Prelude

Posted on Thursday, 10 November 2005

His first glimpse of the adult Amanda was when his brother got married. There he was, the best man, running around doing all sorts of duties and last minute errands, the responsible one. She had nothing to do but sit there and smile while her sister’s friends clucked over her -- how adorable she was, how clever and talented and witty. It didn’t seem quite fair. True, the bride’s attendants were more than happy to cover for the errant maid of honor’s duties… she was twelve years his junior.

She was a brat.

But she was intelligent and charming and funny, and wonderfully straightforward. He asked her, feeling wretchedly old, about her plans for college.

She replied that while she was good at all sorts of things, she didn’t really think she was the type to do anything very productive.

“You make money, I’ll do something pretty,” she teased.

She didn’t come on to him, which was a relief. That would have been highly inappropriate, and he had been dreading it. His friends had delighted in the Lolita references for weeks after he’d remarked he would be escorting a seventeen year old down the aisle. In retrospect, he supposed someone had rather too high an opinion of himself to have entertained that worry.

She was persistent in begging for details of the bachelor party goings-on.

“Nothing sordid.”

“Well,” she replied with a pitying look, “you did plan it.”

While they danced at the reception, newly brother and sister, she wickedly whispered in his ear, to his absolute astonishment and secret mirth, the names of those women she thought he would have the best chance with for an after-hours rendezvous, and those who would be “no fun at all.”

She told him that despite his shortcomings, she liked him enough to recommend him to her mentor, but for the fact he would be leaving the country in a few weeks.

“Carinne is exactly as old as you, you know, but she was a second mother to me. So even though you’re a very nice man, you can understand why a relationship with someone who will be in Brazil for three years is simply not good enough for her.”

He solemnly agreed, delighted by her bluntness.

“Do you know Portuguese, by the way? I know some Spanish and a little French, but I think I might like to learn Portuguese. And perhaps Italian. I’m not terribly good with languages though. I could be if I tried, but all that memorization. It gets so dull.”

“No, I know very little Portuguese beyond “Good afternoon,” “Please and Thank you,” and “I would like a grapefruit for breakfast.”

“Then I hope they speak English in Sao Paolo.”

There were very few people of her own age at the event, but that seemed to bother her little; she conversed with young and old, lively and dull, with fluency beyond her years. He was impressed.

She wondered aloud why he was not romantically attached; even if he was a bit tame, he was intelligent, kind, attractive, and successful, and not utterly bereft of humor, and what more could a woman reasonably desire?

“Perhaps it’s as simple as I haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“Then perhaps we ought to see what happens when I’m all grown up.” She sounded so flirtatious he almost believed -- what, exactly?

Then she laughed. Of course she didn’t mean it.

Even then, she was marvelous.

One

“It’s a lovely wedding, isn’t it?”

Justin had watched her flit about her father’s expansive grounds, a butterfly in pale yellow chiffon, and the moment he lost sight of her she was at his back.

“It is,” he agreed.

“Then will you admit that but for my efforts, we might not be here now?” Amanda demanded, taking the place next to him, little caring whose seat she pilfered.

“It would be nice if you chose to direct your energies to improving yourself, rather than harassing those near and dear to you.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear: B.F.A. Art History, M.A. Art History and Museum Studies.”

“Hmmm.”

“With minors in history and finance. That ought to please you.”

“Why so prolific?”

“My deepest fear is to descend into boredom.”

“Your entire life can’t revolve around your lack of an attention span.”

“Many consider that a hallmark of a lively mind.”

“I see that you take my point. Such talent, and yet so often frittered away interfering where you ought not.”

She leaned towards him with a smile that swept away all disapproval… at least for the moment. “But don’t they look so happy?”

His eyes found Jay and Carrine, hand in hand by the fish pool. The garden hummed with the lilting Irish of her family and the solid Midwest drawl of his. “They do; all the more to the point that they’d be here without you.”

The silent smile told him nothing he could say would matter.

“To think I considered you for her -- I’ll let you put that down as on of my… shall we say, youthful indiscretions .”

He deemed it judicious to let it pass.

“This is all arranged beautifully,” he said with a nod toward the garden, “and I know that’s a credit to you.”

She surprised him, flushing bashfully and swirling her drink. Was praise from him that unexpected? “Not the usual hideous bridesmaids’ prom rejects either.” He toasted her dress… her.

“I picked those out too.”

Of course she did. Tall, slender Amanda, hazel eyes and dark hair, never less than beautiful; tonight, astonishing.

The others looked a bit lumpy and jaundiced.

She met his eyes and smiled mischievously. She knew he got it.

Someone came by the table, maybe a little tipsy, urging them to dance.

Amanda was taller than she’d been at seventeen, and somehow even lovelier. She would stand closer to his ear now than she had six years ago; would she lean in and divulge in a naughty whisper the names of women she thought would go to bed with him?

Something in the thought didn’t sit well with him.

He begged off, insisting his proper place was securely in his seat with the rest of the confirmed old bachelors. She looked disappointed, but she was Amanda -- she’d have any partner in the instant she wished it.

The next morning, brushing his teeth, Justin thought suddenly of something she’d said the night before: ”Be nice to me, Justin, we’re neighbors again.

Two

Despite his resolve, Justin was more than a little startled when Amanda showed up at his front door at noon, sweetly insisting that she change a lightbulb that she couldn’t quite reach, and then, perhaps he could help her attack the leftover food from the wedding.

She wore a sundress and looked like she’d been up for hours. Though he’d just finished his toast and coffee, he hadn’t the heart to say no. He sensed she might find herself lonely -- probably an unusual emotion for Amanda -- in the big, elegant house with only her overly academic father for company, and for the first time in nearly twenty years, no Carrine.

Amanda looked up from the roasted asparagus to find his thoughtful gaze on her. “What?”

“I don’t know when you grew up. Remember when I coached your tee-ball team?”

She gave him a wan smile. He shouldn’t have said that. He remembered a little girl who couldn’t understand why her mother was dead, finding no answers from a devastated father; a sister twice her age wrapped up in her own grief; a nanny desperately trying to hold the household together, mourning the woman who’d shown her more kindness in a new country than anyone. At nineteen, all Justin could think to do was take her to the ice cream shop, take her to the playground, take her to the zoo, take his young neighbor anywhere she’d be too distracted to realize he had no answers to her difficult questions.

“You were very kind to me then,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t forget.”

“I see you haven’t made a total wreckage of your parents’ house,” she continued after a silence. “Where are they now?”

“Taipei for another week, then to the Philippines.” Exuberantly liberated by their semi-retirement, his globetrotting parents had left their suburban home in his care. For his part, Justin was more than happy to give up his city lease -- his neightborhood was too full of young families, new lovers, university-age friends, so much so he sometimes felt he was the only one living alone.

Her sister’s door was in view. “It is very good of you to stay with your father. I know most young people would prefer to be out on their own.” In a trendy neighborhood, like the one he’d just left.

Amanda looked at him and let out a peal of laughter. “You know, you sound about eighty when you say things like that. What are you really -- thirty-four, thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Then you’re half-again older than me. I think that would be enough to qualify me as a genuine trophy-wife, if you’re interested.”

“I intend to have a wife when I marry, no hyphenated qualifiers necessary or desired.”

“And I thought you were a confirmed bachelor. What a useful piece of knowledge.”

“Amanda…”

“Yes, dear?” She looked up at him through a veil of lashes. It was one of her best tricks.

“None of your matchmaking games with me. Please.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. God help the poor girl and God help me. You’re far too finicky to be pleased with anyone I could find. I don’t know any waspy investment bankers with Harvard MBAs.”

Justin let out an incredulous laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“You calling anyone waspy,” he said, looking her up and down for effect – her sleek dark hair, flawless skin, seashell nail polish, and country-club attitudes; so uptown, east-side chic.

The ever-so-discreetly pink-glossed lips quirked in a little smile. “But I have personality.”

No, he couldn’t disagree with that.

Three

Posted on Monday, 14 November 2005

For fifteen years, Justin had considered Melinda Sutherland to be the perfect woman.

There was a small problem. For the last ten years she had been Melinda Rosenberg.

Justin had been a junior in college, and she had (obliviously) held a coveted place in Economics 422 - Monetary Theory: the only girl in the class. Conveniently, she was also pretty. They all wanted her. Somehow -- and he still couldn’t figure it out -- he got her.

He’d had various unimportant relationships in the past, but they were just practice for the big finish. They were In Love. And for four years, it was good. He honestly couldn’t recall a single big fight. But there was a crucial unknown something that failed to materialize, or maybe it had been there once and slipped away so quietly he never knew to hold on. Romance faded to friendship; Justin left and went to law school; Melinda stayed and finished her studies. He wasn’t really surprised when she called him and confessed she’d been knocked clear off her feet. He wasn’t even surprised when just six months later, she told him she was getting married.

On the other hand… he couldn’t believe it wasn’t to him. He still couldn’t figure that out either.

She had a sweet nature and a clear head; a good taste in beer and a Ph.D in Economics. She was a wonderful cook. She made him happy. What was wrong with him?

Justin reasoned that if he couldn’t hang on to Melinda Sutherland, he was hopeless with anyone else.

He wasn’t really in love with her anymore. He thought of it as a ‘platonic adoration.’ All right, maybe he was still a little in love with her. He wasn’t unhappy about it. It just kept him occupied.

“I can’t believe you left us,” Melinda said, handing him a beer. “How are the suburbs?”

“Don’t mock me.”

Melinda and her husband David had the second floor of a stately old house on Park Avenue -- a street not terribly unlike its New York City namesake -- a few blocks from Justin’s old apartment.

“It must be so strange to live in your childhood house again. I could never move back in with my parents. I’d feel like such a kid again.”

“You’re married. You won’t have to. Besides, I am not living with my parents.” Justin sipped his beer and decided he didn’t hate it. “Though the timing is funny, in a way. Amanda Woods just moved back in with her father.”

“Amanda -- your sister-in-law? She must be…”

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four. Poor daddy. I remember her from Jack and Aileen’s wedding. She was a pretty little thing. She must be quite something now.”

“Mm-hmm. It’s hard to imagine this lasting -- staying with her father, I mean. She’s very.. cosmopolitan. Vibrant. I can’t see her being content with Rochester for long after living in Boston for six years.”

“Well,” Melinda shrugged, “show her a good time. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“Oh God, Mel. I’m not cool enough for her. I’d probably bore her senseless, and I’m old enough to be her—“

“Brother-in-law?”

“Much older brother-in-law.”

David Rosenberg returned to the terrace carrying platters of steaks and half-husked corn for the grill. He gave his very amused-looking wife an inquiring smile.

“We’re debating whether Justin is ‘cool’ enough for a twenty-four year old,” Melinda explained brightly.

“As in, to date?”

Justin let out a horrified sputter. “No! No no no. I know her father, for goodness sakes.”

“And her sister, and her sister’s husband,” Melinda interjected.

David chuckled. “Amanda? That would be playing a dangerous game.”

“Exactly why I have no intention of—“

“No, Justin, this is intriguing.” David waved his grill tongs enthusiastically. “I mean, she’s the girl next door, literally -- but when she was beginning kindergarten, you were… let’s say ‘becoming a man.’”

“Literally,” Melinda added, cocking an eyebrow.

“At least he’s not a Jew -- in that case she would have been an infant.”

Melinda choked on her beer laughing.

“I see this is very amusing to you two,” said Justin with a hint of a smile.

Melinda went inside the house to get the rest of the meal while David plated the steaks. Justin knew the man considered him a friend, but he could never understand how he could be so at ease with his wife’s first love. Could a love truly be deep and devoid of jealousy? Or was that in itself the answer? Justin found it a difficult idea to comprehend.

“Really he just wants to be her escort,” Melinda explained, returning with a warm salad of pasta and tomatoes.

“High-class, I hope,” Justin countered amiably. “An art student and a bank counsel -- one can imagine the scintillating conversation. She’s in another generation entirely, XYZ or something.”

“Honestly, Justin, don’t you think a sophisticated girl like Amanda would prefer a well-heeled, well-read, well-bred gentleman like yourself to a crass overgrown frat-boy with a popped collar and a St. Pauli girl poster on his bedroom wall?”

“You seem to know a lot about younger men, dear,” David quipped, turning the steaks.

“I do have to see them every day, dear. But what I mean is that Justin knows things that will interest her, that she'll appreciate. He won’t go dragging her off to a filthy dive bar and feel entitled to go up her skirt for his efforts.”

Justin laughed, thinking that Melinda’s academic career exposed her a little too much to the post-adolescent male. To be fair, she had a point. He was a friend of the family, after all; it was practically his responsibility. Amanda was a sophisticated girl -- bright and mature, not a silly prattling coed. She’d been away for six years; perhaps she would appreciate a guided reintroduction to the city. Her sister was too busy to do it, her father was too out-of-touch. It would be a neighborly thing to do. She’d been so friendly to him at the wedding, after all.

Four

Posted on Thursday, 17 November 2005,

Amanda was sitting on her front porch with a stack of take-out menus and a wine cooler. She waved as Justin pulled into his driveway and called him over as soon as he was out the door.

“It’s nearly eight o’clock. Do you always get out of work so late?”

“I work until it’s done,” he shrugged.

“Very fun. I was just about to order Chinese -- want in?”

“I had a sandwich a couple hours ago,” he said, taking the seat she had motioned him into. “But I guess I could have a bite. Whatever you feel like. Is your father eating too?”

“Oh, Daddy’s at some honorary dinner for a collegue, so it’s just me tonight. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to be out so late. Want a drink?” she gestured at her own.

Justin eyed the vivid hue. “What is this -- Malibui blue? I prefer my drinks to be of a color found in nature, thanks.”

“It’s rum… and coconut…” Amanda sipped thoughtfully, “…and pineapples? I have melon, peach, and strawberry daqueri in the fridge.”

Justin laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

“I like them,” she declared indignantly. “All right, orange beef and lemon chicken?”

“To compliment the drinks, of course.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. It comes with soup and eggrolls.”

“Whatever you like.” He pushed a five and a ten towards her.

“No, no. My treat. Please, Justin,” she said firmly.

“I owe you, then.”

“Of course. By the way, where were you Sunday night? Aileen wanted you over for dinner but you weren’t home. Did you have a date?”

“No, I was having dinner with some friends.” He met her eye. “And yes, Amanda, I have friends.”

“What? I said nothing!” He chuckled. “Anyway, Justin, it’s too bad you weren’t there. Their new nanny just moved in.”

“…And I would have been so useful carrying the boxes. That’s very sweet, Amanda.”

“Don’t be facetious. You know that isn’t what I meant. Oh, and Aileen’s having a girl!” Justin hardly had time to offer his congratulations before she rushed on. “She needs a sweet little girl after those three terrors… I don’t know why she didn’t get a nanny after the twins were born. Do you realize this is my sister’s third pregnancy in seven years of marriage? I think Jack needs a hobby.”

“I’ll let you tell him that. How’s the nanny?”

“Oh, she’s perfect, of course. Her name is Jilly Harris, from… I don’t know, some little hick town half an hour south of here. I think it might be by the outlet mall.”

Justin laughed.

“She’s twenty and a part-time student at Nazareth studying early childhood education. She is very pretty and very sweet and I’m sure she’ll be wonderful with the children.”

“What, exactly, does being pretty have to do with childcare?”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No…”

“She’s so angelic looking -- curly pale blonde hair and these big blue eyes, and such an adorable round face.”

“It sounds like you’re describing those fat babies I see in arty black and white photography. Is that how every young photographer gets his start nowadays? You’re the art expert.”

“Could you be any more cynical?”

“You’ve seen nothing.”

“Well, Aileen could use the help, especially with all she has to do for the hospital benefit.”

“Why didn’t you volunteer your services? Or do you plan on lounging around all summer?”

“No, I do not, sir, and I take offense at that. I’m looking for a job.”

“Is that so? Then good for you. What do you have in mind?”

“Galleries, museums, appraisers, of course. I’d try my hand at interior design if anything looks promising. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone hiring, would you?”

“I’m afraid none of my friends are the arty types.”

“That’s no surprise. Carrine may be able to help when she’s back from her honeymoon. It’s so strange without her here. She’d been a part of the house since I was five. Anyway… she’s going to teach me to cook when she gets back, you know.”

“Oh really. That will be quite the undertaking.”

“I never had a need to learn before now,” she said defensively. “But now I’ll be cooking for Daddy. He still needs to watch his cholesterol and his sugar, so I’ve sent away for an American Heart Association cookbook. I saw an advertisement in Cooking Light -- they’re giving them away for free if you’d like one.”

“That was very thoughtful.”

She shrugged. “He’s my father.” After a pause, she said “You know, I can’t believe how domestic Aileen is now. And before you start defending your brother, I’ll tell you -- I don’t think she could possibly be any happier. She loves it, and she has a wonderful marriage. It’s just -- a housewife, three kids, pregnant again, perfect house in the suburbs, doctor husband -- could it be any more generic?”

“But if she’s happy, is that so bad?”

“I guess not. But she’s only 32, and she’s already sacrificed so much for Jack. Yes, she has, Justin. And I admit, there’s nothing she’d rather do. Aileen’s happy to live her life for the people she loves, and I don’t understand it. I suppose that’s just the difference between us…”

“Not all marriages are like that.”

“I guess not…”

”Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

“I don’t know, maybe when I’m your age.” She looked up at him, hazel eyes thoughtful and direct. “What about you?”

“I don’t know… maybe I should have when I was your age.”

Five

Posted on Tuesday, 6 December 2005

“Justin!” Amanda tripped across her front lawn wearing an Oriental print dressing gown and a towel in her hair. “I’m so glad you decided to leave work at a reasonable hour today. You have to come to a party with me.”

“I do?” Justin eased his briefcase out of the passenger seat and turned a suspicious eye to her. “What kind of party?”

“Cocktails at the Rutherfords’. Daddy refuses to go out tonight and I can’t go by myself…” she pleaded.

“Why would I want to try to scrape sustenance from dainty little nibbles and emasculated alcohol while trying to maintain a mindless conversation with two dozen people I scarcely know nor like, when I could have a real meal and a real drink in the peace of my own company?”

“Jack and Aileen will be there, and they still serve gin and tonic along with all the pink drinks at cocktail parties. Please?”

“Honestly, Amanda, I’ve had a coffee and a bag of M&Ms. I think they still give you more than that on some airlines.”

“If you’re still hungry, dinner’s on me. Anywhere you like.” Sensing a weakening in his face, she pressed her point. “It will be fun. Wouldn’t you like to meet some new people, if nothing else?”

“No.”

“Well, I would, and I would like you to take me. The new town attorney is going to be there, and I’d like to speak with him about artwork for the court. Perhaps he could give me a commission to purchase.”

That seemed, to Justin, about the flimsiest pretext possible. And so Amanda had unwittingly laid the winning card.

Now he was curious.

Satisfied, Amanda tripped back into the house to dress. Justin found his way to the library and greeted her father.

Charles Woods gazed at him over his spectacles. “From the look of resignation on your face, I presume my daughter has talked you into escorting her to the silly party.”

Justin offered a faint smile of affirmation.

“Good man. You’ll look after her. I cannot understand why Amanda wishes to spend the night in a stuffy, smoky room with too many people in it, all of whom are consuming too much alcohol and eating the worst kinds of food. One would expect those of the younger generations to have a care. They have the benefit of knowing what we didn’t in my day -- I'll never understand why anyone under forty takes up smoking nowadays -- but they seem to have the most reckless disregard for their health.” He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Though, thank God, neither of my daughters is fat.”

“Good genes.”

“Good genes, yes, but no one trades on that alone, young man. My girls are vigorous, wholesome young women. No silly eating habits and no sloth. But I do wish Amanda would not keep these ridiculous hours. It is absolutely dreadful for her immune system. Try to coax her home rather early.”

Justin was saved from an impossible promise by the emergence of Amanda. She kissed her father on the forehead. “May I take your car, Daddy?”

He obligingly pointed to the keys on his desk while Justin protested in defense of his Accord.

“I think it’s adorable that you drive such a low-key car,” Amanda replied sweetly. “But I think the occasion demands something slightly less understated.” She tossed him the keys to Dr. Woods' Lexus. “Cheer up. I’ll let you drive.”

Occasion? Why -- and who -- was Amanda so anxious to impress?

He stole a look at her attire -- a fitted shift in sky blue silk, dainty ballet flats, pearl studs, a French twist. “Are we channeling Audrey tonight?”

She turned her head away, a bitten lip unable to hide the smile.

"Then I suppose that's why you needed the Lexus." Despite the dry tone, he was delighted to have guessed correctly.

"There he is," Amanda whispered, tilting her chin towards half a dozen people chatting next to the Rutherford's fireplace.

Justin looked up. "Who?"

"Evan Phillips, the new town attorney -- don't you listen?"

Justin followed her gaze to a fair-haired young man, sizing him up dispassionately -- barely thirty or so, carefully dressed, average height but a slight build, attractive in that slightly effeminate way that appeals to women (very young, usually) who have difficulties with male secondary sexual characteristics.

"Why are you so fascinated, exactly?"

"It's such an important public role --"

"It is?"

"--And he's so young… and a lawyer!"

"Don't look so impressed. So am I."

"You know, a real one. You just work for a bank."

Justin let out an exasperated snort and abandoned her to search for his brother.

Jack was sitting on the arm of a sofa, no doubt to vex the hostess, looking aloof and a little irritated while his wife conversed with another couple. He looked up as his brother's shadow fell over him. "Aileen said Amanda might drag you over. Didn't actually think you'd fall for it though."

Justin shrugged. "I think she's interested in Evan Phillips. Probably didn't want to look too available."

"Amanda is interested in social engineering, not individual men. God only knows what she's got planned." Jack snagged a crudite off the proffered platter. Answering his Justin's quizzical look, he added, "You know, no one could convince her that she was not the unequivocal and only reason for Carrine and Jay's marriage. No matter how many times I would say 'Amanda, for the majority of their courtship you've been tucked safely 400 miles away where you couldn't harm anything…' Isn't Boston College still run by Jesuits? Aren't they supposed to discourage this sort of thing?"

Justin chuckled and remarked that their influence may no longer extend so far as that.

"Well, at any rate, I wouldn't worry. You won't be losing your playmate for the summer."

"Excuse me?"

"Melinda told me you were planning on hanging out with Amanda for your mutual benefit. And by mutual, I mean you and Amanda, though no doubt Melinda will be relieved if you no longer pretend that she's your only friend."

Justin ignored the swipe. "When were you talking to Melinda?"

"Had to give a pep-talk to some premeds last week and ran into her at U of R. She looks great, you know. Yeah, I know you know." Jack was convinced that "letting Melinda get away" (as he put it) had been the most asinine decision of his brother's life, and was determined not to let him forget it.

They weren't going to go over that now, Justin decided. "I heard you got a new nanny."

"Yeah. Nice girl. A little dim, maybe, but good with the kids. Doesn't seem like the type to bring home undesirable men at two in the morning. That was one of my priorities."

"In that case, maybe you should've gotten an old granny instead of a pretty twenty-year-old girl," Justin laughed.

"Eh, the kid needs the money. Who told you she was pretty?"

"Amanda. She seems quite taken with her -- no, not that way!" Justin exclaimed, seeing his brother's shocked expression. "I mean, Amanda may not need to bother with me this summer, if she's got a new friend."

"Then I hope Amanda intends to spend her days at the playground with my kids, because that's where Jilly's going to be. What about June Bates? Letty told me she's coming home for at least a few months. June is a lot closer to Amanda in age… and interests."

"Sure, that'll go over well."

Letty Bates was a neighbor and friend of their parents who had decided, on her fortieth birthday, that just because she'd never married didn't mean she had to give up having a child. And so, Just after Amanda's second birthday, Letty had adopted a precocious toddler from Vietnam who'd grow into an elegant young woman and a gifted concert pianist.

It was worth mentioning that June had been Carrine Murphy's most talented pupil.

Jack looked at his brother with a grimace. "Oh… right."

Six

Posted on Wednesday, 11 January 2006

Justin looked at his watch and then around the party in search of Amanda. He spotted her chatting with a small group of women around his own age. They all looked his way, Amanda met his eye for a second and smiled, and the group dissolved into a fit of laughter. Amanda looked over the shoulder of a shorter woman and they shared another look. Justin responded with raised eyebrows and a pointed glance at her group. She tucked her chin and smiled, drawing him over.

"Ladies, this is my neighbor, Justin Knightley." Amanda was almost purring with satisfaction, but Justin could swear that underneath it she was bubbling over with suppressed amusement.

He politely responded as she introduced eat one in turn, then ducked his head and dropped his voice to whisper against her ear. "I want to go."

"Excuse us," Amanada said to the women, and hurried him into a quiet corner. "But it isn't even ten! Go talk to your brother if you're bored."

"He and Aileen left half an hour ago. I need food, Amanda. That was part of our deal."

"All right, all right. Just give it a minute to let us take leave like civilized people and we can be off."

He hadn't even unlocked the car doors when she burst forth with what had been tickling her.

"They think you are hot!" she exclaimed, grinning wickedly at him.

"I see." Justin settled into the driver's seat. "And what did you say?"

"I told them you're a sweetheart with impossibly high standards. Are you interested in any of them?"

"No."

"Yeah, I didn't think so. Where are we going?"

Justin had such a delicious idea for where he wanted to take her that it almost made him want to giggle, but he didn't think she was ready for it. Not quite yet.

So he took her to the grocery store.

Amanda looked a little startled when he pulled into the parking lot. "Wegmans? You're taking me to the grocery store? I remember when we used to hang out here at night as teenagers, but don't you think we're both a little old for that now?"

"Funny you should say that. When I was here on Saturday nights it was because I was working.

"Hmm, too bad."

Twenty years ago the elder Knightleys, who had few fears greater than raising a spoiled child, and hoping to encourage responsibility and industriousness, had insisted that Justin would get a job if he wished to have a source of income, as his younger brother would have to when the time came.

Charles Woods did not have the same qualms with his daughters.

Amanda's eyes narrowed. "Justin, if this is some cute trick and you're going to force a pen in my hand and make me fill out a job application, you can--"

He ignored her and handed her a tomato and a small bottle of roasted red peppers. "Come along." She looked suspicious, but satisfied that whatever he was doing did not concern her state of employment, she followed him. Their journey continued past the bakery, where Justin picked up a package of ciabatta rolls, and to the deli, which had closed for the night. Justin deliberated in front of the prepackaged cooler and selected a packet of procuitto before moving on to the cheese.

"Sandwiches?" Amanda hazarded. He nodded and handed her a wedge of fontina. "Ooooh, do you have one of those Italian sandwich presses? I love those."

"No." Justin determined he had all he needed and shepherded her towards the cash registers. "But I have a Foreman grill, and that seems to work just as well."

"That sounds so MacGyver…" Amanda marveled.

"Mmmm, not really." Justin swiped his credit card through the terminal. "But you're just a bit young for the show."

"I was eleven when it ended… Didn't I say I'd get dinner this time?"

"Maybe next time."

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Amanda picked up a long bread knife to split a ciabatta roll down the middle as Justin had done. Alarmed, he strode back to her and reclaimed the knife.

"Definitely not that." He looked around his parents' kitchen. "You can get out some cups and plates -- that cabinet. You probably haven't been in here in awhile."

"Not true. Your parents think I'm adorable -- I was here every time I came home from college. Nothing beats your mom's cocoa and cookies… hey, can you do that too?"

"Not really." Justin drizzled some olive oil on the first sandwich and set it carefully on the grill. "Sorry."

"That's okay. I had no idea you could cook at all. When did that happen?"

"Well, Amanda, I have been living on my own for twelve years. I have to get fed somehow."

"Twelve years?" Amanda tilted her head and did the math. "I thought you moved out when you were nineteen?"

"Yes…" he turned to check the sandwich though he knew it was far too early. "I had some help in the meantime." He turned back to find Amanda looking all too inquisitive. "How's the job search going?"

But Amanda gave up too quickly to put him at ease. "I put together this resume thing, but do you think you could look at it? I don't know if I'm doing it right."

"Of course, but I thought you had a business minor. Didn't they show you how to do that in any of your classes?"

"Sure, but do you really think I'd pay attention to that stuff?"

"That is a good point," he muttered to the sandwiches. "Here--" he slid the first finished sandwich onto her plate.

"I'll wait for you."

"No no, I can only make one at a time on this thing, and they're much better hot off the grill."

"Then you take a half."

He agreed, and leaned back against the counter with a smile.

Then he began the interrogation.

"All right, why did you really want to go to that party tonight? Be honest -- did you just want to check out the new attorney?"

Amanda looked like she wanted to equivocate, then shrugged. "Yes, but not for the reason you think."

"If you're looking for my opinion, I'd say he's probably -- but not definitely -- straight."

Amanda gave him a look. "Oh, I know he's straight."

Justin didn't have to ask to interpret that. "At least I know he could look neither up nor down your dress, which is a tremendous improvement on the way women ten years your senior were dressing tonight. So I applaud you for that. But tell me, are you aware of every time a man is checking you out?"

Amanda laughed. "Oh, every time." She set down her plate and hopped onto the counter next to him. "By the way, it's such a good thing I'm not a lawyer too, or I might find the way you talk a little too tempting."

Justin found his entire person a little too close to her legs and shifted down a bit. "Stop flirting with me, young lady." He meant it in jest, but after saying it out loud, it struck him as… not right. "Or teasing. Whichever."

Feeling awkward, he opened the refrigerator in search of a drink. Was that actually Tang in the back pitcher? Why?

When Justin turned back, Amanda was giving him an impish smile that said she had no intention of stopping anything of the sort..

Seven

Posted on Wednesday, 1 February 2006,

Two days after his night out with Amanda, Justin found himself still strangely unsettled, and sought an old friend to gain some perspective. Luckily, this friend was the one to always know when to bring him cake.

He lifted another forkful of the cocoa cake, simple but perfect, and thanked his benefactor. "I hope you had time to go to all this trouble--"

Melinda interrupted him with a smile. "No trouble, and the summer semester's a breeze. Really, I'm begging for things to do. My only worry is how to tell my Micro TA she has to stop wearing miniskirts or stop sitting on the front desk. Unfortunately, I suspect that may be the only reason half the class is attending recitation. It may be a difficult subject to broach. If I'm lucky, I won't get sued."

Justin loved the rapport he shared with his ex-lover. He had come to depend upon their easy relationship, still as comfortable as it had been fifteen years ago, so long as he remembered that dainty vintage ring on her left hand. He leaned back, finally relaxing as he enjoyed his coffee and cake and their conversation of things great and small.

But when she turned the talk to his young neighbor, Justin felt a twinge of discomfort, though he answered easily enough. "She dragged me to one of her shindigs the other night. Very fun."

"Gallery opening?"

"Cocktail party. In the other case, at least I’d have had something to look at. Melinda, be thankful you do not live in the suburbs."

"At least you didn't get you backside felt up by a tipsy socialite in the midst of a midlife crisis."

He shook his head. "I shouldn't tell you everything."

"Ah, but you can't help it. And now you're going to tell me all about your night out with Amanda. She didn't treat you too much like an older brother, did she?"

There was a silence. Melinda gave him another piece of cake and prompted him with a look.

"Amanda is a very pretty girl," Justin began haltingly. "And she is very much aware of it. Moreover, she has little interest in a relationship. AS such, she has a tendency to treat most men exactly the same, which is --"

"She flirts with you, and you find this uncomfortable and vaguely inappropriate." Melinda -- knowing him far too well -- finished what he could not.

"It might be," Justin admitted.

"It isn't like you to take this sitting down, Justin. After all, you do have some choice in the matter." She gave him a stern look. "The most obvious is to have nothing to do with her. Never mind what I said before; why should you see her any more than what would be required as a brother-in-law and a neighbor?" Melinda leaned back and crossed her arms. "But I suspect this isn't what you'd choose."

She took a breath and continued the litany. "The other would be to continue as you are -- except to refuse to acknowledge her as a woman."

Justin gave her a questioning look.

"A flirtation takes two, Justin; I know you are aware. There's no need for you to reciprocate." A small smile tugged at the side of her mouth. "But that would be very dull, would it not? Especially when you could beat her at her own game."

Now he had an inkling…

"Of course she bested you at the cocktail party; she was in her element. What happens when she's in yours? You're very charming -- at least I can say you once were -- so long as you're comfortable and not at all cranky. Amanda may be clever and confident, but from what you tell me, she is still very much a girl. A girls' girl, at that."

Justin was surprised. Melinda was rarely this.. bossy, and he suspected she found his plight rather amusing. He looked up to see her eyeing him over her coffee cup.

Somehow, he knew precisely what she meant.

Amanda interrupted his Saturday routine the next morning. She swept into the kitchen as he was enjoying his newspaper. Resigned, he poured her a cup of coffee.

"So you have a girlfriend now?"

Justin was a little startled by this leap, but curious. "What makes you say that?"

She picked up Melinda's uncleared coffee cup, stained with brick-colored lipstick. "And I saw someone here late.."

"She's just an old friend."

"An old friend, or an 'old friend'?"

"I went to college with her."

Amanda looked supremely unconvinced. "Can I meet her? I'd like to know what kind of woman you would date."

"She's married."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head. "You're off the hook."

"Excuse me?"

"You'd never dally with a married woman. Mr. Morals," she added, rolling her eyes.

"Are you here about your resume?" he asked, wishing to be off the subject.

"That? Oh, there are other things I should be doing."

"Rather than looking for a job? Do you plan to go through life stating 'socialite' as your occupation? 'Clubhopper'?"

"As a sister, I ought to be helping Aileen--"

"I thought that was what the nanny was for."

"And I'm offering guidance to Jilly. She's so young."

He didn't like the sound of that. "You're twenty-four."

"But that's perfect! I'm near enough to remember the feelings and experiences of her age and empathize accordingly, yet wise enough to advise."

Amanda calling herself wise was beyond ridiculous. His eyes narrowed. "And what are you advising her on?"

"It's a girl thing. You'd never understand."

Irritated, Justin turned away from her and busied himself at the sink. When he turned back, he fixed her with a look that forbore any argument.

"We're going out tonight."

Eight

Posted on Sunday, 21 May 2006

Justin was in a sour mood. Amanda's brazen declaration of spending her summer in a state of meddlesome indolence (and only she could arrange such a union) had him irked to distraction. No, it was more than that -- he'd spend the entire day stewing; he was furious, though he dared not fathom why. And yet, despite -- of perhaps because of his provocation, he was all the more determined to take her out. Exactly where he wanted, and he would brook no opposition.

"Why won't you tell me where were going?" She sounded peevish.

"I'm not sure you deserve to know."

"Why are you so cranky today? And if I don't know where we're going, how will I know what to wear?"

He gave her a cursory glance. "You're fine."

"Did you even look?"

"Sundress, strappy sandals. Homecoming queen goes to the beach. Go get in the car like a good girl."

She held back a retort, he thought, and gave her father a kiss, performed the mandatory mirror check, and tripped out to his awaiting car.

Amanda was not pleased to discover Justin had parked within a few blocks of their destination and her complaints were incessant as they wended their way down Park Avenue. "You could have told me I'd be walking! My feet hurt."

"You never asked."

"Didn't I? Where are we going?"

"Alexander Street." He suppressed a smile.

"Really? You? You're not actually taking me to a club are you? That would be too hilarious. Don't tell me we're bar-hopping-- Do I get to be your DD? Trust me, it'd be totally worth it."

"Not exactly." He refused to answer any more questions until they arrived at the establishment cornered by Alexander and East, curlicued letters on front window announcing itself The Old Toad. An amphibian in a tuxedo held court by the front door. Amanda glared at the makeshift maitre d’.

"What is this?"

He bit back telling her she wasn’t going to catch anything. That would be too obvious. “The closest you’ll find to a gastropub between Toronto and Philly.”

Her forehead furrowed and a perplexed little frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. This was going well. “It’s a British thing,” he elucidated.

Amanda’s brow cleared and the sass returned. “Explains why they’re naming the place after road kill.”

Justin opened the door and scooted her up the step. “In you go.”

The interior was dark and heavy, solid -- and stolid. A partitioned room near the entrance held some promise, done in lighter woods with more space between the tables and summer evening sunshine streaming through the front windows. With a shake of his head, Justin negated that option and gently propelled her towards the bar (very long, very dark, very heavy -- was that mahogany?) in the back.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked politely. Amanda nodded, but he cut her off before she could voice a request. “This place is all about the beer. Order a chardonnay or some damned girly drink and you can find your own way home,” he hissed in her ear.

Amanda’s hazel eyes went big and dark with astonishment for just a moment before she retorted she hated beer.

“I’ll give you some time to decide. Here’s a beer menu. It’s descriptive, but I can help if you have any other questions. Those are by the bottle. The regular beers on tap are on the back page and the specials are up on the boards.” Amanda’s face was petulant, but he was intractable. “Hey honey, my rules tonight.” He let her sulk and turned to study the day’s selections chalked over the bar.

“Justin!”

He turned in the direction of the sunny voice, already knowing what he’d see -- petite and fresh-faced in jeans and a light cardigan; lean, dark, and business casual hovering protectively by her side.

It took him a second to force the smile. So good at any other time, but the last thing he needed now.

“We have a table already -- are you by yourself?” Amanda appeared at his side at that instant, looking gracious and radiant, all trace of sullenness removed. Melinda’s welcoming smile took an amused little upturn. “Or not, I see… but sit with us, please.”

How could he say no? Melinda rambled cheerfully as they made their way back to the booth at the other side of the (suddenly populating) bar, introducing herself and David to Amanda, mentioning they’d met her so long ago at her sister’s wedding. Something stirred in the pit of Justin’s stomach.

He’d have liked to have ordered a Scotch, straight up, but he had to play by his own rules too. He settled uneasily into the booth next to Amanda and made do with a Belgian Tripel. He came back to earth to find Melinda nodding sympathetically at Amanda’s plight.

“I understand, really. I used to think I hated beer. My dad’s a Labatt man, inoffensive, but not much going on, and the stuff they had at frat parties was far worse. Then I ran into Justin at a friend’s one night -- he was in my class, but we hadn’t talked much till then -- and he insisted I try a ‘Strawberry Blonde’… You could say it was a little bit of a come-on,” Melinda added wryly, pushing a few coppery strands out of her face.

Oh. God.

Amanda had only to turn and look at him, and he knew was going to exploit this tidbit into oblivion.

“I remember using the same line on you,” said David. “Pathetic, isn’t it.”

“Get her a framboise, Justin,” Melinda suggested.

“What’s that?” Amanda sounded doubtful.

“Raspberry lambic. Very fruity and sweet, hard to go wrong. More of a dessert thing, but it’ll be a good introduction. It’s practically a cordial.”

Justin thought it was letting her off far too easily, but his position was bad.

The next battle was the food.

“Caesar salad,” said Amanda firmly.

“Don’t be so provincial. I can’t believe you lived in Boston for six years.”

“Bangers and mash. Mushy peas. Is this child food?”

“I can’t speak for the peas, but the other dish is delectable. Very authentic.”

David and Melinda exchanged a look and began on the just-arrived thick chips with some relief.

“Vinegar?” Amanda inquired.

“For the chips. It’s good, trust me.” Melinda smiled conspiratorially. “If you don’t want anything too exotically British, try the Welsh rarebit or the fish and chips. They’re both very good. The specials can be a bit hit or miss, but mostly hit, honestly.”

After some deliberation, Amanda chose a curry dish, to spite the ‘provincial’ comment, Justin thought.

She liked it. She liked the chips and malt vinegar. She liked the framboise so much she ordered another and even went so far as to gingerly try a sip of Melinda’s Hennepin, then approvingly offer to split another bottle, resulting in what Justin judged to be ‘a good buzz.’

Oh, and she also liked Melinda, prompting not a small amount of panic in Justin.

He opened the car door for Amanda and decided her flushed cheeks and bright smile meant the night was a success. “So…” she began.

Justin cut her off. “I’m going to drive you home. And don’t expect me to say a word.”

*The Old Toad is actually a real place, and one I'm rather fond of. In case anyone's interested....

Nine

Posted on Friday, 14 July 2006

She nearly always wore jeans, and she looked so good in them. He liked the sweater. Pink. Real cute. She smiled at him and he closed the door with a soft click.

Ah, the pen. It was nearly ubiquitous; she’d try to wear her hair down and give up by mid-afternoon. A few twists and a handy pen and it was back up, but so soft and fine it seemed always threatening to escape. A gentle tug from him and it spilled over her shoulders, glowing firelight in the sun. He pulled her closer and breathed in -- so familiar, clean and herbal, just a little citrus. She kissed him near his ear, then his jaw, and then his hands went… everywhere.

He was 21 and on top of the world, crazy about her, and so lucky. His friends, they didn’t know a damned thing, always sniffing around after freshmen skirt, or worse-- He tried not to think about that. The less he knew, the better, he told himself; if anyone asked, they were all eighteen.

They’d come to their senses eventually. He’d found perfect, and there was nothing, ever, that would make him leave.

He fumbled with the buttons of her cardigan and she gave him a saucy little look…

Justin’s eyes opened slowly. He hadn’t been asleep, only a deep daydream, lulled by the music and the sunshine. He stirred in the squashy armchair and briefly contemplated rising. Then he gave in, let his body go slack, and let his daydream take it’s natural end. He knew it by heart… it had been the same for twelve years. He’d given up analyzing it; it was just something he let happen now and then.

As usual, he only felt a little guilty after.

Melinda has asked him to dinner that evening, but Justin felt he needed a day or two to shake the memory before he could look her -- or her husband -- in the face and not feel like the worst kind of fraud.

He wandered his way down the street to Jack and Aileen’s. Three small boys chased each other around the lawn, engaged in a spirited bout of Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, Spacemen and Aliens, or similar, judging from the howls. Jilly the Nanny and a young man Justin recognized vaguely as Intern Bobby were sharing a porch swing and chatting animatedly. Amanda sat on the porch stoop, absently stroking a young Lab. He took a seat behind her.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” She’d caught his pointed look at the younger pair. “Jack and Aileen are cool with it. They’re just friends, anyway. Knew each other from high school out in the sticks. He’s interning in your office this summer,” she added reproachfully. “I’d have expected you to recognize him.”

“I suppose I’ve seen him running around the…” Justin trailed off as Jilly began to get hysterical over one twin hitting the other with a wiffle bat. The resulting scuffle was eventually resolved with the promise (bribe?) of popsicles.

Amanda grimaced. “It was just a plastic bat.”

“Popsicles before dinner?”

“Jack and Aileen are out. Jilly and the boys ate at five. Come on, why don’t we go to your house and you can make me something more adult than mac and cheese for dinner.” Amanda unceremoniously dumped the puppy off her lap, evidently tired of children of all sorts for the day.

“What about…” Justin’s sense of propriety kicked in.

“Bobby’ll split once he gets his popsicle. Come on.”

Once she’d gotten him attending to a stir-fry, Amanda off-handedly thanked him and warned she ”couldn’t stay over” -- here Justin’s eyebrow shot up -- because she was “meeting a guy for coffee.”

“One night, two dates, two guys? I commend you,” Justin replied smoothly, but with some irritation.

“Oh believe me, I can pull it off. Did it all the time in college. Not so much anymore, since someone has guilted me into being a good little girl and looking for a proper job.”

Justin made a disgruntled hrmming sound.

“That’s all right, you don’t have to believe me. But since I know you luuurve to poke your nose in and tell me what’s what, I’ll let you help me with this interview stuff. What words would you use to describe me to a potential employer?”

“Duplicitous and manipulative.”

She gazed back calmly. “That’s fine, we can do this later. And don’t be jealous, baby, my coffee thing isn’t a date.”

The only riposte he could think of was beyond crass, so he said nothing.

“Don’t you want to know who it is?” Amanda prodded.

“I know you want to tell me.”

“I’m meeting with Evan Phillips.”

“And it’s not a date?”

“A sociable business relationship. A strategic friendship.”

“But Amanda, you have no business.”

“You know what I mean!” she trilled.

“No…”

“Don’t be difficult.”

Justin scanned the ceiling. What words would you use to describe this relationship?

“Are you sure Evan knows this is just about ‘strategic friendship’?” he asked dryly.

“If he doesn’t now, he will as soon as he sees me.”

Justin raised an eyebrow.

“I’m wearing pants! And penny loafers, in the name of all that is holy, and I haven’t done anything with my hair. Oh!” She fumbled in her purse. “Let’s not forget the glasses.”

Justin’s interest was piqued. He’d never seen her with them before, but there they were -- black-rimmed and angular, perched saucily on her nose. They made her look a little older, in a good way. Something else too -- it must be that old librarian cliché. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh, you know -- reading, writing, art-criticizing. Date-repelling.” She smirked at him.

He turned away from washing the dishes and took a long, critical look -- linen trousers, fine-knit green tennis sweater, dark hair unadorned, thick and glossy down her back, and those glasses -- he had to speak up for the good of mankind.

“You look pretty,” he said reproachfully. Amanda gave him a disgusted look.

“All right, what would you wear to telegraph romantic interest?”

“Pretty dress, lots of mascara, and something with toe-cleavage.”

He digested this. “I think you over-estimate man’s ability to decipher the social subtext of your wardrobe.”

“I tell you, he’ll get it!”

“Be careful, Amanda. Man is easily led down a primrose path.”

“All collective man?” she asked mockingly.

“Well…” he considered, “only man under a certain age.”

She just grinned at him.

*Bruce Springsteen, Leah

Ten

Posted on Monday, 17 July 2006

Justin took a news magazine out to the porch and waited for her, half expecting at any moment for Amanda to fly in, wailing about the iniquity of man in the guise of Evan Phillips trying to maul her outside the coffee shop despite her sartorial communiqué.

Of course, she might never tell him. She really did hate when he was right.

He was reading about a rather startling plot against Stephen Harper and the Canadian Parliament when she tripped up the steps with a six of cherry wheat beer in one hand, a coffee shop lemon bar in the other. She looked altogether too radiant for anything to have gone awry.

“I felt a bit bad about earlier,” she said, setting the peace offering on the table. “I’ll even have one, if you like.”

He nodded in acceptance and waited for her to tell him about the night.

“But I have to say you were all wrong. Evan understands exactly what I expect from this friendship. I think he was looking for the same thing. It’s amazing… tonight couldn’t have gone better if I’d planned it all myself. I don’t foresee any untoward complications in our relationship.”

Justin nodded again, wondering what she expected from her friendship with him. He couldn’t even say what he wanted for himself.

He shouldn’t have waited up for her. Between Melinda and Amanda, the past few hours had been tumultuous, even though it was all going on in his head.

“Why aren’t you talking to me? Amanda demanded. “Are you really still mad at me? I said I’m sorry. I brought you dessert and beer! I thought you’d like it -- what do you want me to do?”

“Take off your glasses,” he said abruptly.

She complied with a confused look. “What’s wrong with you? Have I done something to upset you… or do you always get this prickly when you’re wrong?”

“I’m sorry Amanda, but I’ll say good night now. I’m going to be very busy tomorrow.”

“Fine!” She replaced her glasses defiantly and grabbed the beer and lemon bar. “Forget I ever bothered you.” The porch door slammed shut.

The next morning the six-pack and a carefully wrapped lemon bar was at his back doorstep, With half a smile and half a sigh, Justin took it to the refrigerator. He knew what he had to do. He’d be late for work, but it was small price to pay.

Amanda was waiting for him on the Woods’ backyard patio. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. He took a seat next to her, eyes never leaving her face. “I was very snappish last night. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“Did I do something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did.” Her brows scrunched with a worried crinkle.

“No no… you were right, I do get prickly when I’m wrong.” The simplest excuse was the easiest. “I’m glad it worked out with Phillips.”

“You honestly didn’t think it would, did you?”

“Well… if you met me for coffee looking like that, I wouldn’t be hoping to just be friends.” He cleared his throat and stood up. “That is, if I was about ten years younger.”

Amanda looked up at him with sparkling eyes and a quirk of a smile. “I don’t know why you have to say that…”

Justin picked up his briefcase and strode to his car with a grin and tingle that made him feel exuberantly alive.

Saucy girl.

Amanda was waiting for him again when he returned from work. She conjured up two glasses and a pitcher of lemony iced tea, and Justin was happy to take off his tie and join her on the porch for a refreshment.

“I do have a favor to ask you…” she confided meekly.

He raised his eyebrows at her and leaned back in comfortable anticipation, but the request turned out to be far from what he expected when Amanda passed his a glossy food magazine.

“I want to make this for Daddy,” she pointed to the cover photo of a frothy-looking lemon and berry marbled cheesecake. “But I know I’m not up to it yet…”

Justin flipped to the recipe and skimmed the complicated looking list of steps involving curds and mousses. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not much of a baker, but I know someone who could help you…” He could already see the trainwreck this would make of his psyche, but what else could a friend do?

Oh, and he should have known better.

Saturday afternoon was blisteringly hot and thick with humidity. Lured by peals of feminine laughter and songs from his youth, Justin snuck over to the Woods’ open kitchen window. Something smelled good.

“He hates that!” Melinda exclaimed in a voice that left him in no doubt of who the “he” in question was.

Amanda laughed and said something he couldn’t understand. He ventured to look in. Melinda, her hair in two braids and wearing a skirt far shorter than he’d ever seen her in, walked toward the window carrying a box fan. Justin ducked. He waited till she’d settled it in and slowly rose. Amanda came into view, in shorts and a barely-existent camisole.

The fan obscured their voices, but he heard his name, another burst of laughter, and a quick look at Melinda told him she’d just said something a bit naughty.

“Justin!” Jack was crossing the lawn. Justin darted over to him.

“Please don’t shout.”

Jack looked over at the Woods’ house and suspicion crossed his face. “What were you doing?”

“I think I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“What are you talking about? Let me see.” Jack strode over to the window and peered in.

“Now I know what girls do when we’re not around,” Justin muttered.

Jack made an appreciative sound. “Okay… but what’s going on?”

“They’re baking. It’s my fault.” Justin joined his brother at the window. Melinda was perched on the counter, legs swinging. Amanda raised her arms and began pinning up her hair.

“All right, I can’t watch this. I’m married.”

Justin shook his head, turning around with Jack.

“What? You’re not.”

Justin shook his head again, but whipped around when he heard Amanda say something about “glasses.” Melinda looked intrigued. Mortified, he hauled his brother back to his backyard.

“You have to tell me the story behind this.”

“Amanda wanted to make a dessert for her dad. It looked complicated, so I handed her off to Melinda.”

“That was stupid.”

“Hmm.”

“Get over there before any more damage is done!” Justin hesitated, Jack smirked. “You know you want to.”

With Jack along for the fun of it, Justin walked (more dignified, this time) back to the Woods’ yard and knocked lightly on the open patio door.

Amanda put her popsicle in the sink and jumped up to greet him. “We made you something too,” she said, pulling a towel off a steaming dish. “Blueberry-blackberry cobbler.

Justin took a bite and glanced over at Melinda. She met his eye and gave him a dangerously sassy little grin.

At dusk, Amanda and Justin lay on lawn chairs in the Woods’ backyard, trying to catch a breeze and a reprieve from the heat.

“I didn’t know you lived with her,” Amanda ventured.

“Three years.” Justin paused, then decided sometimes the truth was the easiest. “Thought I might marry her… just didn’t work out.”

Amanda was silent for a long moment. “That’s too bad… she’s exactly your type, isn’t she?”

“That’s what I’ve always though.”

Amanda nodded, looking thoughtful.

Eleven

Posted on Tuesday, 5 December 2006

“I’m your brother, and I’m telling you to come over. Now.”

Justin’s plans for the night had included the newspaper, a trade journal or two he needed to catch up on, and a pile of unshelled pistachios he was looking forward to working through in a leisurely manner. “I don’t want to.”

“No, you do. Trust me. You want me to tell the boys Uncle J. doesn’t want to see them? And we have cake. It’ll be fun…”

Powerless in the face of Jack’s extortions, Justin found himself at his brother’s door ten minutes later -- and much to his surprise, greeted warmly by a petite young brunette. As they hugged, he shot a questioning look over her shoulder at his smirking brother.

“June flew in late last night. Thought you’d like to see her.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” Justin murmured. “How was the flight? Are you here to stay, or do you have to go back to Florida?”

‘That depends on a few things. I hope not. I’ll be here for at least a few months though… this is a much needed break.” Justin shooed the puppy off the couch and they sat down. “I felt awful for missing Carrine’s wedding. I just couldn’t get away. But of all people, I should have been there.”

“Carrine understands. She is so proud of you,” Justin reassured the piano teacher’s star pupil. June had been in Florida for the last several months, working on the score of an upcoming animated children’s movie. “Besides,” he continued, “Jay’s own step-son couldn’t even be bothered to show up, so no one will be coming down on you.”

“Yes he-- are you sure? Frank didn’t come to the wedding?”

“Cancelled at the last minute. I wasn’t clear on the reason.”

June’s forehead creased. “He told me—“ She cleared her throat. “I saw him a few times in Florida. We’re in the same kind of business and-- I must have been mistaken. I was so certain he was going…”

“Nope,” Jack came in carrying an armful of drinks. “Jay’s the nearest thing to a father he’s ever had, and Frank can’t even be bothered to show up to his wedding. Talk about ingratitude.” Relieved of the drinks, Jack scooped up a twin and him aloft. “Hey buddy. Promise me that when I decide to trade in Mommy for a younger model, you’ll be at the wedding. I’ll make you the best man…”

“Okay,” said the child.

Someone slammed the back door. “You are such a jack—“

Jack swung his son down. “Hey there sister-in-law. You’re right, I am a Jack. How are you? Hardly heard you come in!” He ruffled Amanda’s hair as she passed by, earning himself another disgusted look.

“You’re a pig. You don’t deserve my sister.”

Aileen signed and sipped her ginger ale.

“You’re fun when you’re cranky. You could work on the sense of humor though. Am I right, brother?”

“Wasn’t really appropriate,” said Justin quietly.

Amanda threw herself into a chair and finally noticed June. “What are you doing here?” Jack, clearly in high spirits, laughed, but Justin was shocked and fixed her with a castigating look. “ Well sorry. I thought she was still in Disneyworld, or whatever.”

“Barring any problems, I should be done with that project for awhile…” June began.

“And we’re all very eager to see it,” said Aileen firmly, giving her sister and husband reproachful looks. “Let me get you another drink, dear. I think you’re going to need it.”

June looked a little uncertain, but got up to assist her hostess. Amanda, refusing to be outdone by their guest, followed them, first giving her brother-in-law a smack. Rubbing the back of his head, Jack sidled up to his brother. “You should ask her out.”

“She’s practically my sister!”

“Don’t be stupid. I meant June.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you think I wanted you to come over?”

“She’s twenty-four.”

“So what? Look,” he hissed, “you two are so similar… and there’s an attraction. I can see it.”

“No you can’t, and there isn’t.”

“If I know you -- and I do know you -- you’d love to meet a woman who’s just like you. And this one is. How fun! Who knows what hot acts of politeness and decorum you two might come up with?”

“Stop it.”

“I’m doing you a favor. Walk her home tonight. It just might lead to some well-behaved fun. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“You’re out of your mind.” The women returned with the previously promised cake.

“Just think about it.”

“I won’t.”

“Jack, stop trying to corrupt your brother,” Amanda snapped. “It isn’t a bad thing that he’s decent.”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“Please don’t start bickering.” Aileen sounded a bit weary.

Justin knew the taxing effect of keeping the peace between Jack and Amanda and took pity on his sister-in-law. “Could you two just—“

His brother interrupted him. “Tell us what you’ve got going on, June. Are you doing any concerts while you’re in town? All Amanda’s done since she graduated is hang out with our nanny and try to catch a boyfriend--”

“I’m leaving!“ The room shook as Amanda left the house even more emphatically than she’d entered. One of the children started to cry.

“Amanda?” Jack called after her. “If I see cracked glass, you’re paying for it, young lady!” Aileen rolled her eyes and dabbed at the her sister’s sloshed drink.

“You two really bring out the best in each other, huh?” Justin observed.

“Yeah…. I always wanted a sister.”

“Let’s be thankful your parents stopped at two,” Aileen murmured to Justin.

“Right… well, you two have some children to de-traumatize, so if June has no objection, I’d be happy to escort her back to sanity...” he rose and offered his hand with a smile.

He’d always been fond of her. And of course, he had no objection to toying with his brother…

They walked slowly, taking the chance to catch up.

“So you’ve met Frank Church? None of us have seen much of him since his grandmother dragged him down to Florida when he was in high school. What is he now, 27, 28?”

“Thirty,” said June. “He left when he was fourteen.”

“What’s he like? I’m sorry, that was rude. I just thought it was so odd that he would miss Jay’s wedding…”

“Charming,” said June automatically. “Very, very charming. Gregarious, outgoing. Clever with people. Handsome. But… maybe not quite a person you’d want to trust completely.” June caught herself. “I’m sorry, that was rude.” Justin laughed and she acknowledged her mistake with a smile. “Never mind. I really don’t know him that well.”

“He should be coming to visit Carrine and Jay this summer. You can renew your acquaintance.”

“Hmmm.” She placed her hand on his arm and stopped him. “It was so kind of Jack and Aileen to invite me over. They make me feel so welcome. I didn’t tell them before we left—‘

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You and your brother are very similar.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“You’re both good men. Honest and compassionate. And I think you have the same sense of humor. But you hide it better,” she teased. They’d arrived at her mother’s house. “The same blue eyes. Thank you for walking me home.”

“I’m glad you’re back.”