2 Emma, Mr. Knightley, and Chili-Slaw Dogs

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Brooks opened his mouth to respond but a car at the corner caught his eye. The familiar bright red Miata paused at the busy intersection to let foot traffic pass and he could see Lauren at the wheel. She leaned over to kiss her passenger. A hand slipped behind Lauren’s head, fingers threaded through her dark hair. After several seconds she leaned back and the passenger door opened. Frank jumped out, shutting the door and jogging to the other side of the street.

  “Isn’t that Frank Keene?” He pointed across the street.

  Caroline half-stood, shading her eyes with her hand. “Sure is. We had lunch a few hours ago at this kooky little café on the East side of town. He taught me to swing dance and it was so much fun.” She watched Frank jog down the sidewalk. “He must really be in a hurry. I think he mentioned he had a meeting.”

  “Why were you at lunch together?”

  She glanced at him, surprised. “Because he asked me.”

  “How come you’ve never come down to have lunch with me?”

  “Because you’ve never asked!” She laughed again, watching Frank until he was out of sight.

  “Lauren dropped him at the corner and-”

  She sat down, shaking her head. “No, must have been someone else. They can’t stand each other. She showed up at the same café when we were eating and they near about had a fight over nothing.”

  Brooks glanced at Manning, hoping he’d seen the kiss. Manning looked back and forth between them as if he were watching a tennis match.

  “I’m pretty sure I saw them-”

  “I don’t think we’d want to put those two in the same car. There might be trouble.” She grinned at him, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “He was pretty clear about how much he dislikes her uppity attitude.”

  He took a slow sip of coffee. “You came all the way to Spartainville for lunch?”

  She nodded. “It was nice to get out. The café might be real retro, or just weird, I’m not sure. The short order cook kept playing Dixie on the jukebox and they had a big poster of Jefferson Davis.”

  “Did they have hush puppies?” Manning asked.

  “Don’t mind him.” Brooks paused, wondering if he should push the issue. “I really think I saw Lauren drop him at the corner. It even seemed… it seemed like she leaned over and gave him a kiss.”

  Caroline’s eyes went wide and she stared at him for a full three seconds. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, Brooks, that’s impossible! Gave him a kiss?” She laughed until tears came to her eyes. “At your age, eyesight is first the thing to go. Maybe you should schedule a check-up.”

  Manning let out a low whistle and pretended to examine the poster of a Scottish castle on the wall.

  Brooks sat back, setting his jaw. He wouldn’t try again. He knew what he’d seen. For some reason, Frank was determined to pretend that he and Lauren were enemies. What that meant for Caroline, he couldn’t even guess. From the sinking feeling in his gut, it couldn’t be good.

  “Look,” she said, leaning forward and putting a hand on his. “I know you want to protect me just like an older brother, but I promise I’m not jumping into anything. Plus, Frank wouldn’t be kissing Lauren in the middle of traffic if he was …”

  “What? Swing dancing in a little café with you?”

  “I’ll be right back. I need to… get some napkins.” Manning bolted from the table.

  Caroline’s face went pink. “I’m surprised at you. I always figured you for the kind of guy that accepted a person without judgment. But you’ve made up your mind to dislike him and I don’t know why.”

  Brooks clamped his lips together. It didn’t matter what he said now. Caroline was convinced Frank was a good guy and he was sure he was not. He hadn’t liked him the first time they’d met and now he positively loathed him.

  She let go of his hand and they were both silent for a moment. “Do you have any more classes today?”

  “No, no but I forgot I have something to take care of.” He stood up as Manning came back to the table. “I’ll see you at Pegasus Pizza at six. And you’re welcome to join us, Caroline.”

  “I have to get back.” She looked at her coffee. “I’ll just finish this.”

  “I’ll keep you company.” Manning sat down, glancing at Brooks. “Go do your thing. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Drive safely.” He put his half full cup of tepid coffee in the rubber bin for used dishes and walked headed for the door. His stomach was in a knot and he felt a dull throb in his right temple. He’d always loved Caroline’s company. He preferred her over just about anybody else. But right now, sitting across from her was like having a knife stuck in his chest.

  Pushing open the Daily Grind’s heavy glass door he headed back to his office. He sucked in a deep breath of the warm afternoon air and tried to relax the tension in his neck. I know you want to protect me just like an older brother. It felt like someone was kicking him in the gut every time he let his mind replay her words.

  He walked against the light, half-hearing the beep of a car creeping through the intersection. You've made up your mind to dislike him and I don’t know why.

  He knew why. Not that he could tell her. It was clear as day to him that he was firmly in stuck in the ‘friend zone’ with Caroline. That had always been the way he’d wanted it, but now everything had changed. His feelings had changed and hers had not.

  He swallowed hard and swung open the door to Allen Hall, seeking the comfort of his academic cave. There wasn’t anything he could do but try to put it out of his mind. He’d be her friend, always. As long as he didn’t catch Frank anywhere near her, he would probably keep from doing anything stupid. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, but he certainly didn’t want to doom it over some slime ball like Frank. He could only pray she saw through the charming exterior before it was too late.

  "We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more angry.” -- Emma

  Chapter Thirteen

  Another weekend, another party. That was the way it went in Thorny Hollow. Not that Caroline minded at all, as long as she wasn’t the one serving punch. She enjoyed the chatter, the visiting, the guests mingling and gossiping. And it was all so much better that Brooks was coming home for the summer. Just a few more weeks and she wouldn’t have to suffer through the dull, boring weekdays without any real conversation. Her mother was up in her room all the time and there was nothing to do but wander the house.

  She surveyed her outfit in the mirror, frowning a bit over the length of the skirt. Or lack of length. It was a little short, but nothing too shocking. Frank should be there. He’d seemed… interested. She wasn’t quite sure what she felt. Definite interest. Maybe more.

  The doorbell rang and she could hear Angie going to let in Brooks. One last smooth with the brush and figured she was set. And now for the heels. Pulling them from the box, she stared at the three inch high stilettos. There was no way she could make it down the stairs. She’d have to put them on right before she met Brooks in the living room.

  Minutes later, Caroline teetered into the room, willing herself upright. Brooks turned from the shelf where he’d been examining her set of cloth-bound first-edition George Eliot, a small book resting open in one palm.

  His eyes followed her progress across the room and she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She had taken extra time to shave her legs to a silky smoothness, rubbed thoroughly with a deep moisturizer. Her late summer tan was a perfect complement to long legs and with a skirt that barely reached above her knees, no one could miss them. Her face felt hot and she angrily brushed back her hair. “Let me just get my purse and we can go.” She snagged it from the low table, making sure to bend at the knees so her skirt didn’t ride up in the back.

  Brooks cleared his throat. She turned to see if he was re-shelving the book, but no, he was in exactly the same position as before.

  “Are you coming?” She frowned at him, noting
the way his jacket draped his wide shoulders just so and the perfect tailoring in his cuffed pants. The man had style and she was just pretending. It was so obvious, it was humiliating.

  “Finley, those heels are a bit high for a garden party, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t.” She smoothed her hair and pretended to be waiting, but inside all her previous resolution was melting away. “Well, maybe a little bit high. I’ll be careful.”

  He raised an eyebrow, that book still open in his hand, and said nothing.

  She tapped a foot, hands on hips, gaze fixed on the front door as if she could force him toward it by sheer stubbornness. The seconds ticked on, until she finally dropped her purse on the small table with a resounding clunk. She stalked toward him, stepping ever so carefully over the edge of the area rug so she didn’t break an ankle, and stopped directly across from his handsome self.

  “Fine! Do you want to know why I’m wearing these heels?” She hated the defensive tone in her voice but his quiet disapproval was galling.

  “Sure.” The words came out slow and deep, as if nothing she could say was going to convince him that she didn’t look ridiculous.

  “I saw Lauren standing with Frank at the Werlin’s.” His brows drew down at her words but she went on. “He’s pretty tall. About your height, maybe a little taller. And she was wearing these high heels and looked him right in the eye.” She crossed her arms over her chest, sure that she’d made her point. She was just a few inches shorter than he was right at the moment and it felt great to barely lift her eyes to meet his gaze.

  “So?” His one-word responses were getting on her nerves, along with that guarded expression that meant he was thinking a lot of things he wasn’t permitting himself to say.

  “So, I’m tired of being short. I’m tired of-” she kicked off the heels and walked forward, bare feet padding against the carpet, and practically pressed her face into his chest in an exaggerated example of her short stature. “Tired of having to crane my neck to look men in the eye. Right now, I can barely see your expression. It’s a total handicap.”

  In fact, all she could really see was his tie, knotted just so, the way he always did it. And the line of his jaw, dark even though he was freshly shaved. A pulse was jumping in his throat and his chest rose and fell as if he were trying to keep his temper. In fact, he looked just the way he did when they’d talked about Lauren that day up in her bedroom.

  “You think I’m being petty, but Lauren Fairfax commands a certain respect and maybe it’s the fact she’s not a foot shorter than every man in the room.” She stared up at him, daring him to disagree. She inhaled lightly, enjoying the familiar scent of his cologne. She’d never asked what it was called, but she could have picked it out of a hundred others. He wasn’t even bothering to meet her eyes, but rather was staring out into the room. He’d moved his arms out to the sides as she’d walked into him and she turned her head just in time to see the open book on his palm begin to fall.

  It landed with a soft thud against the Oriental carpet and she ducked to retrieve it. “You’ll break the binding like that.” Pressing it closed and inspecting for any damage, she went on. “It would be nice, however silly you think it looks, to be a little taller for the evening.”

  He turned toward the bookshelf, his back to her, saying nothing. He held out one hand and she gave him the Eliot to shelve. His voice was rough. “Our words have wings, but fly not where we would.”

  Caroline stepped back into her heels. “I always thought she stole that line from Homer. He was all about the ‘winged words’ in the Odyssey and then Eliot comes along with that line and everyone falls all over it.”

  Brooks seemed to be examining the shelf again. “I thought you liked George Eliot.”

  “I do. I think she was brilliant. But what does that line mean, anyway? Is it about influence? Writing? Distance?” She shrugged, wishing he would step away from the books and turn around.

  “Maybe it means that sometimes what we say doesn’t come across the way we mean it to.” He finally turned, his lips turned up a bit at the corners. “I always liked ‘nothing is so good as it seems beforehand’. I think that’s the perfect Eliot quote for the moment we head off to a garden party.”

  “I never took you for the brooding type but you’re getting that way in your old age. You surprise me.” She gave him a playful punch on the arm and grimaced at the crack of her knuckles against his solid muscles.

  He laughed out loud, but it sounded forced. “It happens, remember? You don’t know everything about me. Let’s go get this party over with. We’re still keeping track of who is chatting up whom?”

  “Well, of course! I can’t wait to prove that men only look at beauty and women go for brains.”

  He sighed and held the door for her. “If only that were so.”

  ***

  “A sight for sore eyes! I thought that last party had convinced you to stay far, far away from Thorny Hollow this summer.” Caroline swung the door open wider and grinned to see Brooks standing there, holding a pink cake box. Absalom wiggled beside him, wagging his tail furiously. She’d actually expected them a few days ago, but he must have been busy. He couldn’t come running back home the minute classes were out.

  “No, it was a fairly run-of-the-mill torture session. Except for watching you wander around in those heels, it was boring, boring, boring.”

  “Well, I’m glad I was entertaining. What do you have there?”

  “I knew you’d be happy to see this.” He held up the cake box, the pale blue forget-me-nots printed on the lid announced this was no normal offering of baked goods.

  “I would never refuse anything from Bravard’s, come on in.” She waved him inside and tucked her knitting under one arm. She reached down to give Absalom a nice, long welcome. Brooks sidled into the living room, and put the Bravard’s box on the side table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets like he was out for a stroll. Absalom licked every inch of skin he could reach and when she was tired of dodging his frantic greeting, she stood up.

  “Are those… knitting needles?” He cocked his head, dimples showing.

  “Knitting is all the rage right now.” She waved her project, bright pink loops dangling crazily. “I’m trying to get good enough to make some mittens for Christmas. A pair for everyone. Better choose your color before all the good ones are taken.”

  “Mmm- hmmm. I can’t say I’ve never minded the cold.”

  “Smarty pants. Did you drive down to check on your dad or are you meeting someone?” She gave Brooks the once over, loving every line of his well-dressed self. Nicely pressed tan suit, check. Freshly shaved, check. Smelling delicious, check and double check.

  “Meeting someone?” he repeated, frowning.

  “You look so nice.” She picked up the box and playfully flipped his tie on her way past. “And this is new.”

  “Ever-changing tie fashion is a thorn in my side,” he said, smoothing it down.

  “My daddy wore ties from the 1960’s all the way until the week he died. You don’t have to be a slave to fashion.” She tried to keep her voice steady but it wavered just a bit. So many good memories but it was still hard to talk about the little quirks and habits that made him dear to her. “Come on in the kitchen. And no need to be afraid of food poisoning, I was just making iced tea.”

  He hadn’t answered her question and Mrs. Gray’s ugly comments flashed through her mind. For just a moment she wondered if he had a date but wasn’t telling her. Brooks wasn’t a man to keep secrets; it’s not what a gentleman did. If he loved a woman, he’d be proud to share it with the world. He was an open book.

  “I was wondering when you’d be back in town. How long will it take you to pack?”

  “I’m set for the summer.” He leaned against the wall and smiled tightly. “I moved my essentials down yesterday. Feels like undergraduate days all over again, when I packed the car and came home every summer.”

  “Your woman friend is all moved in
?”

  He snorted. “Woman friend. That just sounds awful. But yes, we moved most of her things in yesterday. She didn’t have much since she’s a visiting professor from China.”

  Caroline imagined a graceful, long-haired beauty who could cook a five course meal of Asian delicacies. She glanced at his face, noting the line of his mouth and the wrinkle between his brows. She knew just what he was feeling. Trapped. Obligated. Doomed to a summer in Thorny Hollow.

  She started to ask about his plans, but stopped. He probably didn’t have much on the schedule except watching over his dad. Something inside wished he could be happier about spending the summer with her, but could see how giving up his life in Spartainville for a countrified summer filled him with dread.

  Opening a plastic container of dog biscuits, she fed a few to Absalom. If they were going to have a treat, he should, too. She flipped open the cake box and grinned at the sight of a mud pie. Leaning forward, she inhaled deeply. “You’re my hero.”

  His lips tilted up just a bit. “Always at your service.”

  She retrieved two china plates and a silver pie server. “You have to help me eat this. If you leave me alone with all this chocolate I might eat myself into a coma.”

  “Don’t have to ask twice. I could smell it all the way here.” He was looking more relaxed by the minute. Caroline glanced at him, wondering how to say what was on her mind.

  She handed him a slice of the thick chocolate pie and he accepted it wordlessly. She took a bite, savoring the smooth chocolate on her tongue. She wanted to roll her eyes and groan but that would have been unseemly. She settled for a demure word that didn’t come close to what she was thinking. “Nice.”

  He laughed, a sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. “Understatement of the year. I saw your face. I think you need to sit down before you pass out.”

  She plopped into one of the antique wood and cane chairs. “You know me so well.” Absalom came to sit under her feet, watching her movements in the hope of a tasty crumb. She took another bite, enjoying every second of the experience. It occurred to her that she never brought Brooks gifts. He was always bringing her cakes and chili-slaw dogs and mud pies. She chewed slowly, thinking.