Jane Austen Girl (11 page)

“I will be in a minute.”

They sat without talking until the pain had lowered its volume to a throb. Maxine spoke then, her eyes still closed. “What about you and your mama? Are you two close?”

“I guess that depends on what you mean by close,” Andy said. “We’re pretty different.”

“How so?” Maxine asked.

“I don’t know,” Andy said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “Sometimes, I think I’m a disappointment to her.”

At this, Maxine forced herself to open her eyes and look at the girl. “Now, I can’t imagine there being any truth in that.”

“Some things are hard to miss. Even when you don’t want to see them.”

Maxine felt a swell of tenderness for the girl, along with a dizzying sense of regret for the fact that she had never once sat and talked with her own daughter this way when she’d been Andy’s age.

The door opened, and Andy’s mother stuck her head inside. “Andy, what in the world?”

“I’m coming,” Andy said, standing.

“Good luck,” Maxine said.

“Thanks.” Andy straightened the waist of her slim skirt. “Will you be here when I come out?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” Andy said. “You’re all right though?”

Maxine nodded. “Much better now,” she said.

Andy left the room then, but not before glancing over her shoulder to give Maxine one of her pretty smiles.

Maxine sat back again, closing her eyes under the sudden certainty that she did not belong here. She had been wrong to come. Wrong to think that Grier would want to see her. It was selfish, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t let herself realize that before now.

This trip to Timbell Creek was about Grier, for Grier. It had nothing to do with her. There was so little she could give her daughter. She had nothing of material value to leave her, even if Grier would have accepted it from her. But what she could do for her daughter was leave her alone. Not stir up a past Grier so obviously wanted to forget.

She could give her that. And she would.

Through the eyes of others, we’re very often significantly off the mark from our own interpretation. Maybe it’s safe to say the truth lies somewhere in between the two.

Grier McAllister - Blog at Jane Austen Girl

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Grier locked herself in the toilet stall and wilted against the wall, one hand to her chest. What was her mother doing here? How dare she just show up with no warning whatsoever?

Fury replaced the confusion inside her, and she felt her face redden with it. She didn’t have to talk to her. She owed her nothing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, seeing her face again, reliving the shock of it after so many years.

She looked. . .so old.

Above all, this shocked Grier the most. Maybe she’d somehow imagined she would be the same. Her vibrant, too-pretty-for-her-own-good-mother. Not this worn out version of her.

She stood this way for several minutes, aware that she had to get herself together, and fast. But she couldn’t seem to make herself move. It was as if, after all this time, she’d finally hit a solid wall of reality that refused to yield to any delusions she might be willing to entertain about her mother finally getting it together and turning her life around. All she’d needed was that single glimpse to tell her it had never happened. And if it had, it was just too little, too late.

With the realization came a dousing wave of regret mingled with sadness. She opened her eyes and clawed her way to the top of it, refusing even for a moment to succumb. Harsh reality number one: we all make choices. Her mother had certainly made hers. Grier’s years of therapy had led her to the indisputably logical conclusion that she was not responsible for her mother’s choices. She wasn’t about to throw a hand grenade in the center of the perfectly manicured lawn of reason she and her therapist had spent so much time grooming.

She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes, then her nose. She had a job to do. And once it was done, she would go back to New York, back to her real life.

WHEN GRIER WALKED
into the conference room a few minutes later, it was to the immediate realization that her mother was no longer there.

Undeniable relief washed over her, and she felt as if she could finally breathe again. Shame nipped at the heels of the relief, but she pushed it away, unwilling to give it any pull.

She used the time during which the girls were completing their questionnaires to catch up on voice mail messages from the office, mostly distracting herself from the unexpected encounter.

Forty-five minutes later, Gil returned with the stack of questionnaires. Snacks had been set up in the other room for the girls during the wait while Grier quickly went through them.

They had been given extremely specific parameters for an initial elimination. The duke was quite specific in his likes and dislikes. No airheads. GPA 3.4 or above. Dog lovers only. She could like him for that one. No fu-fu girls who disapproved of a few dog hairs, and if they weren’t cool with a dog in the house, then they weren’t the girl for him. That one alone knocked twenty-five out of the running. And then there was the question about why it was nice to have money.

A: It made getting into clubs easier

B: It was always nice to pamper yourself

C: It gave a person choices

Surprisingly enough, his preferred answer was C. And that eliminated another twelve girls.

The last question: what was the most important thing a guy could give a girl?

A: Flowers

B: A cool ride for dates

C: Respect for his mother

This one really made Grier wonder. What seventeen-year old boy would have written that? Maybe his mother had written it.

That answer knocked out another sixteen girls, leaving the new total at thirty-two.

“Well, that does it,” Gil said. “Guess we’ll go from here.”

Grier felt a little sorry for the ones who would be leaving after this, but the thought of weeding her way through thirty-two determined and likely deserving girls made her wonder if she had been crazy to take this on.

She put the non-eliminating questionnaires in a folder. “Now for the not so fun part,” she said to Gil. “Shall we bring them back in?”

 Gil went to the adjoining room and signaled that they were ready for them.

A few minutes later, the girls were all reseated, staring at Grier with the same look in their eyes she had seen in the eyes of
American Idol
contestants right before their elimination. “Okay, everyone, as I said before, this initial elimination round is based on questions sent by George himself about the kind of girl he feels he’s most compatible with. And while I wish every one of you could be chosen to go to that ball with him, unfortunately, it will only be one of you. If I call your name, please follow Gil outside the room into the lobby area. Jessica Jameson, Holly Munroe, Tara Munson.”

And so the names went on for another seventy or so, until the room was left with the girls who had not been eliminated. “You thirty-two young ladies will remain for the next round of consideration.”

A cheer erupted in unison, the girls hugging one another and high-fiving. Grier’s gaze went to Andy Randall, still sitting beside her mother in the back row. Andy’s expression showed no emotion of any kind. Grier wondered whose idea it was for her to be here anyway.

Grier left the room and stepped into the lobby where the seventy plus girls stood looking as if they no longer had anything to live for.

Her heart went out to them, and she wished somehow that she could tell them life would hold joys and wonders far more amazing and wonderful than a date with George. That this let down was really just a little pot hole along the way.

“Girls, I want to thank you for coming out today. I understand that each of you had your hopes up for this. I wish that I didn’t have to disappoint any of you. If it were up to me, every single one of you would be the winner.”

A half smile and shrugged shoulders met the statement. Grier watched as they turned and trudged from the lobby through the doors of the Inn. Gil looked at Grier. “They’ll get over it. At sixteen, everything is life or death.”

The two of them rejoined the group of still bubbling over teenagers, and Grier began the process that would shatter the hopes of yet a second round of eager girls.

The interviews were conducted in a small sitting room off the main lobby. Gil directed each girl in and out and held her to the five-minute time allotment like a German shepherd holding a suspect in place while the arresting officer questioned him. If it weren’t for his careful monitoring of the time she spent with each girl, they could be here until midnight.

The difficult thing was that each of the girls had something about them that made them special. Some of them were funny, some serious, some more eager to know about Grier’s career than about George.

Anderson Randall was a tough nut to crack though. She walked into the room, wearing a deadpan expression that hid what Grier already knew was a beautiful smile. “Hello, Anderson,” Grier said.

“Hi. I prefer Andy.”

“Have a seat, please, Andy.”

She pulled out a chair, crossing her arms across her chest, looking suddenly awkward and gawky.

“So why are you here today, Andy?”

“I want to go on a date with George like everybody else here?”

Grier smiled. “Now why don’t I believe that?” She looked down at the application Andy had filled out, saw the 4.0 GPA, the interest in historical architecture. “You don’t seem like someone who would care an awful lot about that.”

“What do I seem like I would care about?” she asked, a little short.

“Meeting someone on your own?”

“Around here?” Andy said.

Grier inclined her head, then said, “So why do you want to go out with him?”

Andy’s gaze went wide, as if she felt she was being unfairly prodded as to her motivation. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes, actually, it does,” Grier said. “I just kind of have a feeling that you’re not here on your own.”

“That’s not true,” Andy said. “I am here on my own.”

“And your mother very much wants you to be?”

“And my daddy very much
doesn’t
want me to be. But I don’t really care what either of them thinks. I’m here because I want to be here.”

Grier considered this, doodled on her paper for a minute and then said, “What if he’s not what you’re expecting?”

“Well, I’m not expecting much. Surely, he’ll live up to that.”

Grier laughed then, charmed in spite of herself. “He would certainly have his hands full with you.”

Andy looked surprised by this. She glanced away, folded her arms across her chest and bit her lower lip. “Haven’t you ever just wanted to go somewhere, do something different, be somebody different?”

“Actually, I have,” Grier said.

“Is that why you left here?”

Grier raised an eyebrow. “How did you know—”

“My daddy said you used to date Uncle Darryl Lee.”

Grier had to press her lips together at the sound of uncle and Darryl Lee paired together. “Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

“He’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to be,” Andy said. “He just likes to have fun.”

“Nothing wrong with that as long as no one gets hurt.”

Andy considered this. “Daddy thinks he’s irresponsible.”

“Your daddy could be right.”

“I think Daddy would do well to borrow a little of Uncle Darryl Lee’s live and let live.”

“Hm,” Grier said. “So what is your daddy going to say if you win this date with George?”

“There’s not a whole lot he can say.”

“Actually, you’re sixteen. There’s a good bit he could say. If there’s a chance that he won’t allow you to do this, then it’s really not fair to take the opportunity away from another girl.”

“Don’t say that!” Andy erupted with clear indignation. “This is something I want to do. My mom already signed the consent form. It doesn’t matter what Daddy thinks.”

“Andy—”

“Please,” she said. “Don’t eliminate me based on that. Give me a chance!”

Grier’s heart twisted a little at the pleading in the girl’s voice. She wasn’t sure of the origin of it, but she knew it was real. She remembered suddenly what it felt like to be sixteen and yearn to be anywhere in the world except where she was. Even if it was just for a day.

Gil entered the room with an abrupt knock and a pointed glance at her watch. “Okay, time’s up.”

Andy stared at Grier, then stood and in a soft voice said, “Please.”

“Thank you, Andy. It was nice talking with you.”

While Grier waited for the next interviewee to come in, she thought about the look on Andy’s face and wondered about the real truth behind why this was so important to her.

Dear Andy,

Will u b my girl?

____Yes ____ No

Note from Kyle Summers

Second Grade –
Timbell
Creek Elementary

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Andy didn’t bother to wait for her mother.

She stormed out of the Inn, click clacking down the sidewalk in her ridiculously high heels and, waiting until she had rounded the corner out of sight, tossing them in the shrubbery by the sidewalk.

She had never felt so stupid in her entire life. What had she been thinking to enter such a lame-butt contest anyway? It wasn’t as if she really gave a pile of cow poop about ever actually going on a date with George, Duke of Wherever. He was probably a total zero anyway.

All she cared about was GETTING OUT OF THIS TOWN. Away from her mom. And her dad. And their infernal fussing over her.

Entering this contest was exactly the kind of thing her mom would have done at age sixteen, according to her dad’s recollection, anyway.

Sometimes, Andy wanted to be exactly like her. And others, she wanted to run from the very thought. This was one of those times.

But somewhere down deep in the mess of all this, she wanted to show her dad that she could do the things that her mom did. That she was every bit as pretty. That she was her mother’s daughter.