“And if you think I look good, you should have seen what Haley was going to wear tonight. It was this black silk number that—”
“Listen, did you know you’re on the list to play the piano for us tonight?”
“I am?” Amanda blurted, and forgot the note.
“Yes.” Mason crossed his arms, and his sport coat’s gold buttons flashed in the chandelier’s light. “You’re the most talented woman I know,” he bragged as if he were a child and she were his newest toy.
Even though she couldn’t deny that Mason was acting rather peculiar, Amanda dismissed his comments in preference for worrying about her pending performance. While she often played for her father at night, Amanda considered herself far from an accomplished musician. She certainly didn’t want to perform when she wasn’t prepared.
“I bet Angie’s the one who did this to me,” Amanda mused and peered around the room in search of her surrogate mother. She caught a glimpse of the petite blonde behind the service bar. Her attention was on the assortment of food lining the bar. As Joe handed her Amanda’s platters, she didn’t even bother to look for Amanda.
Amanda narrowed her eyes. The last time Angie did this to her was at her father’s birthday party three years ago. She’d slipped Amanda’s name in as part of the entertainment, and no one even told her until it was time to play.
“I know why she didn’t tell me,” Amanda complained. “She’s always trying to get me to play and knows I’ll weasel out of it if I find out. I played at last year’s party and told her then I’d take this year off.”
“You and Janet French are both on the list,” Mason said.
“Janet’s here?” She scanned the crowd of thirty-five and spotted Janet near the grand piano with none other than Nate Knighton chatting her up. She forgot about the pending performance.
While Amanda had never considered herself the most beautiful woman in the world, she had at least felt pretty tonight. Until now. In the face of Janet’s smoldering Asian eyes and deep-green dress, Amanda really did feel like an oversized candy cane—and a gaudy one at that. In a fleeting fit of exasperation, she considered hanging herself on the Christmas tree as an ornament. Not even the red baubles on the ten-foot tree commanding the corner can touch my garish appearance, Amanda moaned to herself.
Ducking her head, she hovered near Mason and thought, If Nate was any kind of friend at all, he wouldn’t even look at that woman.
But is he even my friend anymore? she questioned and began the lecture she’d delivered to herself on the way to the party. If Nate’s there, pretend he’s not. Don’t worry about what he is or isn’t doing or who he is or isn’t seeing or what’s in his closet! He hasn’t even called to wish you merry Christmas. Apparently, he’s tired of you and is trying to say your friendship is over, in so many words—or lack of them.
Last night her father had even commented on Nate’s absence these days. Amanda had pretended she didn’t care and changed the subject. But the pretense was swiftly growing thin. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she missed Nate. Aside from Haley, he’d been her best friend for many, many years. In some ways, she felt like a little sister ignored by an elder brother who now thought he was too advanced for her.
Amanda glanced toward Mason and saw his mouth moving but had no idea what he was saying. She convinced herself it must have something to do with Haley. Or at least it should, she thought and realized Mason hadn’t even asked about Haley.
As though powerless to stop herself, Amanda cast another glance toward Nate. That’s when she noticed the portrait of Franklyn and Wayne hanging over the piano. Amanda gasped. Never had she dreamed anything she painted, even with Haley’s help, would project such aristocratic ambiance. The straight-nosed subjects appeared nearly royal in their tuxedoes and fine poses. A glow filled her soul. She would have never been able to finish the work without Haley, but she had finished, and finished nicely.
“Is that your work?” Mason exclaimed.
“Yes.” Amanda breathed.
“Wow! That’s even better than Haley’s portrait. Good job!” He placed his hand in the small of her back and gave her a sideways hug. “Like I said, the most talented woman I know! And I love talented women!”
Fifteen
During the next hour, Nate and everyone else stuffed themselves on innumerable holiday morsels. At this rate, he thought as he popped the final bite of fudge in his mouth, I’m going to gain back every pound I’ve lost.
He eyed Amanda sitting on the sofa between Mason and Franklyn. She sure was drawing the male interest these days. And well she should, Nate admitted. He never remembered Amanda so stunning.
The only one of the two men who bothered him was Franklyn. Amanda had flirted with him all evening. If the guy didn’t recognize her silent invitation, then he was as thick-skulled as a gorilla. The whole ordeal particularly rankled because Amanda told Nate she absolutely was not going to get married.
Maybe she’s finally met the man who made her reconsider, he thought. A stab of regret pained his heart and snatched his breath. While Amanda could look him straight in the eyes and never find reason to forsake her vow to remain single, she apparently found something in Franklyn that challenged her decision. This only added feelings of inadequacy to Nate’s growing anxiety.
Because of all this, Nate couldn’t deny his increasing dislike for Wayne’s son. His rational side insisted he was being unfair to Franklyn, but Nate couldn’t seem to talk himself out of it. He disliked everything about him, including that portrait hanging over the piano. The portrait had the unfortunate fate of being painted by Amanda. Tonight Angie had bragged on her surrogate daughter—the artist, the pianist, the CEO—to anyone who would listen.
And the whole time all Nate could think was, Why hasn’t Amanda ever offered to paint my portrait? Every time the thought crossed his mind, Nate felt more and more like a petty, spoiled child. Nevertheless, the empty, neglected feeling wouldn’t quit. And Nate sensed he was losing all chances with Amanda—and losing fast.
Mason leaned closer to Amanda and cut Franklyn a cold stare that nearly made Nate laugh out loud. While Franklyn gave Nate fits, Mason offered a humorous diversion. All night he’d stayed by Amanda’s side like a koala hugging a eucalyptus tree. Nate had silently watched her exasperation grow and wondered if she was finally realizing he was right about who Mason was really after.
All the irritation with Franklyn and the humor regarding Mason paled when he once again focused on Amanda. Like a connoisseur of great art soaking up every nuance of a masterpiece, Nate allowed himself to absorb the essence of Amanda. He stopped just short of a sigh.
Roger Miller moved to his side and elbowed his ribs. “You’re looking a little obvious, old man,” he warned. “Cool it.”
Nate focused on the champagne-colored carpet and didn’t say anything. Roger was the only person on the planet who knew what was going on. He’d convinced Roger to attend the party for moral support. Nate needed someone to help him keep his balance. Otherwise this growing attraction would take him under. Of course, Roger had required no encouragement when he discovered Haley was going to be present. He’d nearly dissolved into the carpet when he learned of her illness.
“I think she gets better looking every time I see her.” Nate toyed with the end of his tie, peered into his punch cup, then cut Roger a sideways look.
The poor guy had dark circles under his eyes. He said he hadn’t slept at all last night. He nursed his third cup of coffee, and Nate figured the mellow brew was what was keeping him awake. Roger also looked like he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. His white dress shirt hung loosely in places it used to fit. His pants were a bit baggy. And his cheeks had taken on a hollow quality. Not that Roger was emaciated, but he looked like his appetite was about as bad as Nate’s these days.
Lifting his cup to his lips, Roger mumbled against the edge, “I still say you’re in love with her.”
“No.” Nate shook his head and tugged at his shirt cuf
f peeking beneath his suit sleeve. “It can’t be.” He couldn’t admit what Roger had supposed last night. “I’m just going through some kind of a phase,” he added with a nod. “It’ll blow over.”
He stole another glance at Amanda as Angie moved to the monstrous grand piano near the room’s fireplace. “It’s time for music!” Angie exclaimed with all the eagerness of a child who’s unwrapping her first Christmas present.
Nate finished his sparkling punch and stepped toward the group of folding chairs he and Roger had helped Harold set up minutes before.
“If you’ll all gather to the chairs we’ve placed over here. . . .” Angie pointed toward the forty or so chairs. The annual Christmas music usually involved solos, sing-alongs, and special performances by numerous musicians.
Soon the group was settled in their chairs. Somehow Janet French landed on one side of Nate while Roger claimed the chair on the other. Nate smiled at Janet and detected the same flowery scent he’d noticed when they were talking earlier. Janet couldn’t even touch Amanda tonight, despite her exotic appeal and sweet perfume.
Amanda sat between Franklyn and Mason and looked like a cornered female if there ever was one. Nate hid a smile and tried to focus on a ladies’ trio finishing a touching rendition of “Away in a Manger.”
After the crowd’s polite applause, Angie stood and grinned toward Amanda. Angie’s blonde ringlets and chic, off-white dress made her look ten years younger than her forty-five years.
Nate glanced at Wayne, who sat near the front of the crowd. The balding man appeared as stricken over his new wife as Nate was with Amanda.
“Now, for a performance from one of my very own students—Amanda Wood Priebe,” Angie said and motioned toward Amanda. “I have to admit, though, that I’m pushing a little to get Amanda to play. If I don’t, she won’t.” Angie shrugged. “But how else will I show off my teaching abilities?”
A chuckle rippled from the group.
“And while she’s coming up here, I’ve also got to add that Amanda is the artist who painted this portrait of my husband and stepson. I’m very, very proud of her.”
The group’s applause accompanied Amanda’s embarrassed smile. When Mason whistled, Amanda ducked her head, scurried to the grand piano, and sat down.
“I have no idea what I’m going to play,” she admitted and glanced toward Angie. “You’ll have to give me a minute or two to get focused here.”
“Whatever you need, dear,” Angie said and patted Amanda on the back with the maternal love of a thousand moms.
Nate hadn’t thought Amanda could look any more beautiful until she settled on the bench. Her red dress, vibrant hair, and meticulous makeup were a perfect complement for the glossy black instrument.
“I haven’t practiced a thing for Christmas,” she admitted to the group, eager for her offering.
“You’ll do fine, Amanda,” Mason encouraged from the front row of chairs.
Amanda placed her hands on the keyboard, cut Nate a panicked glance, ducked her head, and waited. Taking his cue, Nate scooted to the edge of his seat and prepared to stand. Last year, they’d practiced extensively before the party, then sang a duet while she played. Their cheerful performance of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” had reaped a standing ovation.
“I have a request,” a British voice called from near Mason.
Nate stifled a groan. Franklyn West was beating him to the mark. The blonde imposter was already striding toward the piano.
The pianist lifted her head and welcomed her new friend with a grin she’d never used on Nate. He scooted back in his seat and watched as Franklyn paused beside Amanda, smiled into her eyes, and bent to whisper something in her ear. She nodded. And never had a nod held such glee. Nate had never worked so hard to look so disinterested.
When Amanda crashed into the chords of “God Save the Queen” and Franklyn bellowed forth the first words, the whole group whooped and clapped and cheered them on. Even Nate couldn’t stop a burst of humor.
“Talk about the unexpected!” Janet said.
“Exactly!” Nate agreed and ignored Franklyn for the rest of the song.
When the final note was sung, the last chord played, the rowdy crowd stood in an applause that swelled with more gusto than Nate and Amanda’s performance had earned a year ago.
Franklyn bowed low, then stood to the side and extended his arms to Amanda. She bowed, as well, before the two relinquished the spotlight.
“I believe I’m next,” Janet said.
“Oh?” Nate lifted his brows and observed her. “I didn’t know you played.”
“Yes. Whether I want to or not. My parents made me take lessons.” Janet chuckled.
“You and Amanda could join the same therapy group,” Nate teased.
Sixteen
Amanda strolled from the piano, passed Mason, and headed straight out of the room. The restroom was on the other side of the marbled entryway, and Amanda planned to hide there awhile—at least until Janet finished her number and Mason found another focal point.
Fully expecting Mason to be on her trail, she glanced over her shoulder as she began the “glass floor” journey to the restroom. A crashing eruption of piano expertise flowed from behind, and Amanda admitted what she’d already suspected. Janet French could eat up the piano and make anything she did sound like child’s play.
Amanda ducked her head and scurried toward the restroom. Thankfully, she remained alone. She slipped into the bathroom, locked the door, and peered into the mirror at the redhead wearing red.
She looked like a wallaby staring into headlights. Those unfortunate animals were always getting hit by cars and left for dead. Right now Amanda felt as if she’d already been hit by a car.
All evening she’d been plagued about the true state of Mason’s affections. Nate’s claims were gradually taking on more credence. Mason hadn’t even hinted about Haley or her absence or even her health. He’d been too focused on making certain Amanda had every morsel she wanted and that her punch glass remained full.
All Amanda could think now was Poor Haley! Poor, poor Haley!
She removed her evening bag from her shoulder, plopped it on the side of the sink, and stared at the floral wallpaper as her mind churned with the evidence. If Mason is after me, that would explain why he’s never even held her hand, she thought.
“How could I have been so clueless?” Amanda whispered.
And the flowers! she wailed to herself. Did he really mean those for me? That would validate why he’d acted a bit odd when she reported giving them to Haley.
Her friend’s note, penned in love, floated to the surface of her thoughts. Amanda dug deeply into her purse’s side pocket and pulled out the note. Carefully she slipped her polished fingernail beneath the seal and lifted it with little resistance. Her fingers trembling, she pulled the note from its haven and read the words, written in Haley’s plump letters.
My Dear Mason,
You have no idea how much I appreciate the flowers and your sending your love. Please accept this letter as a token of my love. I hope you have a great time at the party. I’ll be home, missing you.
Yours truly,
Haley
“Oh no!” Amanda squeaked, her worst fears founded. Haley really had fallen for Mason. What are we going to do now? she fretted and reread the note. Her first impression remained. There had been a horrid mistake! Amanda’s pulse pounded behind her eyes as she studied the note until she’d almost memorized it.
How perfectly dreadful! she wailed to herself, then turned to the only source of help she could—her heavenly Father.
Oh Lord, Amanda prayed, her eyes squinted tightly. Please, please fix this mess. And—and if you do, I’ll try my hardest to never play matchmaker again!
Then Amanda thought of Angie and Wayne and how happy they were. If Amanda hadn’t played matchmaker, they’d have probably never met.
All right, Lord, Amanda amended, I won’t play matchmaker again unless it’s absolutely
necessary. Amen.
Her fingers unsteady, Amanda opened her eyes and read the note a last time. Finally she slipped the message back into the envelope, turned on the water, and placed her finger under the cool flow. Amanda touched her finger to the seal, reclosed the envelope, and inserted it back into her purse’s side pocket. She turned off the water.
Her fingers bumped a package of peppermint gum, and Amanda retrieved it from her bag. She unwrapped a piece, popped it into her mouth, and vigorously chewed while the burst of mint filled her senses.
“I will not let Haley down,” she said into the mirror, then nodded. Amanda put the gum back in her purse, washed her hands with liquid soap that smelled of coconuts, and dried them on the plush towel.
I’ve got to get out of here, she thought, her mind already churning with ways to convince Haley that Mason wasn’t the right man for her after all. The primary plan involved luring her away from Mason with another man. The man would have to be absolutely suited for her in order for Amanda to keep her promise to God. Who that man was, she presently could not imagine.
Roger certainly is not the one! Amanda had nearly died when she saw him with Nate. She’d already been in a dither over seeing Nate. Seeing Roger, too, had nearly sent her into a faint. She never remembered him being at any other church function and suspected he’d come with the hope of seeing Haley.
I can’t even imagine her marrying him! Amanda thought. He’s as stylish as a bag of potatoes and about as witty. I’ve got to get her directed toward someone else, she stewed, then once again remembered her prayerful pledge.
“But it will be with the perfect match this time,” Amanda whispered and glanced toward the ceiling. “I promise.”
Snapping her gum, Amanda opened the bathroom door, stepped out, and prepared to tiptoe toward the front door. No way was she going back into that party. She’d return to Haley’s, sit with her, and try to determine the easiest way to hint about forgetting Mason.
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 12