Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood (5 page)

Theo laughed.

“It wasn’t so funny trying to get her home from the police precinct,” Grace told him. “She nearly got charged with public disturbance, ranting about freedom of creative expression and the fascist police state.”

“She’s certainly . . . interesting,” Theo said, lips twisting as he tried not to grin.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Grace watched Dash pick up a leaf and start chewing. “Should we . . . ?”

Theo shrugged. “It’s organic, right?”

Grace laughed, the last of her tension draining away. “What about you? How come you’re done with school already?”

“I had enough credits to graduate early.” Theo pulled his jacket sleeves over his hands. “I was at boarding school,” he explained, “so I didn’t really feel like sticking around. And then when Portia called . . . I figured she could use the help.”

“That’s really nice of you.” Grace frowned. He caught the expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just . . . You’re not at all alike.” As soon as the words were out, Grace realized how that sounded. “I didn’t mean, you know . . . Just . . .” She sighed, defeated. “You’re different, that’s all.”

“Too different,” Theo murmured. Dash tried to crawl off into the pond, but Theo caught him by the suspenders on his sailor suit and yanked him back. “Not so fast, kid.”

“What do you mean, ‘too different’?” Grace shifted so she was sitting cross-legged.

“I’m kind of the black sheep of the family.”

“You?” Grace laughed. Theo was kind, polite, and didn’t seem to mind toting his baby nephew around for the day. In her book, that made him some kind of saint among teen boys. “What, are you hiding some secret addiction, or criminal record or something?”

“Ha, that would be fine,” Theo told her. “Uncle Emmett is doing two years for tax evasion, and my grandma . . . Let’s just say, she likes her brandy.” He gave a rueful grin. “Nope, I’m the real scandal. Chronic lack of ambition.”

Grace blinked. “You’re eighteen. Are you even supposed to have ambition yet?”

“Oh, yes.” Theo nodded. “I’m supposed to be on track for law school, or finance. I wanted to take time off before college, you know, travel. Volunteer, maybe, but the way they flipped out . . .” He exhaled in a long sigh. “I don’t know what they’ll say when I declare my major.”

“Fashion,” Grace guessed, teasing. “Modern dance. Nineteenth-century Romantic poetry.”

“Close,” he said, laughing. “No, I want to study philosophy.”

“How is that weird?” Grace exclaimed, baffled.

“I know, it’s crazy,” Theo agreed. “To hear them go on about it, you’d think I was going to wind up stripping in some dive bar in Pensacola.”

Grace laughed. “With an Ivy League education, you could make it to Miami at least. Someplace classy.”

Theo laughed with her. “The Coates family . . . it’s a weird beast, that’s all. Normal rules don’t really apply. But I guess every family is strange, in its own way.”

“Yup.” Grace nodded slowly, thinking of her mom — still locked in the attic, far from reality — and Hallie, probably out getting arrested even as they spoke. Theo winced.

“I’m sorry. Going on about college, and family — that’s, like, nothing, compared to you and —”

“No!” Grace cut him off. “No talking about that. We had a deal.”

Theo paused. “OK.”

They were interrupted by his cell phone. Grace paused. “Is that . . . the
Addams Family
theme?”

“What? No. Never.” Theo snatched the phone up. “Hey, Portia. . . . No, we’ll be right up.”

He hung up, looking apologetic. “I have to get back. It’s time for his language immersion hour.”

Grace stared. “His what?”

“Portia likes to play French language tapes at him while he naps,” Theo explained, getting to his feet. “It’s supposed to acclimatize them to the sound.”

“Wow.” Grace looked at Dash, now happily sucking on Theo’s shoelace. “When I was a kid, I just had Disney movies and My Little Ponies.”

“You had Disney?” Theo clutched his chest. “I’m jealous. We just had PBS.” She laughed, helping him fold up the blanket and strap Dash back into the stroller. “Hey, are you doing anything later?” Theo asked as they headed back across the park. “I was thinking about seeing a movie. If you’re free, I mean.”

Grace paused. Did he think he had to babysit her, like Dash?

“It’s just, I don’t really know anyone in town, and I really need a break from family. Not you,” he added quickly. “You’re not — well, you know what I mean.”

“OK,” Grace replied slowly. “I mean, sure, that sounds fun.”

“Great.” He grinned. “I’ll call you later.”

Theo’s phone rang again, with the same familiar booming chords. He picked up. “Yes, Portia, I’m literally across the street.” He rolled his eyes at Grace. “We’ll be right there.” He hung up, sighing. “Duty calls.”

“Au revoir.”

Grace went to the movies with Theo that night, more to escape the thought of her imminent homelessness than for the gross-out comedy they wound up seeing. But Theo proved a good distraction: regaling her with horror stories of his family, and the hell that was boarding school, and never once mentioning Grace’s father or the crisis what was left of her own family now faced. To her surprise, it was fun, and Grace was glad of the friendly face and the chance to put the real world on hold, just for a few hours. Soon they fell into a regular routine: meeting after Grace got out of school to go take Dash to the park, or the zoo, until that familiar
Addams
Family
theme started up and Portia summoned Theo home again.

“How’s Theodore?” Hallie asked with a mischievous smile at the end of the next week. It was dinnertime, or at least what passed for dinner those days: Grace throwing cheese and toppings on some store-bought pizza bases while Hallie dumped a couple of bags of salad into a bowl.

“He’s fine.” Grace shrugged, doling out the pepperoni slices. Hallie reached over to grab a handful of chopped olives. “Hey!”

Hallie danced back, tossing the olives in the air and catching them in her mouth. “You guys have been spending a ton of time together . . .”

“Sure. I guess.” Grace didn’t want to tell her that it was better than sitting around the house all evening, waiting for Hallie to saunter home or their mom to finally emerge from her attic studio, too distracted to hold a conversation. “He’s fun, once you get to know him.”

“You know, he could be kind of cute,” Hallie mused, “if he lost those preppy shirts . . . and changed his hair . . . and did something about those glasses . . .”

“What, you mean, got a pair of those stupid big hipster frames and grew a mustache?” Grace replied, laughing. “Sure, like that’s cute.”

“You need to move past this generic standard of hotness you’ve been indoctrinated with,” Hallie told her airily. “The whole Abercrombie dumb jock thing is so over.”

“Theo isn’t a dumb jock!”

“Aha!” Hallie grinned. “So you
do
like him.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Grace finished assembling the pizzas and carefully slid them into the oven. “He’s nice. You should come hang out with us sometime.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“On what?” Grace turned, and found Hallie wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “No!” Grace yelped. “You don’t think . . . ? Hallie, that’s ridiculous!” She hurled a tea towel at her, but couldn’t keep from blushing furiously.

Hallie ducked, laughing. “You
like
him,” she teased, singsong. “You want to
kiss
him!”

“He’s our stepbrother! Or stepuncle,” Grace managed, stumbling for words. Her, and Theo . . . ? “Whatever he is, he’s related!”

“Not by blood.” Hallie grinned.

“You’re crazy,” Grace said firmly as their mom wafted in. She was still wearing pajamas, braids splattered with a gruesome pattern of red paint.

“Who’s crazy?” She blinked at them, as if they were slowly coming into focus from very far away.

“Nothing,” Grace replied quickly. “Hallie, can you help at all? Set the table, or something.”

“Grace’s got a crush on Theo,” Hallie said, collapsing at the table, so Grace was left to set out silverware and dishes alone.

“I do not!”

“Do too.” Hallie stuck her tongue out.

“Real mature.”

Their mom joined Hallie at the table. “Theo, Theo . . .” she mused, as if trying to place him. Then she brightened. “Oh, yes, he’s a sweet boy. Very polite. You two would be good together.”

“Mom!” Grace cried.

Hallie giggled. “She’s right, you do match: you’re both as boring as each other. You’d just sit around apologizing: ‘No, you go first.’ ‘No, you,’ ” she mimicked. “Be still my heart.”

“Now, sweetie, don’t say that,” their mom chided her. “I’m sure Grace and Theo have a sweet little romance.”

Grace ignored them. Arguing was futile once Hallie got a notion in her head, so instead, she pulled out the real-estate section she’d marked earlier, and deposited it on the table.

“We only have a couple of weeks left,” she reminded them. “I circled some apartments to check out. You can call the Realtor tomorrow.”

Hallie glanced at the first page. “Oakland? Emeryville? Grace, you can’t be serious!”

“We can’t afford to stay around here.” Grace sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“But these places . . .” Hallie screwed her face up as she scanned the page. “Above a Chinese restaurant . . . Fourth-floor walk-up . . . Two bedrooms?” She gasped. “I need my own room!”

“You need a pull-out bed for when you’re home from college,” Grace corrected her.

“But what about my studio?” Their mom frowned. “I need good light, and space too. Maybe we can find somewhere with an annex in the garden. . . .” She flipped through the listings. “Ooh, this one sounds nice: three-bedroom cottage, wood floors, a conservatory out back . . .”

Grace looked over her shoulder as she passed. “Gee, and only four thousand dollars a month.”

“That’s not too bad.” Their mom circled it with a pen.

“We can’t afford that!” Grace cried, but it was as if she’d never spoken.

“And what about this one?” Hallie bent her head closer to their mom’s, pointing out a new listing. “Charming Victorian, wraparound porch, original fireplaces . . .”

Grace stifled a groan. “Please, be serious . . .”

“Oh, go call Theo.” Hallie rolled her eyes. “Maybe a few hours making out with him will get you to lighten up.”

“For the last time,” Grace cried, “there’s nothing going on!”

“Sure there isn’t, sweetie.” Their mom patted Grace’s arm absently. “But be careful. Use protection.”

Grace tried to forget Hallie’s teasing. For years, her sister had been on a diet of weighty Russian literature and heartbroken poetry; obsessed with the idea of true love. She was forever seeing secret romances where there were none to see: Mrs. Martinez (their aging housekeeper) and Kingston (neighbor, midforties, gay); their (happily married) principal at school and the barely out of college math teacher; and now, it seemed, Grace and Theo.

But she couldn’t shake it. Toting Dash around Fisherman’s Wharf with Theo the next afternoon, Grace couldn’t help but wonder: if Hallie thought Grace had a crush on him, did that mean other people did too? And — oh, God — what about Theo himself?

“You want me to take him?” Theo interrupted her panicked thoughts. “You’re looking kind of flushed. He gets heavy, I know.”

“Oh, right, sure.” Grace passed Dash over, and took possession of the empty stroller in return. Theo settled the baby easily on one hip.

“Time to stop wearing Auntie Grace out,” he told Dash. “You’re too chunky.”

“Just chunky enough,” Grace corrected quickly, opening a granola bar snack. “We don’t want him growing up with an eating disorder.”

Theo laughed. “This kid? No way. He’ll be sneaking candy behind Portia’s back as soon as he’s old enough to walk.”

They paused by a guardrail overlooking the bay. A middle-aged tourist couple was taking photos with Alcatraz in the background, and stopped to coo over Dash; neon fanny packs strapped around their waists. “Your son is adorable!” The woman beamed.

Grace choked on her granola bar.

“Thanks,” Theo replied, straight-faced. “We’re very proud of him.”

The couple moved off; Grace smacked his arm. “Why did you say that?” she cried, flushing. “They probably think I’m some kind of teen mom!”

He grinned. “Hey, that’s not a bad career move. You could get a reality TV show, get in some magazines . . .” Theo stopped, seeing Grace’s expression. “I’m sorry. I figured it was the easiest way to brush them off, you know? If we’d said he wasn’t ours, they’d have asked where his parents were. . . .”

“No, you’re right.” Grace tried to relax. She shouldn’t overreact, just because Hallie had been teasing her. And what was it they said about protesting too much? “It was just weird. I mean, us, together!” She gave an awkward laugh.

As they strolled back toward the street, Grace’s gaze slid over to Theo. Hallie was wrong about his hair. It was cute the way it always stuck out slightly, as if he’d absently run his hand over it in the wrong direction; better than those boys in school with their side-swept bangs they were constantly brushing across, like they were trying to be a teen pop superstar. And his glasses weren’t that dorky either, she decided: plain gold wire rims that framed his brown eyes, a kind of absentminded professor look. She could picture him in twenty years in a patched tweed jacket, hiding out in a book-lined study grading papers.