Possibilities: A Contemporary Retelling of Persuasion Read online

  Even though the pending visit involved Frederick’s sister—not Frederick himself—Allie wanted to look her best. She scrounged through the basket and pulled out a brown eyeliner, a red lipstick the same shade as her top, and a blusher to match. She was on the verge of application when she pondered the message more cosmetics would send to her family.

  Sophia Cosby and her husband had no clue that Allie had long sported the bland brunette look. But her family knew and would wonder why she’d decided to go for a more dramatic appeal. From there it wouldn’t take Aunt Landon long to piece together Allie’s continued interest in Frederick. Then she might begin her decade-old lecture anew.

  Even though the Cosbys were now wealthy and Frederick was a decorated war hero, Allie doubted that would matter to Landon when it came to matrimony between the families. And it certainly didn’t matter to her father. As far as he was concerned, the Eltons were still bluebloods and the Cosby clan was nothing more than lucky blue collars.

  Allie dropped the cosmetics back into the basket and applied a slather of Sweet Pea hand lotion. She fluffed her hair and examined her short stack in the mirror. At least her hair was still shiny, the red highlights as glossy as ever. No gray in sight, either. She turned from the bathroom, snapped off the light, and walked across her bedroom suite. Her haven encompassed most of the third floor and was nearly as big as her sister Macy’s guest cottage, where she, her father, and Evelyn were scheduled to move within the month.

  Like a connoisseur of great treasures, Allie paused near the elevated bed and stroked the carved post. They were taking only their personal possessions and linens with them since Macy’s cottage was already furnished. And Allie knew that when she returned, her haven would never be the same.

  Her gaze trailed to a photo sitting on her nightstand. She and Sarah Hamilton went to Switzerland last year and had the time of their lives. They’d been outside a spectacular, snow-crested chalet with a view of the mountains that wouldn’t stop when the photo was taken. The snapshot had captured Sarah’s strength, her dignity, her determination. No one would guess that the cute African-American woman had overcome strong economic odds to become a sought-after children’s surgeon.

  What Sarah didn’t know was that Allie had secretively supplemented her college tuition. She’d posed as an unnamed benefactor who wanted to help economically challenged students. Allie had delved into her trust fund and paid much of Sarah’s fees while modestly assisting two others in order to keep her cover. Sarah never suspected.

  Now Sarah’s sheer tenacity, shining from the photo, urged Allie to do for herself what she had done for her friend. She’d been a financial lifeline for Sarah. For herself, she must be an emotional lifeline and pull herself out of the doldrums.

  Another photo on the nightstand came into focus. Allie’s mom had been such a source of strength, and Allie never could say she’d stopped missing her. Everyone said Allie had her eyes and her smile. And now that smile appeared to hold a courageous edge that said, “I’m behind you one hundred percent.” Allie balled her fist, straightened her spine, and willed herself to stop the melancholic nonsense. Her mother would expect nothing less.

  We aren’t leaving forever, she reasoned. Just for a few years. Allie hurried toward the hallway before the sentimentals sucked her under. She planned to read in the library until Aunt Landon and the Cosbys arrived. Then she’d be available with her father and Aunt Landon to interact with the potential leasers.

  Evelyn had conveniently scheduled a lunch appointment for today. And for once, Allie truly felt sorry for her. While the move was tugging at Allie’s heart, it seemed to be tearing Evelyn to pieces. By the time Allie descended the curved stairway and her pumps tapped along the marble entryway, the doorbell chimed. She checked her watch and decided this must be Landon. Out of habit, Allie waited for the doorman to open the door, and then remembered there was no doorman. As part of the immediate application of the new budget, the staff had been carved to a bare minimum.

  Allie hurried forward, turned the brass knob, and opened the massive door. Ready with a familiar greeting and a smile, her face stiffened before she uttered a word. This wasn’t Landon. It was Frederick Wently. Allie also received the vague impression of a redhead in a fox coat and a stocky man with sandy hair and a warm smile.

  Then there was Frederick. Frederick again. And again. Allie couldn’t stop looking at him. No matter how many times she glanced away, her gaze was drawn back to him and him alone.

  The years had been good to him. While he lacked the fresh-faced look of a twenty-five-year-old, the slight crow’s feet around his eyes and the touch of gray at his temples gave him a mature appeal that quickened Allie’s pulse. His haunted brown eyes spoke of years lived and heartaches endured. And Allie wondered if some of those heartaches involved Afghanistan . . . and maybe a beautiful middle-Eastern woman.

  “Allie?” he questioned.

  “Y-yes,” she stammered and barely registered the freezing air bathing her face. “Won’t you—won’t you come in?” She opened the door wider and stopped herself from checking Frederick’s left hand for a gold band. She didn’t even want to know. Or, rather, dreaded knowing.

  The trio stepped into the foyer, and the redhead said, “Oh, this is divine!” while scanning the room with an awe-struck gaze.

  Allie shut the door, secured the lock, and turned toward the guests.

  “Hi, I’m Darren Cosby.” The sandy-haired man extended his hand, and Allie noted the tailor-made class of his wool coat.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Allie Elton.” Allie placed her hand in his for a brief handshake.

  “This is Sophia, my wife.”

  “Hello,” Sophia said and gripped Allie’s hand for an ecstatic squeeze rather than a shake. Sophia’s red hair and translucent skin probably turned as many heads as Evelyn did. But like Frederick, her shining brown eyes were her most striking feature.

  “And it looks like you and Frederick have already met?” Darren asked. He cast a cautious glance toward his brother-in-law.

  “Good to see you, Allie,” Frederick said, but his lips barely moved through the greeting. And his expression wasn’t half as inviting as his sister’s.

  A slow tremor attacked her knees. Allie looked past him, mumbled something about nothing, and inserted her perspiring hands into her blazer pockets. As she debated what to do next, the doorknob rattled. The doorbell’s chime followed and rescued her from the necessity of making a decision.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “That’s most likely Aunt Landon. I locked her out, I guess.” Her assumption was correct.

  Landon, dressed in a full-length mink, conquered the room with the grace and style of a dozen Southern belles.

  “Aunt Landon,” Allie said as she once again closed the door, “I know you know the Cosbys. And you probably remember Frederick?” She wondered if her comments sounded as breathless to everyone else as they did to her.

  “You’re early!” Landon chimed with the warmth of a long-lost relative. She extended her hand to each of the Cosbys and finished with Frederick. “Great to see you again,” she said. If his presence surprised her, no one would have guessed.

  Frederick’s mild smile spoke nothing. Allie wondered how the animated man she once knew had evolved into this masked stranger.

  “Well, hello there, Cosby!” Richard Elton’s call from the stairway gained everyone’s attention.

  “Mr. Elton!” Darren replied. “Good to see you!”

  The family patriarch stood at the top of the stairs, observing the group beneath him, his blue eyes contrasting with his ever-present tan. One of the luxuries he had refused to relinquish on the budget quest was his tan. After they left the mansion, Richard would no longer have access to his personal tanning bed, and he planned to immediately join a spa.

  “So glad you’re interested in leasing the place.” Richard descended the steps, his turtleneck sweater and easy-swing blazer giving him the appeal of a yacht captain, never surer of himsel
f . . . or his vessel. “I’ve been absolutely dying for some freedom,” he added.

  “I can imagine,” Darren replied. “You’ve spent your whole life here.”

  “Yes.” Richard approached from the stairway, extended his hand, and graciously greeted each visitor. No one would ever suspect that he viewed them as lessers or that he was on the verge of bankruptcy. “My daughters and I will be doing some traveling abroad—some sightseeing.”

  Sightseeing? Allie thought. Since when is moving into Macy’s guesthouse considered sightseeing? Her sister lived an hour and a half south in Macon, Georgia. She and her husband had graciously offered Richard and his daughters their guest cottage rent-free for as many years as they wanted.

  Landon’s smile and nod held just the right air. Affirmative, but not eager. Pleasant, but not revealing.

  And Allie was as mesmerized by her aunt’s act as her father’s.

  “Your offer came at a perfect time,” Richard continued with the story he and Landon and Evelyn had concocted last week. This way no one but the Eltons’ trusted accountant and the immediate family would know they were forced to lease the property or lose all. They’d made a pact to tell no one, not even their closest friends, including Evelyn’s sidekick, Penny Clayton.

  While the whole Elton family regularly attended church, at times Allie wondered if she was the only one who took a relationship with God seriously. None of the family seemed to mind spinning whatever falsehood necessary to save face. While Allie thought it unwise to broadcast her family’s financial crises, she would never resort to lying for a cover.

  Soon the visitors were shedding their coats, and Allie and Aunt Landon agreed to hang them in the closet beneath the stairway. Somehow the fate of Frederick’s parka landed with Allie. Keeping her head down, she accepted the coat and refused to give in to the urge to bury her face in it and absorb Frederick’s warmth . . . and his scent. He’d always gone for a sporty men’s cologne—nothing too heavy or fancy, but just right. And Allie picked up the faint smell of something similar to what she remembered from all those years ago.

  While her father chatted up the Cosbys, Allie clutched Frederick’s coat and planned to hang up Sophia’s fox number first.

  When Landon finished with her mink and Darren’s overcoat, she pivoted and mumbled, “So what do you think?”

  “About?” Allie blinked.

  “The Cosbys,” Landon insisted, her blue eyes wide. “Have they said they’re for sure going to lease the place or not?” Landon dusted at the front of her thigh-length sweater and continued to demonstrate her acting skills. No one would ever guess that she was doing any more than telling Allie there were six extra hangers in the closet.

  “They got here only two minutes before you.” Allie stepped toward the narrow closet and prepared to hang the fur. “But Mrs. Cosby seemed impressed with the place.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Landon replied and meandered toward the chattering klatch.

  After hanging up Sophia’s coat, Allie stole a glimpse of the group as they walked across the foyer. No one noticed her, and the stairway was swiftly blocking their view. Allie clutched Frederick’s coat and buried her face in its soft folds. She breathed deeply as his warmth and scent enveloped her senses. The years rolled back and Allie relived their first kiss . . . and their last. A shiver wracked her body. She lifted her head and stifled a moan. Reluctantly Allie placed the parka on a padded hanger and longingly stroked the sleeve one last time before the door clicked shut.

  When she released the knob, Allie’s spirits plummeted, and only one option remained for her: Escape!

  She tiptoed alongside the stairway until she could once again see the group. Richard was leading the Cosbys into the formal dining area and explaining that the furniture would be staying as part of the lease agreement. Landon followed close behind with Frederick at her side.

  Allie ached anew with the thought of her family’s heirlooms being rented, even though there was no way around the plan. The presence of Frederick coupled with relinquishing her home was too much for one day. She planned to brew some decaf coffee in the single-serve machine in her suite. Then she’d crawl into the corner recliner, try to fathom a reason for Frederick’s presence, and round it all off with a good cry.

  This has to be some sort of cruel twist of fate, she thought.

  As Allie crept up the stairs, she ignored the twinge of pain in her leg and snatched a final glance of Frederick stepping into the dining room. From the way he greeted her earlier, he barely even remembered her name. No telling how many women he’d snared since their near-miss engagement. Allie was certain he’d had his share falling at his feet. A decorated war hero was enough to attract dozens of women. Add tall and handsome and muscular to that formula, and the women probably spanned the hundreds.

  Allie’s decision not to check for a gold band seemed ridiculous now. She wanted to know. She needed to know. She gripped the banister and debated if she should spy around the dining room doorway just long enough to see his left ring finger. By the time she’d lectured herself out of the deed, the front door burst open and Evelyn invaded the room with none other than Penny Clayton in her wake. “I’ve got some wonderful news!” Evelyn pronounced as if the whole household were awaiting her proclamation.

  Allie pressed her fingertips against her temple and thought, Oh no, not Penny Clayton. Not today of all days.

  Evelyn’s attention rested upon Allie. “Where’s Dad?” she asked, shrugging out of her leather coat.

  “He’s in the dining room.” Allie pointed toward the right and eyed the bleach-blond, green-eyed woman following Evelyn. She reminded Allie of a chihuahua—bug eyes, a pointed nose, and enough nervous energy for three women. “The Cosbys are here,” Allie added.

  “Guess what?” Evelyn continued. “Penny’s going to Atlantic Beach with us.” She beamed toward her friend, who ecstatically shook her hands and said, “Can’t wait! Can’t wait!”

  “Atlantic Beach?” Allie squinted. “As in Florida?”

  “Yes.” Evelyn shut the door and dropped her leather jacket on the solid brass coat-tree mere feet away. She fluffed her hair and adjusted her short-waisted sweater. “Remember, I bought year-round time in that time-share condominium last year?”

  “No, I don’t,” Allie replied. “I didn’t know anything about that.”

  Evelyn waved her hand. “Maybe I never told you, then,” she said.

  Penny draped her long denim coat near Evelyn’s. The willowy widow claimed to be thirty-eight, but the feathery facial lines indicated she was closer to forty-five.

  “And I guess Dad didn’t tell you we decided to go to Atlantic Beach instead of Macy’s, either, did he?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Well, last night we decided we’re going to Atlantic Beach for a while, and you can go on to Macon to visit Macy.”

  Allie remained silent as the news settled around her shoulders like a yoke of stone.

  “Macy texted Dad yesterday. She’s sick again. You might know it.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “And you know how I don’t handle sick well.”

  “Of course,” Allie responded and gazed down at the glossy wooden stairs. Idly she pondered if her family would ever see fit to consult with her about the plans they made for her. An unexpected restlessness troubled the waters of her soul, stirring a latent longing to be her own woman, even if for only one day.

  Without another glance at Allie, Evelyn grabbed Penny’s arm and propelled her toward the dining room. The sound of gleeful greetings accompanied the entrance of the two women, and Allie recommitted herself to her room’s solitude and the cry. The last time she visited Macy in her sick mode, Allie had waited on her hand and foot for two weeks.

  Oh well, she thought, it will at least be good to see my nephews. And maybe this Atlantic Beach trip won’t be so bad after all. If Dad and Evelyn decide to stay there awhile, I’ll just go visit them if Macy gets too bossy.

  Then she thought of Macy’s sisters-in-law, Loui
se and Helena Grove. Since Macy and Charlie lived on the Grove estate, Macy’s sisters-in-law were forever at her home and would therefore be a regular part of Allie’s life. She frowned. While Helena was definitely a flirt, Louise came across more like a hussy. She attached herself to anything wearing pants and didn’t mind dragging home every stray male who looked her way. How the young woman had avoided getting abducted was anybody’s guess. Her father was too interested in indulging her to offer correction, and her mother was too enamored with Macy’s twin sons to worry about why her twenty-year-old daughter was out until two in the morning.

  Maybe I can be a good influence on both those girls, Allie reflected, and she decided to make a point of trying to get Louise and Helena to church regularly. Hopefully she could steer Louise toward a wholesome crowd of young adults. If I can at least make a difference in their lives, maybe that will be God’s way of bringing something good out of this upheaval.

  Sighing, Allie turned and began the long trudge up the stairway again. Only this time, the sound of Frederick’s voice stopped her.

  Seven

  “Excuse me. Allie?” Frederick questioned and wasn’t sure what he’d say next. He had missed Allie in the group about the time Evelyn arrived. Before he could stop himself, he retraced his steps and spotted her heading upstairs.

  Allie halted and slowly pivoted to face him. “Yes?”

  “I know there’s a restroom around here somewhere, but I seem to have forgotten. . . .” He gazed across the mammoth foyer and couldn’t decide whether his request was a stroke of genius or just plain stupid. After half a second deliberation, Frederick tossed aside the genius option and settled for stupid. Surely anyone with half a brain could see through such a line and realize he just wanted to talk to Allie again. Why he wanted to torment himself so was anybody’s guess. I’m a glutton for punishment, he told himself. End of discussion.