by Karen M Cox
He leaned over the steering wheel and peered up into the windshield. “Well, so it is. Kind of romantic, isn’t it?”
“It’s too bad Mary Jo wasn’t feeling well tonight.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“She loves basketball, much more than me. That’s something you two have in common. I know she hated to miss the game tonight.”
“Yep, it’s a shame.”
“Maybe she can come next time.”
He grinned at me and turned on the radio. “I’ll be happy to escort you ladies wherever you’d like to go.”
I gave up on conversation then and rode along in silence all the way out to Nina’s while Tim butchered the lyrics to several love songs on the radio.
We arrived, none too soon—in my opinion—and I bolted out the car door, almost before he put the vehicle in park. Tim jogged up alongside me, humming “The Things We Do for Love,” and barreled through the door with me, calling out, “Ladies and gents, the party can begin! Emma has arrived!”
I gritted my teeth and set off to find Nina, yanking off my hat and gloves as I entered. It would have been polite to offer to take Tim’s coat too—I knew where the closet was—but I’d had my fill of Tim Elton for the evening. All I wanted was to find my aunt and get some bourbon-infused egg nog.
I stood at the closet, muttering to myself about my cursed luck in the man department when I heard my name.
“Hey, George.” I yanked a hanger out of the closet and jabbed the ends into the sleeves of my jacket. “Well, I just had the ride from hell…” I turned and snapped my lips shut when I realized he wasn’t alone.
The new Woman of the Month wasn’t George’s usual type, that’s for sure. She was petite, almost exotic-looking with her olive skin and her jet-black hair, cut short in that bob that was all the rage these days. Her features were delicate, almost pixie-like, but there was an intensity that hummed around her like a swarm of honey-bees.
“Emma, I’d like you to meet Julianne Ryman. Julianne, Emma Woodhouse. Her sister, Isabel, is married to Jack.”
Dark, intelligent eyes peered out of a heart-shaped face. “It’s good to meet you, Emma. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“And I you.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I had been asking around town about Julianne Ryman for several weeks. George himself had said precious little about her.
“Was that your boyfriend that came in with you?”
“No!”
Julianne started at the vehemence in my tone, and George’s lips twitched.
I consciously softened my voice and let out a small laugh. “I mean, Tim is just a friend.”
“Oh…okay then,” Julianne said, amused.
I slipped into hostess mode. “I’m so glad you could come tonight. George tells me the schedule of a resident is pretty hectic.”
Julianne nodded. “I had to work Thanksgiving weekend, so they let me have off any weekend in December I wanted. That way I got to show George off at my hospital holiday party, and then he returned the favor.” She smiled up at George, laughter dancing in her eyes.
He returned the smile and turned back to me. “So, you rode over here with Tim, I take it.”
“Yes.” I leaned over and laid my hand briefly on his forearm, lowering my voice. “Jack, the little sneak, whisked Izzy off before I knew what was happening. You know how he is, George. He has to be the first one out the door and out of the parking lot.”
“He hates being stuck in traffic, that’s a fact. You remember that time he took you and Isabel to Keeneland?”
“I’ll never forget it. I thought I was going to have to spend the night in the stables.” I turned to Julianne. “Jack kept saying all afternoon, ‘We’re leaving after the sixth race. We’re leaving after the sixth race. Gotta beat the crowd. Traffic’s a nightmare later in the day.’ Blah, blah, blah. Well, I didn’t think too much about it, and I bet a long shot on the sixth race that ended up winning. I hadn’t won a thing all afternoon, and I was standing in the line to collect my payoff, with Jack standing behind me complaining and hinting I should leave my winnings behind. Can you imagine? I’d waited all day for that tiny dose of instant gratification, and he wanted me to leave without it.”
“Shocking.”
“It was terribly shocking. But you have to know Jack. Luckily for me, George was there that afternoon, with some other friends, and he agreed to let me tag along with them for the rest of the day.”
George cut in. “I was only giving Jack some time alone with Izzy. It wasn’t any trouble at all.”
Laughing, I touched his arm again. “I spent a great deal of my youth tagging along after George. He’s an awfully good sport about it.”
George bowed. “You’re welcome.”
“You two sound almost like brother and sister.”
Both of us halted at Julianne’s remark and stared first at her and then at each other. George was the first to break the silence. “Yes, well, we’ve known each other a long time.” He shifted his glass to his other hand. “How were the roads, Emma Kate? I overheard your father tell Nina there might be a snowstorm.”
“Daddy’s here?”
“He is. He came with Delores and Helen.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
I closed the closet door with a whoosh. “Oh, I should go check in with him right away. He always worries if I’m out when the weather’s dicey. I can’t believe Delores convinced him to go out on a night when there’s even a chance of snow.”
“I think it’s good for him to get out some. See his friends.”
“Oh, I agree. Definitely,” I conceded. “But I have to admit, this time he surprised me. I hope we don’t pay for that little impulse later on. He may lose his nerve, now that the snow is falling. See you later, George. Nice to meet you, Julianne.”
“You too.”
I hurried into the kitchen just in time to see my father clutching Nina’s hand and speaking to her in earnest tones.
“Is everything okay, Daddy?”
“Emma! Thank goodness, you’re here safe! I was ready to send someone after you. When you didn’t arrive with your sister, I was so worried.”
I’m going to strangle Jack Knightley. “I’m fine, as you see. You worried for nothing, Daddy. I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“It was my fault,” Jack spoke up from behind me. “Isabel was ready to leave, so I asked Tim Elton to stay with Emma and drive her here afterward.” Jack looked genuinely contrite about worrying Daddy. “She wanted to see the rest of the game.”
“That was very considerate of you, Jack, to think of poor Isabel, and I know Emma loves her basketball.”
“What made you decide to come to the party tonight, Daddy? I thought you were staying home.”
“Delores called and asked me to accompany her and Helen. She said I could ride home with them too, but”—he leaned in to speak quietly, though his voice wasn’t very soft at all—“Helen just about scared me to death with her driving. I think I’d rather go home with you and Isabel and Jack instead.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. “I’m sure we can work that out.”
“But I don’t know what we’ll do if it snows.”
Jack spoke up. “I certainly don’t want to be stuck here all night. Nina and Bob would have to set up cots all over the place like army barracks.”
“I listened to the weather report earlier,” Tim interrupted. “It’s not supposed to get bad until well after midnight. Good thing the snow didn’t come earlier today. We might have had to cancel our little party.” He grinned stupidly and put an arm around my shoulders.
I moved out of arm’s reach. “Think I’ll go get some eggnog.”
“Not too much, Emma,” Daddy called after me. “You know you aren’t used to rich food—or bourbon whiskey.”
“I’ll take it easy, Daddy. I promise.”
Later, Nina perched on the arm of my overstuffed chair, resting her arm along the back, and leaned over
to give me a quick squeeze.
“Merry Christmas, precious girl.” She rested her cheek on my hair in a maternal gesture of affection.
“Merry Christmas, Auntie.” I smiled at George and Julianne, who were sitting on the sofa across from me. “Nina always gets sentimental around the holidays.”
George beamed at us, and almost as an afterthought, awkwardly took Julianne’s hand, fumbling with her fingers until she set her wine glass on the end table and—laughing—finally linked their hands together.
“I do,” Nina admitted with wine-fortified cheerfulness. “Christmas is the best time to be sentimental about family. And we have double the reason to be thankful this year.”
“Oh?” I asked, wondering if perhaps Nina had some family news of her own to share. Planning a little cousin perhaps? She was thirty-seven, but it wasn’t out of the question. She’d be such a wonderful mother.
“Yes.” Nina glanced around for Bob, and finding him talking with a couple over by the fireplace, her face broke into a misty, sappy smile. “It looks like Frank will be visiting very soon.”
“By Christmas?”
“Perhaps. Or maybe for New Year’s. Bob and I had a letter from him yesterday. Would you like to hear it, Emma?”
“Yes, please.”
Nina went off to her desk to retrieve the letter, and I chuckled as George rolled his eyes, his beaming smile fading into a look of vague annoyance.
Surprised, Julianne asked, “Well, what’s that look for?”
“Oh, don’t mind him, Julianne. He has an attitude about Frank Weston.”
“And why is that?”
“I do not have an attitude about Frank Weston—or anyone else for that matter.”
I ignored him and addressed my reply to Julianne. “He thinks Frank is the worst sort of callous rogue because he backed out of attending Bob and Nina’s wedding.”
“Rogue, no. Self-centered and spoiled, yes. Callous, well, that remains to be seen, since he’s yet to grace his father and stepmother with his presence.”
I smiled at him patiently. “Ok, I’ll grant you, he’s been a bit indulged, but that’s Bob’s fault more than his. And he’s been busy in New York with this internship. He’s never been the kind of young man who divides his time well.”
“Oh, so you’ve met him, Emma?” Julianne took a sip of wine, watching George with a forthright curiosity while he fought to suppress a scowl.
“Heavens, yes, I’ve met him. We dated for several months when he lived here before.”
“Old flame?”
I dismissed her comment with a wave. “Ancient history. He’s a cutie though—baseball player. Nice legs.”
Julianne laughed as Nina arrived with the letter. She sat next to Julianne and read portions of it while I “oohed and aahed” in all the right places.
“So, what do you think, Emma? About Frank?”
“Yes, Emma,” George interjected. “Tell us your thoughts.”
Julianne elbowed him gently in the ribs and drew her dainty features into a disapproving frown.
“Oh, I definitely think he wants to visit.”
“I agree,” Nina said. “It’s just a matter of whether Rosemarie Churchill will relent. She’s so possessive of Frank.” She leaned forward and whispered to the group. “I think she’s jealous of Bob—his success, his happiness. She’s so unpleasant to be around, and I think she thinks Frank will end up liking it better here than Alabama.”
“It’s such a shame she feels that way,” I said.
“Isn’t it? Life’s too short for that kind of envy to rule your family.”
“Too true.”
“I do hope Frank gets to come to Highbury before you go back to school in January, Emma. Maybe you could show him around. Help him get re-acquainted.”
I laughed. “If I remember Frank Churchill correctly, he has no difficulty getting acquainted with anyone. Ever. He’s just like Bob—a charming extrovert.”
George turned to Julianne. “I’m off to get another drink. Can I get you something?”
“I’ll come with you.” Julianne stood and reached out her hand to him. “I was thinking I’d visit the hors d’oeuvres table myself.” She beamed at Nina. “Everything looks so yummy.”
“Thank you. Please, help yourself.”
As they walked away, Nina whispered, “What do you think of George’s new gal?”
“Well, she’s got more substance than his typical Woman of the Month club member.”
“Emma, what a thing to say!”
“George Knightley is the poster child for Serial Daters Anonymous. Except he’s not so anonymous these days. He’s fast developing a reputation for having commitment phobia. Why, just the other day…” I stopped to look up at the man looming over us.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Then Tim Elton sat right down between us. “Good.” He paused a beat. “Emma, is there something I can get your father?”
“I’m sure he’s very comfortable.”
“Are you sure? Because he sounds a bit upset.”
“What?” I listened, and sure enough, I heard Daddy’s strained and anxious tone coming from the other room. I’d been so engrossed in discussing George’s love life, I’d tuned Daddy completely out. “Excuse me,” I said, rising and handing my glass to Tim.
“Well, the snow’s falling thick as blackberries in July. I must say, John, I admire your chutzpah in braving the elements this evening. Roads must be getting slick about now.” Jack was standing at the window, staring out into the dark. Having his back to the room, he didn’t see the alarm that bloomed over Daddy’s expression.
“What’s that you say, Jack? Really? Do you think the roads are slick? Isabel? Delores’s car doesn’t drive well in the snow. We’re liable to go off the road in a ditch somewhere! Maybe we should go now before it gets too bad.”
I was ready to punch Jack Knightley—right after I finished disposing of Tim Elton.
Isabel sat beside Daddy, patting his hand. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s snowing, but I don’t know how bad the roads actually are.” Her anxiety was only slightly below our father’s. “Jack? Maybe we should think about going home. I would hate to be stuck here and have the children over at Hartfield alone with just Rita. Especially if the weather’s going to get bad.”
“What if the electricity goes out?” Daddy wrung his hands. Suddenly, this impulsive adventure seemed disastrous to him, even if it was a respite from the consternation and noise of his beloved grandbabies.
Nina came into the room as the voices got louder. “I’m sure it will be fine, John.”
Bob Weston, seeing his wife’s concern, joined in the fray. “I saw that it was snowing, but I didn’t say anything, so as not to upset John.”
Jack turned from the window, taken aback by all the angst in the room, especially from his father-in-law and his wife—as well as my scowl. “I’ll take you all home if you like. Suits me fine to get back to Hartfield Road at a decent hour.”
“But what if we slide off the road? Emma?” Daddy turned to me for solace.
I opened my mouth to soothe, to reassure, but before I could say a word, Isabel piped in.
“If we slide off the road, I’ll just walk the rest of the way and bring back the truck to get you. It’s not that far.”
“Isabel! Walk? In the dark? And the cold?” Daddy shook his head. “You’ll catch your death!”
“It’s highly unlikely that Isabel’s life will be at risk.” Jack set his coffee on the sideboard, then added, “But it’s less likely the sooner we leave.”
“I think I want to go home. I’m getting very worried now. Yes, I think we should go. I really think we should.”
I sighed. Daddy was starting to perseverate. Jack, not living with him since the stroke, didn’t understand what he’d started with that one thoughtless comment. Safety, or rather the fear of not being safe, was Daddy’s numero uno worry.
George walked in the door, coat and gloves on, snowflakes sticking t
o that wavy brown hair. “I’ve checked the weather. Taken a quick peek at the roads.”
“You went out in the storm—just to check the roads?” Daddy was incredulous.
“Yes, sir. Drove up the driveway too. It’s not a winter storm at all. The roads are certainly passable, and the heavy snow isn’t coming till way after midnight. You’ll be just fine, sir—whether you leave now or an hour from now.”
“I think I want to go home. But George says the roads are fine, so the roads are fine, right, my dear?” Daddy looked at me as if I was the only one who could save him. It about broke my heart.
“George always tells you the absolute truth, Daddy. It’s okay. We’ll leave pretty soon. I want you to enjoy the party and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it.” I kissed his cheek. “Just don’t worry, okay?”
“Yes, you’re right. It will be fine. George said so.”
Nina distracted him with a new antique roll-top desk she’d found the week before, but he continued to mutter to himself. “It will be all right. It’s fine.”
I glanced over at George, smiled and mouthed, “Thank you.”
He walked over and leaned down to murmur in my ear, smelling of delicious sandalwood and the cold outdoors. “I’m afraid he won’t be at ease until all four of you are home safe and sound.”
“You’re probably right. I should take him home. He won’t enjoy himself, and the others aren’t sure how to handle him when he’s like this.”
“I know you’d like to stay a bit longer…”
I looked up at him and read his expression perfectly. “No! Don’t you dare pity me, George.”
“I—I’m not.”
“He is not a burden to me. He’s a gift.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“He’s my father, and it’s my choice to care for him. For as long as I can.”
“I know. You’re a good girl, Emma Kate. I’m not feeling sorry for you.”
“Good.”
“Just admiring your heart. I’ll get your coat.”
George so rarely complimented me. It warmed my insides like the eggnog had an hour before. I turned toward the window, to collect myself, and saw the frank, assessing stare from Julianne Ryman, who had apparently watched the entire interchange from across the room.
