Emmalee

Emmalee

Jenni James copyright(c)2011 

Hey guys, this is book third of The
Austen Diaries--a modern retelling of Jane Austen's Emma.  You'll
see some of your favorite characters as well as some great new
ones--like Taylor Anderson's (pride & popularity) older brother.
 I hope you enjoy. :)

PS As always don't forget to fan me
so you can receive all my story updates.

I love you guys! 

Chapter One: 

“Never fear, milady, your
knight has returned! 

Which of these villains shall I
behead first?”

           
“Emmalee!”  Mom’s voice brought me out of my
reverie. 

           
“What?” I hollered back.  Our house was pretty
large.  Okay it was huge.  And trying to talk to people was
nearly impossible.  Especially since I refused to use the
intercom system my stepdad had installed.  Talk about so
nineteen-sixties and totally embarrassing.

           
“Come here,” was Mom’s answering call.  “I
have some news for you.”

           
News?  Hmm.  News is good.
  “Okay!”
I answered, while I logged out of Facebook.  No reason my
friends should think I was a total Facebook junkie.  I tried to
log out all the time, just in case they thought it was all I did, sit
in my room and surf Facebook.  Pathetic I know, but ever since
my best friend went away to college four weeks ago it’s all I
have been doing.
 
I sighed.  Senior year looked
like it was going to be a little bleak.  I was the only one left
at home now.  Sometimes it stinks being the youngest.

           
I turned off the lights as I headed out of my bedroom. 
Yes,
it’s better to conserve energy than waste it. 

           
“Where are you?” I hollered into the corridor while
I waited by my door for her answer.  Briefly I glanced at some
of the family portraits that lined the wide hallway.  My mom had
them commissioned to be painted from old photographs. 

One day I was determined to be good
enough in my artwork to be able to actually paint portraits myself. 
Of course my favorite portrait was of me sitting on a fluffy white
rug –slash—blanket thing, with a gorgeous ruffled yellow
dress and grinning adorably at my audience. 
How much cuter
could I have gotten with that huge bow over my forehead?
 
Mom had also commissioned a doll made to look just like the
portrait.  She called it her Emma Doll.  It was still
sitting on a shelf right behind me in my bedroom.

           
“I’m in the upstairs parlor, dear,” she answered.

           
Upstairs parlor.
 
Good grief.
  I turned
left and followed the portraits of my ancestors –mostly from
the thirties and forties-- that led to the room.  Mom read a lot
of regency romance novels and still liked to believe we lived in Jane
Austen’s time.  Hence the portrait “gallery”
–as she calls it-- and upstairs “parlor.”  She
originally wanted to call it the “green room” or “blue
room” like they did back in the eighteen hundreds.  But,
since she was constantly redecorating and changing its color theme,
my stepdad thankfully demanded that she stuck to calling it the
upstairs parlor instead of changing its name every year or so.

           
This year the upstairs parlor would’ve been called the “pink
room.”  Shades of every color of pink ranging from the
palest blush to the darkest burgundy were tastefully scattered and
splashed around the ivory room.  With plush silk accent pillows,
elegant curtains, organza covered lampshades and artfully arranged
pink knickknacks it looked like it had come to life straight from the
pages of House Beautiful. 
Knowing my mom, it probably
did.  

Briefly, I paused in the doorway. 
I was always stunned a little when I saw my mom.  She was so
beautiful.  Strikingly so.  Right then she had one
perfectly manicured diamond-ringed finger held up for me while she
talked on her old fashioned ivory and brass French phone.  I
watched as she laughed and flipped her long smooth blonde hair. 
She moved the exaggerated curved phone handle to the other ear and
crossed one long slim leg while she lounged on her antique cream and
gold-leafed lounge chair
.  –With fuchsia accent
pillows of course.

           
Quietly, I walked into the room and set down on my favorite
overstuffed chair.  This year it was upholstered in a wide cream
and rose striped fabric.  I waited a moment to see if Mom was
watching before I curled my feet –shoes and all-- underneath
me. 

           
“Okay, Grace.  I’ll let her know.”  Mom
smiled into the phone.

           
Grace?  She’s talking to Mrs. Anderson.  Hmm…
I wonder what Taylor’s mom wants? 
I hadn’t
seen Taylor since last Thanksgiving.  He’d been living in
Arizona the past two years while he went to college. 
I
wonder if he and Chloe are planning to get married or something? 
How long has he been going with that girl now?  One year? 
No wait, it’s been two years, hasn’t it?   

           
“Yes.  She’s right here.  She’s
going to be so happy.  I can’t wait to tell her.”
Mom’s smile turned to me and then slightly frowned with a
pointed look at my feet.

           
Grudgingly, I rolled my eyes and brought my legs down to the floor. 
She’s such an Austenite! 

           
“Thank you so much!  Tell Lionel we said hello, okay? 
Yes.  Yes.  Thanks again.  Ba-bye!”  She
set the phone in its cradle.  Her smile was more than its normal
radiant when she looked over.  “Guess what?” 
Mom’s pedicured sandaled feet gracefully slid to the floor as
she sat properly up to talk to me. 

I debated if I should really guess
or if it was a rhetorical question. 

           
“So are you going to guess?” Mom flashed her rings as she
patted her knees.

           
Rhetorical question is out. 
“Taylor and Chloe
Hart are finally getting married?”

           
“What?”  Mom’s confused stare blew that one
out of the water.  “No, no.”  She shook her
head.  “You can do better than that. 
Think
Emmalee.”

           
Something that will make me happy?
  “Can you give
me a clue?”

           
“Fine,” Mom mumbled.  “I’ll give you
one.  And I swear if you don’t figure it out, I may change
my mind completely and not let you--”

           
No way!
  “Lady’s had her puppies!”

           
“Yes!”  She laughed as I ran over and threw my arms
around her.

           
“When did she have them?  Can I see them?”  I
was so excited I couldn’t help it.  I’d been waiting
for Georgia’s dog to deliver her puppies for forever now.

           
“Yes.  You can go see them.  The Andersons wanted you
to have first pick.”  Mom chuckled. “Now, let go,
before you strangle me.”

I let go.  Then threw my arms
around her again, “Thank you, Mom!”

           
This time she removed my limbs and held my hands in front of her. 
I looked down into her cheerful brown eyes and watched as they
saddened for a moment. “No more moping around, okay?”

           
I nodded my head like I was eight instead of my newly acquired
eighteen. 

           
“I can’t take it anymore.  It’s the one reason
your dad –
Mom always called my stepfather “Dad”—
and
I agreed to allow you to have a puppy.  We’re hoping you
can be a little more pleasant around the house now that your best
friend has left too.  It’s almost the end of September and
already one full month into your senior year.  I want you to
make the most of it, okay?”

           
Again I nodded, then matched Mom’s rueful smile before
apologizing, “Sorry.  Have I really been that bad?”

           
Her grin caused me to chuckle, “Maybe not
that
bad,”
she said, “Just not that good either.”

           
“Okay.  I promise to be happier. 
And
I
promise to find a new friend,” I decided to add for good
measure.

           
It worked.  Mom’s full brilliant smile returned. “Good. 
You’re my princess.  I want you to be happy.” 
She gave my hands a squeeze. “So what are you waiting here
for?  Go pick out which puppy you want.”

           
  “Yes!”  With another exuberant hug and a,
“Thank you!” I was out of the parlor and charging down
the stairs.  Turning left I jogged through the formal dining
into the breakfast room and then practically skidded through the
large kitchen into the mud room.  With an excited tug I was out
the backdoor and running through our half acre plot of various flower
gardens and pathways that made up my mother’s backyard.  I
barely noticed Mom’s “romantic” white trellised
gazebo as I hurried past to the back fence gate we shared with the
Andersons. 

           
Another tug and I was in the splendor of the Anderson’s three
acre sculpture garden.  No backyard in all of Farmington, New
Mexico, beat this one.  It was absolutely stunning.  I
slowed my run to a slight jog as I hurried on the path past the
manmade lake.  It was probably about the size of two football
fields.  I shook my head at the small paddle boat and fishing
line set next to the dock. 
Mrs. Anderson will have a fit
when she sees that.
  Paddle boats and fishing wire do not
mesh with gorgeous floral hedges and sculptures.  It reminded me
of all the times my stepbrother Zack and Taylor had gotten in trouble
for leaving their stuff at the dock instead of putting it back in the
hut.

           
Grinning, I rushed up the small rise that led to the large white
mansion-style home in front of me.  Even from behind their
plantation style mansion was simply breathtaking.  I weaved
around the last of the sculptures near the covered veranda and over
to the side door that led to their large mud room.  I rang the
doorbell and politely wiped my feet while I waited for the Anderson’s
maid, Mrs. Little to answer.  

           
“Emmalee Bradford?  Is that you?”

           
The deep voice above my head was most decidedly not Mrs. Little. 
In fact it could only belong to one person and one person only; my
knight in shining armor.  With an outrageous grin I jerked my
head up. “Chase!” In less than a second I was wrapped in
the largest, warmest, comforting bear hug a girl could ever ask for. 

Taylor’s older brother had
been gone too long.  The whole summer.  The last time I had
seen him was over three months ago right before he’d headed off
to Spain.  I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed
him until now.  We were family--or as close to family as two
neighbors who grew up together can be.

           
His tan features chuckled down at me. “So did you survive the
summer without me rescuing you?” he teased.

           
I laughed and shook my head as I pulled out of his arms and stepped
into his mud room. “Excuse me.  I will have you knowI am
eighteen now and adult.  I’m fully capable of—“ 

           
Chase snorted and mumbled something under his breath before he said,
“Really?  An adult?  Is that why you were tearing
through the garden like a kid just a couple of minutes ago?”

           
What?
  My cheeks grew red as I sat down on the small
bench and began removing my shoes before I responded. “So, I
can see Spain didn’t change you one bit, you’re the same
as you always were.  I take it that’s your paddle boat and
fishing rod out there on the lake then?”

           
“Dang!  I forgot.  Thanks.” His grin grew. 
“Guess, I need saving now, huh?” 

           
“Probably.”  I rolled my eyes.  “How long
have you been back?”

           
“Yesterday.”

           
“What?  Yesterday!  And nobody told me?” 
I couldn’t hide my disappointment as I stood up.

           
He chuckled and brought his finger up under my chin.  Gently he
turned my face from side to side.

           
“What?”  Confused I giggled. 

           
He looked really baffled.  “It’s funny I’ve
never noticed how much you look like your mom.”

           
“Really?”  I beamed.

           
“Wow!  Especially that smile.  Yep.  Definitely
just like your mom.”

           
“Thanks.”

           
I watched his sky-blue eyes glitter for a second before he lowered
his lashes.  When he looked back at me, it was with his normal
happy gleam.  “So you’re saying someone should’ve
woken you up at nine last night and told you I had just got home?”

           
Nine?
  I started to laugh.  “First off,
Chase Anderson, I am eighteen now, not twelve.  I think the last
time I went to bed at nine was when I went to Ashley Dixon’s
sleepover and I finally zonked out at nine that morning. 
Second, you left us three months ago, buddy.  I wouldn’t
have cared if it was two o’clock in the morning, I would’ve
expected a phone call.  So in answer to your question, yes! 
Come on.  You’re my knight.  I will always be happy
to see you no matter what time it is.”