She took off her glasses, tossed them on the passenger seat, threw back her head, and laughed. “Crazy! I like that! Maybe I am a little crazy!” After turning off the Corvette’s engine, she opened the door, stepped out, and slammed the door. The woman placed her hand on her hip, shifted for a sensuous pose, and shot him a flirtatious smile that made Frederick want to add another paragraph to his lecture. She couldn’t have been more than twenty and had no business stopping on the side of the road to talk to a strange man—especially not while wearing those low-cut jeans and cropped sweater. If she were his kid sister, he’d have sentenced her to house arrest for a month for this behavior.
Her smile fading, she crossed her arms and leaned closer. Her high heels crunched along the rocky drive as she neared. Distracted by what she might try next, Frederick shoved the ache in his spine to second in importance.
“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” she asked.
While there was no trace of alcohol on her, he picked up the scent of some light perfume that an innocent thirteen-year-old might wear.
How ironic, he thought and wondered if the woman didn’t realize he would recognize a pick-up line when he heard one. Scores of women had identified him after the media turned him into a hero, but that had been several years ago. Presently, Frederick wasn’t in the market for a pick-up, especially not by someone nearly young enough to be his daughter.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said and fumbled to reopen the Mustang’s door. “I need to be going—”
“No!” She laid her hand on his arm. “I thought you looked familiar when I passed. Now I know you do!”
Her blue eyes intense, she inched closer and studied his face. Despite his desire to escape, an unexpected memory nibbled the back of his mind. The sharp eyes were what triggered the recollection. He recalled a time in his distant past when an obnoxious child of the female variety had followed him around, chatted his ears off, and pelted him with enough questions to exasperate a stone monument. Even when Frederick had turned his back on her to dig in a flowerbed, he’d felt her gaze on him like a vulture zoned in on its prey.
A cloak of certainty settled upon her features. “Did you ever work at a place called Elton Mansion in Atlanta?” she asked.
“Yes,” Frederick admitted and nearly groaned. Images of the precocious ten-year-old who’d spent her whole spring break harassing him evolved into the young woman standing before him. The woman’s lips were redder than the girl’s. Her hair was longer. And she was all grown up. But Frederick would recognize the devil-may-dare tilt of her chin in a crowd of a thousand.
“Oh my goodness! You’re Frederick Wently, aren’t you?” she oozed and clung to his arm like an awestruck fan.
“And you’re Louise,” he stated as her name plunked into his mind.
“Yes. Louise Grove.” She giggled. “I was ten the last time I saw you. It was my spring break. I was visiting Elton Mansion with my sister-in-law. She grew up there. Remember?”
“Yes,” Frederick admitted.
“Her name’s Macy. Macy Grove.”
He nodded and thought, I remember well.
“Did you know I had the biggest crush on you that week?” Her eyes went gooey.
“I would have never guessed,” Frederick drawled and backed away from her clutch. While he couldn’t deny that Louise’s admiration was flattering, he detested the thought of taking advantage of the situation. Not very many years ago, Louise Grove was only ten, and he’d been twenty-five. Frederick couldn’t think past that—except for the fact that she probably didn’t look the same in jeans and a midriff sweater so tight he wondered how she breathed. Like a protective uncle, Frederick thought about taking off his jacket and insisting Louise cover herself until she could put on something decent.
“Oh! I just had the most wonderful idea!” Louise squealed and bounced up and down. “You’ve got to come home with me for a while. You’ve just got to! I can show you off to my sister and parents. They’d never believe my catch of the day!”
“Your catch of the day?” Frederick wrinkled his forehead.
She waved her hand and laughed. “It’s just a family joke. They say I go out fishing for guys and bring home a new catch every day.”
“And they don’t mind that?”
“Heavens no,” she said and fluffed her wind-tossed hair. “They just take it all in stride. I change boyfriends like you change socks. It’s all just a part of who I am. But now with you . . .” She grabbed his arm and cut him a sly wink. “I might keep you for a long, long time.”
Frederick lifted his hands and stumbled to the car’s rear bumper. “Now wait a minute,” he protested. “I never committed to anything. I was just sitting here finishing my Coke when—”
“When I drove by and saw you. And aren’t you the most handsome thang I’ve seen since I was ten and I saw you the first time. Now come on, darlin’! You’ve got to come home with me and let me show you off.” She crooked her finger at him.
“Louise, it’s been very nice to see you again, but . . .” Frederick hedged and couldn’t fathom what Allie would think if he showed up at Grove Acres with her kid sister-in-law hanging on him.
Wait a minute! he thought. Frederick narrowed his eyes and gazed past the blonde. This would be the perfect cover. His mind spun with the possibilities. Frederick could see Allie again under the assumption that he’d bumped into Louise, they remembered each other, and she invited him home for a visit. If Allie was jealous, that would give Frederick a good indicator that she was still interested in him. If she didn’t care that he was with another woman, then Frederick could once and for all put himself out of his misery, go back to Charlotte, and get on with his life.
Of course, if Allie did care for him, Frederick still had to deal with a few small obstacles such as latent bitterness, unforgiveness, and lack of trust before he could even begin to renew a healthy relationship with her. There was also still the issue of the royal Elton status in the face of his mere mortality.
It’s too much to overcome, he reasoned and wondered why he was even here. The blustery March wind reminded him of his temporary insanity and cooled the sweat Louise’s near miss had worked him into. As the perspiration evaporated, the logical advantages of showing up at the Groveses’ estate trickled through the insanity. Frederick was thirty-five. He still wasn’t married and hadn’t been able to develop a long-term relationship with any woman because of Allie.
I cannot spend the rest of my life like this, he thought. Maybe this will be a way to get her out of my blood once and for all. If she rejects me again—and she most likely will—maybe I’ll have enough sense to forget her and find a wife!
Louise came into focus again. Her lips were moving, but Frederick had no idea what she was saying. If Frederick was the pick of the week, Louise would be his ticket into Allie’s life. Next week Louise would move on to another catch of the day and no harm would be done.
Finally Louise frowned at him like a spoiled child. She stomped her spike heel and said, “You haven’t been listening to a word I said!”
“Huh?”
“I said if you don’t come with me, I’m going to scream” Louise replicated the same singsong voice she’d used when she was ten and wanted Frederick to push her around in the wheelbarrow full of peat moss.
Frederick crossed his arms. “I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll come for a visit if you promise you won’t tell anyone you saw me at this park.” That way Allie won’t find out I was already this close and suspect I drove to Macon just to see her, he silently added.
Louise shrugged. “Okay, deal,” she said with a nonplused expression. “I’ll just tell them I bumped into you at the gas station or something.”
“No, don’t lie,” Frederick admonished. “We can just say you, uh, ran into me. It’s pretty much the truth.” He eyed the skid marks Louise’s tires had left in the gravel mere feet from his rental car.
“No prob.” She waved away the whole issue. “I’ll say what
ever floats your boat as long as you come home with me.”
“Deal.” Frederick extended his hand for a shake and thought better of it when she wrapped both hands around his and lifted it to her lips. Before Frederick could extract his hand, she’d covered his knuckles in red lipstick.
“You’re even more yummy than you were ten years ago!” she exclaimed through a high-pitched giggle.
Frederick jerked his hand from her grasp, rubbed his other palm across the red smudges, and recalled the saucy kiss she’d placed on his cheek when she was ten. “You don’t need to be kissing on total strangers,” he said, his elder brother tone in full swing.
He was on the verge of branching into a sermon about her wardrobe and driving when Louise declared, “But you’re not a stranger! You’re an old, old friend.”
“Hold that thought,” he admonished. “I’m a friend. A family friend. And yes, I am old! Another couple of years, and I’d be old enough to be your father.”
“Oh pooh! You’re not that old! You can’t be. You’re my catch of the day.” She smiled and wiggled her fingers for a momentary good-bye before swaying toward her sports car.
Frederick plopped into the driver’s seat of his car, gripped the leather-covered steering wheel, and watched Louise get into the Corvette and replace her sunglasses. The whole time he debated the level of wisdom involved in this scheme. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 the highest, he ranked the plan a 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8—depending on which way he looked at it.
“Not only am I a tormented idiot,” he mumbled, “I’m as confused as all get-out.” By the time Louise was barreling out of the roadside park, Frederick was praying that God would either deliver him or miraculously bring something good out of the next few hours.
Nine
“Allie? Alllllllieeeeeeee!” Macy’s strong voice floated through her home’s open windows to the rose bed where Allie worked.
Allie laid aside her miniature spade, rocked back on her heels, eyed the new rosebuds, and sighed. After lunch Macy had been stricken with “the worst headache of the century” and just had to lie down. Of course, that was only after Allie asked her to help with the rosebushes and to pick up her own sons from school this afternoon. Since Allie’s Mercedes was being serviced, she assumed Macy would agree to pick up Barry and Bart and give Allie a break. No deal. Macy had simply insisted Allie use her Town Car to pick up the twins.
“Out here, Macy!” Allie stood and dusted her gloved hands against each other. “Right where I said I’d be,” she grumbled under her breath and slipped off the gloves. Allie tilted her face toward the sky, arched her back, and enjoyed a good stretch. March had come in like a heavy-breathing monster. A fresh gust of wind whipped Allie’s hair in all directions and shoved at the rosebush’s limbs. Frowning, Allie pushed one of the climbing rose shoots back through the trellis behind it.
“You guys need to stay put,” she admonished.
“There you are,” Macy said as she rounded the brick home’s corner. Her dark hair mussed, she yawned and covered her mouth with her fingers. “You’re still out here?” she questioned. “How can you work so long?”
Allie checked her watch and noted one thirty. “It’s only been a couple of hours.”
“That’s forever!” Macy glanced around the flowerbed. “And I can’t tell you’ve done a thing.”
Allie cleared her throat and eyed the twenty-one rosebushes that decorated the house’s west garden that separated Macy’s home from the guesthouse. “Well, I’ve dug around half the roses, weeded, fertilized, and sprayed them for fungus and aphids.” She pointed toward a collection of bottles and boxes near the brick border. “Other than that,” she wryly added, “I haven’t done a thing.” She shrugged.
“Oh. Well.” Macy languidly eyed the roses and toyed with the tie on her lounging pants. “You must be ready for some herbal tea, then. We’ve got blueberry.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Allie said, nearly staggered with Macy’s offer. Her younger sister hadn’t even lifted a finger to help Allie carry her suitcases in when she arrived for her stay last month.
“Good, then,” Macy replied. “I’ll have some, too.” She stroked her temple and turned toward the house. “I’ll be in the den when you get it made,” she added over her shoulder. “And don’t be too long. Remember, Charlie’s fishing today. You have to leave at two thirty to pick up the boys from school.”
Allie rolled her eyes as she watched her younger sister stroll around the home’s corner. I should have known! During the last month the old childhood patterns had resumed. Macy put on her “I’m the family baby” face and was perfectly content to allow the next eldest sister to do everything for her. Of course, when their mother died, the whole family had fawned over “the baby” because she was “only twelve.” Those years had irrevocably ingrained the patterns.
Atlantic Beach is calling my name, Allie thought. Even being bossed around by Evelyn and watching Penny Clayton make eyes at her father would be a relief compared to acting as Macy’s slave. Thankfully, Macy did have a part-time yardman and full-time maid and cook. Otherwise, Allie would have changed her name to Cinderella and been done with it. While dusting the soil from the knees of her capri pants and the front of her cotton shirt, she resigned herself to the inevitable. Macy was never going to change.
Within fifteen minutes, Allie balanced a tray laden with a crockery teapot and two matching cups and walked down the hallway to the spacious den. Her sister had just finished having the home redecorated, and the champagne-colored carpet gave the whole house a new smell. Macy sat in the corner of the sofa reading the suspense novel she had started that morning. She never looked up. She was already halfway through the thick book. Allie deduced Macy must have read rather than take the nap she vowed she needed to relieve the headache.
With Macy’s head slightly bent, her lips pursed in concentration, her hair now swept into a ponytail, Allie caught a glimpse of the little girl she once had been. Allie’s heart softened; her irritation vanished. Even with all her faults, Macy was still her sister, and Allie would die for her.
“Here you are, dear,” she said as she slid the tray onto the coffee table. “Blueberry.” Allie poured the two cups full of tea.
Macy never responded.
Allie stirred a packet of sweetener into her tea, picked up the cup and saucer, and settled on the cream-colored settee near the window. As was the whole house, this room was decked in the latest fashion. Everything intricately matched, from the cinnamon-colored walls to the same shade in the floral drapes to the replication of the settee’s coloring in the wool rug. Amazingly, Macy’s illnesses never stopped her from ordering new drapes and furniture when the urge struck.
Sipping her sweet tea, Allie stared beyond the home’s wraparound porch to the lane that twined through scenic woods, past the Grove’s mansion, and ultimately to the highway. While the last month hadn’t been perfect, country life had been therapeutic for Allie. She’d found a special rock near the creek where she spent an hour a day in prayer, meditation, and Scripture reading. On that rock Allie had poured her heart out to God and found an inexplicable peace about leaving her home behind.
Frederick Wently was a different matter altogether. Regardless of how often she prayed for God to ease the memories his recent visit had awakened, there was no relief. If anything, Allie was more haunted than ever by the what -ifs. And the last kiss they shared blazed through her mind with the potency of only hours gone by, rather than years. She gulped her tea and winced against the hot liquid as it hit the back of her throat.
A flash of white near the wood’s edge snared Allie’s attention, and she welcomed the sight of a doe bounding through the trees, her white tail twitching as she fled. Allie had a grain trough behind her house that attracted many deer, and she thought she recognized the doe. She abandoned the disturbing thoughts of Frederick in favor of the doe’s beauty. Atlantic Beach . . . the sand and the sea . . . didn’t hold half the appeal as the deer, her rock
, the stream, and the whippoorwills that serenaded her at sundown.
The deer disappeared through the woods and stirred a covey of quail in its wake. As the birds flurried in all directions, another movement gained Allie’s focus. A group of people strolled down the tree-lined lane. Allie immediately recognized Macy’s svelte sisters-in-law and pleasingly plump mother-in-law. In the middle of the animated trio sauntered a man who strongly resembled . . .
“Frederick!” Allie exclaimed, and her cup clattered against her saucer as she leaned forward. “But it can’t be!”
Deciding all her pining was making her hallucinate, Allie closed her eyes, shook her head, and reminded herself that her brother-in-law, Charlie, was tall and had dark hair. He had gone fishing after lunch in the family lake behind the Grove mansion. His walking back home with his mother and sisters was something he’d done scores of times—especially when Martha Grove wanted to invite Macy to dinner.
In the midst of the closed-eyed reasoning, Allie reminded herself that the man she saw didn’t walk or look like Charlie in the least. In the face of that logic, she convinced herself that her aching heart was superimposing Frederick’s image upon Charlie . . . just as it had filled her dreams with images of Frederick every night since he’d arrived at Elton Mansion with the Cosbys.
Certain of her verdict, Allie opened her eyes, fully expecting Charlie Grove. What she saw was Frederick Wently. She blinked hard. Frederick again. She looked away, and darted her gaze back to the man. And again he was Frederick.
Allie could deny the truth no longer. Frederick Wently was walking toward the house with Louise hanging on one arm and Helena on the other. And the way Martha was ogling him, she was as smitten as her daughters.
“It is Frederick!” Allie croaked and scrambled to stand. Her teacup tilted and jostled a puddle of purplish-brown liquid into the saucer. Somehow she managed to plunk the teacup back onto the tray without losing a drop. She looked down at her soiled work clothes and smoothed her hands over her hair. Allie touched her face and figured she probably looked like a shiny-nosed wench.
Possibilities: A Contemporary Retelling of Persuasion Page 7