by Karen M Cox
By the time I had turned to speak to Jane, the door was closed, and no one was there.
“Guess she wasn’t feeling too friendly.”
I shrugged. “Guess not.”
Twenty-Two
George rang the bell at Julianne’s apartment twice before she answered, fingers fiddling with a silver hoop at her ear.
“George, you’re early!”
“By five minutes.” He brushed her lips with a kiss.
“I didn’t get out of the hospital until after six.” She stopped and looked him up and down. “And you’re dressed up. You didn’t tell me I was supposed to dress up.”
“You look fine.”
“Aargh!” She rolled her eyes and strode down the hall to her bedroom. “Give me three minutes!”
“Three minutes. I’m timing you, J.R.”
She called from behind the door. “Fix yourself a drink. And don’t call me J.R.!”
He laughed as he picked up a crystal decanter from the sideboard and poured a splash of Maker’s Mark into her cut glassware. As he sipped, he glanced around the room. Nice furniture, covered in dust because she had no time to clean and no money to hire in. Books and papers stacked precariously on the coffee table. Shoes in front of the couch. Except for those touches of mess, the room looked like she was hardly home. Because she wasn’t, he realized. Her life was at the hospital.
“Who is this party for again?”
Irritation surfaced in his voice. “Frank Weston, the prodigal son of Highbury.”
She poked her head around the door. “Well, that sounded snotty.”
“Spoiled, frat boy jocks annoy me, I guess.”
“Hmm.” She stepped out of her bedroom, wearing a wrap dress with a large pointed collar. “Pot, meet kettle.”
He lowered his glass and glared at her.
She laughed as she donned her khaki-colored trench coat. “Don’t look so offended, honey. You were a frat boy, and you do play a lot of tennis and golf.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “And you don’t act spoiled”—she stood on tiptoes and kissed him—“but really, you pretty much are. In the most charming of ways.” She took the bourbon from his hand and set it on the coffee table. “So, if you don’t like this Frank guy, why are we going to his party? We could stay in, order Chinese.” She swayed sinuously against him. “Have our own party.”
“Tempting, but I said I’d make an appearance.” He picked up the glass and set it on a magazine. “You really need a coaster or two.”
“I’ve got some in a drawer somewhere.” She stepped back from him. “So, we’re going to see this Frank person because…?”
“For Nina and Bob, I guess.”
“Oh, I like them! Wait, they haven’t been married long enough to…”
“Remember? Frank Weston is Bob’s son from his first marriage. He’s visiting for a few months. Working with his father.”
“I see. Who else is coming?”
“Oh, I don’t know—friends of Bob’s, some of Frank’s old pals from high school that are still around. The Highbury crowd. Emma, of course.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“I think the Westons would like Frank to hook back up with Emma now that he’s in town.”
“Hmm, interesting.”
“They dated for a short time in high school. Then Frank left to live with his mother. Nina didn’t care for him then, but I guess she thinks now that he’s grown up, and well-traveled, and has good prospects, he would be good for Emma.”
“That’s nice. I’ve heard you talk about how Emma has been too sheltered.”
“And her life experience is so…unvarying. She’s made the best of what life handed her, but…”
“Maybe Frank can open up the world for her.”
“I think Bob and Nina are making a mistake. It’s not a good idea to try and fix people up.”
“It doesn’t usually work.”
“Exactly right, and Emma doesn’t need a Frank Weston. He’s just another needy man-child for her to take care of. I mean, I love John Woodhouse like a second father, and I know he needs care… but Emma… What she needs is…” He stopped when he noticed Julianne’s raised eyebrows. “Good grief! I’m gossiping like a teen-aged girl. Let’s go already.”
“Let’s. You’ve sparked my curiosity,” she murmured, as she picked up her keys, “about a lot of things.”
Twenty-Three
“Nina!” I walked to my aunt and took both her hands as I kissed her cheek. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had to settle Daddy down for the evening.”
“I’m glad you could make it.” Nina gave me a hug. “Let me take your coat. How’s your father handling being on his own this evening?”
“He’s fine because he’s not alone. Delores offered to sit with him until I got back.” I looked around the room. “Quite a crowd.”
“Oh, you know how Bob is. He knows just about everyone in town. And the ones he didn’t know, it seems Frank did.”
“Frank Weston can cultivate friends faster than anyone I’ve ever met.” I scanned the room again. “No Jane and Helen?”
“Jane has play practice. Helen’s here though—over there, talking to Frank.”
“Must go rescue him then.”
“Now, Emma.” Nina studied her stepson engaged in an animated conversation with Helen. “He doesn’t seem to mind her, actually.” She winked at me. “Although I’m sure he’d love your company.”
I had been looking forward to seeing Frank again all week. Partly because he was handsome, but that morning on our run, I’d also found him less goofy than he was in high school and still a lot of fun. He was less elitist than I’d expected too, given that he’d been living with Bob’s ex-wife, Rosemarie, and the stern matriarch of the family, Mrs. Churchill. Frank was often at the elder lady’s beck and call, according to what Bob had told Nina, and Frank’s grandmother held his inheritance in an iron fist. She was a formidable woman, Nina said, and used to getting her way. I wanted to see how Frank would behave in the presence of his father and new stepmother. That would tell me about his real qualities.
Frank waved me over.
As I suspected, in need of a rescue from the loquacious Helen, aren’t you, Frank?
“Hey Emma!” He gave me a look once up and down. “You look good.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“Listen, Helen here was just telling me, among other things, about a place in town where they used to have parties. You know, community get-togethers—”
“Out by the old distillery,” Helen interrupted. “Bromley Crossing. Do you remember it?”
“Yes, I remember. Gosh, I don’t think I’ve been out there in years.”
“Dad and I were looking for a place to have a Derby party this year.”
“He doesn’t want to have it here?”
“You know, this place is great, almost perfect in every way. But I think we need something bigger. A place where Dad could entertain business colleagues and clients and not worry about having them traipsing through his house and having to clean up after them. Bromley Crossing seems perfect—unless you have another opinion?”
“My opinion isn’t worth that much. I love parties, but I rarely give them.”
“But I thought you were the socialite of the county.”
I tried to decide if he was serious or teasing me.
Helen exclaimed, “Oh, but she is! Our Emma’s company is sought all over Highbury. And now that Jane is here, we have even more talent and culture. She isn’t here today, unfortunately. She has play practice, as I told you when you asked me earlier, Frank. Yes indeed, she and Emma are the definition of talent and culture. I’m going to get another glass of wine. Do you want me to get you one, Emma?”
“No, thank you. I’ll get something shortly.”
Helen nodded. “You want to look at all the choices first. I don’t blame you. That sounds like a good plan. Always get what you like because that makes a party so much more fun, don’t you think
?”
Frank looked at me with raised eyebrows and a secret smile.
“Yes, of course.”
“Of course,” Helen said as she set off for the kitchen.
“Oh, Helen.” I sighed.
“She’s a hoot. She sure does love her cousins.”
“Particularly the talented Jane Fairfax.”
“She is the definition of talent, apparently. Or perhaps, you were the definition of talent, and Jane the definition of culture?”
“Did you go visit Jane like you said you would?”
“I did, I did. Stayed there almost an hour before I realized it. Hardly got a word in edgewise.”
“That sounds about like Helen. So how was Jane?”
“She looked pale. I thought being in the South and in the country, she might have picked up a little color.”
“Well it is winter, after all. And she is naturally pale.”
“I like the tanned look, I suppose. Makes a woman look healthy.”
“I’m somewhat pale myself, but I’ve decided to embrace it. Too much sun is bad for the skin.”
Frank backtracked. “But even though you’re pale, you have that wholesome look. Jane just looked sickly. But then I always thought she looked unwell, every time I saw her.”
“So, you two ran in the same circles?”
“Ah…um…kind of. I had some friends who were part of the theater crowd, so Jane and I would see each other from time to time.”
“And you saw her perform?”
“More than once.” He cleared his throat. “I’m out of beer. Walk over to the bar with me and get something to drink.”
“Then there’s no disputing her talent? We hear about her all the time from Helen and Delores.”
“Yes.”
“I just wondered if she lived up to the hype.”
“I guess Mike Dixon thought so. He directed her in A Chorus Line, and then before anyone knew what was going on, he asked her to marry him.”
“Yes, do tell me about that. It was all so sudden and mysterious, and now he’s gone and she’s here, and no one seems to know a thing about it.”
His expression clouded. “I wouldn’t know anything about Jane and Mike, not how things really were behind the scenes.” He handed me a glass of wine. “Have you tried this pinot? It’s exceptional.”
“Well, aren’t you discreet—almost as discreet as Jane herself.” I sighed as I took the drink. “And here I thought you’d tell me more in a ten-minute conversation than I’ve gotten in three entire visits at Helen’s. But gossiping is unattractive, as George Knightley often reminds me.” I gave him a teasing grin. “Ah, well. I guess I’ll never know anything about Jane’s love life.”
“So, you know her pretty well then?”
“I’ve known her most of my life, more since she came to live with Helen and Delores. We’re cousins by marriage, and about the same age, so I’m sure people think we would have become fast friends, but we never did.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m sure part of the reason is that she went to public school and I to private. She was into music and drama exclusively, and I had more—”
“Eclectic taste in activities?”
“That’s a kind way of putting it.” Much nicer than George’s: “Emma, why don’t you ever finish anything?” “But the truth is, it was probably my fault. It was hard to like her when she was the recipient of everyone’s sympathy and so idolized in my family. That makes me sound petty and mean, doesn’t it?”
“Hey, I get it. Why should she get all the attention, when you were here first?”
“When you put it that way, it does sound petty. Thanks, Frank!” I said laughing.
“I didn’t mean it that way. People see others from the outside looking in, and they respond to what they observe. But it isn’t always fair or accurate, to judge someone by what is visible on the surface.”
“Yes, I agree, and Jane herself is so hard to get to know. I guess I was never in want of friends enough to break through that ice,” I said, musing aloud.
“She’s an ice queen, which I’m sure serves its own purpose, but isn’t a very attractive quality.”
“I like her fine, except for that tendency to keep her opinions close to her vest. It makes it seem like she’s hiding something.”
“I can see that in her.” He smiled at me: all white teeth, and mischievous looks, and two gorgeous dimples. “Anyway, I prefer a little more openness in my friends. I read somewhere that women who are outgoing are much more interesting.” He took a sip of his beer. “Hey, have you met my friend Chip? He says he knows you from a class or something.”
As he led me over to a group of his friends, I considered who Frank Weston had become. Nina was right—he’d grown up, matured, although there was still a youthful quality about him that surprisingly, even a stint in New York City hadn’t erased. It was amazing how much of Bob showed in his manner, given the limited time they’d spent together. I thought that warmth and personality would serve Frank well. He’d become a fine young man.
I turned at the sound of voices at the door and smiled as my eyes met George’s across the room. He waved at me and turned to help Julianne off with her jacket. Breath backed up in my lungs and was expelled when the sound of a hyena-like laugh assaulted my ears.
“What on earth is that unholy sound?”
Frank nearly spit his beer out. “Damn it, Emma! You nearly made me choke!” He laughed, shaking spilled beer off his hand.
“It wasn’t my fault. It was that… Where did it…?” Tim Elton walked in the door behind George with a young woman on his arm. Anger and embarrassment rushed through me, and I turned my back on the door. My first thought was gratitude that Mary Jo wasn’t around to see this.
Helen took my elbow. “You see that young woman with Tim Elton?”
“I certainly can’t avoid hearing her,” I said under my breath.
“Her name is Edith Rawlings Bitti. She’s from Frankfort—her mother is Doreen Rawlings, you know, of the Frankfort Rawlings, and her father is I-talian, from New York, I think. He owns all those dry cleaner shops—there are a great many of them around here. As you know. Anyway, she’s Tim’s new girl—Edith, I mean. It’s quite serious.”
“He sure didn’t waste any time.”
Helen gave me a puzzled smile and nodded. “I guess not.”
“Her name is Edith, you say?”
“Edie, I think he calls her Edie.”
“Edie Bitti?” My lips twitched in amusement.
“Mm-hmm. Mama saw him in the grocery store over the weekend, and he told her—told Mama, I mean—all about her. He’s smitten. Every other word was, ‘Edie, this’ and ‘Edie that.’ It’s so sweet. Sad for all the young, single girls that had their eyes on Tim, I suppose.”
I raised a second round of thanks, praising every higher power I knew, that Mary Jo wasn’t here. The annoying bray of laughter sprayed over the room again.
“My god,” I whispered. “What has he done?”
Twenty-Four
“My god,” George whispered to Julianne, “What has Elton done?”
Julianne pursed her lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing as Tim approached them, beaming. “Stop it,” she whispered fiercely.
Tim nudged Edie toward them and held out his hand, turning to face the room, eyes everywhere but on the man whose hand he shook. “Knightley! Great to see you! I guess, it’s been since Christmas, hasn’t it? What have you two been up to?”
“Oh, about the same.” George glanced toward the woman at Tim’s elbow, which was all the encouragement Tim needed to introduce her.
“This is Edie, Edie Rawlings Bitti. Her uncle is Judge Rawlings.”
“Yes,” George said. “I remember the judge. He was still hearing cases when I first started practicing law. It’s good to meet you, Edie.”
“George Knightley! I certainly know the name! Tim, you sly dog! You never told me you hobnobbed with George Knightley.”
An abbreviated version of her annoying bray punctured the air. “So, you know my uncle. Well, that’s something I’ve heard lots of times before. I guess about everybody around these parts knows The Judge.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” George put an arm around his date. “This is Julianne Ryman.”
“Julianne!” Edie patted George’s elbow like they were lifelong friends. “Why, Knightley, she’s so dainty and petite!”
“Thank you?” Julianne answered.
“What do you do with yourself when you’re not keeping company with this fine specimen of man?”
Julianne smiled politely. “I’m a resident.”
“A resident of where?”
“No, a resident, at the hospital. I’m a doctor.”
“Oh, silly me. Of course. A resident.”
Tim beamed. “Let’s go greet our hosts, Edie.”
“Lead the way.”
“Holy smokes, I can’t believe he did it,” George whispered.
“Did what?” Julianne took his hand and led him toward the bar.
“Found some poor marionette of a girl to use as a political stepping stone. Judge Rawlings is a mover and a shaker in the state Democratic party.”
“Perhaps that isn’t the only reason he likes her. She’s pretty.” Julianne looked over the wine selection. “Chardonnay, please.” She handed one glass to George. “The laugh is unfortunate, but I guess he overlooks it.”
George stared at her. “How?”
Twenty-Five
“How on earth can he stand that awful sound?”
“Oh, come on, Emma.” Frank tugged at my arm. “Walk over there with me. I’m dying to meet her. It’ll be a hoot.”
“Frank, I don’t think…” It was too late; I was face to face with Elton for the first time since I’d spurned him. Tim’s smile hardened as he made the introductions.
Edie tapped her lips, pondering. “Woodhouse, Woodhouse…hmm, I know that name from somewhere.”
“My father was an attorney.”
“Oh yes, Knightley and Woodhouse. He worked for Knightley over there?”
