“Fabulous,” he sarcastically mumbled. Lowering his head, Nate reentered the villa with plans to slip into the hallway, retrieve his sports coat, and exit without anyone detecting him.
The white kitchen still smelled of cod and lemon sauce, and Nate was tempted to ask Sarah for any leftovers. On his way past her, he offered the cook a tight smile. She returned his grin and resumed her task of wiping down the counters.
Amanda’s comment about men forgetting the cook bit into his conscience. “Great dinner,” Nate said. “I could have eaten all night.”
Sarah’s cheeks flushed, and she attacked the cabinet with renewed fervor. In all the years Nate had known Sarah, she said little.
He pushed open the dining room’s swinging door, stepped onto the Italian tile, and glanced toward the great room. Nate held his breath, tiptoed around the long dining table, and arrived in the hallway. He sighed, retrieved his jacket, and headed for the front door.
“I can’t believe it. It’s gorgeous!” Amanda’s exclamation halted Nate.
He looked over his shoulder and was tempted to investigate the cause of Amanda’s elation. Whatever Mason had surprised them with certainly had impressed her. After a scowl, Nate decided he’d rather not know.
Eight
Haley’s teacup shook into a rhythmic clatter, and she set it down on the nearest table lest she dribble the whole cup all over the area rug. While Amanda exclaimed over the surprise, Haley sat on the edge of the sofa. Mason had said he was going to have the portrait framed, but neither she nor Amanda had expected it so soon.
Hand in hand, Angie and Wayne stood beside Harold and joined Amanda in her praise. “Look at the mat and frame,” Angie said.
“I was about to say the same thing.” Wayne touched the frame that Mason held with pride. “They’re a perfect match for her suit and hair, aren’t they?”
Haley couldn’t agree more. Amanda had painted her in a cinnamon-colored suit. The mat coordinated with the suit while the dark frame matched Haley’s brunette hair. The brass chandelier emitted a velvety glow that immersed the painting in a surreal aura. Haley’s smile took on a classic appeal, and Amanda’s artwork had never appeared so accomplished.
“Wonderful job, m’dear!” Harold encircled Amanda’s shoulders with his arm and gave her an approving squeeze along with a loving smile. “You get better with every piece.” He motioned toward the oil painting Haley had tutored Amanda through last summer. While the seascape hanging on the west wall above Amanda’s piano was notable, it paled in comparison to the level of skill the portrait revealed.
Mason propped the painting on the faux fireplace’s marble mantel. “I couldn’t be prouder if I’d painted it myself,” he said and backed away for an admiring assessment.
“So what do you think, Haley?” Amanda questioned.
All attention rested on her.
As Haley searched for something to say, her gaze shifted from Amanda’s portly father to Angie and Wayne, then to Amanda, before she focused upon Mason.
“I think it’s lovely,” she said and stroked the seam in the striped sofa. “Absolutely lovely.”
Mason’s emphatic nod underscored the affection Amanda insisted he must be feeling for Haley. “I was thinking we’d share the work,” he said.
Amanda tilted her head. “Share it?”
“Yes. It really belongs to all three of us,” Mason claimed. “Me, you, and Haley, of course.” The gold buttons on his sport coat twinkled as he motioned toward Haley—as did his eyes when he gazed at her.
Haley began to suspect that she and Mason must be moving from mere surface attraction to something deeper. Her hands steadying, she dared to hold the cup of tea once more. After picking it up, she enjoyed a sip of warmth. The smooth, sweet liquid oozed down her throat and bolstered her courage.
“I was thinking we’d take turns having it at our homes,” Mason explained. “You know, maybe each of us could keep it four months out of the year. But . . .” he hesitated and again glanced toward Haley, then Amanda, “I was wondering if you’d mind if I keep it at my place first. I think the work is exquisite, and I’d like to show it off to my family.”
Amanda’s grin was all for Haley; so was her sly wink. “Haley, would you mind?”
“Of course not,” Haley breathed. She absorbed Mason’s approving smile and knew beyond all doubt that Amanda was right about everything. Mason really was enamored with her. His wanting her portrait first spoke volumes.
“I’d be honored,” she added.
“Fantastic!” Mason exclaimed like a small child who’s been given prime choice from the cookie platter.
Wayne moved in for a closer examination of the portrait. The fine cut of his banker’s suit affirmed that while Angie’s marriage was based on love, it wasn’t without financial security.
“My word, Amanda, you are getting to be quite an artist,” Wayne said.
“I agree!” Mason said. “I was impressed with it before it was framed, but now it’s . . . it’s a masterpiece. My mother and sister are coming next week. I want to make sure they see it. That’s why I wanted the first rotation in my home.” He smiled at Haley. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, we all understand.” Amanda laid her hand on Mason’s shoulder, and her chin-length hair swayed with her nodding. “We understand completely.”
Mason’s grin couldn’t have been more meaningful. Harold cleared his throat, lifted his bushy brow, and examined first his daughter, then Haley.
No telling what he’s thinking! Haley fretted. Her cheeks warming, she avoided looking at Angie and Wayne or Mr. Priebe for fear they would see what she was thinking. She focused on her steaming tea and allowed her hair to shield her expression as the liquid’s sweet aroma enticed her to another sip.
Mason had never even offered to hold her hand, but his claim on the portrait spoke more than any sign of affection. The email ordeal with Roger faded to the back of Haley’s mind. Even though Haley hadn’t told Amanda, she had worried about rejecting his proposal. Haley hated hurting poor Roger, especially when she knew how deeply his feelings ran.
But Amanda just didn’t think they were suited, and her friend was so insightful. For Haley, Amanda was like a sister and mother all rolled into one. She’d connected with Amanda as she never connected with any of her foster families. And Haley had learned from experience that Amanda was right more often than not. Angie and Wayne’s lovers’ glances alone were enough to convince Haley that Amanda’s guidance should be heeded.
Mason’s being enamored with the portrait underscored her every assumption and convinced Haley she’d done the right thing regarding the proposal. Roger had never been as demonstrative as Mason over anything. Mason would obviously care for her more than Roger ever did.
And I will learn to care for him just as deeply, Haley decided and wondered if Mason might at least hold her hand on the journey home.
“You know my son Franklyn will be in town next month.” Wayne’s comment ended the elongated silence. “Amanda, we should get you to paint us.”
“Yes! That’s a wonderful idea!” Angie exclaimed and snapped her fingers. “A father–son portrait. That would be perfect!” She moved to Amanda’s side and clasped her arm. “Amanda has already seen pictures of Franklyn. Would you consider doing the portrait?”
“Well, I . . .” Amanda peered at Haley like a protégé asking for guidance. While the prospect of painting the handsome Englishman held definite appeal, no one in the room knew that Haley had assisted Amanda on her own portrait. Many times, Haley had guided Amanda’s hands in the proper strokes that produced the desired effect.
“Of course she’ll do the portrait!” Mason assured and placed his hand in the small of her back. “I’m her agent. I’ll arrange the whole thing!”
The group laughed.
“Whatever happened to Sarah and her apple pie?” Harold queried and meandered past the oak coffee table toward the dining room.
“Oh, Daddy,” Amanda compl
ained. “How can you think about pie when I’m starting my new career?” She followed her father, paused at his side, and lovingly patted his protruding stomach. “Go sit down in your chair.” She motioned toward an overstuffed recliner, replete with a TV remote lying on the hand rest. “I’ll go see about your pie. Do you want coffee or tea with it?”
“Decaf coffee,” Harold said with a satisfied grin.
“I don’t think there’s ever been a lapdog more pampered,” Angie teased. Her wide-legged pants swishing around her ankles, she strode to Amanda’s side and shooed Harold toward his recliner. “We’ll take care of your every wish, as usual.”
“Don’t forget about poor ol’ me, here,” Wayne called. “I like pie and coffee, too.”
“So you do,” Angie retorted and crooked her finger at her new husband. “And you’re the perfect choice to help us load the service tray.” She threw in a flirtatious wink.
“Well, if you put it like that . . .” Wayne said and hustled to his wife’s side.
The three of them disappeared into the dining room, and their steps mingled with Amanda’s satisfied snickers.
“I do believe my daughter thinks she’s Cupid.” Harold Priebe, quite the obedient father, relaxed into his recliner just as his daughter had prescribed. “I wonder who her next victims will be,” he added, his intelligent gaze taking in both Haley and Mason.
“I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to figure that one out,” Mason replied with a satisfied grin that said he was thrilled to be Amanda’s victim. “What do you think, Haley?” He settled onto the end of the couch and cut her a sly glance.
Her teacup quivered, and Haley gulped another mouthful in preference for answering the obvious question. From that moment forth she decided Roger Miller was a thing of the past and nothing more.
Nine
A month later Amanda glared at the strand of hair that insisted upon flipping out instead of under. No matter how many times she tugged it under with her hair brush, the strip stuck out like a sideways horn. The smell of the salon hairspray sitting on the decorative table beneath the mirror attested that Amanda had pulled out every weapon she possessed to combat the problem. Six weeks had lapsed since she got the new haircut, and Amanda couldn’t put off a trip to the hairdresser another week. Of course, that didn’t help her tonight.
Tonight of all nights she’d wanted to look as close to perfect as possible. In half an hour her office building’s spacious foyer was going to be crowded with a reception especially for Betty Cates’s niece, Janet French. Looking back, Amanda still didn’t know how she was talked into this event. One day Betty was telling her Janet was going to be arriving. And the next week, Amanda heard herself agree to host a “Welcome to Highland” party for the Asian beauty.
Now she and Haley were expecting twenty people in a matter of thirty minutes, and Amanda had cowlick-hair extraordinaire! No doubt Janet would arrive with every hair perfectly in place and looking like the Queen of Korea.
That ought to give Nate plenty to stare at! Amanda fumed and pulled on her hair. That is, if he doesn’t have the mystery woman with him.
He’d used a cryptic email last week to invite himself to the party once he heard his brother and Amanda’s sister were on the guest list. Amanda hadn’t seen him since that crazy night at the villa a month ago. The very idea that Nate could think Mason Eldridge was after her was even more bizarre now than it had been a month ago.
Because of Nate’s increasingly odd behavior, Amanda hoped Gordon and Bev weren’t still planning to have dinner with her and Nate tomorrow evening. Weeks ago, she’d made plans to go shopping with Bev tomorrow, then afterward have dinner with Nate and Gordon and Bev. She hadn’t mentioned the plans to Nate and hoped Gordon and Bev hadn’t, either.
Her relationship with Nate was rocky at best. Thoughts of losing his friendship only made her dread the evening with Janet all the more. If Nate brought the vixen who made him stuff all of Amanda’s gifts in his closet, she would be hard-pressed not to leave her own party.
She slapped at her hair again. “Haley! I need help!” Her bare toes tapped along the cool tile floor as she strode toward the doorway that connected her office to Haley’s. “Didn’t you say you bought a flatiron?” Amanda looked up in time to see Haley before the two smacked into each other.
“Oh, sorry there,” Amanda said as Haley did the two-step to stop from being run over.
“Quite all right,” Haley replied. She handed Amanda the flatiron and grimaced at the hair. “I had just unplugged it. I think we need new haircuts. My hair wouldn’t do a thing!”
“It looks great!” Amanda examined Haley’s straight hair, shimmering and swaying just above her shoulders.
“It ought to,” Haley fumed. “I just spent twenty minutes making it behave!” She pointed to the flatiron. “You should go ahead and plug it in now. It’s still warm and won’t take as long to heat up.”
“Thanks.” Amanda heeded Haley’s advice and traipsed back into her office. “You look scrumptious, by the way,” she called over her shoulder and stole another glimpse of Haley’s red sundress. “Too bad Mason couldn’t make the party.”
“Yes.” The hesitant drag in Haley’s voice stopped Amanda’s journey.
She pivoted to face her friend. “Is something wrong?”
“Well . . .” Haley placed her fingertips upon her desk, wiggled her bare toes, and looked downward. “He’s just so . . . um . . . it’s not that I want him to make a move in a wrong way or anything, but well, he’s . . . I guess he’s just a really slow mover,” Haley finally said.
“Oh, so he hasn’t even kissed you yet and you can’t wait?” Amanda teased.
Haley jerked up her head. “N-no! Nothing like that.” She worked her fingers. “I’m not after any kisses necessarily. It’s just that—that . . . um . . . it wouldn’t hurt if he tried to hold my hand or something. Anything, just to let me know—”
“That you’ve still got him?” Amanda questioned.
“Well, I don’t necessarily mean it that way!” Haley huffed through a smile. “Why do you always do this to me?”
Amanda laughed. “Don’t worry, lady! I guarantee Mason’s all yours. He’ll probably propose by Christmas.”
“Do you really think so?” Haley asked.
“Absolutely! You need to get ready.” She wagged her index finger from side to side. “That’s only about six weeks away.” As October had slid into November, the temperatures rose nicely into the seventies. Summer was nearly in full swing, which meant Christmas planning was almost upon them.
“I’m having high hopes for the church Christmas party,” Amanda said. “Angie just told me last night she’s volunteered to host it at her place. You haven’t seen their house yet, have you?”
“No,” Haley answered.
“It’s to die for!”
“Have you met Wayne’s son yet?” Haley asked. “What’s his name?”
“Franklyn.”
“Oh yes, Franklyn.”
“I haven’t met him. He only arrived two days ago. So far I’ve only seen his pictures.” Amanda paused, glanced down, and brushed a piece of lint from her little black dress. “Angie says he’s very handsome,” she added.
“Oh she does, does she?” Haley teased.
“He’s supposed to be here tonight,” Amanda continued and never acknowledged Haley’s speculations or her heightening interest over his arrival. He was indeed as handsome as Angie claimed. Furthermore, he was every bit as tall as Amanda, as blond as Mason, and, from what Angie said, much kinder than Nate these days.
She hid a scowl and determined to likewise hide that she’d been tempted to at least consider a romantic involvement—despite her commitment to her father.
“I’m just glad for Wayne’s sake that Franklyn’s here for a while. From what Angie says, he and his father haven’t been close for years. He’s only twenty-eight. Sad, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Haley said without a blink. “I
’ll be twenty-eight in four years, and I’m not thinking it’s all that sad.”
“No, silly!” Amanda waved the flatiron. “It’s sad that Wayne and Franklyn aren’t close.”
“Oh!” Haley said and laughed. “I was wondering why twenty-eight was all of a sudden so sad.”
Amanda rolled her eyes.
“Why aren’t they close?” Haley said through a final chortle.
“Well, when Franklyn’s mother died, Wayne’s sister and her husband wound up taking care of Franklyn a lot. He was only five.”
“Wow! That sounds a little like your story.” Haley blinked.
“Yes, I guess it does,” Amanda said. “And I guess a little like yours, too.” Both women fell silent. Amanda gazed toward the tile floor and scrounged through the closets of her memory for recollections of her mother. The painful wound that might have festered had long been healed through Angie’s unconditional love . . . and that of her heavenly Father’s.
“Anyway,” Amanda continued, “Angie says Wayne was devastated when his wife died. He went into this horrid depression.” Amanda crossed her arms and rested the warm flatiron along her upper arm. “Once Wayne recovered, his son had seriously bonded to his sister. He didn’t feel right about taking him away from her. When the international banking job came open, he took it. That meant a lot of travel, of course.” Amanda uncrossed her arms. “Now that Angie and he are married and he’s not traveling as much, she’s trying to get Wayne to work on the relationship with Franklyn.”
“I think it’s great,” Haley affirmed. “Especially for you,” she added in a cunning voice.
“Oh no!” Amanda held up her free hand. “I’m not available, remember? I’ve got a dad to spoil.” She waved the flatiron before Haley could jump to any more conclusions. “I need to get busy or I’ll be late for my own party,” she called while scurrying back toward her office’s mirror.
As she plugged in the flatiron, Amanda purposed to be less obvious in her thoughts regarding Franklyn. If Haley was detecting her growing interest, everyone else might clearly see it, as well.
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 8