by Karen M Cox
Tim Elton insisted on driving me to Hartfield Road.
“If I bring a girl to a party, I always see her safely home,” he insisted, opening my door, like we were on some kind of date. I growled under my breath and sent vile epithets to Jack Knightley, ten minutes in front of us.
My mild annoyance turned to incredulity when he turned onto a scenic overlook of the Kentucky River and stopped the car.
“What are you doing, Tim Elton?”
He grinned. “I thought we’d park for a while.”
“Well, un-park and get me to my house. My father will be frantic if I’m not right behind him.”
“Jack and Izzy can handle him for a few minutes.”
“I don’t know what you think we’re going to do here, but if you think for one minute that you can…make a move on me—”
He pulled back. “Emma, don’t be silly. I know we can’t fool around in the car.”
“Well, thank goodness you’ve got that much sense!”
“The gear shift is in the way.” He leaned toward me. “I thought we’d just neck a little.”
“Say what?”
“Come on, Emma.” He put an arm around my shoulders and tried to draw me close.
“Back off!” I shoved at his chest. “Do you honestly think I’d make out with you in your stupid car? What kind of a girl do you think I am?”
“A fun one, I hoped.”
“I could never do that to Mary Jo!”
“Mary Jo? Mary Jo Smith? What’s this got to do with her? You girls have some kind of lesbian affair going on?”
“What? No!” I glared at him, then shook my head. “You’re drunk. I can’t believe I let you drive.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You’d have to be to come on to me after the way you led on poor Mary Jo.”
“What?” Now, Tim looked incredulous. “I never led Mary Jo on.”
“You did! You gave her all those tennis lessons and talked to her at parties. Dropped by Nina’s when we were there.”
“Emma,” he said patiently, “darling. I did those things because she was your friend. So I could spend time with you.”
“You mean you never were interested in Mary Jo? At all?”
He scoffed. “Of course not. Why would I be interested in some Hicksville secretary from the boonies? She’s nice—good enough for somebody or other—but you’re the girl for me.”
I put my head in my hands. “Oh, dear Lord! I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.”
“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got it all straightened out now.” He leaned in again.
“Get back!” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Put your hands on the steering wheel, put it in gear, and take me home. Now!”
“But Emma,” he wheedled, “we’re made for each other. You, with your old family and elegant ways, and me with my ambition and charm. You and I, we could be one of Frankfort’s power couples. But Mary Jo? She’d be an embarrassment. My father would never approve of me going after her. But you? You’re the real deal: sexy and smart and classy, all rolled into one. He’d definitely approve of you.”
“There is no way on earth I would ever…” I sputtered. “Even if I felt that way about you, which I don’t, it would never work. We don’t suit—not at all.”
“Why ever not?”
“My father is a founding partner of Knightley and Woodhouse. My mother was a Taylor—her family owned half this county for over a hundred years! And you’re a…a…a politician!”
If I hadn’t been so mortified, I would have laughed myself silly. Handsome, debonair Tim Elton, who always had that slick smile on his face was now opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. It made him just about that attractive too.
After about a half minute of staring at me, he drew his lips together in an angry line and slammed the car into reverse. Fishtailing in the light blanket of snowflakes, he sped off down the road, driving so fast that I was thankful I made it to my driveway in one piece.
I got out and slammed the door. Tim sped off into the dark, and I—embarrassed and furious—marched into the house.
Eighteen
December 27, 1975
“Wow!” Mary Jo exclaimed, looking up at the old Victorian house. She leaned forward to take in the entire site from underneath the windshield of my coupe. “It’s super-huge!”
I put the Mercedes in park, reached in the back for the muffins I’d brought with me. I got out and stood a second to take in the Taylor family’s ancestral home. A mixture of sadness, anger, and pity surged through me. How I wished Helen and Aunt Delores took better care of the place! The paint was peeling, and I knew for a fact the windows were uninsulated with no storm windows in place to keep out the winter chill. Sure, Kentucky didn’t have extremely harsh winters, but a little bit of repair work would save my aunt and cousin some energy costs and make them more comfortable. Why didn’t they invest in it?
“It’s way too much house for two older ladies, if you ask me.” I knocked on the door frame and was surprised when Jane Fairfax was the one to peek out the oval glass set in the tall door.
“Hi, Emma.” Jane’s soft, musical voice could barely be heard over The Price is Right bells and applause blaring from the television set.
“Jane! I didn’t know you were in town already!”
“I got in late last night. I—I came a few days early. To spend some time with Delores and Helen—before rehearsals start in January, and take some—time to relax.”
“Then I should have called first. I apologize. I’m used to just dropping by unannounced.” I handed Jane the box. “These are bran muffins. Mrs. D makes them for Daddy, and they’re just packed with good-for-you stuff. I thought Delores and Helen might like some.”
“Thanks.” Jane shivered. “Gosh, it’s cold. I’m sorry, won’t you come in?”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s not an intrusion at all. I know they will be glad to see you.” She looked expectantly at Mary Jo, who was hanging back and studying the ceiling of the porch.
“Oh, this is my friend, Mary Jo Smith. She’s George’s receptionist up at the law office. Mary Jo, Jane Fairfax. Sort of my cousin.”
“Yes—sort of. Hi, Mary Jo.” Jane’s smile was shy, unsure.
“I’m so glad to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Jane tilted her head, her expression seemed vague, confused.
“Oh, you know,” I said, laughing. “Helen and Delores talk you up all the time.” I took Mary Jo’s elbow with my free hand and guided her in the door.
We stepped in, and I had to squash the impulse to visibly wrinkle my nose. Every available horizontal surface was stacked with papers, books, and odds and ends that had been deposited there months ago—and forgotten—if the layer of dust was any indication. Delores was sitting on the couch watching Bob Barker, and Helen came in from another room to see who was at the door.
“Who could that be? And so early in the day? And two days after Christmas too?” A smile lit up her face. “Emma! What a nice surprise! What brings you here?”
And just like that, my heart softened. The old house was a pit, but Helen was always happy to see me.
Delores turned around and greeted us with a smile. She patted the sofa beside her. “Come sit by me, honey lamb. How’s John this morning?”
“He’s well, thank you. I’ll be glad when Juanita gets back from her Christmas visit with her family. She makes the world go so much more smoothly for Daddy. I do my best, but he’s used to her way of doing things and her routine.”
“And here is your little friend Mary Jo.” Helen moved a stack of newspapers off a chair and offered it to her. “She’s always with you nowadays. How are you, dear? I’m so glad you get to meet Mary Jo, Jane. She’s a great friend of Emma’s.” Helen sat down beside her mother on the couch. “Mother! You really need to turn off that infernal TV. It’s no wonder you can’t hear a thing! I can hear it all the way to the other
end of the house.”
Jane got up and turned the volume down before sitting in the chair juxtaposed to me.
“So, Jane,” I began, “how is New York at Christmastime?”
“It’s nice.”
There was a pause while I waited for elaboration that never came. I tried again. “Helen tells us congratulations are in order.”
“Pardon?”
“On your engagement.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
Another pause. A poorly dressed woman on the TV spun the wheel while the audience cheered madly. I gritted my teeth.
“Have you set a date yet?”
“Um…no. We haven’t.” Jane looked around the room as if seeking an escape. “Mike’s…well, he’s really busy right now.”
“I’m sure.”
Helen piped in. “You missed George yesterday, Jane. He came by to bring us one of those big fruit baskets the law firm gives out at Christmas. Said he ordered one with extra apples because he knows Mama likes them. Isn’t that right, Mama? George is the kindest man, don’t you think? I think he is. A real gentleman.”
“He certainly is,” I said. “One of the best I know.”
“How fortunate we still have some gentlemen around to visit with. We lost Tim Elton, you know.”
“What do you mean?” I glanced sideways at Mary Jo. She had shed some tears when I told her the news about Tim’s supposed Emma-infatuation, even after I explained it was an interest that wasn’t at all returned, and that I suspected he was only gold-digging anyway.
Mary Jo stiffened and glanced down at her feet. Jane studied the two of us with interest.
“George said that Tim is moving to Frankfort!” Helen said. “To Frankfort! Why would he do that? Highbury is so much nicer, so much quieter. But then, maybe it was too quiet for him. He’s young and handsome. I’ll bet he’s charming all the ladies in Frankfort now.”
I folded my hands primly in my lap. “I don’t think the ladies in Frankfort are any lovelier than the ones in Highbury.”
“Oh no, certainly not. Certainly not. Especially now that Jane has come. She just adds to all the loveliness already here.”
Delores shushed her daughter.
Helen ignored her mother and plundered on. “Oh! Jane has news. News of someone we all know. Or rather, we don’t know him, because we haven’t met him. But he’s a bit famous around here. We all know of him, don’t we, Jane?”
“Do tell all.” I leaned toward Jane with an inviting smile.
Helen answered for her. “It’s Frank Weston, Bob’s son from Alabama. Frank Weston was in New York when Jane was in A Chorus Line, and he found out she was from Kentucky, and then he found out she was from Highbury. So, he had to meet her because his dad and his new stepmom live here.”
“Then you’ve seen the elusive Frank Weston. I haven’t seen him in years. How did he look? He always was a handsome devil.”
“He’s nice looking.”
“Hopefully, he learned how to wheel and deal while he was up in New York.”
“He seemed to know a lot about the place where he worked.”
“I knew him in high school—even dated him for a time. He was never too serious about anything. I wonder if that’s changed.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know much about that. I just met him a few times.”
“Well, I hope he comes to see his father and new stepmother soon. I’d love to catch up with him again.”
Jane fidgeted in her chair. “He never said. Um…would you all like something to drink? Tea or coffee? Or…anything? To drink?”
“Oh no, please don’t go to any trouble.” I’d had my fill of terse, vague answers and stood abruptly. “We really can’t stay very long. Daddy will be expecting me, and I’ve got to run Mary Jo by the garage to pick up her car.”
Helen’s face fell. “I wish you could stay longer.”
“I’m sure Jane wants to rest…after her trip.”
“I know she likes your company, don’t you, Jane?”
“Of course,” Jane said through a tight-lipped smile.
“Maybe next time.” I turned to the chair. “Are you ready, Mary Jo?”
“Now that’s weird.” I put the car in gear and turned around in the gravel drive. “Put your seatbelt on, Mary Jo.”
“What’s weird?”
“Jane wouldn’t tell me anything about Frank Weston. How annoying is that?”
“Maybe she was tired.”
“Tired of all Helen’s chatter, maybe. But the point is, I was being friendly and interested, and she wasn’t. That superior, condescending attitude of hers is as hard to take as it ever was. Just because she is some big shot actress in New York now…mm-mm-mm.” I frowned in disapproval.
Mary Jo was quiet and then, “Thank you for taking me to get my car.”
“You’re welcome, of course. Now, tell me again what happened to it.”
“I was coming into work one day last week, and there was a patch of ice on that overpass down by Pine Street. You know the one?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I hit that ice and spun around three times. Scared me to death! Then I hit that guard rail in the passenger side door.”
“Oh my!”
“And I was sitting there, crying, and wondering how I was going to get my car anywhere, and you’ll never guess who came to my rescue?”
“The modern woman does not need a rescuer, honey.”
“That day I did. Guess who it was?”
“Mary Jo!” I said, exasperated. “How could I ever guess such a thing? Who was it?”
“Robert Martin.”
“Oh, really?”
“He was driving into the Lexington office to work on some things, and he saw me sitting there. He flagged down a policeman, and they called a tow truck to take my car to this body shop Robert knows. He said he knew the people who owned it, and they wouldn’t take advantage of me. He even got the estimate and helped me rent a car so I could go home and see my mom for Christmas.”
“I wish you’d called me. I would have been glad to help.”
“Oh, I know you would. You’re the best friend a girl could have! But it was all okay. Robert helped me take care of everything.”
“Then I’m glad he was there.”
“It was awkward.”
“I’m sure.”
“Here he was, being so nice. I didn’t expect that after I said I didn’t want to date him.”
“It was a gentlemanly thing to do,” I conceded. “But then, I’d expect no less from one of George’s employees, would you?”
“No, I guess not.”
They rode on in silence before Mary Jo blurted, “When I turned Robert down, did I really do the right thi—”
“Yes!” There was only so many times I could hear that question and not lose my temper over it.
More silence filled the car.
“Well, Frank didn’t make it to his father’s house for Christmas. I’m holding out hope for the New Year though. Maybe after the weather lets up a bit.”
“Maybe.”
“I wonder if he’s changed much since high school. Maybe it’s because I still live at home, but sometimes I think everybody’s changed except me. I don’t think I’ve changed hardly at all.”
1976
“Seldom, very seldom does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct is mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material.”
—Jane Austen, Emma, Volume 3, Chapter 13
Nineteen
“I hate Valentine’s Day!” Mary Jo pouted as she selected a chocolate from the box on the coffee table. “Ooh, Godiva! Where did these come from?”
“George brought them by.” Nina set down a tray with tea cups and a tea service on it.
“Gosh, he’s such a nice guy.”
“Yes, he is.” Nina poured out. “Here you go, Mary Jo. A
nice cup of tea will chase those Valentine’s Day blues away.”
I glanced over the top of my newspaper. “I think George got chocolates for everyone he knows. I noticed a box with Jane’s name on them when I was over there checking on Helen and Delores yesterday.”
“Yeah, he got some for the office too, but we had to share a big box. We didn’t get our own.”
“Jane probably shared hers, since she’s such a lovely, considerate girl, according to George. And Helen. And everyone else. Apparently.”
“Emma,” Nina chided.
“Or George got every lady in their house a box. That sounds about like him.”
Nina waggled her eyebrows at the girls over the rim of her tea cup. “Perhaps our George has a thing for Miss Fairfax? He certainly talked her up enough at New Year’s Day brunch.”
My head snapped up, and I put the paper aside. “George and Jane? Don’t be ridiculous! She’s engaged, remember? To Mike Dixon, the fabulous theater director in New York City.”
“Yes, but Mike Dixon is far away, directing some film all the way over in Ireland, and Jane’s here all alone.”
Mary Jo chimed in. “Yeah, what’s up with that anyway? If I were Jane, and in love with Mike Dixon, engaged to him and all, I wouldn’t be here in Kentucky.” She paused to take another chocolate. “I’d be in Ireland. With him.”
“Helen said Jane wanted to help out the Coles with their theater venture. Drink your tea, Emma, honey, before it gets cold.”
I picked up my cup. “That’s what Helen says, but I’m with Mary Jo. I think it’s weird. Don’t you think it’s weird? I wonder if Jane and the famous Mike Dixon are having trouble. You know those artistic types. Drama, drama, drama.”
“Who knows?” Nina shrugged her shoulders.
“Besides,” I continued, “George is unavailable. He’s still dating Julianne Ryman, isn’t he?”
“Is he? I haven’t heard hide nor hair of her since the Christmas party.”