An Old-Fashioned Southern Romance Novel
By
Annalise Arrington
Of the Southern Arringtons
©2013
Chapter One
Annabella’s lily-white skin was better suited for the climate of the New England states from which her forefathers hailed than the unforgiving southern sun. She absolutely dreaded summers in the south and she was a most tetchy belle. It was little wonder that Warren sighed heavily when he saw her flaxen hair matted to her rubicund face through the wrought iron gate. He despised coming home from law school summer after summer and seeing his childhood friend grow more rancorous each year. Annabella had been saving herself for the right man, but somehow that man never revealed himself to her. She was positively incorrigible and no man in his right mind would dare marry such a woman. She was too entitled and Warren refused to pursue someone who thought more of herself than he did. For his part, Warren was a pretentious playboy who consumed his family’s wealth on philandering, and had little use for a frigid socialite. While he found her positively striking, he would never reveal his weakness to her. Each year, Annabella grew more disgusted with Warren’s revolving door of women parading across the promenade. It was obvious he was not marriage material, so her girlhood crush on the alabaster blond dissipated over time. By the time she was old enough to consider marriage, Warren was at the bottom of her list of potential suitors. Now, he had completely dropped off the list.
“The war is over, Annabella. You can drop the Southern Belle act,” he told her.
“The South shall rise again,” she joked.
“Besides, you’re too old to be a damsel in distress.”
“I’m the same age as you,” she reminded Warren.
“28 is not old for a man, but it’s ancient for an unmarried woman.”
“You’re not married, either.”
“But that’s by choice,” he guaranteed her.
Warren always had to have the last word. Annabella was used to his quips and she simply walked back into her parents’ stately mansion. As she closed the door, she could still hear his muffled voice, undoubtedly insulting her further. He could not conceive of a woman her age remaining a virgin. Years ago, in one of his drunken tirades on his parents’ lawn he tried to convince her:
“No one’s going to want you if you wait too long. Unquestionably, everything has an expiration date!”
Annabella remembered that the exchange between her and Warren lasted for hours that night. They did not dare argue face to face, but rather stayed safely within their property lines and screamed terrible things at each other through the gates. They never apologized, per se, but by virtue of communicating in subsequent rants, it was a gesture that all was forgiven. Annabella had always assumed that Warren’s frustration with her was that even with all of his conquests, he was never able to add her as a notch in his belt. But, lately it seemed like genuine concern for her future. However, she was disinclined to accept advice from a self-proclaimed chauvinist whose chief goal in life was to deflower as many unsuspecting women as he could before he died. Incidentally, he was off to an impressive start.
As Annabella went out to the porch for her morning stretch, she noticed something that caused her to think Warren was either losing his touch or losing his mind. The woman that was leaving had been there before. In all of their years living next to each other, Annabella had never seen the same woman twice. She hoped that her former friend was finally starting to settle down. After all, his father was not going to release one red cent of his fortune to his son until he had chosen a bride. It was of no concern to the son who was intent on spending it all before he would ever become an heir.
“She must be special,” Annabella told her neighbor.
For once, Warren had nothing clever to say. Annabella took that to mean that she was. She was not sure if she was slightly hurt by the fact that Warren did not return the exchange or that he was starting to get serious about someone. Subconsciously, she thought he was just as pathetic as she was and that they would always have each other to make miserable from several hundred yards away. But, it seemed that Warren was trading in his empty life for something more. Maybe she assumed that one day when he was tired of chasing skirts, he would come to his senses and realize what has been waiting for him all this time. That was not going to happen if he was taking up with the long-legged goddess that strutted so effortlessly down the walkway and crammed her lengthy gams into his tiny sports car. Warren’s cars seemed to get smaller each year and Annabella was sure it was a signal to the women with which he dealt that they were not welcomed for any length of time. He was a selfish man who would drive a one-seater if a German automaker was so gracious as to manufacture one on his behalf. Annabella stood in front of her French doors and watched as Warren sped off down their quiet street - with what she hoped was just another floozy.
Chapter Two
Annabella tugged away at the new skirt that was a birthday gift to herself. As she glared at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, she rued the evening before when she opted for the second piece of Hattie’s lemon pound cake. Today the neurotic woman turned 29 years-old and she was sure it signaled the end of her perfect size 2 figure. The skirt just did not seem to fit her 23-inch waist and if she had to go up a size, she would surely die. Annabella had been fortunate to retain a slim, taut figure in a house where the help cooked massive amounts of fattening meats and desserts. As a youngster, she was not the wiser, but by the time she reached her teenage years, Hattie warned her she would never attain the waistline of her fictional heroine, Scarlett O’Hara. It was at that time that Annabella realized she had to take control of her shape. She began refusing any food after 5 p.m. and she ate dessert only once per month when she got a visit from her monthly friend. Soon, the baby fat disappeared and Annabella blossomed into a gorgeous young lady. She realized the power of her beauty and she used it to rule out the riffraff that begged her father for her hand in marriage. But, Annabella had become selective beyond convention and soon there were no offers on the table. When Annabella returned from finishing school in Switzerland, she was resolved to save her love for the perfect man. Annabella’s Methodist Bishop father gave up all hope of marrying off his only child and instead built her a suite in the family mansion.
“Hattie, can you cancel bridge club today? I’m feeling fat,” Annabella told the only person in the world she considered a true friend.
“Now, Anna, you always do that to those girls. They are not going to play with you anymore,” she warned her.
“It’s just as well, Hattie. Lately they have been changing the rules and such. I never know from one minute to the next if we are playing rubber bridge, contract bridge, or honeymoon bridge. I would just as soon play solitaire. Seems that’s the game best suited for me.”
Annabella looked thoughtfully out of her picturesque window.
“Anna, you’ve gotta get out of this rut. I’m going to talk to your father to see what can be done. You are a young, beautiful girl. You should be enjoying life, not sitting up in this room waiting to be whisked away like some fairytale princess. You have to make your own fairytales.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Hattie.”
“Why? Because I’m livin’ my dream of serving White folk?” Hattie joked.
“I didn’t mean-”
“It’s okay.”
“Hattie, I just meant that you have a husband and a child. You have your happily-ever-after.”
“That’s right. And I didn’t get it by locking myself in a tower and waiting for Prince Charming to come and rescue me. I swear, I read you one too many of those storybooks when
you were little.”
“Warren says the same thing.”
“Now that Warren is a fine man. What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh, just everything! He’s obnoxious, pretentious, philandering, wasteful, dreadful, crude-”
“Annabella Olivia Devereaux! You are in love!”
“I am not,” she responded, sulking.
“You are fibbing straight through your pouty pink lips. You love you some Warrenton Bingham Boatwright, missy.”
“Hattie, have you been sniffing the oven cleaner again? Warren is a detestable man. Why, he’s dipped his fountain pen in every inkwell in town and in most beloved Mother England, to be sure.”
“Annabella, please join your dear friend Hattie in the 21 century, darling. This is not the Old South, thank God. Warren is a modern man and you need to join the rest of us in this century if you ever hope to find happiness. For God’s sake, you don’t even have a computer! Get online, meet people! Find something interesting to do, to see. Nobody plays bridge anymore.”
“Hattie, you are being a menace.”
“Oh, Lord. Please don’t faint again,” Hattie mumbled as she walked away.
Anna took off her new skirt and plopped down on her canopy bed. She began to reflect on her life. Was she too dramatic? Was she unrealistic in her expectations? She dozed off pondering the questions that everyone had seemed to have already resolved.
Annabella was awakened a time later to the sound of a roaring engine in her wraparound driveway. She was unfamiliar with the smooth-sounding machine that seemed to command her attention. She leaped from her bed and ran into the sewing room, which overlooked part of the driveway. She saw the most annoyingly red vehicle upon which she had ever set her eyes. It looked like something a child might find in a fast food meal box. It was certainly small enough to fit inside one. Annabella slipped into a pair of yoga pants and raced down the stairs to ascertain what person possessed enough gall to park such a ridiculous apparatus on her father’s property. When she finally reached the foyer and flung open the doors, there was no one there. The car, however, remained. It was parked sideways, as if the driver would return soon. Annabella was intent on finding out who would do such a thing. She marched outside to the car without shoes on her tiny, tender feet, pressed her hands on the driver’s side window, and peered inside. She saw nothing unusual, so she pulled her face back. When she did, she noticed a note on the windshield.
“Happy Birthday, Belle.”
Annabella was mortified. She could not believe Warren would do such a thing. A car was undoubtedly a kind gesture, but he could be certain that Annabella would not be caught dead driving such a horrendous thing and Warren knew that. Annabella was better suited for oversized Cadillacs and antique Packards. She was as American as apple pie and had little use for German or Italian engineering. She could not stand the sight of such a monstrosity defiling the very land upon which her ancestors fought and gave their lives for this country. She surely was unfit to betray them by paying homage to those elitist Europeans. Disgusted, Annabella climbed into the poor excuse for transportation and ripped out of her driveway. She backed up just far enough to turn the wheel and whip into Warren’s driveway. She was surprised at the handling of the machine, but tried desperately not to enjoy it. However, it drove so smoothly that she did not realize how fast she was going. She was practically at his front door before she realized how far she had gotten. So, she was not expecting someone to come ripping out of Warren’s house. Before Annabella could come to a proper and complete stop, she had bumped into the longest pair of legs she had ever seen. The person who she would later come to know as Marigold had the most incredibly bronzed stems Annabella had ever seen. She was sure the woman was wearing hose in the scorching heat. But, she wasn’t. She was a naturally tanned Californian who had met Warren on one of his escapades. It was apparent to Marigold that Warren was only after one thing. So, she refused him. Annabella would learn that is the reason the woman had returned a second time – because Warren didn’t get what he wanted the first time. When Warren wouldn’t take no for an answer on this second visit, Marigold bolted out of the grand home and right into Annabella’s car.
Annabella immediately got out of the cramped vehicle to assist the woman, but she was hysterical.
“You had this ghost of a woman run me over with this car!” she yelled at Warren.
If not for the circumstances surrounding their meeting, Annabella would surely have been offended. She was proud of her pale white skin and unapologetic for not being tanned. Annabella, however, was true to her role. She kindly comforted the woman on Warren’s driveway while Warren called for medical assistance. The woman refused to answer Annabella’s questions inquiring about her condition. Marigold began feverishly pressing buttons on her cellular phone and Annabella had little doubt that she was contacting an attorney. Warren began to walk to the corner of the remote street so he could direct the medical personnel to his home. Annabella continued to try to comfort the lady, as she was genuinely concerned for her. Annabella was not concerned about legal ramifications. She was, however, furious at Warren. Had he not given her such a gaudy, superficial present for her birthday, this would never have happened. Annabella was positively beside herself. She began to pray over the girl, placing her sweaty palm on the young lady’s forehead.
“Dear sweet Jesus, please protect this young lady and bless her soul. Please Lord, heal her and make her whole again. Oh father God, take away the affliction that ails her and help her to walk again. Kind, loving, merciful God, please bring her comfort in this time of difficulty. In your son Jesus’s name, amen.”
Marigold glared at Annabella in disbelief. She wondered if Annabella had been injured in the accident as well, because surely she could not be serious. But Annabella was serious and she did not play with The Lord. They could both hear the emergency vehicles rounding the curve to come to the house and Marigold was beyond relieved. Annabella helped the workers get Marigold safely onto the stretcher and Marigold signaled the workers to get her out of there as quickly as possible. Annabella waved to the ambulance as it drove away. For as much as she despised Warren and his revolving door of women, she actually felt like she made a connection with this one. She wasn’t sure what Warren had told the police, but she was sure it wasn’t the last she would hear of Marigold.
Chapter Three
Hattie knew her little orchid was positively mortified by the entire ordeal of having all-but mowed down Warren’s latest fling. In keeping with her true persona, Annabella was more concerned that Warren and Marigold thought she did it on purpose than the actual condition of the girl. She would simply die if Warren thought she was jealous of such an obviously-loose woman. The fact that Annabella spoke incessantly of the ordeal was proof-positive to Hattie that the woman she helped raise was in distress and dire need of a reprieve. Hattie knew she had to get Annabella’s mind off the situation and help her relax. If Annabella continued to worry, she would surely lose 10 pounds easily, and Hattie was certain the girl could not stand to lose another ounce. She was already rail-thin and subject to fainting spells. Hattie knew it was only a matter of time before she fell out and caused some serious damage. She came up with the idea to send her little Annabella away for a while. She was sure the girl would enjoy Martha’s Vineyard, but she did not want to send her alone. Hattie was not inclined to go with her, as she was preparing to send her own child off to college. She would be consumed the entire summer with her own projects. After much thought, she settled on inviting Caroline, Annabella’s arch-enemy and best friend. Caroline was like Annabella in almost every way, with one major exception. Caroline was what the old folks called “fast”. She was not married, but she was not chaste either. As Hattie would recall, “She had more men running through her daddy’s house than the Olympic trials.” While Annabella chastised her childhood friend for such behavior, she also enjoyed the attention it drew to Annabella’s own chastity in comparison. Annabella enjoyed being the “good
girl” and Caroline spent the majority of her time trying to persuade Annabella to remove the proverbial chastity belt. When they were teenagers, Hattie attempted to keep Caroline’s narrow derrière away from Annabella out of fear that she was a negative influence. Hattie no longer had such concerns, for she knew Annabella was unfazed by Caroline’s tales of adventure and romance. Annabella was firm and resolute in what she wanted and she would not be dissuaded. Besides, now that Hattie’s own child was grown, she had little on which to focus her time and energy. If Annabella got married, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. Annabella’s father would have little use for the aging Black woman. Annabella’s mother was a might touched, as the old folks say, and she spent most of her years away from the family home. No one really talked about her condition, but it was a kind of dementia that kept Eudora from living a normal life. Hattie had been the surrogate mother for most of Annabella’s life, but everyone was clear that Hattie had her own life and family. Once Annabella was gone, Hattie would soon follow. Hattie was sure that her Annabella was purposefully not getting married just to keep her around. Hattie’s philosophy was that every girl needs a mother. She could not imagine leaving poor Annabella without a mother figure in her life. She carefully bided her time between the Devereaux family and her own. When her daughter was younger, Hattie often brought Dominique with her to work. But, as the child got older, she began to notice the dichotomy between her own humble existence and Annabella’s charmed life. Unable to explain the difference, Hattie began to let her husband and the grandmothers care for her daughter when she went to work for the Devereaux family. Hattie would come home to her child dog-tired but determined to give the girl a chance at a better life. Now, Hattie’s daughter was headed off to college on a full academic scholarship in Math and Science. Dominique planned to become an engineer when she graduates. It will take generations for her to amass the kind of wealth the Devereaux family has, but her only interest right now is taking care of her mother in her old age. It will be decades before Hattie is in need of such assistance and she will likely have squirreled away enough of her own money for that purpose. With Dominique off to college and Annabella with no prospects, Hattie’s renewed responsibility was to the frigid belle whose only source of warmth was found in her daddy’s cotton fortune.
An Old Fashioned Southern Romance Novel Page 1