Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(50)
Author: Abby McDonald

“How do you know all this?” Hallie demanded. “Wait, did she tell you?”

Grace threw herself on the couch. “Why wouldn’t she? She thinks I’m her friend. She doesn’t know . . .”

Hallie wasn’t so sure.

“And Theo?” she asked. “What does he say?”

“He didn’t.” Grace sat up, eyes puffy. “He didn’t say a thing. Not that he’d met someone, or that they were still together. It’s probably the real reason he was he in L.A., that time he came to visit. He came to see her.”

She gave Hallie a dejected look, so defeated that it took Hallie’s breath away. She sank on the couch beside Grace, guilt suddenly blossoming in her chest. All this time, she’d figured Grace’s feelings were a childish crush; something to tease her about. But this wasn’t the end of something light and silly, this was real heartbreak on her sister’s face.

“How long have you known?” she asked gently.

“Since October.” Her sister curled up. “It was this big secret, she swore I couldn’t tell.”

“So all this time . . . ?” Hallie remembered their fight — how she’d accused Grace of being a coward, when, really, she’d been suffering just the same as Hallie: pining for a boy who was out of reach. “Oh, Grace . . .” She reached out and stroked her sister’s hair.

“It’s my own fault.” Grace sighed. “I shouldn’t have thought we could . . . That he felt . . .”

“But he did. He does!” Hallie insisted. “Everyone can see.”

Grace shook her head. “No, he’s just a friend. He was being nice to me, that’s all, after Dad died. I was the one who wanted it to be something more.”

Hallie tried to smile. “At least you finally admit it.” Grace stared back blankly. “Your feelings,” Hallie explained. “That’s the first time you’ve ever come out and said you like him.”

Grace laughed, hollow. “Right. Because that helps me now.”

They sat in silence for a moment. “Sorry,” Hallie offered at last. “For being so, you know . . .”

“Oblivious and self-involved?” Grace suggested, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips all the same.

Hallie grinned, relieved. “I was going more for single-minded, but sure.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference”— Grace sighed —“even if you had known.”

“But we could have been in it together: losing them.”

Grace looked at her, plaintive. Resigned. “No. You were right. He was never even mine to lose. You at least had Dakota.”

“Have,” Hallie corrected quickly. “Or, at least I will, come Monday.”

Grace rested her head against Hallie’s shoulder, snuggling closer, the way they used to do as kids, bundled up in the den watching Disney movies. “I hope so,” she said. “I really do. Because nobody should have to feel like this. Not even you.”

“Thanks!”

“You know what I mean.”

Hallie wanted to skip the Coates Family’s Christmas Nightmare altogether, but Grace insisted they at least drop by. “Theo will know something’s wrong, otherwise,” she said forlornly.

“So?” Hallie blotted her lipstick, already breathless with excitement for Dakota’s show. “It is!”

“But I can’t have him know that. Please, Hallie,” Grace added, “I mean it. The one thing that would make all of this worse is if he knows I’m upset about Lucy. It would ruin everything!”

To Hallie, it seemed like Theo had done all the ruining himself, but Grace was insistent, and so early Monday evening found the sisters outside the penthouse of a snooty doorman building on the Upper East Side. “Another penthouse.” Grace sighed, stamping her feet on the rug.

“It’s because they like looking down on people,” Hallie replied, before the door swung open.

“Girls!” Portia cried, blinking at them. She was wearing a severe white dress with diamonds twinkling at her throat — not so much the merry widow, Hallie noted, as the positively glowing one. “What are you . . . ? I mean, welcome!”

Hallie smirked. Ruffling Portia’s precious feathers? That was worth coming for all on its own.

Grace exhaled. “Didn’t Theo say he invited us?”

“No, no, it must have slipped his mind.” Portia gave them a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Anyway, come on in. The more the merrier!” She waved them inside.

The girls followed her in. It was one of those echoing, old-style apartments: tall windows and bare floorboards, cluttered with antique furniture and tight little groups of stiff-backed guests in cocktail outfits sipping wine. Only the tree in the corner, and the faint sound of carols on the stereo, gave any hint that it was a holiday party. “Help yourself to a drink.” Portia waved at the circulating waiters. “Juice, of course. Dash is in the playroom, but I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“Thanks.” Grace smiled politely. There was a pause.

“Well, then . . .” Portia blinked. “Lovely to see you. We’ll catch up!” She turned on her perilously high heels and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

“These people sure could use some Christmas spirit,” Hallie murmured, looking around. “They look more like Scrooges in here.”

“Shh,” Grace hissed. “They’re family.”

Hallie rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, family was something you chose, not got lumbered with because of your father’s brief lapse in sanity. These people may be tied to her by marriage and law, but they were clearly no relation. Just look at all this tweed!

“We only stay an hour, max,” Hallie reminded her. “I don’t want to be late for the show.”

“We’re not even going in,” Grace argued. “It’s sold out. And I’m not going to freeze on the sidewalk for hours when —”

They were interrupted by a burst of laughter. Lucy was in the corner, wearing a demure pale-pink dress and chatting happily with a trio of white-haired old ladies in pearls. Hallie felt Grace tense beside her. “Pink?” Hallie snorted quietly. “With her hair? Please.”

Grace gave a weak smile, then took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “We better circulate. Go say hi to everyone.”

“Make it loud,” Hallie added. “So the old folks can all hear.”