Possibilities: A Contemporary Retelling of Persuasion

by Debra White Smith

  “Tonight?” Allie echoed.

  “Yes, tonight,” he replied with a smile in his voice.

  Allie allowed the laptop to slip to the mattress. She propped up her leg, rested her elbow on her knee, and rubbed at her damp, burning eyes. Her sleep experience last night had been sporadic, filled with weeping and tormented by nightmares about Frederick and Louise’s wedding. Allie glanced down at her beige, satin PJs and far preferred the thought of staying in them until tomorrow rather than dressing for a dinner date tonight.

  “Allie?” Brent prompted. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Sorry. I just . . . you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “Ah, being your usual modest self, I guess, huh?”

  “Well . . .” Allie hedged as an animated duck marched to the center of her laptop screen and quacked at her.

  “Did I just hear a duck?” Brent asked over a chuckle.

  “It’s my email notifier,” Allie explained. “I’m at my laptop, checking my email. Every time a new email comes, this duck quacks at me.”

  He laughed. “I love that. Maybe you could get me signed up for that program. Would you tell me more about it tonight?”

  “Uh . . . sure,” Allie absently agreed while she noted who the email was from. Landon Russ’s name appeared in her inbox.

  “Great, then!” Brent exclaimed. “I’ll pick you up at five thirty. Is that okay?”

  “Excuse me?” Allie bleated and sat straight up.

  “I’ll pick you up for dinner at five-thirty. You just said you’d go out with me, didn’t you?” Brent’s voice took on an unsure, insecure note that reminded Allie of a little boy.

  She gazed across the room into the dresser mirror. The colonial-style dresser looked as if it belonged to royalty, but the woman in the mirror resembled a street person. Her hair could have been a Brillo pad. Her face was ashen; her eyes bulging. In a fit of despair, Allie wondered how she’d ever stop crying long enough to pull her look together for a date.

  “Allie, please?” Brent’s pleading voice reminded her of the loss of his wife and his obvious need for some new friends.

  “Okay,” Allie heard herself say and wondered if she’d lost her mind.

  “Great!” Brent exclaimed. “I can’t wait. Will you give me your address so I can map it?”

  Forcing her voice to remain steady and polite, Allie rattled off her address, then excused herself from the call as swiftly as she could.

  Once she set down her phone, she looked toward the ceiling and said, “How did I get myself into this?” Allie pulled both knees toward her chest, rested her elbows on her knees, and cradled her face in her hands.

  Then the duck quacked at her again. Allie lifted her face. “I forgot all about Aunt Landon,” she mumbled and pulled the laptop back onto her lap. Allie clicked on the message, which immediately sent the animated duck into a quacking fit as he waddled off the screen. In seconds, Allie read the brief missive:

  I am so relieved! Why don’t you come stay with me awhile? It will get you away from that place. I wasn’t really sold on your going there anyway.

  Much love,

  Aunt L

  Allie closed the email program without responding and closed the lid on her laptop. She set the computer on her nightstand and picked up the tumbler of ice water with lemon slices she’d been sipping on since she awoke an hour ago. Allie downed the last of the tart liquid, stood, and walked into the kitchen. After setting the glass on the counter, she was overtaken with a yawn and a new onslaught of exhaustion.

  She slumped against the kitchen counter and pondered Aunt Landon’s request. Staying with her aunt in Atlanta held way more appeal than remaining here while Frederick and Louise planned their wedding. She imagined a gloating Louise sitting in her wheelchair, her makeup as flawless as ever, her expression saying, “I won!” Allie didn’t have a grain of empathy for the paralyzed woman.

  “This is awful,” she groaned and despised herself for not pitying Louise. But no matter how hard she tried, all Allie could feel was frustration and jealousy—a jealousy that burned into her soul and consumed her with a fire that wouldn’t be quenched. And Allie knew she really had no choice in leaving the guesthouse. She could not remain at Grove Acres while Frederick hovered over a triumphant Louise.

  In a fit of desperation, Allie wondered how in the world she’d make it through the rest of the day without falling apart, much less through an evening with Brent.

  “Oh, God, why?” she prayed, repeating the prayer that had been her bedmate all night long.

  Brent stretched out on the hotel bed and tapped Penny’s name on his phone. She answered on the first ring.

  “Can you talk?” Brent questioned.

  “Yes. Just for a few. I’m alone, but not for long,” Penny replied, her voice low and intense.

  “Okay. I’ll keep it short, then. I’ve got good news.”

  “You got a date with her?” Penny asked.

  “How’d you guess?” he drawled. Picking up the remote from the nightstand, Brent flipped on the TV and muted the volume.

  “I could tell by your voice. It sounded like money,” she shot back.

  “I like the way you think,” Brent commented and eyed the tennis match in full swing.

  “So do I!” Penny replied with a twist of wicked humor.

  Brent grinned. One of the things he’d loved about Penny was her lack of messy emotions. The first time Brent had indulged in a fling that didn’t involve her, he’d expected Penny to become irate. But she’d barely flinched. And when Brent explained that he’d been able to steal a huge diamond from the hare-brained heiress, she’d been thrilled with his success. The two had enjoyed the money that diamond brought for several months.

  “And how are you doing?” Brent queried. “Any luck in the last twenty-four hours?” He reached for the flask of rum sitting on the nightstand.

  “Nothing. I swear, Evelyn Elton is the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met. I can’t believe you ever dated her. What was wrong with you?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Brent asked. “I like money. And if I have to, I’ll marry money no matter how obnoxious it is. I just happened to get lucky when I met Chrissy. She was way nicer than Evelyn and just about as rich, so I dumped Evelyn.” A tiny tinge of remorse marred his conscience. While Brent had never been madly in love with Chrissy, he hadn’t exactly been glad that she died, either. She was easy to look at and not demanding in the least. She never questioned why Brent needed a raise in his allowance or why he was late getting home. Chrissy said she trusted him. Life for Brent had been perfect until those killer bees did their thing.

  “Well, Richard Elton is every bit as obnoxious as his daughter,” Penny huffed. “He’s so conceited, all he can think about is himself and whether or not his tan is even. I can’t stand him!”

  “But he’s rolling in green,” Brent purred, “and that’s the perfect grounds for a successful marriage.” He poured the golden liquid into the glass of ice near the lamp. “I think Allie will bore me to tears.” He yawned.

  “Good. Maybe she’ll feel the same about you once you’re married, and that will give us more time to play.”

  Brent’s seductive chuckle was answer enough. He downed a generous swallow of rum and relished the burn all the way to his stomach. He looked around the economy motel room. While the place wasn’t a “Roach-Way Inn” by any means, it was a far cry from the five-star hotels in which he and Penny had stayed when he and Chrissy were married. His Rolls-Royce, parked at the curb, was as out of place as his Rolex.

  “Oh, I have to go.” Penny’s urgent whisper barely preceded her abruptly ending the call. Brent laid his cell phone aside and enjoyed another nip of rum. Most of their phone conversations ended like this one. Penny sporadically talked to him in a rush. But one way or another, they were keeping each other posted as they progressed in the plan they’d dubbed, “Dupe the Eltons.”

  Twenty-Seven

 
Before Brent arrived, Allie managed to dress in jeans and a denim jacket, as well as apply a generous layer of makeup. She put on more Mary Kay than usual in hopes of hiding the ravages of the day-long tears. But now that the date with Brent was ending, Allie wondered if she’d put too much effort in. While Brent hadn’t blatantly ogled her, the male appreciation in his eyes made her squirm. Even during the movie, she’d sensed his occasional glances. And he’d not hesitated to tell her how great she looked the second he saw her.

  As they pulled up in the guesthouse driveway, Allie felt his stare once more. The Rolls-Royce purred to a luxurious stop behind her Mercedes, and she detected Brent’s anticipation. He wanted her to ask him in. But all Allie wanted was to crawl under the covers and cry some more. Everything tonight had reminded Allie of Frederick. Even Brent’s telling her she was pretty brought back memories of Frederick’s saying, “All hail Mary Kay.” Tomorrow she planned to pack and head to Aunt Landon’s for a while. The sooner she went to sleep, the sooner tomorrow arrived.

  Before Allie could piece together a polite rejection, Brent was opening her door and helping her from the vehicle’s supple leather and into the cool, spring night. The stars shone as vibrantly as the night Frederick had kissed Allie’s hand. The owl sang his usual beat. The yardman had mowed today, and the night smelled of freshly cut grass. Allie remembered a time when Frederick was their yardman—ten years ago, but it seemed like yesterday.

  “You said you’d show me your email program,” Brent said with an eager smile. “I’m totally intrigued by that duck.” Allie focused on Brent and tried to blot Frederick’s dark hair and eyes and commanding height from her mind. By sheer willpower, Allie was able to focus on Brent, and she had to admit that the man was attractive. His pale green eyes and sandy hair had snared Evelyn’s fancy for a reason. Furthermore, he had been the consummate gentleman all evening. He deserved more than her distracted attention. Nevertheless, Allie hesitated about inviting a man into her home . . . alone.

  “You know . . .” Allie hedged, “I normally don’t have men in when I’m alone.”

  “Of course,” Brent said with an assuring grin. “Normally I wouldn’t invite myself in like this, and I certainly don’t entertain women at my place alone.” The full moon highlighted the sincerity in his eyes. “But the way I see it, we’ve known each other for years. You were my cousin-in-law when I was married to Chrissy. So we’re as good as family. And I do want to see that duck.” He leaned forward and smiled like a child eager for a new toy.

  “Well . . .” Allie said as her anxiety eased. Brent seemed like the decent sort, and even though he’d certainly appreciated her beauty, he hadn’t even offered to hold her hand, let alone threatened to violate her. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt just this once,” she agreed. He did have a good point. They’d known each other for years. He’d been married to her cousin. It wasn’t like Brent was a total stranger she couldn’t trust.

  Like a true gentleman, he walked beside her to the front porch and kept a respectable distance. By the time Allie opened the front door and entered, she’d convinced herself that Brent would maintain the same gentlemanly manner he’d manifested all evening. She’d show him the duck and tell him how to get his own email program just like hers. They’d share a handshake. He would leave.

  Allie walked toward the kitchen and tossed her purse on the service bar. “My laptop is in my bedroom,” she said over her shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried through the kitchen and dubiously eyed the pet flap at the bottom of the back door. So far the latch was still in place and there was no sign of her ring-tailed visitor. Nonetheless, Allie had placed all her food in the upper cabinets, just in case the critter made another appearance.

  Allie stepped into her bedroom, hurried toward the nightstand, and picked up the laptop. When she rounded the end of the bed and looked up, she noticed someone in her doorway. Allie jumped and squealed before she realized the person was Brent.

  “Hey, it’s just me.” Brent lifted both hands, palms outward.

  “Oh!” An uneasy doubt attacked Allie. She gripped her laptop and wondered if she’d grossly misjudged Brent. Dressed in a polo shirt and a pair of perfectly faded designer jeans, he looked like a next-door neighbor you’d trust with your kid sister. Nevertheless, Allie couldn’t shake the unease . . . or the daunting awareness that he’d followed her to her bedroom.

  “Didn’t you tell me to come in here with you?” he asked and raised his brows.

  “No.” Allie shook her head. “I asked you to make yourself comfortable in the living room.”

  Brent’s eyes widened. “My word, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “What must you think? I thought your laptop was back here and so . . .” He helplessly shrugged.

  “It’s okay. Really,” Allie said, and her tension eased.

  “Look, I can tell you aren’t comfortable. Why don’t I just go home for tonight. You can show me the email program another time. I’d die before I’d make you feel—”

  “It’s quite all right,” Allie rushed and walked toward the hallway. The last thing she wanted was to leave him a reason for another visit. He stepped aside and allowed her to pass. “I’m on edge tonight anyway.” She glanced behind and saw that he was close. “Let’s just go back to the living room.”

  “Works for me if it works for you,” Brent replied.

  Her heels tapped across the tile in sequence with his loafers, and the two made their way into the living room. Deciding to keep this as businesslike as possible, Allie settled onto the sofa, pushed aside the potpourri dish, and placed the laptop on the coffee table.

  “This is actually an email manager program, and you can choose from all sorts of notifiers,” she said, and turned on the computer. “There’s a butler, a dog, a bouncy ball, a flower, an actual mailbox, and all sorts of other things. In fact, if you’ll give me your email address, I’ll send you the link.”

  Brent told her his address. When Allie looked at him, his focus was intent on her. In this dim lighting, his pale green eyes looked sharper than they had tonight, and the distrust teased her mind anew.

  She vaguely smiled and prayed he didn’t ask her out again. Allie had never been so ready to see a person leave. Attractive as he might be, Brent’s main flaw was that of every other man who’d pursued Allie. He wasn’t Frederick Wently. When she looked back into his eyes, the sharpness was gone. Nothing remained but a genteel respect, and Allie decided she must have projected her worries upon the poor man . . . all because he wasn’t Frederick. Her eyes burned, and she forced herself to swallow the burst of tears that threatened a fresh eruption.

  Allie clicked on the email icon and prepared for the short wait until the program opened. She noted the time in the lower right corner of her laptop—nine-thirty. An unexpected yawn attacked her, and she politely covered it.

  “Sorry,” she said through a grin. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “I feel your pain,” Brent said and yawned himself. “Here I go, too. I guess it’s catching.”

  “I guess,” Allie replied and hoped he didn’t stay much longer.

  Just as the email program opened, a firm knock sounded at her door. Allie jerked her gaze toward it. “Who could that be at this hour?” she mumbled and then wondered if her sister had seen Brent’s car and sent Charlie to check on her. It wouldn’t be the first time Macy hid her nosiness behind the pretense of caring.

  “Want me to get it?” Brent asked and scooted to the edge of the seat.

  Allie nearly declined his offer but considered the alternative of leaving Brent with her opened email program. She did not want to return to the computer to find that he’d read her private correspondence.

  “Sure,” she said and decided to send Brent the promised email that would give him the link to the email manager. She clicked on the line to the left that read, “Tell a Friend,” and heard a muffled male voice ask if she was home.

  “Of course,” B
rent responded. “She’s right here.”

  Fully expecting Charlie, Allie glanced up from the laptop as Frederick stepped into the room.

  “Frederick!” she gasped.

  “Allie.” His mouth hard, he nodded and shot a barely civilized greeting toward Brent.

  Allie stood and smoothed her hands along the front of her jacket. “Louise! Is she—”

  “Everyone wondered where you’ve been all day,” he snapped, his dark eyes hostile.

  “I . . . I . . . I . . .” Allie groped for words and found none. She’d been so distressed over her own pain, she hadn’t imagined going to see Louise. That, plus trying to deal with Brent, had left Allie distracted to the point of irresponsibility. When the phone rang midafternoon, she had decided the caller must be Macy, asking her to pick up Barry and Bart. Allie hadn’t even answered the phone. She’d felt a twinge of guilt over that.

  Now the weight of not even checking on Louise hung around her neck like a yoke of accusation. All she could imagine was how insensitive and uncaring she must look to the whole family. But then, no one had left a voice mail about Louise, so she had assumed everything was the same with her.

  Frederick eyed Brent again and then gazed back at Allie. “You don’t look like you’re worried about Louise in the least,” he accused, and she noted that his rumpled T-shirt and jeans were yesterday’s.

  Allie stiffened. “What exactly did you want me to do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Allie.” He waved his hand. “Maybe call! Maybe just ask if she lived through the night!”

  Her heart pounded and Allie forgot to breathe. “Is she—did she—”

  “No!” Frederick replied and shook his head. “She’s fine. I guess as fine as someone paralyzed from the neck down can be.” He rubbed his face with both hands. When he pulled his hands away Allie noticed just how haggard he appeared. If Frederick got any sleep at all last night, he didn’t show it.