Persuaded (28 page)

“You were wonderful!” I heard him say.

Happily I turned to find him by my side. “Didn’t Collin do such a good job?” I began to clap with the audience.

“Yes.” Gregory almost had to shout so I could hear him. “The whole thing was really cool.”

We laughed along with everyone around us when Collin scooped Kylie up in his arms and kissed her. They were so sweet together.

The collective “ah” from the audience was exactly what Kylie needed. Collin lifted her up closer to his chest and spun her around. I heard her shrieks of laughter as Gregory pulled me into another room, away from everyone else.

“I know this is Kylie’s night, but I wanted to give you something, too.”

“You’ve got something for me?”
Good grief—I didn’t get anything for him.

“Yeah, here.” From a nearby table, Gregory picked up the largest bouquet of red roses I had ever seen. “These are for you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Well, since this is your first real concert and all, I thought I’d better get you something to celebrate it. I mean, how would it look if I wasn’t the first person to give you flowers? Soon you’ll be so famous, people will be throwing them at your feet after you play the piano.”

I laughed. “Whatever!”

Hours later I was still in a daze as I helped Gregory’s family clean up after the party. I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in just a few short months.

“Well, I’ve gotta hand it to ya, Amanda.” Gregory’s dad patted me on the back. “If Suzie and I could’ve picked anyone for Gregory, out of all the girls he’s gone with, we would’ve chosen you, whether it were three years ago or now. We’re just glad he was finally smart enough to see it, too.”

They’ve known all along?
Gregory and I stopped what we were doing and looked over at Charles. I, for one, was pretty shocked, and Gregory looked surprised, too.

“What?” Mr. Wentworth chuckled as he glanced back and forth between us. “You’re kidding me. You honestly think Suzanne and I didn’t see how it was between you two? How it’s always been?”

Gregory’s mom began to laugh, really laugh. “You poor girl! Why did you think we invited you over to dinner? And why did you think I went on and on about people who love each other and never do anything about it?”

Gregory shook his head at me and laughed before glancing back at his parents. “To persuade us to admit our feelings. Man, I can’t believe you two—”

“Would love us so much!” I hurriedly interjected.

“—didn’t help us sooner,” Gregory finished. He set his broom against the wall and walked over to my side. Grinning, he caught my hand and held it. “You could’ve saved us a lot of heartache, you know?”

I smiled up at him. “But where’s the adventure in that?”

“Adventure? If you thought that was an adventure, just wait till you see what’s to come. I think our journey has just begun.”

“Finally!” I giggled before throwing my arms around his neck and squealing when he picked me up in his arms.

It boggled my mind to think that after three years of believing my life was over, it was actually just beginning. And all because of the love of a guy I foolishly let myself be persuaded to reject. Never again will I be persuaded to do anything I know in my heart is wrong. Who knows? Next time, I may not get a second chance.

About the Author

Jenni James is the mom of seven rambunctious children. They’ve lived in Portugal, England, and Utah, and now make Farmington, New Mexico, their home. When Jenni isn’t writing, she’s chasing her kids around the house and exploring the world to find new romantic stories to create. She is the author of the Jane Austen Diaries as well as the Jenni James Faerie Tale Collection. She loves to hear from her readers, and you can contact her at [email protected].

For a sneak peek at
Emmalee,

the next book in The Jane Austen Diaries, just turn the page!

Emmalee

“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 in other parts of the house was nearly impossible. Especially since I refused to use the intercom system my stepdad had installed. Talk about so 1960s and totally embarrassing.

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

News? Hmm. News is good.
“Okay,” I answered as I logged out of my account. No reason my friends should think I was a total Facebook junkie. I tried to log out regularly, just in case they thought all I did was sit in my room and surf the site. Pathetic, I know, but ever since my best friend went away to college four weeks before, Facebook was all I’d 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. “Where are you?” I hollered into the corridor. I glanced at some of the family portraits that lined the wide hallway. My mom had commissioned an artist to paint them from old photographs.

I was determined that someday I’d be good enough to actually paint portraits myself. Of course, my favorite portrait was of me grinning adorably, sitting on a fluffy white rug slash blanket thing, in a gorgeous, ruffled yellow dress with a huge bow on my head.
How much cuter could I have possibly been?
Mom’d also had 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,” Mom finally answered.

Upstairs parlor? Good grief.
I turned left and followed the portraits of my ancestors—mostly from the ’30s and ’40s—that led to the room. Mom read a lot of Regency romance novels and liked to pretend we lived in Jane Austen’s time. Hence the portrait “gallery,” as she called it, and the upstairs “parlor.” She originally wanted to call it the “green room” or “blue room” like they would’ve back in the 1800s. Thankfully, since she was constantly redecorating the room and changing the color theme, my stepdad demanded that she stick to calling it the upstairs parlor instead of changing the name every year or so.

This year, the 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 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 straight from the pages of
House Beautiful.
Knowing my mom, it probably did.

I paused in the doorway and looked at her. She was 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 exaggeratedly curved phone receiver to the other ear and crossed one long, slim leg while she lounged on an antique cream and gold-leafed lounge chair
.
With fuchsia accent pillows, of course.

Quietly, I walked into the room and sat 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 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. Emmalee is right here. She’s going to be so happy. I can’t wait to tell her.” Mom smiled at me and then 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. Buh-bye.” Mom set the phone in its cradle, her smile even more radiant than usual. “Guess what?” Her pedicured, sandaled feet gracefully slid to the floor as she sat up properly 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? No, no.” Mom shook her head. “You can do better than that. Think
,
Emmalee.”

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

“Fine, 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!” Mom 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 but 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?” she said.

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 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. “Sorry. Have I really been that bad?”

She grinned. “Maybe not
that
bad. Just not that good, either.”

“Okay. I promise to be happier,” I said. Then I added for good measure, “And I promise to find a new friend.”

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

“Yes!” After another exuberant hug and a thank you, I was out of the parlor and charging down the stairs. I turned left and jogged through the formal dining room into the breakfast room, then practically skidded through the large kitchen into the mud room. Soon I was out the back door and running through our half acre of flower gardens and pathways. I barely noticed Mom’s “romantic” white-trellised gazebo as I hurried to the back fence gate we shared with the Andersons.

I opened the gate and entered the splendor of the Andersons’ three acre sculpture garden. No backyard in all of Farmington, New Mexico, beat this one. It was absolutely stunning. I ran down the path past the manmade lake, which was probably the size of two football fields. I shook my head at the small paddleboat and fishing pole next to the dock.
Mrs. Anderson will have a fit when she sees that.
Paddleboats and fishing line do not mesh with gorgeous floral hedges and sculptures. It reminded me of all the times Taylor and my stepbrother Zack had gotten in trouble for leaving their stuff at the dock instead of putting it back in the shed.