My Jane Austen Summer Read Online Free Page B
Author: Cindy Jones
backpacks. I wished Martin could see me now.
"You should let it go," Karen had said in the wake of my breakup. Married with two kids and her own neighborhood association, she'd forgotten about lonely Saturday nights.
"I am letting it go," I said to no one as I stepped out of the path of a golf cart transporting people to their gate. I was letting everything go.
∗ ∗ ∗
Vera waited at the gate for the flight, her wrinkles and liver spots more apparent in the airport light. I'd camped out in Vera's office several times to pose pointed questions designed to understand Literature Live, but each time Vera would disclose a beginner detail, like, productions are staged in Newton Priors, an English manor house restored to the period, and Monday and Tuesday are the days off. Then she would dart off on a tangent about how whales were getting whacked out by the navy's sonar. I liked Vera immensely, but she distracted easily. I removed the ridiculously heavy bag of books she used to save my seat. "A little light reading." I groaned, pulling a random sample out of the bag: Real Estate for Dummies . "What's this for?"
Vera focused through the bottom half of her glasses. "Oh, that's so I can figure out how to do the extension."
"What extension?" I asked. Extension implied expiration . Did they not have a lease? Did I dare board a plane to fly into a novel that might have no setting? With one foot in Dallas, the other on a departing plane, I would do the big-time splits or splash into the Atlantic. And be eaten by sharks. "Do you not have a lease on your venue?" I asked, my voice pitched higher than normal.
In a gesture of nonchalance meant to downplay any potential drama implied by my tone, Vera shrugged. "We have an agreement," she said, uncrossing and recrossing her legs away from me.
"When does it expire?" I sounded like the parent.
"Sometime in May." Vera cringed as if expiration dates were distasteful.
"The May that comes before June? The May that already happened?"
Vera rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I told you we need an extension of our agreement to use Newton Priors, the country house where we have held our festival for the past thirty years."
I paused to reconsider the security of an empty apartment in Dallas. "How long before we're thrown into the street?"
"Don't be silly, Lily." She smiled at her rhyme and then straightened and faced me. Her hair pulled back, she resembled a ballet master. "You know neither Lady Weston, our patroness, nor the history of this organization. Don't fret about matters you don't understand."
"I took a real estate class, so I understand more than you think."
"Well then, you can help me figure it all out." Vera opened her novel. "An actress with a real estate degree, interesting."
A fat couple holding hands watched CNN, Starbucks balanced on their armrests. A businessman with a heavy briefcase took the last seat opposite me. "Does the Randolph Department have anything to do with this lease renewal?"
"Yes. And it's not exactly a lease. It's an agreement."
I pictured terms of the festival's use penciled on a paper napkin. The businessman across from me spoke on his cell phone, his grown-up manner reminding me of Karen's husband. "FYI, Vera, I took one class, not a degree." She'd blown things up--for the second time. Which brought me to my newest worry: Did Vera believe I was a professional actress? I had misled her about my acting background, but she had distorted what I said beyond recognition. I asked her. "You know I'm not a professional actress."
Her eyes went to my necklace. "Nice cross," she said.
I repeated myself. "You know I'm not a professional actress."
"Nice cross," she said again.
"Thank you." I pulled the newly repaired chain out of my scarf. "The last gift my mother gave me."
"Oh." Vera looked closer.
"Before she died, she had her wedding band and some other jewelry melted down to make two crosses, one for me and one for my sister."
"How lovely," Vera said.
My
"You should let it go," Karen had said in the wake of my breakup. Married with two kids and her own neighborhood association, she'd forgotten about lonely Saturday nights.
"I am letting it go," I said to no one as I stepped out of the path of a golf cart transporting people to their gate. I was letting everything go.
∗ ∗ ∗
Vera waited at the gate for the flight, her wrinkles and liver spots more apparent in the airport light. I'd camped out in Vera's office several times to pose pointed questions designed to understand Literature Live, but each time Vera would disclose a beginner detail, like, productions are staged in Newton Priors, an English manor house restored to the period, and Monday and Tuesday are the days off. Then she would dart off on a tangent about how whales were getting whacked out by the navy's sonar. I liked Vera immensely, but she distracted easily. I removed the ridiculously heavy bag of books she used to save my seat. "A little light reading." I groaned, pulling a random sample out of the bag: Real Estate for Dummies . "What's this for?"
Vera focused through the bottom half of her glasses. "Oh, that's so I can figure out how to do the extension."
"What extension?" I asked. Extension implied expiration . Did they not have a lease? Did I dare board a plane to fly into a novel that might have no setting? With one foot in Dallas, the other on a departing plane, I would do the big-time splits or splash into the Atlantic. And be eaten by sharks. "Do you not have a lease on your venue?" I asked, my voice pitched higher than normal.
In a gesture of nonchalance meant to downplay any potential drama implied by my tone, Vera shrugged. "We have an agreement," she said, uncrossing and recrossing her legs away from me.
"When does it expire?" I sounded like the parent.
"Sometime in May." Vera cringed as if expiration dates were distasteful.
"The May that comes before June? The May that already happened?"
Vera rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I told you we need an extension of our agreement to use Newton Priors, the country house where we have held our festival for the past thirty years."
I paused to reconsider the security of an empty apartment in Dallas. "How long before we're thrown into the street?"
"Don't be silly, Lily." She smiled at her rhyme and then straightened and faced me. Her hair pulled back, she resembled a ballet master. "You know neither Lady Weston, our patroness, nor the history of this organization. Don't fret about matters you don't understand."
"I took a real estate class, so I understand more than you think."
"Well then, you can help me figure it all out." Vera opened her novel. "An actress with a real estate degree, interesting."
A fat couple holding hands watched CNN, Starbucks balanced on their armrests. A businessman with a heavy briefcase took the last seat opposite me. "Does the Randolph Department have anything to do with this lease renewal?"
"Yes. And it's not exactly a lease. It's an agreement."
I pictured terms of the festival's use penciled on a paper napkin. The businessman across from me spoke on his cell phone, his grown-up manner reminding me of Karen's husband. "FYI, Vera, I took one class, not a degree." She'd blown things up--for the second time. Which brought me to my newest worry: Did Vera believe I was a professional actress? I had misled her about my acting background, but she had distorted what I said beyond recognition. I asked her. "You know I'm not a professional actress."
Her eyes went to my necklace. "Nice cross," she said.
I repeated myself. "You know I'm not a professional actress."
"Nice cross," she said again.
"Thank you." I pulled the newly repaired chain out of my scarf. "The last gift my mother gave me."
"Oh." Vera looked closer.
"Before she died, she had her wedding band and some other jewelry melted down to make two crosses, one for me and one for my sister."
"How lovely," Vera said.
My
Readers choose
Cyndy Aleo
Christopher S McLoughlin
Rita Herron
Ann Lee Miller
Heather Muzik
Victoria Parker
Santa Montefiore
David Donachie
Sutton Fox
Bill Diffenderffer