie laid her hands on the table and patted her fingers against the lace cloth.
“Why not?” Amanda shook her head. “She seems like a terribly sweet woman.” And since Janet was no longer a prospect for Nate’s mystery lady, she was getting sweeter by the second.
But if she’s not the mystery woman, who is? Amanda relived that tumultuous dream, and Nate’s mystery lady in the passenger seat remained as elusive as ever.
Angie pushed at her hair and continued, “Franklyn says he thinks his aunt was jealous.”
“Of Janet?” Amanda asked and tried not to think about Nate. “Why?”
“Why indeed.” Angie’s level stare had never been more penetrating.
Amanda looked down. “Okay, maybe I’ve been tempted there myself,” she admitted. “God forgive me. Forgive us all.” She paused and recalled all the major crimes Janet had committed: great smile, golden skin, thin hips. But none was as wretched as having the audacity to be gorgeous.
“But she’s just so beautiful and petite,” Amanda defended, “and here I am, looking like a redheaded version of the Jolly Green Giant.” She fluffed her hair.
Angie laughed and placed her hands over Amanda’s. “You don’t have to apologize to anyone, darling,” she assured. “But I’m afraid my sister-in-law was jealous because she didn’t want to share Franklyn. She just knew Janet was going to take him away forever. So,” she released Amanda’s hands and leaned back, “she threatened to disinherit him if he didn’t stop seeing her.”
“What?” Amanda gasped.
“Yes, indeed.” Angie picked up her coffee cup and shook her head. “Franklyn said that’s when he and Janet decided to play it cool. His aunt is worth millions, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Of course. She received an equal inheritance with Wayne when their parents died.”
“Oh, really?” Amanda said and discreetly eyed the plate of croissants sitting in the middle of the table. She’d known Wayne West for many years because he was her banker. She’d also known he had some money. However, Amanda hadn’t pried for his level of monetary advantage, even though she’d been dying to know for ages.
Angie giggled.
“What?” Amanda asked and shifted her focus to her maternal friend.
“You’re so transparent, Amanda. Don’t ever take up lying. No one would ever believe you.”
“What?” Amanda repeated.
“I can see it all over you. You’ve been so curious for so long and now you’re trying to hide it.”
“Well . . .” Amanda hedged.
“It’s quite all right, dear.” Angie patted her knee. “You deserve to know. Wayne is more loaded than I even imagined.”
“You deserve it, Angie,” Amanda breathed and squeezed her governess’s hand. “You’ve been better to me than ten mothers. I can say that you’re a major reason for all my successes.”
“That, and you have a father who adores you.”
“Imagine what he’d be like if I ever seriously considered getting married,” Amanda said.
“He’s so spoiled, he’d have to move in with you. Or you’d have to stay at the villa with your husband.”
“On second thought,” Amanda picked up a silver teaspoon and stirred her coffee, “a while ago he did mention my getting married, believe it or not. He hinted that he thought Nate Knighton and I were going to get married.” Amanda wondered what possessed her to mention the very name she’d cried herself to sleep over. Nevertheless, the idea of her father’s imagining something romantic between her and Nate still left her befuddled. A deep friendship that promised to last a lifetime could in no way be grounds for a romance! “Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?” Amanda asked.
“Hmmm,” Angie mused and stared into the kitchen.
Amanda studied Angie and couldn’t fathom what she meant by that “Hmmm.” It was as elusive as some of Nate’s “Humphs.” She put down the spoon, administered a large swallow of coffee to her grumbling stomach, and reached for a croissant. But no sooner had her fingers touched the flaky pastry than she thought of Haley again.
“Oh no, Haley!” Amanda gasped and stood. “I’ve got to go see her now. She needs to know.”
“You mean about Franklyn?” Angie stared up at Amanda.
“Exactly,” Amanda affirmed. “I was trying to make a match between them. I hope she won’t be too disappointed.”
“And all this time, I thought I was making a match with you and Franklyn.” Angie stood. “It looks as though my stepson was promised in three directions,” she said through a dry laugh.
“Yes, but only one that he arranged,” Amanda added with a shrug. She picked up the croissant, nibbled the corner, and took a final sip of her coffee to bolster her nerves.
The conversation with Haley could not be postponed.
Thirty-Three
By the time Amanda stood at Haley’s door, the irritation that had nibbled at her spirit now implanted itself in the center of her mind.
The nerve of that man! she thought as she rang Haley’s doorbell. He came to my home, brought chocolates and flowers, and even said, “Olé!” to my cat. Amanda rang the doorbell and ferociously knocked. Her knuckles protested the abuse, and she rubbed them against her other palm.
Then “oléd!” Haley—more or less, she added. Well, he rescued her and her purse, anyway! Of all the nerve! Amanda fumed.
The doorknob rattled. The door swung inward. Haley leaned her head against the door. She wore her thick glasses. Her hair was frizzed, her makeup gone. She looked more like the old Haley than she had since she was sick, right down to the worn, fuzzy housecoat. Amanda touched her cheek, free of makeup. She probably looked a mess herself.
“What’s the matter?” Haley asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m exasperated beyond belief!” Amanda spewed. “Mind if I come in?”
“No, of course not!” Haley opened the door wider and rubbed at the corner of her eyes. “Sorry to be such a lazyhead. What time is it, anyway?”
Amanda checked her watch. “Eight o’clock.”
Haley shut the door. “We need to get ready for church.”
“Not so fast.” Amanda strode to the couch and plopped therein. She patted the cushion beside her. “I have some shocking news.”
“What’s the matter?” Her eyes wide, Haley joined Amanda.
Gripping Haley’s hands, Amanda looked her in the eyes. “Haley,” she began, “brace yourself.”
“Okay,” Haley agreed and hung on to Amanda’s fingers.
“Franklyn West has been secretly engaged to Janet French all this time.”
“Oh.” Haley blinked. Her fingers relaxed. “Is that all?”
“Is that all?” Amanda repeated. “Haley, he used us—both of us—as a cover for the engagement!” After that declaration, Amanda related all the details of his aunt’s death and the ramifications of the whole ordeal.
“Well, I hope they’ll be happy,” Haley said through a yawn. She stood and stretched. “Want some tea?”
“Haley, aren’t you the least bit upset? Yesterday at the mall, you acted like you were starting to like him.”
“No.” Haley shook her head. “I was praying you were wrong about his liking me.”
Amanda stood and placed her hands on her hips. She eyed Haley, and Haley eyed her right back. A great, unspoken message lay between them. And Amanda decided the time had come for some honesty. She was more certain than ever that Haley had been hiding
a Roger revival. Her lack of interest in Franklyn only supported her interpretation of the last weeks.
Just about the time Amanda decided to press for the truth, Haley spoke. “Amanda,” she pushed up her glasses and observed her friend, “there’s something you need to know.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Amanda flopped back onto the couch, grabbed a pillow, and pulled it to her midsection. “Go ahead and tell me,” she said and decided the time had come to accept the inevitable. Haley was going to live in mooville for life.
“I’m sorry I’ve been hiding it from you, but . . .” Haley sat on the edge of the coffee table and hunched forward. “It’s just that . . . it’s like Nate says, I guess, you just care too much. And sometimes . . .” Haley shifted back and fidgeted with her glasses. “Sometimes . . .” She stood and gently patted the sides of her thighs.
The telephone’s peal pierced the moment. Haley jumped and stepped toward the cordless phone sitting on the end table.
“Hello,” she said as Amanda allowed all her hopes for her friend to unravel. Oh well, I tried, she thought and decided the time had come to fully release Project Haley. Amanda had made a complete mess of the Mason ordeal. Only pain had come of her efforts. Then the Franklyn match had been a sham and nothing more. Despite it all, Haley had gone right back to the person Amanda was certain was not right for her.
“Yes, I see,” Haley said into the receiver. Her shoulders hunched, her back to Amanda, she faced the hall. “Yes. You’re right, of course.”
Amanda sat upright. She narrowed her eyes. Something was odd about this conversation.
“I can’t really, um . . .” She stroked her forehead. “Yes! How did you guess?”
Whoever this is, Amanda thought, Haley’s trying to hide his identity. Then one name stormed her mind: Roger! And Amanda decided that when Haley hung up, she would put her dear friend out of her misery. She’d tell her she knew the truth and give her blessing.
There’s nothing left to do, she thought as the conversation came to a close.
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 24
