I Could Write a Book: A Modern Variation of Jane Austen's Emma

by Karen M Cox

  I had my resolutions vindicated later, as Mary Jo and I sat together on the country club veranda, champagne in hand, moving the glider back and forth in perfect unison. The noise from the crowd downstairs gave us a veil of privacy.

  A gentle breeze blew over Mary Jo’s delicate features, and she tucked a wayward chestnut colored curl behind her ear. “Did you have a good time at the Derby party?”

  “Yes.” I paused, debating with myself on whether to pry or leave well enough alone. “How about you?”

  “You know, I did have a good time—mostly.”

  I waited with bated breath, sensing the weight of a conversation looming.

  “I have a confession to make.” Mary Jo swirled her drink in her cup, looking in it as if to find something fascinating.

  “That sounds serious.”

  “I suppose it is, a little. I just want it out of my head, so I can get over it and move on.” She turned so she faced me, one knee on the swing. “I cannot believe I ever liked Tim Elton. After last night, I don’t care if I ever see him again. But I know I probably will. I overheard Edie telling someone she expects Tim to ask her to marry him this summer.”

  “Oh, Mary Jo! I am sorry!”

  “No, no, I don’t care. Really. I don’t envy her one jot. I suppose Tim is handsome in that pretty-boy way, but he’s mean underneath, and that makes him ugly to me.”

  “I completely agree, and I think it shows excellent judgment on your part.”

  “You do? Oh, what a relief! I know he’s your friend—”

  “He is not my friend anymore, Mary Jo. He might have been, once, but too much has happened for us to be friends now. I suspect we will just fade into mere acquaintances, and that’s fine with me—especially now that he’s with Edie.”

  “I don’t like her.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I think she brings out the worst in Tim. She’s pretty, and she has that connected family, which makes people give her the benefit of the doubt. But she really isn’t a nice person at all.”

  “No, she’s not. As for Tim Elton, I wish I’d never introduced you to the man, and I should have never pushed you at him. I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “Oh no! You mustn’t blame yourself. I know you only wanted the best for me.”

  “I did, but I should have stayed out of it.”

  “I don’t wish Tim and Edie ill, and I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.”

  “You’re kinder than I would be.” I leaned over and laid my hand on hers.

  “But last night, after I got home, I hunted up a couple of things I’d kept. Things that belonged to Tim.”

  “Really?”

  Mary Jo nodded. “I’m so embarrassed, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

  “What on earth could you have kept that belonged to Tim Elton?”

  “Well, one thing was a sweat band he wore around his wrist when he gave us tennis lessons. Do you remember?”

  “No, I don’t think I…”

  “He gave us a lesson, and before we started, he took off those wrist bands and laid them on the bench. Then, he couldn’t find one when we were done. Surely you remember? You made a big show of looking for it, sending us all over that tennis court to find it.”

  “And my shame deepens. I can’t believe my audacity.”

  “I never told you, never told anyone, but I took the sweat band.”

  “You what?”

  “I nicked it and put it in my bag, and I kept it all this time.”

  “That’s kind of gross, Mary Jo.” I wrinkled my nose. “So, what was the other thing you kept?”

  “Oh, it was a napkin he used at the Labor Day party.”

  “That’s even worse.”

  Mary Jo nodded, her eyes round and solemn. “I know. It was wrong to keep those things, especially after he started dating someone else. Then, last night after I got home, I was so angry at him, I put them in the sink and lit them on fire.”

  “My goodness!”

  “I did. Burnt ’em right up. Had to open the window and let the smoke out and everything.”

  “It’s a wonder no one called the fire department,” I said under my breath.

  “So now I’m done with Tim Elton.”

  “Thank heavens. Now you can move on with your life, and find someone new, if you like.”

  Mary Jo glanced off into the distance. “Oh, I doubt I’ll date anymore—not for a long time, if ever.”

  “Please don’t let Tim Elton ruin other men for you. They aren’t all like him.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Mary Jo answered, a dreamy smile on her face. “But I think I’ve been ruined for all other men anyway.” Her voice faded to a whisper. “By someone else.”

  I couldn’t help it; I just stared at her. Could she have changed her feelings so fast? Just this afternoon, when Frank rescued her after she’d been run off the road? Should I say anything, acknowledge my suspicions? No, probably not. But then, Mary Jo might think me uninterested, and that might result in hurt feelings. It would be unpardonable to interfere, believe it or not, I had learned that much, but maybe I could encourage Mary Jo, without directing her. Merely say what I could to support and encourage but not push her specifically. Yes, it was best to keep the lines of communication open between friends.

  I cleared my throat. “I think I know what, or rather whom, you mean by that.”

  Mary Jo’s eyes were round with surprise, and her cheeks colored. “Oh my goodness! I had no idea I was being obvious.”

  “You aren’t, but then I know you both quite well.”

  “I would never presume he would be interested in me. Never! It’s so complicated, and because he’s so far above someone like Tim, I’ve resigned myself to spending my days admiring him from afar. He’s the kindest, most gentlemanly…not to mention handsome. Just so good, you know?”

  “It’s no wonder really, that you feel that way about him. What he did was so thoughtful, so chivalrous.”

  “Oh my! Yes! When he came to my rescue, I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know what I was going to do, and then—there he was. It was like magic.”

  “No more. We won’t discuss it now, because I am done with fixing people up. So, we’ll just let things take their natural course. But I would advise you, think carefully, and watch him for any signs that he feels for you what you feel for him. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Perhaps it seems to you like an unlikely match, given his personality, his position, and his family, but stranger things have happened.”

  Mary Jo leaned over and enclosed me in an embrace. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for. Truly.”

  “Aww, thank you!”

  “Happy graduation, Emma!”

  Thirty-Three

  May 29, 1976

  George had always heard that a young man’s thoughts turn to love in the spring. Unless that young man happened to be Frank Weston. According to Emma, he had told her that a young man’s mind turned to baseball, not love. However, Tim Elton was a young man who certainly had love on his mind. Unable to sell his house, he had left an apartment in Frankfort and returned to Highbury. He and Edie announced their engagement the week after Derby, which had the effect of placing Edie Bitti at the center of every conversation in that tight-knit community. The happy couple were planning a Christmas wedding, and discussions about the event were lengthy and varied: Should Edie pick sleek satin or georgette for her wedding gown? Wedding flowers should reflect the Christmas season, but she simply couldn’t stand those blasted poinsettias. Perhaps lilies?

  Edie told anyone who asked (and many who didn’t) that she was anticipating a visit from her sister sometime in June. Last year, Ima had married into an old Southern family, the Sucklings, so she would surely have some good wedding advice. Ima’s own wedding had fifteen hundred guests in the First Baptist Church in downtown Atlanta, and the reception was spectacular enough to earn a half-page write up in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

  George Knightley’s thoughts
had also turned to love, but not concerning his own prospects. Any thoughts along those lines, he kept private. His recent musings about love concerned someone he never thought he’d give a flying fig about. Lord knows, he’d never been a fan of Frank Weston’s, but lately, he noticed Frank paying an inordinate amount of attention—behind Emma’s back, of course—to Jane Fairfax. Knowing he was hardly objective where Emma was concerned, George tried to reason it away, yet it niggled at his mind.

  It started at a picnic hosted by the Westons. Emma wasn’t there when George first began to suspect this…familiarity existed between Jane and Frank.

  Juanita had asked for the day off. John Woodhouse woke disoriented that morning, and the change in his caregiver’s routine only discombobulated him more. Therefore, Emma was late to the picnic, and she missed the frequent stares full of admiration that Frank beamed at Jane as she sat and chatted with Nina. What was the man doing? Jane was engaged, and even though Mike Dixon’s filming schedule had delayed his return from Ireland until August, it didn’t change the fact that she was unavailable. Even more alarming was that the attention appeared to turn Jane’s head. George could have sworn he saw not just one, but several secret looks and smiles, exchanged between the two of them. Was he imagining it? Or, he joked to himself, had he spent enough time with Emma that he was seeing attraction that wasn’t really there?

  After Emma arrived, he cornered her as she sat alone with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese and fruit at Nina’s picnic table.

  “Where’s Frank?” he asked, glancing around the yard.

  Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I do believe that’s the first time you ever expressed any interest in the whereabouts of ‘Frat Boy’ as you call him.”

  “Hush, Emma Kate.” George took a guilty glance around the yard. “Not that I care what he thinks, but I wouldn’t hurt Bob’s feelings for the world.”

  Emma stabbed a strawberry with her fork and waved it as if waving George’s concerns away. “Of course you wouldn’t.” She grinned. “You already own the world. But you don’t have to worry. Bob isn’t anywhere close enough to hear you. He, Jane, Frank, and Helen went for a walk in the woods over that way.” She pointed with her now empty fork. “That little wilderness adjoins Randalls’ property, and Bob’s thinking about buying it. So, being Bob, he wanted to show it off.” She turned at the sound of voices. “And, they’re back. Well, some of them.”

  Bob and Helen joined them at the table, as Nina came out of the house toting a tray full of tall glasses and sweet tea. Helen chattered incessantly to Bob about the “lovely woods” and what a great addition they would make to the already fabulous Randalls’ house. Jane and Frank weren’t with them, and it was a full ten minutes before they came walking around the side of the house, deep in conversation. Emma was chatting with her aunt and missed the whole puzzling chain of arrivals. George seemed to be the only one interested, and the only one who noticed.

  The group sat around under the pergola with ice cold tea, making small talk. Frank crossed his ankle over his other knee, resting his glass there. “Hey, Nina, whatever happened with Dr. Perry and his wife going on that Mediterranean cruise? Did they do it?”

  Bob cut in. “The Perrys are going on a cruise?”

  “I don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Nina answered.

  “First you’ve heard of it? You told me.” Frank sat up and put his glass on the table.

  Nina face was blank.

  “Oh, you remember. You told me when I called you from Alabama last month. It was supposed to be a surprise for their anniversary. Mrs. Perry wanted to go for a month but wasn’t sure she could get him to stay away from his patients that long.”

  “I don’t know who told you, but I didn’t,” she answered.

  “Sure you did,” Frank insisted. “You said how romantic it would be to vacation in Venice and Rome.”

  Nina shook her head laughing. “It certainly does sound romantic, but I promise, you didn’t hear it from me, because I had no earthly idea.”

  “You didn’t?” Frank scratched his head, then chuckled. “I could’ve sworn I… hmm.” He stole a glance at Jane, who was staring at the table. “Guess I dreamed it.”

  “Sounds like a lovely dream,” Helen piped in, holding out her glass to Nina’s offered pitcher for a refill. “Don’t mind if I do. Thank you, Nina. You must be a mind-reader, Frank Weston. Yes indeed. Because Mrs. Perry said something to me last month about a cruise to the Mediterranean. She did. I thought she said Caribbean”—Helen gestured with her glass and the tea she spilled dripped down her hand, unnoticed—“because I asked her if she was going to Aruba. But then she said, ‘No, Helen, a Mediterranean cruise, like Italy and Greece,’ and I said, ‘Oh! A Mediterranean cruise!’ And she told us it was supposed to be a big secret. It was that day we ran into her at the post office, wasn’t it, Jane?” Helen looked around. “Oh bother, she’s gone inside. Jane told Mrs. Perry how glamorous a trip it would be. Mrs. Perry swore us to secrecy, so I never said a word about it until today. You must be clairvoyant, Frank. You dreamed all about it.” Helen giggled. “I know I have the strangest dreams sometimes, but they never come true. Well, hardly ever.”

  “Emma,” Bob asked, “you’re a vivid dreamer as well, aren’t you? Just like Frank?”

  Jane came out with a napkin and handed it to Helen, who wrapped it around her glass. “Thank you, Jane, dear! You’re so thoughtful!”

  George watched Frank and Jane exchange glances over Helen’s head. Jane blushed and averted her eyes, trying to hide a smile, and Frank winked at her.

  “You know,” Helen went on, “I won’t swear that I didn’t say anything before today, because sometimes—well, you know me—sometimes I let things slip. Maybe you did hear it from me. You know how I am sometimes.”

  Emma lifted her eyes heavenward, as if praying for patience.

  They dawdled around the picnic table until an afternoon squall forced the party indoors to Bob and Nina’s family room. Frank fetched a beer out of the refrigerator and plopped down between Mary Jo and Helen, who were discussing the virtues of The Price is Right versus Match Game.

  “You know what game show I really miss?” he asked.

  Mary Jo shook her head.

  “Password. Any of y’all ever play the home version of Password?”

  “Can’t say that I have,” Emma said.

  “Grandmother bought it for Christmas one year. Pretty cheesy, but it would be a fun way to kill time on a stormy afternoon.”

  “We don’t have it here,” Nina said.

  “Well, I guess we could make our own version.”

  “How?” Mary Jo asked.

  Index cards and pens were fetched, and Frank made himself the impromptu game show host.

  “All-righty then!” He clapped his hands together. “Team One?”

  “I’ll play.”

  “Excellent! Do we have a partner for the lovely Mary Jo? How about our local celebrity, Jane the Fairfax?”

  Jane shrugged a delicate shoulder.

  “Team Two must have the sharp mind of Emma Woodhouse, and we’ll team her up with my favorite stepmother. I, as your host, will choose a word to start us off. Knightley, can I borrow your watch? I think it’s the only one with a second hand on it. Oooh, Rolex. Nice. Now, Jane, remember, only one word clues or you’ll be disqualified.”

  Mary Jo wiggled in her seat. “I’m ready!”

  “And let’s…” Frank looked around the group and spotted the band around Helen’s straw hat. After showing the card to Mary Jo, he bounded over beside Helen and stuck the card in the ribbon band. “There! Now everyone can read the answer. Don’t turn your head, Helen.”

  “Oh, I won’t!”

  Emma let Jane give Mary Jo the first clue. “Mistake.” Mary Jo shook her head, and after five seconds passed, Emma gave Nina a second clue.

  “Error.”

  Nina shook her head. “I’m not very good at this.”

  Jane’s
face got even pinker. “Um…Oversight.”

  Mary Jo shut her eyes. “I should know it.”

  “Gaffe,” Emma returned.

  “Is it…blunder?” Nina asked.

  “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! Let’s switch players around for this next one. We need to split up Emma and Nina. They practically read each other’s minds. Jane, you can play across from Emma. And Nina and Mary Jo, right over there. Perfect.” He wrote out another card and showed it to Emma, who laughed out loud.

  “I can’t believe you,” she whispered to him.

  George leaned over and read the word Frank had handed her.

  Emma began. “Entanglement,” she said, barely containing a smirk. Jane looked confused.

  “Next,” Frank said.

  Nina piped up. “Dalliance.”

  Mary Jo thought, but then just shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Infidelity,” said Emma.

  Nina tried again. “Liaison.”

  A look of recognition, followed by a cool stare at Frank, swept across Jane’s features. “I thought foreign language phrases weren’t allowed in Password.”

  “They’re not?” Frank rubbed his chin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Sorry about that.”

  “Affaire de coeur? What does that mean?” Mary Jo stared at the index card, shaking her head. “I never would have guessed that.”

  “Well, Jane,” Frank said, turning from her to face Emma, “I guess you missed out this time, huh?”

  “If y’all will excuse me, I’m just going to…” Jane stood and went into the kitchen.

  George watched Jane slip out of the room, and while Frank stood talking with Nina and Mary Jo, he pulled up a chair next to Emma.

  “What’s so funny about affaire de coeur?” he asked quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The phrase seemed to upset Jane. Why it would amuse you baffles me.”

  Emma’s cheeks reddened. “Oh that. That was nothing, just a little joke.”