Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(31)
Author: Abby McDonald

“And wipe out my profits? No way. Besides, aren’t they always saying we need to learn this stuff — female empowerment, or whatever?”

“Feminism is all well and good, but I’m afraid you’re missing a piece.” Grace held up the jack. “This car isn’t getting any higher.”

Palmer swore, and hit the side of the convertible. “What am I going to do now?”

“Sorry.” Grace began packing up the pieces, but when she looked up, Palmer was gazing at her with an unreadable expression. “What? Do I have some on my face?”

“No, I was just thinking . . .” Palmer grinned. “Do you have a car?”

“Sure. I mean, my mom does.”

“How many does it seat?”

“Oh, no.” Grace caught on. “Sorry, but, I’m not into this kind of thing.”

“You mean, making money?” Palmer beamed, fluttering her eyelashes the way Hallie always did when she wanted something. “Come on, you drive, I guide, we’ll have them back at their hotel in an hour! I’ll split the fee with you,” she added.

Now it was Grace’s turn to pause. “How much?”

“Twenty bucks a head, between us.”

Grace turned to the group, calculating. That was . . . more than she’d make selling overpriced macaroons at the store tomorrow.

“You get a free hat!” Palmer added, producing a baseball cap from a bag in the backseat: bright blue and emblazoned with a replica of the Hollywood sign. She modeled it, striking a pose. “Fresh from the runways of Paris, the envy of every fashionista in town!”

Grace couldn’t help but laugh. Palmer seemed nice — if a little insane — and besides, what else did she have planned other than her ever-thrilling routine of homework, reading, and studiously not checking her e-mail?

“OK,” she agreed, feeling almost cheerful. “I’m in. But on one condition: you keep the hat.”

Palmer grinned. “Deal!”

Palmer with her alternative star tour earned Grace not just a healthy bump to her savings account, but also a new friend — and with it, a place to sit at lunch, someone to do homework with over coffee, and the hope that, perhaps, there were some relatively normal kids in the 90210 zip code, after all.

If Palmer could ever qualify as normal, that was. The result of a high-powered attorney’s brief, misguided liaison with an NFL star (Palmer’s own words), Grace soon discovered that Palmer was a force of nature with an unrivaled collection of vintage hats. Grace suspected that she could rule the school’s social scene if she chose, but Palmer preferred to spend her time on madcap entrepreneurial projects that would build her a business empire by the time she was twenty.

Popularity was fleeting, she told Grace with the bitter smile of somebody who had seen, firsthand, the damage believing otherwise could do. Self-sufficiency would last forever. Grace, still pining for her old home that was, by now, nothing but a construction site, knew exactly what she meant.

“Here’s your cut.” Palmer grinned, counting out bills the next weekend, after their early-morning tour. Strike while the competition was still snoozing, that was Palmer’s philosophy — and while jet lag still reigned supreme. “Don’t you just love the British?” She sighed happily. “They have no idea how to tip, so they just keep thrusting money at you out of sheer politeness!”

Grace gave her a knowing smile. “I think it’s more how you stand there, looking offended, so they think they’re committing a grave cultural faux pas.”

Palmer shrugged. “You say ‘potato,’ ” she sang, “I say ‘exchange rate.’ Anyway, want to grab some breakfast with our entirely legit gains?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a family brunch thing.” Grace drew up outside Palmer’s house, a sprawling ranch-style property just a few streets over from Uncle Auggie’s. “Mom likes us all to get together once a week, it makes her feel like she’s actually involved in our lives.”

“Hey, you’re lucky.” Palmer passed over the wedge of bills, and jammed her trilby hat on at a jaunty angle. “My mom requires daily status updates and hourly check-ins. Or at least, her assistant does.” She climbed down from the van. “See you later for a movie? I’ll text.”

Back at the compound, Grace found Dakota helping to set the outdoor table for breakfast — swatting away Rosita’s protests as he ferried fruit bowls and clean silverware from the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” Grace remarked, stealing a strip of bacon from one of the serving plates. Yum.

Dakota murmured noncommittally, as Hallie breezed out from the guesthouse. “Where have you been?” Hallie exclaimed, collapsing into a seat. “Don’t tell me you’ve started jogging, or whatever it is Amber does to stay so skinny.”

“Jog? Ha!” Grace joined her at the table. “I was just hanging out with Palmer, this girl from school.”

“Way to go!” Dakota cheered. “Making friends, getting out there. Soon you’ll be the Queen Bee of Beverly Hills!”

Grace rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help feeling a small sense of achievement. Was it pathetic that making one lone friend counted as such an accomplishment, she wondered, or was that canceled out by the fact that someone, somewhere, didn’t think she was a complete loser?

Hallie reached for the toast. “Shouldn’t we wait for Auggie and Amber?” Grace asked.

“They’re at the salon,” Hallie replied, pouring juice. “Amber said something about having his back waxed?” She shuddered. “Can you imagine? I wouldn’t go near a guy’s back hair, not even if he was a billionaire.”

Grace coughed.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Hallie told her, not at all apologetic. “We must not speak ill of the trophy wife!”

Grace gave her another stern look. She didn’t know why Hallie insisted on holding her grudge against Amber — to Grace, it was like holding a grudge against those adorable yappy dogs: sure, they could be annoying sometimes, but they were just so eager and cute, you would have to be heartless to cast them aside.

Grace had to admit, she’d been dubious at first. The age gap, and Amber’s penchant for pink Lycra workout gear had indicated a gold digger of the most basic kind, but after watching her and Uncle Auggie together for months, it was clear: the connection between them was genuine, however unconventional a love affair. Amber showered Auggie with affection, he adored her unconditionally right back, and together, they gossiped and laughed and mercilessly teased everyone all the day through.