I Could Write a Book: A Modern Variation of Jane Austen's Emma

by Karen M Cox

  First of all, the idea of Bob Weston giving a wayward son a firm hand was a joke to anyone who knew him. He was the most affable, easygoing man I had ever met. Needless to say, his son pretty much did as he pleased while he stayed with Bob. Frank left town for Birmingham right after graduation at the request of his mother and the promise of an athletic scholarship to the University of Alabama. The land of the Crimson Tide, and the discipline of their baseball team, helped Frank mature into a much more settled young man. Although he was only an average baseball player, Frank achieved a measure of academic success at ’Bama. Currently, he was in New York, finishing up some kind of business internship he obtained through his Churchill family connections. They were well-connected too. Frank’s great-great-grandfather was a cousin of the Churchills for whom Churchill Downs was named. At any rate, the New York City internship was why he wasn’t present at today’s event.

  As always, Bob excused his son’s absence; he forgave him everything. In my opinion, it was shabby for Frank to miss his own father’s wedding, but perhaps I only felt that way because Mr. Weston’s new wife was my beloved Aunt Nina.

  I liked to boast that I was the one who introduced the happy couple. It was quite the fortunate coincidence, made more fortunate by my subsequent gentle influence that began over a year ago.

  One gorgeous spring day, Nina and I had gone to lunch at Travers Restaurant. We were talking when Bob marched in, his booming voice invading the dining room as he spoke to people at two or three tables. Bob knew almost everyone in town because of his business, and he had never met a stranger anyway. His laugh rang out a couple of times through the restaurant, and about the third time, I happened to notice that Nina was watching him.

  “Earth to Nina,” I teased.

  “Hmm?” She startled, following that up with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, sweetie. I was distracted.”

  “I can see that.” An idea began to form in my mind. A surprising, wonderful idea. I glanced at the source of Nina’s distraction. “Oh, look, it’s Mr. Weston. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “You know him? He’s quite a bit older than you, Emma.”

  “I went to high school with his son. You might remember him—Frank Weston?”

  “Oh, yes. Dark headed boy, very handsome, but kind of wild, wasn’t he? I recall being glad you didn’t date him for very long.” She glanced over at Bob again. “That’s his father?”

  I nodded and took a sip of tea. “Frank looks more like his mother, I think, but thankfully he has his father’s personality. His mother was apparently a real shrew, and they divorced many years ago. But Mr. Weston is a nice man. I always thought he was handsome too, in a fatherly kind of way.” I took another sip and pretended to consider my words a few seconds while I observed my aunt’s reaction. Nina was trying unsuccessfully to not stare at him too much. That was all the encouragement I needed. “And he’s loaded…and single.”

  Nina brought her gaze back to the table and laughed. “You never quit, do you?”

  I put on my best wide-eyed, innocent expression. “Ni-na! I would never try to fix you up, but…”

  “Yes, Em-ma?”

  “Like I said, he is a nice man.” And at just that moment, as if I had tugged on his marionette string, Bob turned and saw us. I stole a quick look at Nina’s blushing cheeks and sent Bob a bright smile and wave. I knew he’d come over and say hello. He was too gregarious to stop himself.

  “Emma, no…” Nina said in a frantic whisper, but it was too late. Bob was beside our table, booming out his hello and patting my shoulder.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Emma Woodhouse! Goodness, gal, I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays. How’ve you been?”

  “I’ve been well, sir, and you?”

  “Fantastic! Business is on the upswing—we’ve just relocated our offices onto Central Avenue. Needed more space for delivery trucks and storage.”

  “That’s wonderful, Mr. Weston.”

  “What are you up to these days?”

  “I’m living at home and going to college. I suppose you heard about my father’s stroke.”

  His face fell. It was a dramatic change in expression, yet somehow it didn’t look affected on such a personable man. “I did, I did. William Larkins told me the last time I was over at your dad’s office. It’s an awful shame, honey. How is John?”

  “He’s doing quite well, actually. We have some wonderful help, and I’m there to look after him, so…”

  “He’s a lucky man to have a daughter like you.”

  “Thank you, that’s a kind thing to say.” I paused—just a beat, to make it look spontaneous. “Oh, how rude of me! Mr. Weston, this is my aunt, Nina Taylor. Nina, Bob Weston.” He turned, and I delighted in the way the air ignited between them. His eyebrows rose, and his lips curved under his mustache, and Nina’s eyes sparkled. Bingo!

  He almost stammered out his response. “Well, um…hello there.” He stood unmoving for a second and then hurriedly stuck out his hand. “It’s good to meet you.” He enclosed her hand in both of his when he shook it. I wriggled with happiness.

  “Good to meet you.” Nina’s voice was soft and sort of sultry-sounding. If that’s how women show their interest in men, I’ll have to cultivate that skill. It seems to be working pretty well on old Bob right now!

  They chatted for a second, just small talk. Bob found out Nina worked at the university library, and I had a feeling he’d be by there in a few days. Then, he turned back to address me.

  “Frank is coming into town next month.”

  “Oh? And how is Frank getting along?”

  “He’s fine, just fine. Made the Dean’s List at ’Bama last semester.”

  “That’s right, I thought he went to the University of Alabama. And on the Dean’s List, too. Good for him. Is he still playing baseball?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, he’s playing left field. Not starting, mind you, but it’s an honor to just be on the team. ’Bama’s Crimson Tide is doing well this season. We’re hoping for a conference championship.”

  “I’m sure you’re very proud of him.”

  “Proud as punch, but us daddies are like that, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, but we all understand proud papas, don’t we, Nina?”

  Nina smiled pointedly at me, but she answered, “Yes, we do.”

  “I’ll tell Frank he should give you a call when he gets in town. I know he likes to get together with old friends when he’s here.”

  Cold day in hell before that happens. I liked Frank, I really did, and he was a cutie, but after we stopped seeing each other, he’d never made any attempt to call me when he was in town or out of it, so I doubted that would happen this time.

  “I’d be glad to hear from him,” I said, all politeness.

  “Hey,” Bob said in a rush, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “You still live in Highbury, right?”

  “Yes, we do. Out Hartfield Road.”

  “Do you like the area? I’ve been looking for a new place in the country for myself. Need the fresh air.”

  “You should definitely take a look out there, Mr. Weston. There’s still plenty of land for sale, and some fine older homes too, if you’d rather have a fixer-upper. Nina lives out there by us, and she loves it, don’t you, Nina?”

  “Mm-hmm, it’s lovely. Not too far from town but quiet. And near family for me, which is important.”

  Bob looked pleased enough to burst. “Well, now, I might just take a gander out that way.”

  “There are some tracts of land about a quarter mile from Hartfield Road, over on Ninevah Pike. A new subdivision with split-level homes and ranch houses is going up right off Highway 28.” Nina smiled. “And then there are my favorites, the older places like the Newton Estate, the farmhouse over on Box Hill, the Randalls’ place. Do you know Steven Rockwell?”

  I froze. Nina shouldn’t be mentioning other men if she was trying to entice Bob’s interest.

  “Hmm…I think so. He’s with A
dvent Realty, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, his wife is a friend of mine. You should call him. He knows the area very well because they live out that way too.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief that this Steven person was married, and it seemed that Bob did the same.

  “I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip,” he said. His enthusiasm for the idea was obvious by the twinkle in his eyes.

  “Wonderful!” Emma exclaimed.

  “I’ll let you two get back to your lunch. I’m supposed to see the shift manager about some tomatoes, and I’m late already. Good to see you, Emma.”

  “Good to see you, Mr. Weston.”

  He turned to Nina and eyed her left hand. I grinned. No, you sweet, dear man, she’s not married.

  “Very nice to meet you, Miss Taylor.”

  “Nina, please.”

  “Nina.” His deep bass voice rumbled softly, like a big V8 engine.

  “Goodbye.”

  “Advent Realty, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I won’t forget.” He was backing toward the kitchen, barely missing a two-top table, and then he was gone in the same whirlwind he’d come in.

  I took another sip of tea and raised my eyebrows at Nina over the rim of my glass. She was sitting there with a smile on her face. To my delight, she whispered, “Wow,” and cleared her throat.

  And that was how I, Emma Katherine Woodhouse, took a serendipitous event and improved the lives of two people who were quite dear to me. It felt wonderful to be so useful, so I continued to throw them together. I invited Bob to barbeques on Hartfield Road and to other neighborhood get-togethers. I suggested restaurants where I knew Bob had business ties, in the hope that he would chance upon Nina and me while we were dining there.

  He started taking her out a mere two weeks after that chance meeting at Travers’. After he bought the old Randalls’ place in Highbury, he no longer needed my help to develop a friendship with Nina. It turned out they shared a love of remodeling and found lots to talk about on their own—they were always together then. A few months after that, while Maude and I were out one Sunday morning at dawn, I looked over at Nina’s driveway and saw him sneaking to his car. Last Christmas, they said they were getting married, and I was thrilled.

  Now they were here in a garden on a beautiful spring morning, and finally, fourteen years after my beloved aunt Nina shortchanged her youth to care for her sister’s family, she was making a family of her own.

  Eight

  George sat under the white canopy at the old Randalls’ place, the elegant house where Bob and Nina Weston were hosting their reception and, after a brief honeymoon to Key West, would make their new home. George drummed his fingers on the bar, waiting on the martini he’d ordered. Later on, of course, he would grab some champagne for a toast or two, but for now, the martini was what he needed. The band continued setting up, and all the guests waited for the wedding party to arrive from Bodley-Bullock House. The photographer planned to take wedding pictures galore there, and George didn’t envy Jack one iota. His brother had to stay, being part of Nina’s immediate family, so George handed little Taylor off to her mother and left for the reception with all due haste.

  He had received his drink when he spied Tim Elton waiting by the gate and scanning the crowd in search of an “important” person to attach himself to. He saw George, nodded his head in greeting and started his approach, and although George’s eyes darted around seeking escape, he was trapped.

  “Knightley!” Tim came up and held out his hand. When he shook hands, he turned so he was half-facing the room and smiled broadly.

  Tim Elton was a relative newcomer to Highbury. He was from Western Kentucky, and his father had gotten him a job as a public relations officer with the Legislative Research Commission in Frankfort, the state’s capital. It was common knowledge that Tim’s true ambition was to be elected to the State Legislature, and every time Elton shook someone’s hand, it was if he was posing for a publicity shot.

  “Tim, good of you to come. I’m sure it means a lot to Nina to have the Highbury neighbors here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Weston throws a great party, and I’m sure this one will be no exception. Some damned fine-looking women here this afternoon too.” He winked and nudged George with his elbow.

  “I’m sure.”

  “And more to follow with the arrival of the wedding party.”

  George gave him a cool stare, which made Elton backtrack, and then he reciprocated with an oily smile. “Unfortunately for men everywhere, your lovely sister-in-law is already taken.”

  “Yes, she is—very much so.” George mentally rolled his eyes at the blatant flattery about Isabel.

  Elton let out a wistful sigh. “Your brother seems to have his life well in hand. Maybe I need to take a page from his book, give up my wild bachelor ways, and settle down.”

  George sipped his drink and said nothing, but then Elton rarely needed any response to keep talking and this conversation was no exception.

  “Father is pushing me to run for the legislature next term, and he thinks it might be good to lend some thought to the marriage question.”

  “The marriage question?”

  “Getting hitched, jumping the broom, acquiring the old ball and chain.”

  “I see.”

  Tim nudged his shoulder again, nearly dislodging the contents of George’s martini glass. “You might see, but you don’t do. After all, you’ve managed to keep your bachelorhood intact for a long time now. Then again, your career path is already set, so you can call your own shots in that arena.”

  “Yes, it is, and yes, I can.”

  Elton sighed, an affected little wisp of air let out into the heat of the day. “I do envy you that. The Knightley dynasty is a long-standing tradition. You just step right in and simply carry it on.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s simple.”

  Elton’s eyes went wide, obviously worried that he had given offense. “Oh no! Not simple at all. A great deal of responsibility—didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  Tim delivered an awkward laugh, as he cast around for a more neutral topic and apparently decided “acquiring the old ball and chain” was neutral enough. “Father has this friend in Frankfort with four daughters, just like stair steps, from twenty to twenty-six.” He gestured the steps with his hand. “My dad keeps trying to get me an invitation to meet them.”

  “Does he?”

  Tim leaned in and whispered. “Supposedly all very pretty, and their father is well-connected in the state Democratic party. It might be good to ally myself with one of them before embarking on a House of Representatives bid.”

  “How lucky for you, then, that your father knows him, and that there are four of them, just waiting for you to ride down and make your choice.”

  Elton grinned, completely missing the sarcasm. “We’ll see. There might be something even better for me around here close. You just never know.”

  There was a flurry of tuxes and gauzy lavender fabric at the side of the house, and the wedding party drifted over in fits and starts, ambling under the archway of flowers near the entrance to the tent. Isabel was holding Henry’s hand as she chatted amiably with the best man, Weston’s older brother from St. Louis. Jack was carrying Taylor, and Emma followed him, fiddling with the flowers in her hair and smoothing her dress. At last, the bride and groom appeared, and everyone applauded. Elton stood there, clapping his hands and nodding with an ingratiating smile that George found mildly annoying. Tim turned and touched George’s arm, saying, “Excuse me.”

  George watched him make his way over to greet Emma. She smiled and spoke to him, and he offered his arm to escort her to her father, who was now sitting comfortably at a white linen covered table. Tim’s behavior struck George as suspicious but he had no time to think about it further because out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pint-sized munchkin unsteadily careening his way. He barely had a second to se
t down his glass before Henry ran right into his leg, throwing his chubby arms around George’s knees.

  “Hey, little man. Where do you think you’re going?” George lifted him up past his shoulders and jostled him like he was about to pitch him above his head. Henry let out a delighted squeal.

  “Doe!”

  “I’m not Doe, you rascal. Say George.”

  “Dode!”

  “Almost.” George grinned up at him, teasing by not quite tossing him up in the air the way he loved. “Say George,” he repeated, “Ge-or-ge.”

  “Doje.”

  “Close enough.” He pitched him up gently and caught him while he laughed.

  “Better do that now, before he has a bunch of cake and upchucks all over that Lord West tuxedo of yours.”

  “Emma.” He smiled, tucking Henry under his arm like a bundle. “We’re glad you made your way over here to see us, right, Henry?”

  Henry giggled and squirmed in his uncle’s grasp.

  “I’m supposed to go and mingle, according to Daddy. Isabel’s sitting with him, waiting for Rita.”

  “Who’s Rita?”

  “The new au pair.”

  “Ah. Is she from Europe?”

  “Arkansas. She’s a niece of Mrs. Goddard’s.”

  Amusement welled up in his smile, but he managed to check it. “I’m glad Isabel and Jack will have a few hours to enjoy the reception without the curtain climbers.” He tousled Henry’s hair.

  “Don’t call my nephew and niece curtain climbers.” She reached for Henry.

  “He’ll get footprints on your dress, Emma Kate,” he warned.

  “Oh, pooh, who cares? We’ve already taken the pictures.” She kissed the boy’s cheek and set him down. “Go find your mama, precious.”

  Henry took off toward Isabel and Taylor, while George and Emma watched him go. Mr. Woodhouse looked alarmed at the impending whirlwind of a toddler, but Jack scooped him up and took him over to a pleasant-looking girl who must have been Rita.