First Impressions: A Contemporary Retelling of Pride and Prejudice

by Debra White Smith

  “Oh, really?” Dave questioned and turned his full attention to the redhead.

  “Yes.” Carissa nodded.

  “When exactly did my aunt say that?”

  “Before practice,” she explained and hooped her thumb through her jeans belt loop.

  “Before the dance?” Dave queried and slyly smiled in a way he hoped suggested that he immensely enjoyed the dance.

  “Oh . . . yes,” Carissa replied, “before the dance.” She observed the unfinished floor and then looked back at Dave. “I guess that whole scene was some of your best acting.”

  “Actually,” Dave drawled and conjured a section of script that would probably give Carissa a thing or two to think about, “‘your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged’ during that scene. I was too busy ‘meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow’ to be concerned with how well I was acting.”

  “Oh,” Carissa said with a blank stare.

  I can tell you haven’t read the script at all, Dave thought. He wagered that Eddi Boswick would have recognized those lines for Darcy’s and shoved a retort right back at him from her part.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said before turning toward the stairs, “I need to speak with someone before she leaves.”

  “Of course,” Carissa responded.

  Dave spent five minutes trying to ease away from people congratulating him on a great performance. Finally, he rushed onto the house’s front porch, into the humid July evening. Next door, the rev of a lawn mower preceded the smell of freshly mown grass. Calvin stood on the edge of the lawn waving toward a red Mustang as it purred out of the driveway. A silver PT Cruiser zipped up the road. Through the eight-thirty twilight Dave caught a glimpse of Rick Wallace looking at him from the Cruiser’s front passenger seat.

  He trotted to Calvin’s side and nearly pursued the red Mustang. On second consideration, Dave decided to halt beside Cal and wait to warn Eddi. Given that dance sequence, he was starting to act like a compulsive fifteen-year-old. The last thing he wanted Cal or anybody else to witness was his chasing after Eddi’s vehicle. The rumors would fly unchecked.

  I’ll call her later, he thought.

  “I finally got her phone number!” Calvin beamed and waved a piece of note paper.

  “She wouldn’t give it to you before?” Dave asked and suspected the answer. An engaged woman was usually careful about what man she gave her contact information to—especially a man she was flirting with behind her fiancé’s back.

  “No, nothing like that,” Calvin assured. “I asked for it, but somehow we started talking and she forgot to give it to me. I did get her email address, and we’ve been emailing since she was here last.”

  “Oh?” Dave said. He curled down the sides of his mouth and shook his head. “I see. And you didn’t think to ask her for her phone number via email?”

  “I thought about it,” Calvin said, “but I didn’t want to be too pushy.”

  “Right,” Dave said. “As cool as she is, it probably wouldn’t take much to seem too pushy.”

  Calvin observed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Dave inserted his hands into his back pockets and looked at the Saint Augustine grass that stretched across the lush lawn. The crickets shrieked about the approaching night as fireflies blinked near the row of oaks between his aunt’s mansion and her neighbor’s brick home. No one would guess the neighborhood had survived a near miss with a tornado mere weeks before.

  Dave debated how best to tell his friend about Jenny’s fiancé. He hated to disappoint the guy. After all, Cal wasn’t known for his good experiences with women. A couple of years ago, he’d put his faith in a lady who promised to marry him. Two weeks before the wedding, Calvin found her in the arms of another man. Cal really knew how to pick the ones who would break his heart.

  Feeling his friend’s scrutiny, Dave finally blurted the truth. “She’s engaged, Cal.” He lifted his head and didn’t flinch.

  “What?” Calvin hollered and immediately covered his mouth. He glanced around the yard. The dozen people who lingered on the lawn all turned their attention toward the two men.

  Once they resumed their conversations, Dave took the note paper from his friend’s hand, tore it in half, and extended it back to him. “Jenny Boswick is already engaged. I don’t know what games she’s playing, but I don’t think she gives a hoot about you.”

  “How did you find out?” Calvin asked, as if he doubted the veracity of Dave’s source.

  “I overheard her mother talking to Mr. Boswick before practice. She mentioned Jenny’s fiancé and how much better a catch you were because you could make more money.”

  “Money?” Calvin bleated as if it were a foreign word.

  “Haven’t you heard? There are actually people in the world who’d marry somebody just because they have money.” Dave chose not to mention that Calvin’s sister fit that mold herself.

  “You think Jenny is one of those?” Calvin rubbed the two pieces of paper together. The scraps created a rasp that took on a forlorn quality.

  “Honestly . . .” Dave wished he could soften the truth, but decided brutal honesty would better serve his friend. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve watched her closely, and, well . . .” He shrugged.

  “Yeah, I know.” Calvin lowered his head. “I’ve wondered a time or two if maybe I was a little crazier about her than she was about me—right in the middle of thinking she might be the one,” he added under his breath.

  Calvin held up the torn note. “Now what’ll I do? I promised her I’d call next week. Carissa even agreed to play another part so Jenny could play my leading lady.”

  “If I were you,” Dave said, “I’d bow out as graciously as I could and chalk it all up to experience.”

  “Right,” Calvin agreed and peered toward downtown London.

  Dave followed his lead and admired the new roof that now topped the Eat a Bite Cafe. Unfortunately, the theater didn’t rank the same repairs. In light of Mrs. DeBloom opening her dinner theater, the city chose to tear down the old theater completely. A gaping hole full of splintered wood and crushed mortar marred the street corner where the theater once proudly stood.

  “Did Carissa invite you over?” Calvin finally asked. “We’re supposed to be having some friends over for coffee and dessert and maybe a movie.”

  “Yes, she invited me,” Dave said, “but I’m going to pass this time. I’ve got some loose ends at the ranch to wrap up.” Dave’s haven was calling his name. He couldn’t deny the haunting whispers that urged him into the small building. After last night’s church picnic, he’d stayed there until midnight. He would probably repeat the scenario tonight.

  “Is Jenny going to be there, by chance?” Dave asked and considered changing his plans if maybe Eddi was joining her sister at the Barclays’.

  “Nah.” Calvin shook his head. “I asked her and Eddi, but they said they needed to hang out with their family.”

  “Figures,” Dave said.

  “Yeah, figures.” Calvin wadded the scraps of paper and stuffed them into his pocket.

  Fifteen

  By Thursday night, Dave had spent five evenings straight in his haven. Aunt Maddy had been stricken with a horrible case of summer flu and called off all play practices for a week. That left Dave free to pursue his first love.

  At midnight Thursday, Dave had exhausted all of his mental stamina. He stepped out of the brick building and clicked the door behind him. A habitual twist of the knob attested that the door was still unlocked. Dave started to reopen the door and lock the knob, but decided he was feeling too lazy to exude the effort. When he first constructed the building, Dave had thought of installing a deadbolt lock. Soon, reason set in and he realized there was nobody way out in the country who would be interested in going inside.

  Dave stretched and yawned, the humid night air filling his lungs. His boots swished against the grass
as he approached his back porch, alight with the full moon’s radiance. A hoot owl’s haunting call floated from the pecan orchard and sent a stab of loneliness through him. The bitter smell of Aunt Maddy’s geraniums covering the porch heightened his forlorn gloom.

  He stopped at the base of the porch steps, placed his hands on his hips, and peered around the estate. For the first time since he’d built his home, he dreaded going in alone. All he could think about was the lady he’d twirled across stage and how he wished she were inside awaiting him. A dull ache gnawed at Dave’s gut—an ache that whispered he was not complete. Not without Eddi.

  He rubbed his mouth with callused fingers and traced the line of his jaw. No amount of denial could jar him from this unexpected turn of his heart. For over seven months he’d avoided Eddi because he feared the very thing that had finally overcome him.

  “I can’t be in love with her,” he denied and scowled toward the back pasture. A massive red barn sprawled beneath the moonbeams and seemed to whisper of work that needed to be done. Francis Schmidt and three other hired hands had helped him repair fences most of the day. Another section of fence waited for tomorrow. He looked at his palms, pricked and worn. Not even hard, physical labor had expunged Eddi from his mind.

  Dave shifted his attention toward the pool. He’d promised himself while sweating in the unforgiving sun that he’d indulge in a swim. While Francis and the hired men had accepted Dave’s invitation for a dip in the pool, he had opted for a cool shower. Now the crystal blue waters glittered in the moonshine and beckoned him into their sweetness.

  Dave burst into a hard stride toward the pool’s deep end. He stopped on the concrete edge, still emanating warmth from the unforgiving sun. After yanking off his boots and socks, Dave stripped to his boxer shorts. With a light spring, he dove into the pool. The cool water enveloped him like a welcoming friend. He swam down until he reached the bottom. With a flip and kick, Dave shoved off the bottom and shot upward. He broke the surface with a splash and hiss of air entering his lungs. The taste of chlorine on his tongue, Dave struck out across the Olympic-sized pool and swam as if he were dashing for his life. All the while, his mind ticked off the reasons he shouldn’t be in love with Eddi Boswick.

  She’s not the one for me, he argued. She can’t be. I’m not sure she even likes me.

  He thought of those minutes after the tornado . . . of the close encounter at Saturday’s play. Both times, Dave wanted to kiss her—he really wanted to kiss her. Both times, he would have vowed he saw the same in her eyes. So she must feel some attraction for me, he countered and floundered in a sea of uncertainty.

  But her family . . . he argued with himself. One sister is a blatant man-chaser. The other one is a subtle man-chaser. And obviously, her mother isn’t the most sensible woman in the world.

  Dave pushed off the side of the pool, glided fifteen feet, and attacked the water. It churned around him in white waves as he continued his mental dialogue. I can’t imagine going home to her family every Christmas. Heaven help me, he thought, her mother would probably look at me like I’m First National Bank!

  With a gulp of air, he dove beneath the surface. As he descended, Dave released the air from his lungs. Copious bubbles left his nose as he plunged the pool’s depth. No matter how deep he swam, Dave couldn’t escape what he carried in his heart—the first bloom of love. Real love. The kind that didn’t evaporate when infatuation ended.

  He swam along the bottom of the pool until he felt as if his chest would burst. With a final desperate push, Dave erupted upon the surface and sucked air into his burning lungs.

  Suddenly, none of his arguments mattered. All that mattered was Eddi. I must be crazy. Yeah, crazy about her, he countered. And I’ve gone crazy all week because I haven’t been able to see her at practice.

  She hadn’t even responded to his email Tuesday. He fell into a lazy crawl toward the pool’s side. After debating a dozen different options for warning her about Rick, Dave had finally scrounged her email address out of the church directory and wrote her a quick message. “Don’t believe everything Rick Wallace tells you.” Then under that, “Enjoyed practice.” For forty-eight hours he hoped for a cyber message, but received none. Whether she took his warning to heart or not was anybody’s guess. If she likewise enjoyed practice, Eddi kept the secret to herself.

  Dave reached the pool’s side, hoisted himself up, settled onto the warm edge, and dangled his feet in the water. A midnight breeze sent a chill along his arms and chest. The smell of freshly cut hay mingled with a whiff of cattle. A longhorn’s hollow bellow only intensified Dave’s loneliness.

  He eyed his empty house and then gazed up at the star-studded sky. A snatch of holy text reverberated through his soul: “It is not good for man to be alone.”

  “So God created woman,” he mumbled.

  A falling star streaked across the velvet canvas, blazing a silver path in its wake. Before the star disappeared over the west pasture, Dave begged God to either deliver him from his torment or make Eddi love him as desperately as he was beginning to love her.

  Eddi opened her office Friday morning for the sole purpose of getting her finances in order and answering the phone. So far, she had managed to handle all positions at Boswick Law Firm. She hadn’t hired a secretary, receptionist, or accountant. The last few weeks, business had been steadily increasing. On top of winning a significant child-custody case, Eddi had also gleaned the business of London Savings and Loan. She now handled all their real-estate closures. Real estate was by far her least favorite work, but Eddi couldn’t specialize in such a small town.

  Earlier in the week, she’d threatened to hire a secretary for the first time. But by Thursday evening, Eddi had cleared her desk and taken care of all commitments. Now that the week was coming to a slow close, Eddi was thankful she hadn’t placed the Help Wanted ad in the paper.

  Balancing a mug of tea, her purse, and portfolio, she stepped across the area rug, a plaid offering of burgundy and forest green. The rug complemented her wallpaper as if the two were designed by the same hand. Before going back to Houston Sunday, Jenny had insisted that Eddi add the silk Ficus tree near the pair of wingback leather chairs. As Eddi settled behind her desk, she admitted that the greenery softened the room’s professional appearance.

  She dropped her purse under her desk and pushed her computer’s power button. As the machine booted up, Eddi sipped her lemon tea and relished the herbal liquid, tart and warm. As soon as the computer was ready, she activated her USA Online account and scanned the blue screen that featured her in-box. The top email, from Dave Davidson, bade her read it for the twenty-fifth time.

  Eddi,Don’t believe everything Rick Wallace tells you.Enjoyed practice.Dave

  Eddi tapped her blunt fingernails against her desk’s polished surface. For three days she’d debated about how to answer Dave’s email—or if she should answer at all. The memory of that magical waltz enticed her to tell him how much she likewise enjoyed practice. For the first time, Eddi wondered if perhaps she should look past Dave’s shortcomings and give the guy some encouragement. The email blurred. Eddi could no longer deny that there was a special chemistry between them. Neither could she deny that Dave felt it.

  She gripped the chair’s arms and shook her head. “Wait a minute,” Eddi demanded. “This is not a fairy tale and he’s not Prince Charming. Just because we’ve got some sort of surface attraction doesn’t make him a man of character.” The words extinguished her fantasies.

  She reread the email and reminded herself of the irony of his message. While Dave told her not to believe Rick Wallace, he had duped a whole town into believing he was a rancher and nothing more.

  “If I’m going to have to choose what man to trust,” Eddi mumbled, “I believe it would be Rick. At least he has never stooped to insult me.”

  From there, Eddi forced herself to relive every nasty thing Dave had ever said to her or about her. Too short, too prissy . . . classless. Wears army boots to bed.
And if that weren’t enough, he insinuated I’d be interested in him for his money!

  “You’ve not only been rude to me, you’ve also been rude to my parents! Now you’re sending me this email full of advice like I’m supposed to heed it. I don’t think so.” Eddi plopped her tea down. After three days of brooding over the message, she hit Delete.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “And I’m glad you enjoyed practice. At least that makes one of us.”

  As Eddi checked her email for other messages, she relived the waltz yet again. Her casual pantsuit became a ball gown. The office turned into a chandeliered suite. The elevator music trickling from ceiling speakers transformed into a live orchestra. Dave, now dressed in his People magazine tuxedo, wrapped his arms around her, and they floated across the floor together.

  “Okay, maybe the waltz was nice,” she admitted and eyed her clothing. The pantsuit replaced her ball gown. The chandeliers were gone. The orchestra disappeared. Only Dave remained. Dave in his tux.

  Lately, she had begun to wonder if the man were purposefully doing things to attract her. But what if he found out I was enjoying it? she mused. A potential scenario played through her mind. Dave would probably take arrogant satisfaction in telling me not to get my hopes up and then accusing me of chasing him for his money. Eddi narrowed her eyes. That was exactly what he’d done in the past. Why would the future be any different?

  “Whatever you’re up to, it’s not going to work,” she decided. “I don’t care how many times you help me up when I’ve fallen or how many times you twirl me around stage, I won’t admit to a living soul that I enjoyed one second of it—and especially not to you!”

  Eddi disciplined her wayward mind, dismissed Dave, and scrutinized the messages as they popped into the in-box. The first message was from Jenny. The subject line read “Huge Disappointment.” Eddi picked up her mug and indulged in another mouthful of tea. She opened the email and eagerly scanned the message: