Posted on: 2008-07-07

Emma leaned over the kitchen island with her chin propped against the palm of her left hand. George was lying on his back on the floor. His t-shirt had ridden up just a little, enough to expose a band of taut, stomach muscle, and while Emma had briefly contemplated tickling him there, she dismissed the idea as quickly as it'd come. George was extremely ticklish and would probably jerk in protest, hit his head against the sink pipes, and not appreciate the gesture at all. Especially when he was doing Emma a favor in the first place.

She picked up a hammer and twirled it like a heavy baton. "Thanks for helping me fix the sink."

"No problem. Didn't have anything better to do this afternoon."

"That's what I figured."

Underneath the sink, George smiled wryly in the dark. Trust Emma to be the only person unimpressed by his nine New York Times bestseller books. She seemed to think he did nothing with his time, publishing books from thin air. She probably wouldn't believe him if he told her that he was already hard at work on number ten.

Rather than correcting her on that score, he changed the subject. "So how was the wedding?" George asked, referring to the marriage of their two mutual friends, Anna and James, and the wedding he'd had to miss when he couldn't postpone an important business trip to meet with his editor in New York City.

"It was beautiful! You should've been there. Anna and James were so incredibly happy. You couldn't help but be infused with their happiness."

"Even you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I just figured that since their marriage cost you two tenants, you would've cried the loudest."

Emma sniffed disdainfully. "If there were any tears, I assure you they were tears of joy." There was a mysterious sound. It sounded like a snort and it quite possibly could have come from underneath the sink cabinet, but all Emma heard was George asking, "Pass me the wrench, will you?"

She scrunched her face and stared at the mess of tools sprawled out next to George's bottom. Gingerly stepping around him so as to avoid touching his person, she picked up what she imagined must be a wrench and handed to him.

The "wrench" was promptly thrown out of the sink cabinet, followed by George himself. "That's not a wrench, Em. That's a ratchet."

"Oh."

"This," he held up a different tool, "is a wrench."

"Oh."

"I thought you were going to help me fix the sink. Maybe learn a few skills yourself?"

"Why would I do that when it's so much easier to pick up the phone and call you on speed dial? Besides, isn't my keeping you company help enough?"

It was more like a distraction, but George wasn't about to admit that. Instead, he rolled his eyes and then rolled himself back under the sink. Emma continued her ruminations over the wedding as George tinkered with the pipes. "I wonder, do you think Anna and James will name their firstborn after me?"

"Why on earth would they do that?"

"Because I set them up!"

"I don't think renting them apartments that just so happened to be situated next door to each other counts as setting them up, Em. Now, if you'd interviewed them and rented them apartments next to each other because of what you learned during those interviews . . . ."

"Well maybe I did!"

George picked himself up from the floor and silenced her with a look. "You can't rewrite history, Em." It was a sharp rejoinder, but he softened it by saying, "But I'm sure Anna and James will be forever grateful for providing them with the opportunity to run into each other." Then he chucked her under the chin.

Emma stared confusedly at his backside as he bent over to return his tools to their toolbox. George had been acting funny lately, one minute playing the part of an irritated lover and the next a benevolent older brother. She wasn't sure what to make of his mood shifts, especially when he was neither a lover nor an older brother. "Finished with the sink?"

"Yeah. Should run perfectly now. Why don't you give it a try? I've already turned the water back on."

Emma pulled the lever and watched as muddy water came sputtering out before running clear. "You did it! You fixed it!"

"As promised."

She threw her arms around him, but just as quickly pushed herself out of his embrace. "Ew. You smell."

"Well that wasn't quite the thanks I was expecting," but he took a sniff and agreed. "I've been cooped under that dark and hot sink for the better part of the last hour. Guess it took its toll on me."

Emma wrinkled her pert little nose. "You'd better wash up before you come to dinner tonight." It was their standard exchange. George provided free, on the spot fix-it services and Emma plied him with home-cooked meals.

George crossed his arms and leaned against the sink, flashing her an irreverent grin. "You gonna let me borrow your shower, Em?"

Her eyes grew big and round and her cheeks flamed before she ran out of the apartment. Away from him. "I should think not!" she exclaimed hotly over her shoulder. "My sister may be married to your brother, but that hardly makes us siblings."

George followed Emma at a more sedate pace, not unlike a leopard stalking its prey, and chuckled to himself. It was too easy goading Emma. He loved the way she fired up every time he threw a suggestive comment her way. As he stared at the back of her neck, watching her lock the apartment door behind them, he muttered to himself, "Brother and sister, no indeed we are not."

"I don't know," Elinor answered. "And it's really none of our business what goes on between them."

"But don't you wonder, El? I mean, they spend so much time together!"

Elinor bristled on her friend's behalf. "Emma and George's family share a long history and they've been friends since childhood, not to mention they're also current neighbors," was her ever practical reply.

"But that's what makes everything so romantic!"

Elinor tried not to roll her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked instead, nodding at the pile of clothes draped over every inch of her sister's bed. "Your bed is still somewhere underneath all those clothes, isn't it? You haven't randomly gotten rid of your bed and decided to sleep on top of your clothes instead, have you?"

It looked as if Marianne had emptied her closet of all its contents and dumped them in the center of her bedroom.

"Of course I haven't. I'm getting ready."

"For?"

"My date."

"With?" Even as she asked the question, Elinor had a feeling she wasn't going to like the answer. Her younger sister was usually more forthcoming; in fact, there were times when you couldn't get her to stop sharing even though you didn't want to be inundated with all the minutiae Marianne was wont to share. Her reticence could only mean one thing. That Elinor wouldn't approve of her younger sister's date. And in the next second, Elinor knew why.

"Greg Willoughby."

"Greg Willoughby!"

"What?" Marianne whined petulantly, much like a child who'd been denied a piece of candy. "I like him."

"I thought I warned you away from him."

"Why? Because Christopher-I'm-a-stick-in-the-mud said so?"

Elinor frowned. That wasn't a very nice way to describe their neighbor, Christopher Brandon, who rented out the bottom half of George Knightley's row house next door. "I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that about Chris, especially when he's only looking out for your best interest."

Marianne rolled her eyes. "Somehow, looking out for my best interest always ends up in my fun being ruined. And what gives him the right anyway? He's not my dad. I never asked him for my opinion."

"Chris knows Greg. He said --"

"I know what he said; you already told me. I don't care, El, I think you're wrong. Greg's not that kind of a guy. I know you don't approve, and I'm sorry about that, but I'm not going to stop seeing Greg just because of something our next door neighbor has implied. Especially when Greg has only ever treated me with the utmost respect and kindness."

"And by that you mean he buys you baubles, treats you to expensive dinners, and takes you to fancy dance clubs. That's not exactly the best basis for a meaningful relationship, Marianne."

"You're not my mother, El. And I'm twenty, no longer a child, but an adult capable of making her own decision." Angry and feeling rebellious, Marianne grabbed a bag and started shoving articles of clothing into it at random.

"What are you doing?

"I can't stay here right now, not when you get like that -- all thin-lipped and disapproving -- I'm going to Lucy's place and I'll get ready there."

"Marianne --"

But it was too late. Her sister had already left their apartment.

Reluctant at first, it hadn't taken Will long to see the wisdom in his friend's plans and also fell in love with their new home.

Charlie, ever the friendly and sociable half of the pair, had immediately thrown a party and invited their neighbors as a means to get to know one another. Though initially skeptical, Will had found himself enjoying their company. By the end of the party, he'd befriended them all. Except one.

Elizabeth sat outside by the pool, determined to enjoy the last of the summer weather and have an hour to herself before she was to meet up with the girls at Elinor's for a girls' night of chick flicks, bad food, and good gossip. She turned a page in her book and looked up when she heard footsteps approaching. She hoped it was Marianne who'd stormed out not five minutes earlier, obviously in a tear. Maybe she'd be able to talk some sense into the young woman. If only Marianne wasn't so passionate and prone to dramatics. No offense to Elinor, whom Elizabeth adored, but Marianne was a bit of a chore.

It wasn't Marianne though. It was Will.

It was just her luck, to be stuck outside with him and no one else around. Knowing their paths would cross when he walked past her to the spiral staircase leading up to the second floor apartments, and wanting absolutely nothing to do with him, Elizabeth chose the only available option left to her. She got up and walked to her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Will stopped in his tracks and sighed, his left hand tucked in his pocket while he slapped his briefcase against his right leg. It wasn't the first time she'd given him the cut direct. It was his own fault though, of course. The afternoon he and his roommate had moved into their apartment had been an especially scorching one. The fact that he hadn't been crazy about Charlie's choice of apartments had only added to the ire begun by the heat. A sky rise, after all, would've had elevators thus alleviating the need to schlep everything up the stairs themselves.

They'd just finished carrying up Charlie's bed and were about to go back down to fetch his when Charlie leaned over the balcony and said, "Well, well, well, will you look at that?"

Will joined his friend at the balcony and looked over. "Isn't she the most gorgeous creature you've ever beheld?" Charlie breathed.

"The blonde?"

"Yeah." He was already bewitched.

Will grunted his approval. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. He was still annoyed by the whole situation.

"She's an angel. I bet this place is filled with other hot babes," Charlie rambled on. "And to think, you didn't want to move here."

"Are we going to move my bed or what?" Will asked exasperatedly.

"Oooh, look at that. The blonde has a friend." He strained to listen. "I think they're sisters. Look, Will. She's pretty good-looking too, don't you think?"

With a weighted box in his arms, Will humored his friend and quickly glanced over. "She's tolerable, I suppose," he said in answer. "If you like that sort of a look."

He hadn't truly meant it. He hadn't even really looked when Charlie pointed her out. He certainly never thought she might have overheard him. But Elizabeth had, and she'd made certain he knew that when they met.

Will sighed; it was just his luck. Now his best friend was dating Elizabeth's sister, and he would have liked to know Elizabeth better himself, but she would have nothing to do with him. He'd already given up groveling. He wondered what, if anything, it would take to get himself into her good graces. Since it seemed an unanswerable question, he set aside thoughts of Elizabeth for the moment and focused on his laundry instead. Hefting his laundry bag over his right shoulder, he stepped out onto the balcony and ran into Fay standing outside her own apartment, two doors down.

"Eddie?" he asked.

"What?" Fay turned away from the courtyard, her attention distracted. "Oh! Hey, Will." She tried not to blush at having been caught staring at her roommate and best friend.

She needn't have worried. Her secret was safe with Will. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing. I was supposed to do a few laps with Eddie, but when I came back out, Mary was already down there."

Shrieks of feminine laughter resounded from below, followed by splashes of water and then Eddie's voice, "I'm going to get you!"

Will looked over the railing again and saw what he'd somehow missed the first time. Eddie and their neighbor from downstairs, Mary, flirting and playing aquatic aerobics.

"I'm sorry, Fay."

She shrugged her shoulders, like it was no big deal. Nothing new. "So what exciting things are you up to on a Friday night?"

Will pulled at the drawstrings of his overloaded laundry bag. "Just laundry. This is the first of many loads."

Fay looked askance at her friend. "A handsome and successful man like you? Keeping company with dirty clothes on a weekend? You're ruining my image of you!"

"Sorry, but the only party I'm attending tonight is the one in the laundry room." Fay tsked. "I know, but it's been a long week. Even if I had somewhere to go, I wouldn't feel up to going. So it's just as well I don't have any plans, and with Charlie taking Jane out I thought I'd take advantage of having the place to myself for once and just kick back. Chill. Watch a movie or whatever. What about you?"

"Movie night with the girls."

Will nodded. "Ah yes. The ritual, last-Friday-of-the-month hen party. Well, I'd better get started on this first load. I'll see you later. Have fun with the girls."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Will, and have a good night!" Fay watched him leave before turning her attention back to the pool. It absolutely sucked. She wasn't sure when she'd started to fall in love with her best friend, her oldest friend in the world, and her current roommate, but she wished she'd never started loving him. It was torture being in love with someone who always looked right past you.

Oh, sure, when he needed someone to get the stain out of his necktie he noticed her. When he came home hungry, starved and was too tired to cook dinner for himself, he looked in her direction. And when he needed someone to proofread his PowerPoint work presentation at two in the morning, he always proclaimed her the best ever.

But when it came to the wining and the dining, and the romance, she might as well have been in Antarctica she was that far removed from his radar. Even as she watched Eddie catch Mary in his arms and toss her playfully towards the other end of the pool, Fay grabbed the base of her hair and tugged in frustration. And disgust. Why did she allow herself to be a doormat?

The problem was, for all his cluelessness, Eddie was also incredibly sweet. They'd met as children in cotillion class when they were only ten years old. Fay had been the wallflower and the last girl who was always picked, until Eddie came along. Even though he'd been one of the popular boys in the class, he'd seen something in the shy and scared little girl and drawn her out, literally, into the middle of the room. In defying the taunts and jibes from his friends, he'd made a friend for life. Now, fourteen years later, here they were, still together, but not.

Fay wished she could somehow make him somehow take note that when the chips were down, hers was the hand he always sought. Just as she always reached out too him. Through the good times and the bad, they'd seen each other through a lot. Two years ago, when Fay had broken up with her boyfriend he'd holed up on the couch with her and a surplus of tissue boxes. And last year, when his grandmother had died, she'd stood by him all through the memorial service and burial, holding an umbrella over their heads.

There wasn't a single person on this planet who didn't know her as well as Eddie. Just as she was convinced she was the only person who really understood him. They'd traded too many hopes and dreams over late-night popcorn sessions and traded one too many secrets during margarita marathons for anyone else to know them better. Why couldn't he see things her way?

"See things what way?"

"Oh! Eddie!" Fay wasn't aware that she'd spoken aloud, or that Eddie had left the pool and was now standing dripping wet before her.

He had a towel draped across his naked shoulders. He grabbed an end and towel-dried those sun-kissed golden locks of his. Fay unconsciously bit at her bottom lip.

"Talking to yourself again?"

She blushed. Though whether it was from being caught having a one-sided conversation or from the sight of his damp chest, Fay couldn't say. "Something like that."

Eddie chuckled, attributing her pinking cheeks to the former. He turned towards their apartment but paused with his hand over the doorknob. "I thought you were going to change and then come swimming with me."

Fay didn't want to admit that she'd chickened out the minute she'd seen Mary in her lime green bikini, swimming towards him in the pool. "Oh yeah, about that, sorry. I ran into Will and got stuck in a conversation with him."

"That's too bad. I was looking forward to hanging out with you." Fay's heart soared to hear him say he'd missed her. "But I guess I'll have to dunk you another time. Meanwhile, you can keep me company instead while I get dressed for dinner with Mary tonight. What do you think I should wear? And I made dinner reservations at Mansfield's. What do you think? Think she'll like it?"

And just like that, Fay's heart took a dive. Being with Eddie was like riding a never-ending rollercoaster. Still, she kept herself strapped in as she kicked the door shut behind them and followed him into his bedroom to help him prepare him for his date with their neighbor.

She turned her lights back on, sat down at her desk and answered the phone. She regretted her decision immediately.

After an hour-long conversation in which an irate parent talked at Annie, she entered her friend's apartment looking like she'd been run over by a steamroller. Not once, but twice. Sometimes it really sucked being a high school guidance counselor. Fortunately, Elinor was waiting for her with a margarita in hand. "Bless you."

"Bottom's up. You look like you need it."

"I really do. Mrs. Bertram called this morning and wanted to know why we weren't doing more to separate her daughter from Rush Worth, even after she'd come into my office a week before to tell me specifically that Julia was to have no absolutely contact with that ‘good-for-nothing' Rush. As if we could. I rearranged her entire class schedule so that they wouldn't have classes together anymore, but Julia's a walking set of sixteen-year-old hormones, and with a name like Rush the boy might as well have ‘temptation' plastered across his forehead. Nothing's going to keep Julia from her ‘one true love.'"

Elizabeth snorted and topped off Annie's drink.

"This afternoon, I had to deal with Harriet Smith."

"Oh no," her friends collectively groaned. They were well-acquainted with Annie's ‘Harriet Smith' stories. "Who broke her heart this week?" Fay wanted to know.

"Robert Martin. She can't understand why he dumped her after only three days when she was the most dedicated of girlfriends: she gave him gifts, wrote him twenty notes a day, called him every night, waited for him in front of the school every morning, and walked with him to every class in between."

"Stalk-er," Elizabeth said in a sing-song voice, and topped her drink off again.

"By the time I finished with Harriet, she'd gone through three boxes of tissues and one of my blouses. It's a good thing I started keeping a change of clothes in my office for her waterworks.

"Then, right before I was about to leave for the day, I got a phone call from Mrs. Collins. Her son got a B minus on his latest history exam and she wanted to know what I was going to do about it as this was going to affect his chances of getting into seminary."

"Seriously, they care about stuff like that?" Fay asked. "I thought you just had to love God. A lot."

"Mrs. Collins is obsessive about her son and seminary. If he so much as misses a question in class, she'll hear about it and want to know how that's going to affect Billy's chances of getting into seminary. I get a phone call from her at least twice a week."

"I'm so glad I don't have your job," Elinor said.

"Amen," added Fay.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to walk in complaining. Again."

"It's alright," Elinor waved away her concern. "We weren't talking about anything anyway."

"We were just mixing drinks and prepping the food," Elizabeth said. "Before Jane went on her date, I managed to convince her to make her awesome nachos for us. Pizza should be here in an hour, and there's cake and ice cream in the fridge for later."

"Sounds sinful, but heavenly. Oh, and Emma, I'm sorry. I totally forgot my rent check. I'll have it to you on Monday, I swear."

"It's alright," Emma told her. "I know you're good for it, and I know where you live," she joked. She also knew the financial difficulties her friend had been going through lately. Annie's father, who had always been more adept at spending money than he was making money, had recently declared bankruptcy. She'd been sending home any spare cash she could scrape together ever since, though none of her friends could understand why. By Annie's own accounts, he wasn't exactly the doting father. But he was family, Annie had argued, he was her father, and the girls hadn't been able to find fault with that.

Besides, she was a giver by nature. One had only had to look at her job to understand that.

"Oh, I have some news," Emma started. "I found a new tenant for Anna's old apartment."

"Who?"

"A guy. A handsome, single, eligible bachelor, I might add."

"Is that supposed to mean something to us?" Elinor asked.

"I'm just trying to look out for you girls, and Anna's old apartment clearly has good karma. She met James while living there, didn't she?"

"You don't want to keep him for yourself?" Fay asked.

"She doesn't need a handsome, single, eligible bachelor," Elizabeth said. "She has George."

Emma flushed. "George and I are just friends!"

"What a pity," Fay drooled dreamily. "He's so hot."

"Hey! That's my George you're talking about."

"Aha! So now he's ‘my' George."

Emma threw herself back into the sofa. "This is ridiculous."

Annie took pity on her. "So tell us more about this new tenant. What's his name and what does he do?"

"You guys are going to love this. I was practically salivating when he told me. He's a navy fighter pilot."

Jaws dropped around the room. "Really?" Elizabeth practically squealed. "Wow. I do so enjoy a man in uniform."

"You can stop licking your lips," Fay told her. "I've got dibs. You already have William."

"Ew! What?!"

Fay rolled her eyes. "You're so dense, Elizabeth, you must know William's got a thing for you, and deep down you're attracted to him too. That's why you persist in holding this irrational grudge against him even though he's tried to explain his comment and apologize for making it."

"You're just sticking up for him because you like him."

"He's a good guy," Fay agreed. "And you're just being stubborn."

"Children, children," Elinor interceded. "Emma, please continue."

"I was thinking he'd be perfect for Annie anyway."

"Really?" Annie chuckled. "And why's that?"

"Because he has a real no-nonsense, take-charge type of attitude, and I bet he wouldn't let anyone walk over you. He's certainly not going to let anyone walk all over him."

"Annie does need that," Fay conceded.

"Excuse me, but I am sitting right here, and contrary to what I know you guys believe, I am not in need of a knight in shining armor. Or a bodyguard."

"You may change your mind once you see him next week," Emma told her. "That's when Fred Wentworth moves in."

Annie's hand paused for just a moment before she continued reaching for a nacho. She was careful to wipe the stunned look from her face, but she hadn't done it quickly enough for Emma to not notice. She'd guessed correctly, Emma realized, Annie knew this Fred Wentworth. There was a past there. It was the only explanation for the slight tremble in her voice when she'd deftly changed the subject by suggesting they start the movie, thus starting a small war between Elizabeth and Fay as to which movie they should watch first.

It was something Emma would have to investigate later, when the two of them were alone.

Until she heard light footsteps walking past.

"Kind of late to be sneaking out, isn't it?"

She heard him trip over himself, and then some muttered oaths. "Emma?"

"Mmm."

"What are you doing sitting out here?"

"Why not?"

"Do you do this often?"

She nodded and shifted over, making room for him to sit on the edge of her lounge chair. "I like coming out here when no one else is around. It's so quiet and lovely. I can be alone with my thoughts."

George frowned. He looked at Emma bathed in only the moonlight. He wasn't sure if he liked the thought of her sitting out here all by herself in the middle of the night. "This can't be safe. If I'd known . . . ."

"You know we're gated here. It's perfectly safe."

She tilted her head. "What are you doing creeping out of here so late? Should I be concerned? Jane Fairfax is very lovely," Emma hinted, alluding to Mary's new roommate.

"She is ‘very lovely' indeed, but she is not for me. As I've tried explaining to you before. She and I were once an item, but not anymore. I was at William's, actually. Since someone bailed on me for dinner, I had to seek my fare elsewhere. He invited me over to watch the ballgame and then we just hung out."

"Sorry about that." Emma winced. "I honestly forgot it was girls' night."

"That's alright. How was it?"

Emma thought of her friends. That was the beauty of being a landlord. They'd come to her as individuals, with nothing more than hopes of finding a suitable place to live. Emma looked beyond that. She sought a connection, people she would genuinely like, and befriended them after they moved in. Her little apartment complex was her family; she cared about them and they all cared about each other.

Of course, not everyone got along. She thought of Elizabeth and William. That would one day change.

And not everyone knew what was good for them. She thought of Eddie and the little love triangle with Fay and Mary. One day things would be righted.

There were even hopes of mending past wrongs, Emma thought, as Annie and their soon-to-be neighbor came to mind.

"It was really good, just as our monthly gatherings always are," she answered finally.

"You've got that smile on your face," George noted. "I know that smile. You're matchmaking again."

"Maybe, maybe not." Secrecy danced across her twisted lips.

George laughed. Emma was incorrigible. "What about yourself, Em?"

"Who, me?"

"Yeah, you," he tweaked her nose. "You're so busy worrying about your tenants' love lives you seem to have forgotten all about your own."

She grew quiet and pondered the question. He was right. Ever since her bad break-up from Frank Churchill several years ago, she hadn't given men or dating much thought. Maybe that's why she'd been so focused on those around her. It filled the void left in her own life.

Then she thought of what Elizabeth and Fay had said earlier that evening. It wasn't a thought that had never crossed her mind. It just wasn't an idea she'd been brave enough to pursue. George had always been in her life, and she hadn't wanted to disturb the status quo. But here they were, just the two of them, and perhaps it was time to make that first step forward.

She wondered what he would think about that.

"Maybe I was waiting for you to ask me out," she told him.

She was pleased to see she'd caught him off guard. "Me?" he practically squawked.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, because . . ." he could come up with nothing.

The less certain George was, the more confident Emma grew. Rising as gracefully as a feline, Emma turned around. "There's been another change in dinner plans. Tomorrow night? You're taking me out. I'll be ready for pick-up at seven."

"Dinner? Tomorrow?" He was still stuttering behind her.

"It'll be fun," she promised. "Good-night, George, and don't forget to lock the gate on your way out."

Emma laughed to herself as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, trailing her fingers lightly against the iron balustrade.

What an interesting day it'd turned out to be.