Jane and Austen

by Stephanie Fowers

  “Hey Jane,” he called after me. “Is someone going to release me from front desk duty here?”

  “Yeah,” I said over my shoulder. “Do you want to clean the toilets instead?”

  He let out a laugh. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” I heard him gather up his books and laptop from the counter. “Then I’m going with you.”

  “Maybe if you were my fake boyfriend you could.” I slammed the front door between us, wondering if that would do the trick. The wind blew through my hair, and I leaned my head back, listening to the waves in the distance.

  “Fake boyfriend wouldn’t have done you any good.” Austen’s voice made me jump. He zipped his jacket up to his neck and threw on the hood before shutting the door behind him. “The good captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

  “No, he couldn’t look at me. There’s a difference.”

  Austen shook his head. “It was all corner-of-the eye stuff. Believe me, the guy’s not over you. I’m not teasing you this time—not that you aren’t fun to tease.” He gave a little chuckle. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it back there. I love it when you get flustered—your face gets all red.” He studied me and his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Yeah, like that.”

  He gave me a friendly nudge and I shook him off, trying to keep myself from flushing so he wouldn’t tease me about it again. I knew what he was doing. This was his way of apologizing, but I didn’t care if he wanted me to ease his guilt. I was tired of this emotional rollercoaster we had going.

  I took off for the beach, and Austen fell into step beside me. He was really going to follow me to Churchell’s, wasn’t he? I mentally texted Ann-Marie to keep an ear on the front desk during her piano duty. Maybe I’d actually give her a real text later.

  Glancing over at Austen and seeing his beautiful eyes on me, I sighed. “I think Redd actually hates me more than he did before, no thanks to you.”

  He shrugged and let it drop. But on further reflection, I knew Austen was right about the fake boyfriend. It would only be acceptable if Redd had brought a girlfriend; otherwise it would’ve been petty. The sand slipped and crumbled through my flip-flops on my way down to the beach. The sun felt good on my face and neck, and I tried to enjoy it.

  “So, Redd is mad at you and you are mad at me,” Austen said. “Who do I get to be mad at?”

  My shoulders tensed. What relaxation I had gleaned from nature disappeared. I stopped myself from snapping back with a retort and took a moment to reflect instead. Redd held a grudge against me for the same reason that I had one for Austen. I couldn’t be mad at Austen for not liking me. I could be annoyed that he’d led me a merry chase, but had he really? Or was he just being friendly in his own way, and I’d let my romantic nature take it to the next level? A guy wasn’t really declaring himself until … well, he did. Before that, it was just speculation.

  I cleared my throat. “You can be mad at the government. That’s pretty popular.”

  He nodded. “I am mad.” I looked over at him and was immediately sorry when he won my heart again with a wink. I lengthened my stride, and he matched it. He wouldn’t let me dump him as easily as he had done me. I breathed out in resignation, deciding it was easier to be friends. I could use one right now. And if he was a fair-weather one? Well, I needed those too.

  Digging my hands into the kangaroo pockets of my hoodie, I took the sand-covered steps of Churchell’s Shack two at a time to reach its deck. The bar and grill was built to look like a tiki hut, complete with bamboo sticks. It had its own private pool on the deck, shaded with a thick foliage of palm trees in a mini tropical paradise. Besides servicing our guests, the shack also picked up business from the condos and other resorts from the area—namely the Kellynch.

  Churchell Shack was nearly always hopping with customers, so I had timed my appearance an hour before the dinner rush. I pushed through the double swinging doors. The shack was just as open to the elements as the deck outside. The shutters on all the windows were open, and a soft wind lifted the fringe on the place mats. Bamboo rugs lay across a wooden floor. This place would be the hub for Taylor’s brunch tomorrow. And Junie Fairchild, the owner, would be its caterer.

  Junie moved a rag over her already-pristine counter. Her arms were muscular. She kept her long brown hair in a ponytail at the back of her head, with wisps escaping from the sides. She glanced up at me, no emotion clouding her perfect grey eyes. “You’re here about the brunch tomorrow, right?”

  I nodded and sat down, even though she hadn’t given me the go ahead.

  Junie and I were … frenemies, to put it accurately. It was weird, because she was everything that I wanted to be. She looked like she was ready to head out on a Safari—strong enough to take out a few crocodiles, but delicate enough that the men on the boat would never let her lift a lace-gloved finger.

  I couldn’t quite figure out what our problem was. Junie always kept me at a distance like she was hiding secrets that she didn’t trust with anyone—least of all me. Everyone else loved her. Taylor had even taken Junie away with her when she left for Britain to see Bigley. I tried not to take it personally. I mean, I had never gone to Britain before and my luggage already said “London” on it, plus I loved any novel set in England. It should’ve been my vacation, but Taylor still insisted on taking Junie. Junie had a gift. If there was an employee award in a dig like this place, she would win it every month. Austen’s parents were giddy around her. Freddy was, well, Freddy. And then … there was Austen.

  Actual interest spread over Junie’s face when she saw he was with me. “Austen! You’re back!”

  I didn’t like how she said his name—almost like it belonged to her. I gave myself a mental shake, because it didn’t belong to me either.

  “Well, if it isn’t Junie Be Fair!” he said.

  That earned Austen a smile and a free soda. Junie Fairchild even added an umbrella to it. Besides being jealous, I should probably take notes, because I only got a complimentary-size cup of water. I choked on a laugh when I saw it.

  “I just have some last-minute details to coordinate with you,” I told her.

  “Yeah?” She tossed the rag to the side to lean against the counter. “What’s the guest total now?”

  Taylor was famous for pulling switcheroos on us. It always made me look bad, but there was nothing for it. I put on a casual look. “As of today, two-hundred-and-ninety-five.”

  Junie nodded. “Fifty more then.” She didn’t look bothered by the change, not like she had when she’d first started her business—she probably even planned for it now. “I’ll need more chicken breasts and barbecue sauce.”

  “I’m on it.” I planned to ask how much, but became acutely aware that Junie wasn’t paying any attention to me. She and Austen had some sort of visual conversation going on with their eyes. I coughed. “So, Junie Be … uh,” I cut myself off—that was Austen’s pet name for her. “I mean Junie, do you need anything else?”

  “Nope,” she said in her clipped way when addressing me, and then she sent a special smile to the guy by my side. “Austen, you didn’t tell me you were coming to town.” I felt a small sense of satisfaction that he had kept her in the dark, too. “How did Boston treat you?”

  I hunched guiltily when I realized that these were all normal-people questions that I’d failed to ask him earlier.

  He adjusted on his seat to get more comfortable. “It’s dog eat dog out there, Junie Be Fair. I hardly had time to sleep and eat. The only exercise I got was biking to work.”

  “So, no time for dating?”

  The question startled both of us. Austen was just worse at hiding it than I was. He let out a bark of laughter. “Hey, I got out. I wasn’t a complete hermit.”

  “Then you’re dating someone?”

  “Why would I limit myself to one girl?” He winked.

  “Oh come now.” Junie leaned closer to him and put a gentle hand on his arm. “There’s not some special g
irl worth settling down for?”

  He said no! Why press him and test the fates, or he’d come up with a different answer—for the life of me I didn’t know why I cared—it’s just … I downed my complimentary cup of water in one gulp, all the while watching Austen narrowly. He laughed again. “Junie, there is no one as special as the ones I left here.”

  That was a really safe answer when talking to the two girls he had simultaneously and unknowingly led on while he had been here last time. I blew my cheeks out in exasperation. I had already forgiven him for it two seconds ago. Just so I wouldn’t forget that, I looked away at the beach bums playing volleyball in the distance. The blond guy next to the net was cute. His long board shorts looked like breeches from the regency era.

  “We definitely need to catch up on old times.” I heard Austen say.

  My attention veered back to Junie as she patted his arm before pulling away. “It’s a date,” she said in her throaty voice.

  I jerked to the side and knocked my complimentary cup over. Dark soda spilled all over Junie’s beautiful counter. I looked from the puddle to Austen’s cup only to discover that Austen had covertly poured half of his soda into my cup when I wasn’t looking—he probably pitied my little water cup.

  “I am so sorry, Junie.” I stole her rag and scrubbed at the spill. “I was just in a hurry to go. I have so much I need to finish before the wedding, and …” The counter was clean—wet, but clean. I put the dirty rag down and gave her a contrite smile. “Sorry, I really have to go.”

  I found my feet and didn’t get two steps when Austen caught my arm—I was intrigued that his fingers could fit around my whole elbow. “Hey, I’m hungry. I’ve been stuck behind that counter for too long; can we get something to eat before going back?” he asked. “Come on, I know you’re going to work through dinner, which will only make you more cranky.” He smiled. “Let’s eat.”

  Friends ate together, except I couldn’t stomach him stealing the attention from every girl he met … and why did I care? “Sure, sure.” I grabbed a menu and headed back to the counter, hurriedly perusing the food choices.

  Austen steered me by my elbow. “Let’s eat over there.”

  I nodded, letting him lead me wherever he felt like while I read through the menu. He shoved me at a booth and I sat down, finally noticing that he had cornered me behind a palm where I couldn’t see the volleyball players from my vantage point. The old Jane would assume that he meant to get me alone, but I knew better now.

  Austen settled down on the seat opposite me. “Now we can talk. Jane, I really want to talk to you. A lot has happened since I left.”

  He had found someone. I got scared. “A lot happened?”

  “Well, yeah, but also …” He stopped talking and just stared at me. It made me wonder if I had something embarrassing on my face. I rubbed self-consciously at my nose. The corner of his lips lifted. “You look good.” I knew that wasn’t what he had been going to say. He laughed and abruptly changed the subject. “So you and Redd, huh? Why didn’t that work out?”

  I wasn’t sure. If it had just been Austen that had stood in the way of that failed romance, then I’d probably be dating Redd now; but besides how obsessed Redd acted with me, the relationship had just kind of fallen flat. I shrugged. “He’s cute, but I don’t know, we just didn’t click.”

  Spending time with Redd was actually boring. Since the moment in my childhood when I could grasp what romance was, I had imagined it as something so magical, so perfect, that I’d be willing to give up my single existence for it … but if being together with someone wasn’t better than what I had now, frankly, I didn’t want it.

  What Austen and I had had was the closest thing that I could tag as an ideal romance—it made me feel fresh and alive. Of course, it had only been a figment of my imagination. As if on cue, Junie came by and mechanically lit the scented candle sitting in a bowl between Austen and me. I suspected some evil ulterior motive on her part. Candles between Austen and me just felt wrong.

  Junie put her hands on her hips. She was too good to write down an order. “So, what will it be?”

  I gave her my menu. “I want the tuna sandwich.”

  Austen made a face. “I guess that means I’ll take the oyster stew.”

  She left and he leaned closer to me. “Now we’ll both have bad breath.”

  I couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped my lips. “You are a romance killer.”

  “What?”

  “A candle, and you’re talking about bad breath?” I moved the candle around so that the flame sputtered in indignation. No matter how anyone tried to force romance, it never worked. Me with Austen. Redd with me. It was like romance wasn’t in our natures anymore.

  “Wait, I get it.” I got excited as a new hypothesis on love sprang into my mind. I wanted to stand and pace while I worked it out, but since I was stuck in a booth, I settled for stuffing my legs beneath me to get some height instead. “It’s not you. It’s the times. When was the last time you were in a relationship?” When he looked blank, I hastily explained. “I mean a real, meaningful relationship. You probably never have. As for me?” I wrinkled up my nose, thinking. “Nope, nothing real. Now I know why!”

  He stared at me. “You are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”

  Of course he wasn’t being sincere at all, and it proved my point. “People are taking longer and longer to get married. And when they do? Well, divorces are taking over the country. And you know why? It’s because once upon a time, romance meant something. People actually took the time to make that other person feel special. They brought flowers—not just flowers, the girl’s favorite flower. The men knew which one it was, too. Do you know what my favorite flower is, Austen?”

  He hesitated. “No.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “And you’re blaming modern times for that?”

  “Of course I am. Now, when people date, they just do dinner and a movie. How do you get to know anyone over food and watching someone else live their life? And it’s like we don’t need each other anymore. We’ve got fast food, babysitters, our own jobs and lives. Our comforts have made us lazy and unromantic. We don’t want to take the time to make moments special.”

  “Okay, I’ll play.” His lips were tight, and I knew I had struck a nerve. “Let’s pretend that we were in a different time, shall we? I know what you’re getting at. We’re talking Jane Austen time, right?”

  I nodded.

  He grumbled under his breath, something about old girlfriends and being forced to watch the six-hour Pride and Prejudice.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  He flashed me a smile. “Where would you and I meet in this alternate reality?”

  “A ball,” I said automatically.

  “So we meet at a club today instead.”

  “A club?” I leveled a look at him. “This isn’t the movies. What kind of people do you meet at a club?”

  “Usually losers. Fine, I meet you on the street.”

  “Oh c’mon. I’d be afraid that you’d steal my purse or that you’re a stalker or something. The internet’s not that much better. Remember, it’s the majority of people I’m talking about here—not our confident friend Taylor—and I don’t know you yet. The majority of people are like me: suspicious and afraid. No, online’s not going to work for us, either.”

  “How about a party at a mutual friend’s?” he asked.

  “Okay, acceptable,” I allowed. “It’s close enough to a ball, but it still doesn’t work the same. Assuming that you’re the social type, you have one chance to make a good enough impression for me to accept you as a date—you have to at least seem normal. But I don’t want to waste my time, so I also have to find you mildly attractive.”

  He gave me a slow smile. “I think I’ve got that one down.”

  “And you can’t be a jerk,” I matched his teasing tone, then sighed. He didn’t get it. “That’s why romance worked so much better back in
the day,” I said.

  His eyes were on me. After a moment, he nudged me. “It’s called a meet-cute, right? They happen all the time. They happen to me daily.”

  He knew about meet-cutes? Score one for Austen—those were on chick flicks. But now it was my turn to blow him away with my knowledge. I smiled. “You remember how we met, right?”

  “Honestly?”

  “You don’t,” I answered for him. “I know. Let me remind you: you said, ‘Nice to meet you’ and then asked me how my day was.”

  “Let me guess, you said, ‘Fine’?”

  “Brilliant,” I said. “So we’re the living example that not everyone has a great meet-cute.”

  “Hey.” He held up his hands in a defeated gesture. “At least it wasn’t a meet-awkward. It could’ve been a meet-get-out-of-my-face.”

  I nodded. “Sadly, there is a decided lack of good meet-cutes in the real world, which puts us back to our old courtship scenario. Say we didn’t exactly hit it off at the ball the night before; they did this thing called a morning visit in the drawing room—it was like another chance to kick off a romance. All you’d have to do was pass the parent test, and then you could ask me for a drive in the park to get to know me better.”

  “And give you your favorite flower, which is?”

  He got me there. “I don’t know.”

  A dimple touched his cheek. “A cornflower,” he decided for me. “They’re everywhere in Cali. Very easy to find. Plus, they match your eyes. So I just pick a few on my way to your place.”

  I felt myself getting caught up in the romance of it. “Yeah, and then you’d ask me to dance at the next ball.”

  “Or a friend’s party like we could do today.” He was back to his same argument.

  I shook my head, feeling my unruly curls escape from the sloppy knot at the back of my hair and bounce around my face. “Nobody dances nowadays. No, you’d already lose out because of that. Back then I could score two or three dances at a ball from you. Well, if you were a rake, and you would definitely be a rake.”