“When is it again?”
“Friday night. Do come! It’ll be fun. I’ll help you put up your hair, plus the dress she gave me will look stunning with your eye color.” Edna patted her knee. “You really shouldn’t miss it.”
This past year, she’d turned down invite after invite to social events. Dressing up for a party at her current weight could be painful. Over time, though, the excuses had sounded flimsy. So what if she’d needed a larger black party dress? Each refusal had disappointed her friends.
She turned to Edna. “Sure, I’ll come.”
Edna squeezed Willow’s forearm. “Oh good. Try on the dress tomorrow and we’ll see if it needs to be hemmed.”
A stout woman with short dark hair and large wire-rimmed glasses stepped in front of the rows of chairs. “Welcome to our Jane Austen Festival reading. I’m Jeanette Stockman, your host for tonight.”
The fifty or so people seated in the brightly lit room clapped.
“This year, instead of a reading, we have a group of local theater performers who’ve agreed to perform for us. The theme for this year’s selection from Ms. Austen’s work is love, courtship, and marriage. There’s a deeply passionate side to Jane Austen’s works and tonight we’ve chosen passages from Pride and Prejudice.”
Willow whispered to Edna, “Owen Hughes, the caretaker at my house, is one of the performers.”
Edna’s penciled-on coal-colored brows lifted. “Oh my,” she said a little too loudly, making a few heads turn. “He’s a perfect Darcy.”
The announcer stepped aside, adding, “For the first selection, the part of Elizabeth Bennett will be played by Julia Parker and Fitzwilliam Darcy is performed by the very dashing Owen Hughes.” She raised a brow and many of the women in the audience smiled.
Very dashing. Yes, darn him. Not only dressed in Regency clothing, she imagined. Even in his modern-day attire, he seemed gallant.
A pretty brunette with her long hair twisted into a loose bun, tendrils brushing her cheeks, stepped into the performing area and sat on a bench while looking off to the side, her spirits clearly broken. Her plain Regency-style dress reminded Willow of those seen in the parade yesterday.
Hurried footsteps sounded on the carpet behind them and Owen appeared in the center aisle between the folding chairs. Dressed in a short-waisted coat, cream-colored pants, and sideburns firmly in place, he took long strides to the front, his chin held high and gaze fixed on Elizabeth.
Dashing barely scraped the surface of how handsome he looked, and his sense of purpose commanded the audience’s attention.
Owen and his fellow actor played the parts to perfection. Willow discovered an admiration for the author, who portrayed a man in love but unable to express himself. And more than anything, Owen’s acting abilities left her stunned.
The scene ended and the audience erupted with applause, including one wolf whistle. Both actors took a bow, and on his second one, Owen’s eyes landed on Willow and he winked. She nearly melted right into her seat.
Full of surprises, wasn’t he?
They enjoyed the remaining performances. At the end, the entire group of actors came out and took a collective bow. As the crowd dispersed, Willow and Edna stood to greet Owen, who, according to Edna, approached them with his mother, Ginny.
Edna touched his arm. “Oh, Owen. You should be on the telly.” She turned Ginny and after quickly introducing Willow, she said, “You sure raised a good one here.”
Owen’s mom glanced at him and beamed with pride. “Thank you, Edna. I’m always proud of my oldest boy.”
Willow turned to Owen. “I think Edna’s right. You should be television. You were great.”
He shrugged. “Thanks. I used to perform in secondary school, then some at the university. Just a hobby. Not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Ginny shook her head. “You’re always so modest, Owen.”
Edna looked at Ginny. “Will I see you at the masquerade ball?”
“Not this year, I’m afraid.”
Edna reached out and put a hand on Willow’s shoulder. “I’ve convinced our newcomer to join us.”
Willow laughed. “Yeah, I’m not sure what I’m getting myself into.”
“It’s fun.” Owen turned to her. “If you’re going to the ball, you should learn some eighteenth-century dances. Want me to teach you?”
“Oh, no way.” Willow held up her hand. “I don’t dance.”
Every horrible memory of attending dances in high school released a barrage of insecurity. Wallflower. Always the fat girl, watching her thinner classmates moving with ease on the floor. “I’ll get dressed up, but just want to watch.”
“Tsk. Tsk.” Edna frowned. “You’ll have more fun if you fully participate. And Owen is probably a wonderful teacher.”
“Don’t they need someone to serve the punch or work the coat room?”
Owen laughed. “You’re always so funny, Rosebud.”
“Who’s being funny?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Seriously. It would be my pleasure to teach you. How about tomorrow, after I get back from a tour?”
All eyes were on her and she wanted to shrink inside herself. Dancing required grace and she possessed none. “I’m not a great dancer. In fact, I’m not one at all.”
“Skill doesn’t matter. It’s fun.”
“Fun. Sure. Fine. I’ll give it a try, but after I break your foot, can we call it quits?”
He belly laughed this time. “Yes. But only once my foot is broken. Tomorrow it is then. I’ll let you know the time.”
And just like that, she would be forced to turn into a Regency-period ballroom dancer. Her inner wallflower groaned.
Chapter 14
Willow savored the last bite of her breakfast sausage just as Edna hurried into the sunroom. She placed two breakfast plates at the table of a new couple from Germany, then started excitedly suggesting places they should visit in Bath. Always so eager to make her guests feel at home. A true gem.
Willow exited the article she’d been reading about another woman who’d walked the Cotswold Way alone. The author claimed the trail changed her in ways she hadn’t expected, but all for the good.
Changes for the good. She liked that sound of that.
She rose from the table. Passing by Edna as she stepped away from the new guests, Willow touched her arm. “Thanks for breakfast. Delicious, as always.”
“Thank you, dear. Don’t forget. Kathleen will be here any minute with your dress for the ball.”
“I’ll just brush my teeth before she comes.” A ball. It sounded so Cinderella, making Willow laugh. “Will she bring a pumpkin and some mice, too?”
Edna stared blankly for a long moment; then she smiled. “Oh yes, Cinderella, going to the ball. I see.”
“Be back in a few.” She turned to head to her room.
On her way there, it struck her how her Manhattan friends would laugh at the notion of her attending a Regency-period ball. A strong, get-the-job done CEO like herself, dressing as if she’d stepped out of a Masterpiece Theater production.
What had she gotten herself into?
Yet, something about the prospect of the ball left her curious. Just like last night’s reading at the library from Pride and Prejudice. After the performance, back at the B and B, she couldn’t fall asleep. She’d gone on the internet and had watched the movie version, finding the premise captivating.
Once inside her room, she picked up her toothbrush and added a blob of toothpaste. While she brushed, a parallel between her life and Jane Austen’s grew clear. Willow had been raised in a world of wealth because of her mother’s marriage, but she’d never felt comfortable. Always on the outside looking in at people who judged others by social norms that, to Willow, often seemed silly and exclusive.
Jane’s world held a narrow definition of how women should
behave. In a similar fashion, the modern world cared about how a woman looked. While growing up, not only did Willow have to hear about the importance of being thin and dressed well, but expectations bombarded every single female in today’s world, from women’s magazines, television, and movies.
As she rinsed off her toothbrush, another reality hit her like a pie to the face…
She’d grown a business empire from those suppositions.
A wave of self-disgust tumbled toward her as another admission became clear as glass: skinny did not equal happy. No matter what society tried to tell you.
She stepped out of the bathroom and her phone rang. The display showed her attorney’s name so she answered. “Hi, Abe.”
“Hey. Is it a good time?”
“Sure, but I’ve only got a few minutes. Everything okay? I mean, it’s the middle of the night in New York.”
“Insomnia. It gets worse with age. Figured I’d use the time to give you an update. Things have quieted down with the board since you left, but I don’t trust them. I’m still trying to find out your options to buy back the company, but I thought of another tactic if that doesn’t work.”
“I’ll try anything that lets me keep my company.” She ignored a voice reminding her about what she’d just realized.
“What if I can convince most of the board members to vote in your favor?”
“That’d be great. But will they? Nobody in their right mind would want to contend with Nikki afterward. She rules that place like Stalin did his armies.”
“You’re not kidding. But I ate lunch with two of the members the other day and learned not everybody is thrilled with her, so a door might be open for you. Possibly to include a new board president.”
“Wow, they’d fire her? Wouldn’t that be a twist on things. Well, I trust you, Abe. If you think it might work, go for it.”
“How’s it going with the house and property?”
“The good news is that I think the house could be a small gold mine.” Willow plopped onto her bed. “This area is gorgeous and the house has the potential to be a truly beautiful place to live.”
“I sense a but.”
“It’s been neglected for a long time. It needs an electrical wiring overhaul and a plumber because the water isn’t working right. Oh, the deal also includes a cottage that needs some work on the thatched roof.”
He laughed. “So you own a thatched-roof house, too?”
“Yeah, who’d have thought? I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to breath a word to anybody in Manhattan.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“I’m going to a Jane Austen ball in a few days.”
He laughed a little too long. “That doesn’t sound like the tiger lady of weight loss.”
“No. It doesn’t. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. Oh, I may be here about a week longer than I planned.” She didn’t bother to tell him about her walk on the Cotswold Way, at least for now, but offered her new return date. “I’d better run. Time for my gown fitting.”
“Okay, Cinderella.”
She laughed. “Good one. Talk to you soon.”
A gown fitting. A hundred-mile walk to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps. The second she boarded the plane to come here, a metamorphosis had begun. Good and surprising changes. Where would all this end?
* * * *
“Good news!” Owen smiled as he stepped inside the foyer of Willow’s house. “I’ve found your grandmother’s friend.”
“You mean Hettie? Ronald got back to you?” Willow’s stomach dipped, part excitement over getting some answers, the other nerves over what she might find.
“Ronald says she’s in a nursing home. Actually, it’s a residential care facility. She’s faced some physical hindrances as she’s aged, but her mind is sharp and she might be able to answer your questions.”
“Is she far?” She took Owen by the arm and pulled him further in then closed the door.
“Bristol. It’s about thirty minutes from here.”
“Gosh, I can’t thank you enough. If you get me the address, I’ll see if a cab can take me over—”
“Don’t be foolish. I’ll drive you.”
“But you’ve done so much for me already. I don’t want to bother you.”
“No bother.” He stuck his hands inside his denim jacket pockets. “We can figure out when later, because it’s time for our ballroom dance lessons.”
“Oh, right.”
He shook his head. “Good try, pretending you forgot.”
“Can’t blame me for trying. Where are we doing them?”
“The cottage, where we’ll have electricity for the music. I came to walk you over.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
“Not when I’m around.” He raised his dark brows. “You ready?”
“One sec.” She went to the living room and grabbed her purse off the sofa. When she returned to the doorway, he stood outside on the porch waiting, staring out to the trees.
“Ready.”
He turned, a soft smile sweeping across his face as he waved a hand toward the steps. “After you.”
As they started across the lawn, he said, “Jilly and Bea made us dinner. Then the four of us can practice after we eat. “
“The four of us? Are you afraid I’ll be so bad you’ll need more people to show me?”
“No.” He cast her a frown. “These are group dances. Tonight we will learn an English Country Dance and it starts with steps in a group of four.”
“It already sounds complicated. Maybe I should just observe.”
He chuckled. “Willow, Willow, Willow. What goes on in your head?”
“Fear of humiliation.”
“Now, if I may quote...” He held up a finger and shifted to a very scholarly sounding voice. “In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.”
“Uh-huh. Did you make that up?”
“Nope. Saw it on a poster the other day.”
“And I’ll bet you were dying for a chance to use it.”
He smiled, but didn’t answer, and reached for the cottage’s storm door. They entered the living room, a spacious area with a comfortable rolled-armed sofa and two chairs. The ensemble faced a brick fireplace holding a wood-burning stove. Dog toys scattered on the dark beige wall-to-wall carpeting gave the place a lived-in look.
“We’re here,” Owen said loudly.
Henry howled from somewhere in the house, and seconds later he charged into the room with Jilly behind him.
“Willow!” Jilly threw herself into Willow’s arms.
She hugged Jilly’s small frame, overwhelmed someone could be this happy to see her. A flash of what she may have missed by never having a child of her own threatened to steal the warm moment, but she fought it and hugged Jilly even tighter.
“Hello, Willow.” A woman of average height with an easy smile and short dark hair streaked with gray approached. Willow released Jilly but took her hand. “I’m Bea, Jilly’s grandmother. I’m so glad we finally get to meet.”
“Me, too. Thanks so much for sending over both tea and Jilly in the afternoons. It’s been a nice break from cleaning.”
“My pleasure. Why don’t we eat? Dinner is ready.”
On their way out of the living room, Willow passed several photographs hung on the off-white walls. Most pictures were of a woman Willow didn’t recognize, all taken during dog shows. In each one, the dogs were the same as Henry, some with different coloring. Probably pictures of Jilly’s mom.
Did it hurt Jilly to see pictures of her mother in plain sight each day? Willow quickly reconsidered. If Jilly were her child, she would still want her memory kept alive.
She crossed a threshold into the kitchen. Pine cabinets. Slate-gray stone floor. Copper-bottomed pots hanging ove
r the stove. And the delicious scent of the roast on the dark countertop filling the air, making Willow’s stomach growl.
Bea lifted the platter of sliced meat. “Owen, could you grab the bowls?”
“Sure.” Owen took a bowl of mashed potatoes and one of peas and put them on the table. “Go ahead and have a seat, Rosebud.”
She looked at Jilly. “Where should I sit?”
“Next to me.” Jilly hopped into one of the seats. “This is my spot. You go where my mum used to sit.” She motioned to the chair on her right.
Willow caught Owen and Bea exchanging a look between them. But Jilly smiled happily, unaware of the adults’ discomfort. Willow swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Jilly. It’s a real honor.”
“Henry is allowed to sit by me.” Jilly put down her hand and the dog ran to her side, sniffing at her fingers. “As long as he doesn’t beg. Right, Daddy?”
“Yes. And the other rule is you’re not allowed to feed him from the table.” Owen used a sterner voice than usual, and yet she felt certain an infraction by either dog or daughter would somehow be overlooked.
By the time they finished the meal, Willow had counted three times a piece of Jilly’s roast “fell” to the floor. Owen never said a word.
After dinner, Willow helped Bea clean up in the kitchen while Owen took Jilly to help him push back some of the furniture in the living room for the lesson. When she learned Bea liked to paint, she offered her the supplies from the attic.
A few minutes later, Owen came inside the kitchen. “Time to tango, ladies.”
“Wait? We’re learning to tango?”
“Bea, did I mention Willow’s a real wiseass?” He grinned, took the dried pot from Willow’s hands and stored it in a drawer. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”
She followed him out of the kitchen. Furniture had been moved, and the only obstacle on the floor was a shaggy dog, plunked dead center.
“Come on, Henry. You’re in the way.” Owen led him by the collar to a dog bed, where he sat and stayed put.
Owen turned to Willow. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You may end up with sore shins or a few broken toes.”
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