Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  “Ah, I see. Well, those diaries are fascinating to read. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them. And I’m afraid I’m busy tonight, but thank you.”

  “Ransom, dear. You said this was a good coffee shop, but we won’t get a chance to order if we don’t hurry. The Purple Parasol closes in two hours and I want to have time to really look.” The blond’s voice was high and breathy. She didn’t spare a look for Zoe, it was as if she didn’t exist. She let out a tiny sigh and checked her delicate silver watch.

  “Tasha, this is Zoe, the barista.” A smile played around the edges of his lips. “And this is Shelby Roswell, one of my colleagues.”

  Shelby stood and extended a hand to Tasha. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  Tasha stared at Shelby’s outstretched hand for a moment, as if considering whether to take it. Then she grasped it she had been handed a used tissue, dropping it just as quickly.

  “Well, my break is over. I’ve got to get back behind the counter.” Zoe waggled her eyebrows at Shelby and slipped by.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Rebecca flew through the door and then stumbled at the sight of the group. She looked from Ransom, to Tasha, to Shelby. “I just got off the phone with Carlisle Roundtree,” she blurted to no one in particular.

  “The Editor? Carlisle is a good friend of mine. We were roommates at Georgetown.” Ransom’s voice was light, friendly and he held out a hand to Rebecca..

  “Ransom, this is my roommate Rebecca. She’s an associate in the English Literature department.” Shelby tried to communicate several paragraphs of information with one look, but Rebecca glanced from Shelby to Ransom with a curious expression.

  “Now it’s a party.” Tasha smirked, her eyes untouched by the smile on her lips. “And an English teacher! Are you going to correct our grammar? I dated an English professor once and all he did was work on his book. I’m sure it’s still not finished, he’d been at it for ten years.”

  Shelby could see Rebecca struggling to choose her words. “I don’t correct anyone’s grammar unless they’re under five.”

  Tasha just smiled and patted Ransom’s shoulder. “Let’s get our coffee. Nice to meet you.” She waved airily as they turned toward the counter.

  Ransom made no move to follow. “Shelby, remember to e-mail me your address. It’s about a half hour drive from here so we should leave around six.” His low voice resonated clearly despite the background clatter of the coffee shop. His gaze was intense, as if no one else existed except for her.

  Shelby was distracted by Tasha’s outright look of surprise that flickered and then settled into guarded curiosity. She gave Shelby a much closer look, from the top of her auburn, softly curling hair to her sensible navy shoes. Then, as if deciding there wasn’t any threat, she turned her back as Ransom joined her at the counter.

  “What on earth?” Rebecca whispered as she slid off her suede jacket and laid it across the back of her chair.

  “What’s the Purple Parasol?” Shelby asked softly.

  “It’s a bridal boutique out on Tower Road. Why?”

  “They’re headed over there next so she can look around. ”

  “Sounds like there’s gonna be a wedding. Do you think she minds he’s a widower?”

  Shelby stared at the table top with unseeing eyes. Something constricted painfully in her chest. She fought to focus on what Rebecca was saying. “Why would she? It’s not a bad thing, certainly.”

  “No? Think about it.” Rebecca peeked at the couple as they ordered. “An ex wife in the background is a lot better than a dead wife. He’ll always see her as a flawless woman and you can’t compete with that.”

  “I’m sure he remembers some flaws. You don’t white-wash someone’s memory just because they died.” Shelby’s stomach clenched, now imagining Ransom’s dead wife and hoping she had major flaws.

  “It’s true, believe me. Some sort of psychological phenomenon, to remember them at their very best. If they’d divorced it would be a hundred percent better.”

  “Certainly less tragic.” Shelby fiddled with the white and pink sugar packets in front of her. “I did feel a little guilty for disliking him so much, after knowing he lost his wife that way.”

  “See? Exactly what I mean. His dead wife doesn’t have anything to do with you and you’re already -

  Rebecca broke off as Ransom and Tasha passed by them. She went first, head high and didn’t spare a glance in their direction. Ransom followed, carrying both of their drinks. As he passed, he nodded to them.

  She continued when the door closed behind them.“Those red stilettos are this season’s hot item. I saw them in Barney’s when I was home. They cost eight hundred dollars.”

  Shelby tried not to gape. “For shoes? That’s insane. The wedding dress she buys will cost the same as a small car, then. But she is very stylish...” Shelby’s voice trailed off as she gazed out the window at their retreating figures. If only she hadn’t sprayed Diet Coke on her perfect outfit and perfect shoes first thing this morning.

  Rebecca snorted softly. “Oh, and jealousy rears its ugly head.”

  “I’m not jealous in the slightest. It just seems unfair that I meet his fiancee when I’m wearing old, sensible shoes.”

  “You’ve never cared about your shoes before. And what was he talking about that’s a half hour away? Are you two going to some meeting?”

  Quickly Shelby filled her in on her agreement to accompany him to the party.

  Rebecca frowned into her chai. “I don’t know, Shelby. That just doesn’t seem like a good idea. And have you ever had a conversation with him that went well? Those parties are bad enough when you go with people you actually like.”

  “Hold that thought, I’m going to go order.” Shelby slipped out of her chair and went to the counter. She was glad to get a few minutes to collect her thoughts. Could she have imagined the heat that passed between them?

  Or worse, was it real and he expected her not to care that he was engaged?

  But maybe it didn’t matter, maybe she didn’t have any right to be thinking that way about him, as he’d never mentioned anything about his beliefs. Usually something that important came up in conversation somewhere, sometime. She couldn’t go setting her sights on someone who wasn’t a believer. That just led to broken hearts all ‘round.

  After she collected their drinks, she said, “All right, I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

  “I’m not going to argue about it, it’s your decision but this seems a sudden reversal from what you said before.” Rebecca wrapped her hands around the hot tea and took a sip.

  “Well, it’s not like I’m going into this with my eyes closed. And if I got the cold shoulder for six weeks because we argued, maybe I can raise my standing a little bit by going to one party with him.”

  “You refused David Whitcomb for basically the same thing So, if he was taller, richer, more handsome, a historian, brought you a mocha, et cetera, it would have been okay?”

  “But David assumed that I was going to jump at the chance to go out with him”

  “So, it’s in the delivery? He hurt your pride so you turned him down?” Rebecca gave her a level gaze.

  Shelby made an exasperated noise. “I know where you’re going, but...”

  Rebecca said, “Don’t get me wrong, David Whitcomb is a total Mr. Collins.”

  “The toady cousin who proposes to Elizabeth?” Shelby snorted, remembering the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. “He was repulsive.”

  “You know, I always wonder how many offers of marriage Jane Austen turned down. She must have had her own Mr. Collins. People were more honest about their intentions back then. It was perfectly acceptable to marry for status and money. Now marrying for anything less than love makes you a shallow person, ” Rebecca mused, gazing out the window.

  “People now don’t have to decide between marrying someone and starving to death. Back then, if you couldn’t inherit money and couldn’t have a job, marriage was about the only thing left to them” Sh
elby said. She twirled the little red straw in her drink. “You’re the last person to be recommending a return to arranged marriages. Your parents would have you married off to some stock broker in an instant.”

  “Well, if I get to thirty five and haven’t seen the one, maybe I should let my mom take a turn. My parents have been happy enough. She must know something about it.”

  “And that’s exactly why my mother needs to let someone else take over. I don’t know what my parents ever had in common,” Shelby sighed.

  “Not everyone marries for love. Maybe they had their own reasons. You have to understand each other, come from the same perspective. Your parents met at church, right? They already had a lot in common right there. I say I would never marry for anything less than love, but I don’t want to be eighty and holding out for someone that doesn’t exist.”

  “But you’re the one in love with Darcy! Comparing men to Austen heroes is totally unrealistic.”

  “No, he’s perfect because he’s so human and flawed. Really, you have to read it again. You’ll see what I mean.” As Rebecca wagged one finger, she looked for once just like an English professor.

  “No thanks, I don’t want to be an Austen fanatic like you are. And I don’t have time to be searching out the perfect man right now anyway. I have an article to finish.”

  “Except that you’re going out on Saturday...” Rebecca left the rest of her sentence hang in the air.

  Shelby laughed, “I think I can spare a few hours. And see, Ransom asked me to go so that it wouldn’t be as boring for him and it might show everybody we’re not really sworn enemies. David Whitcomb asked me because he thought I needed what he had to offer.”

  Rebecca said, “Still sounds the same, but it’s your social life. Hey, did you hear Raymond Masterson has a new girlfriend? She’s a flight attendant from Atlanta. They met on a flight to Memphis and he dumped the old one by e-mail before they even landed.”

  “How do you find out these things?” She was astounded at how easily Rebecca ferreted out the juicy gossip.

  “I’m not standing around talking about old battlegrounds, my dear. Anyway, you think showing up to a party with him might really help your standing?” Rebecca looked incredulous.

  Shelby watched a passerby on the sidewalk for a moment. A bulldog tugged at his leash and the owner ignored him, deep in conversation with a tall woman.She nibbled a nail.

  “I’m sick of being blacklisted. It’s worth a try. And if he’s engaged, then there’s no romantic issue.” For him, at least. Her stomach gave another lurch as she remembered Tasha’s grip on his arm.

  Rebecca’s clear brown eyes were dark with concern as she shook her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You can’t be blacklisted for barging into his class forever and that review might eventually fade away. But if you mix up all these social aspects, things could go badly right when you’re trying to get tenure. I think it’s too much of a risk.”

  Shelby lifted her chin. “ It’s just that I’ve tried for so long my way, maybe I need to try something different. I’m tired of being left out of the loop.” She stared out the window for a moment. “I just hope I’m not digging my own grave.”

  “Well, if you are, I’ll come with flowers on your birthday every year, Ok?” Rebecca’s tone was light.

  Shelby shrugged off the little worry that crept around her brain. It was just a party, not even a real date, and she was determined to do whatever it took to get her academic reputation back.

  “There is a stubborness about me that can never bear to be frightened by the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

  -Elizabeth

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “Tansy, I can’t believe how successful this place is after two years. You have a real gift,” Shelby said, straining to get the spotlight just right over an enormous metal structure that reminded her of a squatting eagle.

  “It helps that interest in modern art has taken off around here.” Tansy DiGuardi wiped her forehead and sat on an overturned bucket. “That piece is worth about six million dollars and the insurance is staggering. Plus, the gallery in Berlin that loaned it to us practically made me promise them my first born child if it got damaged.”

  “Well, it’s amazing. Huge, but amazing.” Shelby glanced at her watch and blinked. She loved helping Ron’s wife set up the exhibits but dinner was calling. “I should go. You need help tomorrow? I can snag Rebecca for an extra pair of hands.”

  “That would be great,” Tansy gave her a quick squeeze and unlocked the gallery door.

  Shelby walked quickly back toward campus. Her bright red sweater felt much too thin for the sudden gust of wind that blew down the narrow street. A few leaves skittered in front of her. The sky was turning a deep rosy orange, the clouds edged with pink, and Shelby felt her body relax into the rhythm of her stride. She took deep lungfuls of air and sent up a quick prayer of thanks for this body, even though she could never eat all the chocolate cake she wanted or risk turning into a doughy lump.

  Her gaze dropped down to a group approaching on the sidewalk. One man was half turned around, looking up at the sky behind them. Shelby smiled, knowing that the man was appreciating the very same sunset she was. And then he turned, and she recognized the familiar dark hair and severe expression. Her eyes flashed to his companions. A tall, laughing man walked near the wall and a blond woman teetered on high heels, one arm looped with Ransom’s.

  Shelby ducked her head and watched the sidewalk squares pass. Soon she could hear Tasha’s lilting, breathy voice.

  “Carl, I promise, you won’t have to look at a single invitation sample or hear about the weight of the paper.”

  Shelby stomach clenched. The wedding again. Does she ever talk about anything else? She heard the easy laugh of their companion, they were just a few feet away. She moved to step off the sidewalk.

  “Hello, Shelby.” A deep voice stopped her in her tracks, one foot on the sidewalk and one in the gutter. Shelby raised her face and forced a smile.

  “Carl, this is my colleague from the history department. Carl Bradford’s my cousin, visiting from Natchez,” Ransom said.

  Carl stretched out a hand, grinning. He must have gotten all the warm personality genes. And those bright blue eyes, definitely related. “Finally. I was beginning to think you were purely Ransom’s imagination.” His face was open and pleasant . He shook her hand warmly, putting his other hand over hers.

  Shelby glanced at Ransom, a question on her lips, but he was already speaking. “And Tasha, you remember, I’m sure.”

  “Nice to see you again,” Shelby said, wondering if she would get the same limp hand shake.

  Tasha looked as if she wished there was a polite way to keep walking without any response. Instead, she nodded and wiggled her fingers in Shelby’s direction, a bright smile fixed on her face, albeit so briefly it was the opposite of a smile. Close up, Shelby could see that her smooth skin was too tan, bordering on orange. Her teeth were blinding white and the approximate size of chiclets. The bright pink sun dress she wore, with ruffles along the hem and spaghetti straps, was more suited to the middle of summer.

  I can’t even get dressed for a party without Rebecca. And her hair is perfect. I wonder if she had it professionally blown out. Shelby was suddenly brought out of her reverie by Ransom’s voice.

  “- won’t you?” He looked to Carl, who nodded enthusiastically.

  “Excellent idea. I’d love to talk to you about your research on Aaron Schumacher. Ransom gave that article to me last weekend and I was blown away.”

  “Excuse me?” Shelby stuttered out.

  “I’m sure she has somewhere to go. You can’t just pull people off the street, Ransom.” Tasha laughed lightly but her eyes had narrowed.

  “I’m sorry, won’t I what?” Shelby’s face flushed.

  Ransom motioned to the restaurant entrance just a few feet away. “We were going to dinner. Would you like to join us?” H
is eyes were intense, speaking volumes.

  Shelby shook her head, flustered. “Oh, I couldn’t. First of all, I’m not dressed for it at all.” She waved at her comfortable black slacks, her cardigan. She was glad she’d put up her hair in a pony tail before she’d left the art gallery, at least it wasn’t blowing around her face in a curly mess.

  “See, she doesn’t want to come. Now let’s get inside before I freeze to death.” Tasha tugged on Ransom’s arm, but he wouldn’t be budged. She slipped her hand free and went to the door. Carl opened it for her, smiling warmly over his shoulder at Shelby. She couldn’t help smiling back and then started, as Ransom stepped close and bent down to whisper into her ear.

  One word, softly spoken. “Please.”

  Stepping back, he stood waiting, his eyes locked on hers. Shelby half raised a hand to her ear, where it seemed to echo Ransom’s voice. His warm breath had tickled the fine hair at her temple, and now the breeze moved those same strands. She felt heat rise into her cheeks, and willed herself to look cool and collected.

  “I suppose there’s no harm in it,” Shelby said mildly, as if she accepted dinner invitations on the spur of the moment every day.

  A slow smile spread over Ransom’s face and he motioned her to the door, where Carl stood waiting. As she passed, out of the corner of her eye she saw Ransom flash a quick thumbs up. Carl must be tired of being third wheel to the happy couple.

  The host, in artfully faded jeans and a black cashmere sweater, materialized in front of them. He checked their reservations while Shelby glanced around. Bright yellow and black squares bordered the entryway and the bass thump of modern techno music set an underlying pulse. The air was filled with the scent of lemon grass and ginger.