Finally the key word hurtled through her thoughts: Bargains! If Haley was determined to look for bargains, Amanda would find somewhere else to lunch. Amanda would rather eat Betty Cates’s mop than be dragged from sales rack to sales rack.
“Perfect!” Haley whispered and balled her fists upon the base of the computer keyboard. This way she’d be free to meet Roger, and she wouldn’t have to lie. She would go into the store and search the 75 percent-off rack for any new additions.
“If I find something, I’ll buy it,” Haley whispered at the screen and giggled. Being sneaky had never been so easy . . . or so thrilling.
Amanda meandered to the travel agency’s exit and idly wondered what she might do for lunch. She and Nate had shared lunch numerous times in the last few weeks, but today Nate had a major business luncheon he was set to attend.
She had asked Haley if she was free for lunch, but Haley was determined to shop for bargains today. That was the last thing Amanda wanted to do. While Haley seemed to have a good eye for spotting the racks with the best buys, Amanda could look a week and never find half the steals Haley could stumble upon in an hour.
So Amanda had decided to just lunch on her own today. She stopped by the coatrack and slipped on her light jacket. With March just around the corner, the promise of fall was nipping the air. Amanda was delighted. She was ready for cooler temperatures.
As she neared the glass doorway, Amanda wasn’t as delighted to be dining alone. The last few weeks with Nate had been nearly like the good ol’ days. They had shared many energized hours bantering away about who knew what. To an onlooker, they would have appeared as good of friends as always. But Amanda detected a new wall in their relationship . . . and a definite strain in Nate’s features. She attributed it to his mystery woman and wondered if Nate would ever confide in her.
Oddly, Amanda hadn’t seen him with the woman once. No one else had mentioned seeing them, either. Furthermore, while Highland was a successful suburb of Hobart, it was far from the size of Brisbane—where Knighton’s Department Stores headquarters were located. Since Nate manned the satellite office in Highland, he was considered one of Tasmania’s leading businessmen and quite the man around town. The newspaper society pages loved it when they caught any local person of Nate’s success in the throes of something new. A new home. A new business venture. A new girlfriend. She’d halfway expected to see Nate’s photo in the Highland Progress with some wilting Asian woman on his arm. And if the snapshot weren’t Janet French, she looked just like her in Amanda’s mind.
Amanda’s greater dread involved his arriving at lunch one day with his love interest in tow. And every time she considered the possibility, Amanda coached herself on how to behave in a civilized manner before she found an isolated place to cry. She was gradually accepting the fact that good ol’ Nate would not be her good ol’ Nate forever. But thoughts of having to meet the person who was taking him away still gave Amanda fits.
She sighed and pushed open the door. The afternoon sun belied the chilly wind blowing in from the ocean; the breeze tossed her hair in all directions at once. Amanda turned the Open sign to Gone to Lunch, shoved the door closed, and inserted her key in the lock. The streets were charged with the hustle of commerce, the whiz of traffic, a stream of pedestrians targeting the intersection crossover.
Amanda recognized one pedestrian she’d seen often in the last few weeks. Mr. Samuel Adair and his wife lived across the street in the new luxury apartment building. Amanda and Nate had met them at Arlene’s one day when they’d all been waiting to be seated. But Amanda saw him around town now on his own as much as she did with his wife. As usual, Mr. Adair was confidently striding toward the intersection with his guide dog leading the way. The blind retiree’s assured independence never ceased to amaze her.
She stepped toward him, touched his arm. “Hello, Mr. Adair,” she said. “Good to see you out today.”
“Amanda! Great to see you, too,” he replied. “Is Nate with us?” He lifted his chin, and Amanda imagined invisible sensor antennas feeling the space around them. Mr. Adair had a way of sensing as much or more than most sighted people.
“No, I’m on my own today. Have you already had lunch?” she hopefully questioned.
“Yes.” Mr. Adair nodded and fidgeted under his overcoat sleeve. When he pressed the button on his watch, a mechanical voice stated, “Twelve-fifteen.”
“I’d offer to go with you, but I’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes. An old client,” he added. “I can’t seem to hide from them, even in Tasmania. They still come by and ask for legal advice. Sometimes they just won’t let you quit.”
“Well, when you’re good, you’re good. That’s all there is to it,” Amanda said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mr. Adair said with a modest grin.
Amanda joined his humor and was stricken once again with how much Mr. Adair reminded her of Nate—or what he might look like in thirty years. The former lawyer was tall, aristocratic, self-sufficient, and sure of who he was.
His guide dog, Goldie, restlessly shifted. “I won’t keep you,” Mr. Adair said. “I’m sure you’re hungry, and Goldie is ready to go. The traffic makes her a little nervous these days.” He reached down and laid his hand on his dog’s head. “Good girl,” he mumbled. “We’re almost home.”
“Okay. G’day, then. It’s been nice to see you.”
“And you.” Mr. Adair moved along the sidewalk.
Amanda brushed the hair out of her eyes and turned back to the task of locking the door. The faint whiff of home cooking invited her to enjoy Arlene’s café once again. She and Nate were now regulars there. Amanda only hoped his business lunch didn’t also involve the mystery woman and Arlene’s.
“Amanda!” a vaguely familiar male voice cut through the traffic’s hum and Amanda’s thoughts.
She pulled her key out of the lock and looked toward a man scurrying past a mother with a baby stroller.
Mason Eldridge! she thought and was tempted to run. Her next thought was for Haley, and Amanda was immediately thankful her friend had already left. They had purposefully avoided the very sight of Mason by avoiding his church. Amanda had hoped to never see him again. She’d finally stopped reliving that awful proposal episode and was thankful Haley hadn’t mentioned him in two weeks. The last thing either of them needed was Mason barging into their lives.
“Hello!” Amanda said and noticed a tall brunette hustling behind him. When they stopped three feet away, Amanda realized they were holding hands.
“I’m so glad I caught you,” Mason huffed. “I wanted to introduce you to my new wife, Sonja.”
Amanda’s smile had never felt more fake. “Hello.” She smoothed her hair. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said and prayed that God understood the feigned pleasantries of a panicked soul.
“And you, as well.” Sonja extended her hand and Amanda politely shook it. But that was not enough for the over-made bride. She enveloped Amanda’s hand in both of hers and squeezed. Amanda glanced down to see enough diamonds to start a jewelry store. Immediately, she wondered if that had been the purpose of the whole handshake.
Once her hand was her own again, Amanda decided Sonja needed the opposite kind of makeover that Haley received. She was wearing enough makeup for two women, and her dark hair was teased into a frenzied ’do that made 1950 pageant hair seem small. At closer vantage, Amanda deduced that the dark hair color probably wasn’t Sonja’s own. It belonged to some bottle labeled “Boom Boom Brunette” or something equally obnoxious. Furthermore, the feather of lines around her eyes testified to at least ten years longer on earth than Mason had endured. And while she wasn’t as tall as Amanda, she was significantly taller than Mason, especially after you calculated the foot of hair reaching to the sky. He’d told Amanda he liked his women bigger than dreams. Amanda would never doubt his claim.
“Mason has told me so much about you!” Sonja oozed, her blue eyes too bright to be of natural hue and too cold to be sin
cere. Amanda deduced Sonja was also wearing colored contacts and wondered if there was anything about the woman that wasn’t enhanced or teased or plastered.
It’s a good thing she’s got money, Amanda thought and eyed Sonja’s sculptured fingernails, which were long and red and square. They were every bit as bold as her musky perfume. Her grooming bills alone probably cost a fortune. She’s like an oversized poodle! Amanda nearly acted like Nate and laughed, but somehow she managed to keep the humor harnessed.
“We were just dropping by for a chat.” Mason smiled up at his bride.
“Oh!” Amanda jiggled her keys and wondered what possessed Mason to pay such a visit. “Well, I was . . . just going to lunch.” Her brain whirled with a barrage of options. In a swift decision, she decided that inviting the pair to lunch would be the safest option. That way she could politely leave at the end of the meal and remain in control of her own destiny. If they entered the travel agency, they’d be free to leave when they so chose . . . or didn’t choose.
“Why don’t you join me?” Amanda offered and pointed toward Arlene’s café.
“We already ate, actually,” Mason explained.
“Maybe you could enjoy some coffee while I eat?” Amanda offered as her stomach grumbled in response to the aroma from Arlene’s.
A horn’s angry blast accompanied the screeching of tires, and Amanda twisted toward the noise. Mr. Adair stood in the middle of the intersection, his head high, his face cloaked in confusion. Goldie pulled him toward the traffic, but the man refused to budge.
“My word, he’s blind,” Mason said.
Twenty-Four
“It’s Samuel Adair!” Amanda said and scanned both corners. “And he is blind!” While pedestrians ambled too and fro, no one seemed interested enough to stop their activities in preference for saving a life. As another car swerved around her new friend, Amanda lurched forward and smacked into a business woman who’d just bypassed Mason and Sonja.
“Excuse me,” Amanda mumbled into the woman’s glare. Meanwhile, her keys and purse clanked to the sidewalk. Half of her wanted to retrieve the lost possessions while the other half insisted she ignore them in preference for Mr. Adair.
“Get my keys and purse!” she hollered at Mason. Glad she was wearing loafers and slacks, Amanda dashed toward the intersection. A glance over her shoulder assured her Mason had responded to her plea.
By the time Amanda reached the curb, the pedestrian light had changed to green. She raced into the walkway and slowed as she neared Samuel.
“Looks like you’re having a time of it,” she called.
“Amanda,” he said, his shoulders sagging. “I was praying you’d come.”
“Let’s get you across the road, shall we?”
“Please,” he said.
Amanda took Mr. Adair’s arm and guided him to the other side of the street.
Once they made the curb, he patted Amanda’s hand and said, “I’m afraid Goldie’s getting too old for this.” They strolled toward the Brown Street Apartments, and the traffic droned forward. “She’s been with me fifteen years. I keep hoping she’s just going through a phase.” His clouded eyes jerked in their sockets, and the wind-blown trees cast dappled shadows upon his lined face. “But—”
“You could have gotten killed back there,” Amanda interjected and, for the first time, noticed the aging dog was graying around her mouth and eyes.
“So I suspected.” Samuel smiled and sighed.
Goldie barked and increased her pace.
“I think we’re good from here,” Mr. Adair said. “She’s back to her old self.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” He smiled toward her voice. “Heel, Goldie,” he commanded and paused. “You’ve been a lifesaver, Amanda.”
“Just helping a friend, that’s all,” Amanda said and patted his arm. “We all have to stick together, ya know.”
“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you,” Mr. Adair began with a respectful air. “Do you mind?”
“No, not in the least.”
“Are you by chance American?”
“No.” She laughed. “I’ve just spent a lot of time there.”
He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice. A lovely voice. And you aren’t married?”
“No.” She chuckled through the admission.
“Engaged?”
“No.” Amanda’s smile broadened.
“I’ve decided you’re about thirty. Am I correct?”
“Twenty-five.” She crossed her arms and scrutinized the perceptive man.
“If you weren’t so young, I’d marry you myself.”
Amanda laughed and chalked this up to yet another proposal—or near proposal—for this season.
“Except I’m not so sure my wife would be happy with me,” he replied and stroked the corner of his mouth. “She doesn’t like me bringing home wives.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Amanda parried.
“Beats me.” His winning smile reminded her of Nate all over again. And that other woman will be the one who’ll enjoy him, Amanda thought.
“Well, you’ve been a lifesaver. Literally.” He reached for her arm, gave her a pat, and said, “We need a million twenty-five-year-olds just like you.”
Basking in his compliment, Amanda said, “Good luck with Goldie.” She eyed the dog. No one could ever deny her loyalty to her master.
He sighed and bent to touch Goldie’s ears. “Thanks. Sometimes it’s just hard to let go.” The dog whined and licked his hand.
“Why can’t you keep her as a pet and just get another guide dog?” Amanda asked.
“Apartment rules.” He shook his head. “As you know, we just moved in a month ago. They’ll only allow one dog—and that’s only because I’m blind. No one else is even allowed that.”
“So what will happen to her?” Amanda’s concern kicked in.
“I’ll have to find her a home.” He coughed, pressed at his eyes, and lowered his head. “I’ve kept you long enough,” he finally said. “You’re young. You don’t need to be tangled up in my problems.” With a tight smile, Mr. Adair nudged the dog’s harness and began to stride forward.
“But what about one of your former clients?” Amanda suggested and hurried to catch up with him.
“I’m trying.” Mr. Adair laid his hand on her shoulder. “Believe me, I’m trying. But it’s hard to find a place for a grown dog, especially an older one. I was hoping for someone close so I could go see her. But we’re new in the area, so . . .”
Amanda pressed her lips together. “Let me see what I can do, okay?”
“You’d do that?” Mr. Adair asked.
“Of course.”
“But you just met me.”
“So?” Amanda shrugged. “A friend is a friend.”
Mr. Adair lifted his chin like a sailor assessing the ocean. A distant horn blasted. The smell of exhaust accompanied the surge of traffic. Oak leaves danced to the tune of the coastal breeze.
Finally Mr. Adair said, “Like I said, we need a million more just like you.” He smiled. “Let me know what you come up with, okay?”
“Absolutely,” Amanda agreed.
“Well, my client will be here soon,” he said and nodded toward her. “G’day, then.”
“G’day.” Amanda watched until he entered the building, and the whole time she brainstormed for someone who would be willing to take Goldie. The very thought of the animal being separated from her owner when she’d served him her whole life made Amanda want to weep.
She turned back toward the street corner and wished for a piece of the gum she’d placed in her purse this morning. As a child, she’d been convinced that chewing gum would help her think. Amanda wasn’t so certain the assumption was false. She reached for her purse, only to realize she wasn’t carrying it. That’s when she remembered she’d left her bag and keys with Mason Eldridge and the Queen of Plaster of Paris.
She stopped at the pedestrian crossing and scanned the side
walk across the street. While the lunch rush was dwindling, there was no sign of Mason and his new wife.
Twenty-Five
Amanda paused outside the travel agency and looked up one side of the street and down the other. No sign of Mason and Sonja. On a whim, she tried the agency door. It opened with ease.
Frowning, she stepped inside. Apparently, Mason had used the keys to let himself and his bride into her business. It’s almost like breaking and entering, she thought.
“And this is Amanda’s office,” Mason’s muffled voice floated down the hallway.
Her scowl deepening, Amanda strode toward Mason’s voice. All the while, she was deducing what Mason was up to. Sounds like he’s giving Sonja the grand tour, she fumed, and couldn’t remember a time when Mason had ever been in the agency himself.
Telling herself to keep a cool head, Amanda stepped into her office to find Mason and Sonja examining it like two clients at a museum. For the first time she noticed they were dressed much alike. Each wore a stylish navy suit—like a designer’s answer for his and hers. While Sonja sported a fuchsia silk scarf around her neck, Mason wore a fuchsia tie. The suits screamed of big money, and Amanda figured Mason didn’t have to use his credit card to buy them. A fleeting intuition suggested that Sonja had purchased herself a male doll whom she planned to spend the rest of her life dressing up.
Meanwhile, the rich lady and her doll were invading Amanda’s privacy, and neither seemed aware of the violation. Amanda crossed her arms and squeezed while clearing her throat.
“There you are! I was just showing Sonja around,” he explained as if he owned the place. “Here are your purse and keys.”
“You have a wonderfully quaint little place,” Sonja crooned as if Wood-Priebe International was anything but a nationally acclaimed corporation.
“Thanks.” Amanda gritted her teeth and accepted the purse and keys. Her nose prickled against Sonja’s perfume and she sneezed. “Excuse me,” she squeaked and dropped the keys in the top of her purse.
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 18