Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(41)
Author: Abby McDonald

“It’s the symbol for gold,” Lucy explained, as Grace sat, reeling. Her blankness must have shown, because Lucy added, “You know, for commitment. Like a wedding ring.”

Grace couldn’t muster a response.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Lucy said again, still wide-eyed. “It has to be our little secret. Promise?”

Grace was still trying to understand how her necklace had wound up around another girl’s neck as a symbol of undying love. “Sure,” she managed.

“No, I need you to promise,” Lucy insisted. “I’d be forever in your debt, and it’s only the teensiest secret.” She beamed at Grace across the table, so eager that Grace wilted in the face of her enthusiasm. What else could she say that wouldn’t reveal her own pathetic — oh! so pathetic — hopes?

“OK.” Grace nodded, the very word feeling like a betrayal. “I won’t say a thing.”

Amber and Missy soon bustled back in, and Lucy departed under a load of diaper bags, wafting promises to get together soon and “do lunch.” “I’m so glad I met you!” She beamed at Grace on the doorstep. “I knew we’d be friends, just from the way Teddy talks about you. You know, you’re like a sister to him!”

Grace managed a vague murmur of assent before shutting the door in her face.

“What a sweet girl,” Amber cooed, moving to rearrange the vase of lilies cascading from the hall table. She plucked one from the heavy crystal vase, breathing in the scent. “I love that accent of hers, so classy. I bet she’ll have the boys swooning over her in no time.”

But Lucy already had. At least, the only boy who mattered. But why wouldn’t Theo fall for her? Grace thought of the visitor morosely: her pretty auburn curls, and button nose, and light sprinkling of freckles. Yes, Lucy was cute, and sweet, and clearly more adventurous than Grace would ever be: venturing out half a world away from home.

Once she had the picture of them together, Grace couldn’t stop the images from coming, just as Lucy had described to her: them walking hand in hand on the beach, taking romantic trips out on his boat, watching the sun go down, leaning in for a perfect kiss . . .

Grace turned abruptly to Amber. “I’m going out tonight, to a party,” she said, before she could change her mind. “Do you think you could help me, with clothes, and my hair, and everything?”

Amber squealed. “Absolutely! I have this amazing black minidress, with diamanté spangles —!”

“I meant more, jeans and a shirt,” Grace interrupted. “It’s just a casual, hangout thing.”

Amber took a step back and assessed her with a well-practiced eye. “Shirt yes, jeans no. I have the cutest denim mini for you to borrow.”

Grace must have blanched, because Amber laughed, scooping her into a hug. “Relax, girl. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll have boys lining up to fill your dance card.”

Worn out, Grace let Amber steer her upstairs, toward the great wonderland of her walk-in closet. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that it didn’t matter who was lining up — it didn’t even matter what she wore. The boy Grace really wanted couldn’t have been further out of reach.

Harry lived in a sprawling Spanish compound set in the hills above Bel Air. The moment Grace stepped through the doors, she realized what a mistake she’d made. Far from the small gathering Palmer had promised, the marble-floored house was thick with kids from school: juniors, seniors even, and a host of those designer-clad cliques. The air vibrated with a heavy bass, red plastic cups littering every surface. This was a full-on party, and Grace couldn’t be further from the partying mood.

She paused in the marble-floored lobby. Every instinct said to turn back, but what was her alternative: pull on a pair of sweatpants, and join Hallie sitting shivah in the gloom of her bedroom, tormented by thoughts of Theo and Lucy together?

“You came!” Palmer ambushed her, a red cup in one hand; her trilby hat already askew, with one lone feather drooping over a kohl-rimmed eye. “What are you wearing?” She stood back to take it in.

Grace tugged the hem of her skirt. “Amber made me wear it,” she said quickly. “It’s dumb, I know.”

“No!” Palmer grasped her hand and made Grace do a twirl. “It’s hot! I just didn’t know you had it in you.” She giggled. “To paraphrase what a very inappropriate math teacher once said to me, ‘Miss Weston, you’ve got legs.’ ”

Grace flushed. She tugged again, but the hemline on the denim cutoff skirt didn’t budge: it remained six inches above her knees, which, in Grace’s opinion, was a good four inches higher than necessary.

“Seriously, you look great.” Palmer grinned, already dragging her into the crowd, pausing only to pluck a cup full of Lord knows what from the makeshift bar and thrust it into Grace’s hand. “Look, there’s Harry!”

Grace paused by the French doors at the back of the den. Outside, the backyard was lit bright with dozens of tiny lanterns, the brave exhibitionists already stripped down to their bikinis in the hot tub. She could see Harry hanging out with some of his skater friends, eating pizza from a stack of boxes by the pool.

“Ooh, and who’s his friend? He’s cute.” Palmer’s eyes widened as she noticed the boy beside him with dark curls and a punk-rock T-shirt. “Let’s go say hi,” she added, with a meaningful grin. “After all, he’s our host. It’s only polite.”

“I don’t know . . .” Grace hung back, reluctant.

Palmer rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that. You didn’t come here, wearing that, if you didn’t want to have some fun.”

Grace’s expression must have revealed something, because Palmer lit up. “See, I know it. Deep down, your soul is crying out for some recreational flirting and light make-out action.”

Grace couldn’t help but laugh. “Recreational flirting? Who says that?”

“I do.” Palmer beamed, pulling a lip balm from her pocket and swiftly smearing a fresh layer on her lips. “And I want some. So let’s go!”

Grace saw the anticipation on Palmer’s face and relented. “OK,” she said. “But don’t you dare leave me alone with Harry!”

“Why?” Palmer shot back. “Afraid you might succumb to your hidden passion and throw yourself into his arms?”