Chapter 1: Shattered Dreams and Bright Beginnings

Posted on 2009-04-03

Emma Woodhouse stared speechlessly at the face of her friend, Taylor Weston, who was looking appropriately apologetic. Until just moments earlier they had been roommates. Emma had only moved in to the new apartment a few days earlier, and her boxes still lay haphazardly about the rooms, stacked in little geometric castles. The walls smelled of fresh paint, and they were sitting on the hard metal of folding chairs because the movers weren't bringing her couch for a few days. She had been so excited to finally move out of the dorms and into her own apartment. She had never expected that her first full day would begin in such a depressing manner.

For several moments she could do nothing but stare at Taylor, whose face looked more and more guilty as the minute passed. Taylor adjusted her dark hair in her pony tail and scratched nervously at her elbow, trying to distract herself from the uncomfortable situation. Emma wished she were dreaming. She hoped it was only a nightmare and that she would wake up very soon to find her best friend just down the hall, sleeping in her new bedroom in the posh apartment they had chosen together, but she knew very well that it was no dream. Dreams never left that bad taste in the back of her mouth.

"But you already paid your half of the security deposit," Emma finally managed to say, swallowing hard and tucking a strand of her long, blond hair behind her ear. This pragmatic statement was all she could come up with. Her elaborate dreams for senior year at Harvard University were laying in ruin around her.

No more Friday margarita nights, even though she had bought that blender specifically for such purposes. It would remain unused and dusty on the counter, a complete waste. No more days of baking brownies and cookies or sharing meals together with Taylor.

No more grocery shopping together, splitting the costs and making home cooked culinary masterpieces in their kitchen. In Emma's imagination, all their household appliances had sparkled, the chrome of the mixer shining like a silver star, as she and Taylor wore adorable aprons and heels and spooned out pot roast to each other. That vision was lost forever.

No more spending hours watching pointless, trashy TV together, laughing at the poor souls who signed up to be mocked by all of America. Instead, Emma would be alone, with no one to help distract her from her school work and while away the hours. She'd be alone and she would be lonely.

Taylor winced at Emma's sentence. "And you can keep my half of the deposit," she said hurriedly in reply. "I know I'm a terrible friend for running out on you like this, but Michael's finally ready to commit. How many hours did you have to listen to me whine about when he was going to grow up and ask me to live with him? I thought it was never going to happen. Of course he had to wait until I'd already made plans with you," Taylor muttered. She looked up at Emma, pleading with her eyes. "If I don't move in with him now, I'm afraid it'll be the end for us. I'm just so happy he's finally ready to move forward with our relationship. You understand, don't you Emma?"

The nasty part of Emma's mind wanted to vehemently reply no, but looking into the excited face of her friend she felt the small amount of anger dissolve away, and she grabbed Taylor's hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Of course I understand. You're right. You should do whatever you need. I want you to be happy with Michael."

After all the work they had done scouting out the perfect apartment, Emma couldn't believe that Taylor was seriously ditching her to move in with her boyfriend. They'd spent hours combing the city, as Emma had some serious qualifications about what type of establishment she could possibly live in. She needed large windows that let in all the sunlight. She wanted it within walking distance of the campus. She absolutely needed a gas range stove and hardwood floors. And it was very important that she was also within walking distance to one of the local bars. She needed some way to unwind after a stressful day of class, and she certainly wasn't going to drive to Boston to do it. The search had taken many weeks, but they had finally found the perfect apartment, and now Taylor was leaving her! It was inconceivable.

Taylor reached forward to give Emma a grateful hug. "I knew you would understand. Emma, you're the best. I'll still visit all the time. It'll be just the same as if I did live here with you."

"You'd better visit me," Emma replied, but she had serious misgivings. This was not what she had signed up for.

Taylor stayed to chat for some time, and when she finally left, Emma set about unpacking her things, her mood seriously dampened. She felt like a pricked balloon. All summer she had imagined the greatness that would be her senior year, and she'd been abruptly forced to face the truth. Forget great. Forget mediocre even. Her senior year was possibly going to be the worst of her academic career.

She'd spent her whole summer in her home town in Connecticut, spending her time being a life guard at the local pool. She loved it because she got to loaf all day in the sun. Occasionally she blew her whistle, but mostly she just got tan. It'd provided her ample opportunity to day dream about the upcoming year. Somehow classes had never entered her head. She'd only ever thought about the evenings and weekends out with her friends. Now her best friend had left her.

She wanted Taylor to be happy, but at the same time she had difficultly fathoming why it meant so much to Taylor to move in with Michael. She couldn't understand it at all. Emma had never been interested in dating. In fact, she was dead set against it. College men weren't any more mature than they had been in high school, and she didn't want to waste her time with them. She'd had plenty of offers and she occasionally went on dates with the more attractive ones, but nothing ever became serious, and she never wanted it to. When she graduated and entered the real world she thought she might look in to finding a serious relationship, but for now she avoided them. She was young and clever, she was pretty, and she did not need to be tied down in a dysfunctional relationship.

And dysfunction was all that her peers seemed to be capable of.

Emma sighed, unwrapping glasses in the kitchen. How unfortunate it all was. Taylor and Emma had met during their sophomore year at Harvard after sharing a medieval history class together. They were put into a group project together. Emma was happy to discover that they shared very similar senses of humor, as well as the same taste in clothing. What was more important though was that they were the same size and were frequently able to share clothing. Their friendship instantly solidified and they had been close, inseparable really, ever since. Emma had always found it amusing that, while she couldn't remember anything at all about the class, she could remember perfectly how much fun she had had with her new friend. Emma put the glasses down on the counter top and sighed, feeling lost. What was she going to do?

"And I'm the one who introduced them! That's the worst part. You think they would show me a little more consideration and respect, but no, Taylor just said 'there there' and then ran off to be with her boyfriend," Emma finished indignantly, wiping down the table and the plastic neon colored chairs. She had watched one of the children spill at least half of his carton of orange juice on the chair and the floor, so she knew that the seat of the bright green chair was going to be a sticky mess.

Still, she scrubbed with more vigor than was actually necessary, taking her feelings of anger and betrayal out on the chair. She'd been ranting for nearly ten minutes while she and Grant Knightley finished closing the day care for the day.

Emma had volunteered at Mrs. Goddard's day care during the first semester of her freshman year as part of a community service requirement. She had picked it from the list of options because it had seemed like the easiest one. She had always liked kids, so why not work with them? She had no idea that she would fall in so much love with the place. The day care was small, located in a residential neighborhood not too far from Harvard's campus. They watched around 12 children from the ages of four to ten. Emma and Grant worked from 3 until the day care closed at 6 o'clock.

She had loved working with the children; they brought her endless amounts of amusement, and Mrs. Goddard was kind and easy going--in short an excellent supervisor. Grant had started volunteering for his community service around the same time as Emma, and they'd both stayed on after they'd finished all their hours. After three years of steady experience Mrs. Goddard let them basically run the afternoon shift. She spent most of the time in her office, where Emma knew she was practically buried under miles of paperwork.

The day care was offered as a free service to underprivileged families. Most of the people on staff were volunteers, and an annual charity fundraiser made up the rest of the budget. Local churches and businesses were the main contributors to funds. The toys and furniture were all donations as well. Without their help, Emma was sure the day care would not have been able to make it. Emma made sure that her father donated a sizable sum each year in the Woodhouse's name. She wanted to make sure there would always be a place for the children.

"If it weren't for me, they wouldn't even know each other," Emma said, still grumbling about Taylor and Mike. She wiped crumbs and leftover pencil shavings into her hand before throwing them in the trash.

Grant was shaking his head, his light brown hair glinting in the fluorescent lights. "You did not introduce them."

Emma turned to him, her hand on her hip in a perfect picture of sass. She looked at him defiantly. "I did too."

Emma thought it was funny that Grant seemed to be the only person who ever contradicted her. She had a gift for getting people to follow her, and she used it frequently. He seemed immune to her charms. Although occasionally it was refreshing, most often she wished that he would just go along with the things she said. No one else seemed to care if what she said was the complete truth or not.

Grant deposited the blocks he had been holding into the toy bin and then gave Emma a disbelieving look, a smirk playing across his mouth. "Didn't they meet at the One Act play performances?"

"Yes, but only because I got sick and left early. Then Michael just happened to sit in the seat next to Taylor, which wouldn't have been empty except for me." Emma turned away loftily and continued wiping down the table. "See. All because of me."

Grant laughed and scoffed, walking over to straighten the small plastic chairs on the other side of the table. "I see. So because you were too hung-over to sit through a play, Taylor owes you for her entire relationship. Obviously, the only thing holding them together is the fact that they met by sitting next to each other. There's no way they actually like each other."

Emma couldn't help laughing at that, and she caught his eye. "It was divine intervention, you see. I couldn't have picked a better time to throw up."

"It was just luck. If it hadn't happened then, they would have met another way. Mike was always interested in her. I doubt you had anything to do with it at all."

Emma flipped her hair over her shoulder, tired of the discussion. She knew she was right, and she didn't care if Grant believed her or not. "In any case, that's not the point."

"There was a point to all this? I hadn't realized…" Grant said sarcastically.

"Knightley, what am I going to do?" Emma asked forlornly, ignoring his previous statement. "I can't live alone all year; I'll go crazy. In two months you'll find me in the corner drinking cooking sherry and eating my own hair." Emma had started seriously, but was straying far in to the ridiculous. "I'll have on a big, flowery muumuu from K-mart and a bonnet made of tin foil so that the aliens can't get my brains." She could have continued but Grant interrupted, laughing at her.

"On the bright side, you wouldn't really need a roommate; you could have perfectly good conversations with yourself."

She laughed in surprise, her smile wide and carefree. She held up her hands a few moments later. "Okay, I'm serious now. What should I do?" She gave him a pleading look. As much as she joked with him, she valued his opinion highly. He was a senior, like her, but unlike her, he always seemed to know exactly what to do. He was a master of common sense. She knew he never did stupidly impulsive things that he seriously regretted later, like she did. Each of his actions was carefully calculated and planned, and he generally made the right move. Emma envied him for it.

"And it's safe to say that you don't need someone to help pay the rent," he began, and Emma mouthed the word 'No'. Her father was an extremely wealthy banker, and he was paying for everything. He could have afforded to purchase the entire apartment building without a second thought.

Grant nodded, and Emma watched his slate blue eyes stare off in to the distance, going blank for a moment while he thought. He turned and focused on her again. "Why don't you put up a flier around campus? I'm sure someone is looking for a place to live." He shrugged. "If that doesn't work, I might know some people who'd be interested."

Emma smiled slowly and brightly as what he had said sank in. It was the perfect idea, of course. She'd been too distraught to even think about a new roommate, but she was sure it would be easy to find someone. People put up those fliers all the time in the mail room. It would work perfectly because she would have all the power to choose who she wanted to live with. She'd give some interviews and pick the best candidate. Most importantly, she'd no longer be alone.

"That's brilliant. Thanks Knightley!"

He gave her a wry smile, and she helped him finish stacking the chairs. She looked around the room to check for anything more to do, but they were finished cleaning for the day. Emma was always amazed by how trashed the room was by the end of the day. The children were like little tornadoes, flinging away everything in their paths. The toys were always far out of place, the chairs were halfway across the room, and Emma didn't know how, but there were always leftover articles of clothing like socks laying in the corners and under the tables.

Even when the room was empty, Emma still got the impression of children, like their echoes were still running, laughing and playing. She smiled before turning off the light. Grant was already waiting by the door. They walked outside together, separating as they walked to their vehicles. She waved goodbye to him as she got into her car. She couldn't wait to get home to make her fliers. How many exciting possibilities there were in getting a new roommate.

Emma smoothed her hair and adjusted her small head-band. She'd worn it because it was trendy, but it was hurting her ears. She didn't like the way it poked. She paced restlessly for a moment before walking to the bathroom to check her reflection. She immediately got rid of the headband and ran her hands through her hair to straighten out the kinks. She looked in to her own brown eyes for a moment thoughtfully before deciding to put on a little lip gloss. She was interviewing two people who had responded to her flier, and the first candidate was due at any time.

Emma reviewed what she knew already. Harriet Smith was coming to the apartment at one o'clock. She was technically a senior like Emma, but she had transferred in to Harvard her sophomore year, and so she was registered as a junior. Emma knew she played soccer, but had never met Harriet before. They didn't seem to associate with the same group of people outside of class.

The intercom buzzed, and Emma snapped the top back onto her lip gloss. She hurried over to let Harriet up. She had time to smooth her shirt and pick off a few pieces of lint before there was a timid knock at the door. Emma put on a bright, false smile before swinging the door open. Emma felt her smile ease in to something a bit more natural as she got a good look at Harriet. She looked nervous, but neat and presentable, and Emma thought she was easily one of the prettiest people she had seen up close. They were opposites, and perhaps that was why Emma thought her so striking. Emma's hair was long and honey blond while Harriet's was a dark chestnut brown. Her eyes were dark blue and Emma's were light brown, and Emma, being rather tall and lanky for a girl, was a good six inches taller than petite Harriet.

Emma liked her immediately. She seemed harmless and good-natured, like a little bird. "I'm Emma," she said, offering her hand. She ushered Harriet inside. "It's nice to be able to put a face with your voice. Let me show you the apartment."

She saw Harriet's awestruck expression and couldn't help smiling. She was used to the apartment, but she could see how nice it looked through Harriet's eyes. The dark, hardwood floors matched the woodwork on the large windows and expansive arches. It looked expensive and impressive. Emma's furniture and decorations gave the rooms a bright, airy feel, and all the rooms looked professionally decorated, not like a college student's first apartment. The staple beer posters and tacky Christmas lights were nowhere in sight. Emma had a knack for décor and she knew it. Still, she felt inclined to let Harriet in on the downsides.

"The floors are really creaky, so they're not good for light sleepers. I'm sure the windows will be really drafty in the winter. There's only one bathroom, and its cabinets aren't really functional…" But every feature on Harriet's face expressed delight.

"This place is amazing."

Emma glowed with pleasure and showed Harriet into the empty bedroom. "My bedroom is down the hall. But this one has a pretty nice sized closet too." Emma watched as Harriet explored the apartment like a small child, muttering the word 'wow' over and over.

As they came to the close of the tour, Harriet turned to Emma excitedly. "This place is great. I'm definitely interested. I would love to live here. You know, I always wondered where you lived," Harriet said shyly. She blushed lightly and looked down. "I always saw you walking around campus last year, and I thought you looked so put together and trendy. You looked so cool. I was nervous to meet you today. I thought that there was no way a girl like that could be nice, but you are."

Emma put her hand on her chest, deeply flattered. "How sweet," she murmured. She made her decision in a moment. She would cancel her other interviews. She no longer cared about the other applicants. Harriet was obviously the best candidate. She took a breath and spread her arms out wide, encompassing the room. "The apartment is yours, if you don't mind sharing it with me," Emma joked.

Harriet looked up in surprise. "Really? But we haven't talked about costs. I really don't know if I can afford…I can only pay so much…"

Harriet stammered the amount that she could pay. Her offer for rent was much below the actual costs, but Emma waved her off, unconcerned. Money was not an issue. Her father would take care of it. Harriet looked dumbstruck, but Emma was filled with glee. She loved the fact that she could help Harriet. She was such a darling girl; she deserved the apartment.

Harriet broke out into a shy, dimpled smile, still blinking away her surprise. "Wow. When can I move in?"

Ch 2: The Greatest of Intentions

Posted on 2009-04-09

Emma was never happy unless she had some kind of project to keep her occupied.

She had to keep busy, otherwise a restless, nagging feeling crept into her bones and she ended up doing something impulsive, spur of the moment, generally ill-planned and badly executed. She had the proof in all the unfinished scarves and blankets she'd tried to knit, the scrapbooks with only a few of the pages decorated, the paint by numbers with only a few colors filled, and the new books she'd never quite got around to reading, with perfect spines and pristine corners. As soon as her first excitement dwindled down, she couldn't be bothered to complete anything. She had the ambition and the greatest of intentions, but none of the perseverance needed to complete half of the things she started. She was simply too impetuous.

She couldn't have felt better about Harriet moving in because suddenly there were hundreds of small things to get accomplished. She didn't have the time or the space to be bored. First, there were boxes and furniture to haul inside and unpack. She still had several boxes of her own to put away too, along with everything of Harriet's. She liked how easily the apartment seemed to absorb Harriet's things. The rooms had been all her own, but now there were touches of Harriet everywhere, her toothbrush in the bathroom, her plates and cups in the cupboards, a few of her posters on the wall.
After they finally managed to arrange all of their possessions, the business of actually getting to know one another came next. Harriet was such a pretty girl, and Emma wanted to be friends with her. And Emma almost always got what she wanted.

This wish was made difficult at first by Harriet's shy demeanor. Harriet was timid, always afraid of making a blunder or saying the wrong thing. She stuttered and turned bashful the moment Emma started up a conversation. Emma was very flattered to have someone so much in awe of her around, but she wished that Harriet might loosen up a bit She wasn't that intimidating, after all.

Harriet soon became her next big project. It wasn't difficult for her; she'd always known how to talk to people. She had the gift of gab and she was most definitely going to use it. She simply had to figure out where to start with Harriet.

One night, she ordered Chinese take-out for both of them. Harriet had been moved in for almost a week and Emma was tired of the civil, polite, dull conversations they always seemed to have. She was ready to move a little deeper than that, and she knew just what would help Harriet lose some of her reserve.

Emma opened a bottle of wine, and poured them each a glass, enjoying the quiet glugging noises it made flowing out. She had always felt that there was something so grown-up about ordering food and the feeling was enhanced now that she was in her own apartment. Apparently independence floated out of the small white cartons with red temples on the side along with the spicy, peanut-oily smell of the food.

"I know the words 'Chinese food' and 'wine' usually aren't synonymous, but I wanted to celebrate you being all settled," Emma said, raising her glass. They had officially unpacked all of their belongings.

Harriet smiled, surprised and happy, a bit of pink tingeing her cheeks as she clunked her glass lightly on Emma's. "Thank you," was all she dared to say.

Emma furrowed her brow. It wouldn't do; she had to get Harriet to open up. She quickly came up with a topic she knew would get Harriet talking.

"I was thinking about you earlier today. Transferring schools must have been really difficult for you." Here Harriet nodded emphatically. "Why did you transfer? What was your other school like?"

Harriet's mouth, with its natural pout, turned down further into a little frown. She took a sip before speaking. "It was awful. I didn't have any friends, no one to talk to, and my roommate was so mean. The professors didn't seem to care at all. I had no motivation to do my school work. I wasn't interested or engaged in anything. I just always stayed in my room. I really hated it."

Emma sighed sympathetically, but she was very pleased with how the conversation was going. Harriet had started out haltingly, but as the amount of wine in her glass got smaller and as she got more in to her own story she became more animated, gesturing wildly. It seemed she had only needed some encouragement and an interested listener. Emma provided both.

"--then after I transferred, everything was better immediately. I was meeting people, and I loved my classes. Some friends convinced me to try out for the soccer team. I had played in high school, but quit when I was at my other school. I missed it a lot. I think it was partly why I was so unhappy. It felt so good to start it up again. It really gives you a sense of camaraderie. Your teammates become like your sisters."

"I always wanted a sister," Emma mused, swirling the wine in her glass. "I always felt like I missed out on something, not having any siblings. But my parents divorced when I was very young, and then my mother died, so there wasn't a chance."
Harriet nodded. "You're not missing much." Harriet had many younger siblings. "Especially being the eldest. My parents were always the strictest with me. I always wanted to be an only child. You get so much more attention."

Emma laughed. "I guess everybody wants a taste of the life they didn't get."

As the days passed, Harriet continued to confide in Emma, and in no time they'd become close. Emma liked developing their friendship; Harriet was just so adorable. They didn't say it, but Emma had come to regard Harriet as the younger sister she'd never had. She hoped Harriet would look up to her in return.

Harriet wasn't exactly a kindred spirit, but Emma enjoyed her friendship nonetheless. Emma didn't know whether it was because Harriet was so much shorter than her physically, or whether there was something inherent in the nature of their friendship, but she couldn't help but mother Harriet. She just had an urge to help the girl reach her full potential. She seemed so sheltered and naïve, and Emma had so many things to teach her about life. She felt just like a wiser, older sister.

Emma's timing was perfect, really, because as soon as she'd completed project Get-to-Know-Harriet, fall semester began and she had all her classes to keep her occupied. Though sometimes it had felt like she would never make it, her last year had finally arrived. She had tried to give herself a lighter schedule than in other years, but she wasn't certain she had succeeded. During the first week she didn't have much time to spare as she got herself organized for the upcoming months. One thing was for certain: she had a lot of research to do before she could even think about writing her senior thesis, which was a frightening and daunting task in itself.

Emma had been looking forward to her senior year for almost all of her academic career. In her mind, the words were tinged with gold. She liked the idea of appearing as the intimidating and wise upperclassman. She'd faced the stigma of being a lowly freshman, and now it was her turn to rule the school. Not that she actually planned on terrorizing anyone. Appearing intimidating and untouchable was quite enough for her. She didn't have many opportunities to implement her ideas as she wasn't ever around any freshman. She didn't share classes with them, and she didn't go out to many of the open parties on campus any longer.

Oddly enough though, what she mostly felt during the first weeks was not triumph or achievement, but a sense of loneliness. The people she had been closest with through the years had all graduated and left her behind, and she didn't really know any of the younger students. As Taylor had suddenly become distant because of her boyfriend, Emma was very glad indeed to have Harriet as a friend.

Emma sometimes doubted her ability to maintain any friends while managing to complete all her homework. She felt it was often one or the other. She couldn't have a rocking social life and a 4.0. She'd have to become a hermit to get it all done, or disregard her grades completely to have any fun.

She was sitting in her living room surrounded by five open History textbooks when Harriet came home from her classes one evening. She was on the phone. Emma snapped out of her daydream to listen to Harriet's end of the conversation.

Emma squinted her eyes, giving Harriet a calculating glance. Harriet's voice was much higher than normal, and she was even giggling from time to time. Emma knew it had to be a boy. But which one?

One thing she had learned right away was how much Harriet loved the concept of love. All the DVDs she owned were love stories. She watched every romantic movie that came on the TV and the sappier the better. Harriet was always ready with a box of tissues and the insatiable urge to root for the underdog, be it the homely girl next door or the hopeless geek, pining away for the prom king or queen. It was obvious that she wanted her own sappy love fest.

She was fairly obsessed with the idea of finding someone to love. Unlike Emma, she'd come to college with the 'ring by spring' concept ingrained into her, and unfortunately for Harriet, she had never found the man to give her the ring. Emma knew she was always on the look out. She went on more dates in a month than Emma had been on in her whole life, and yet somehow they never worked out. Harriet was unlucky in love.

Her rebound rate was even more astounding to Emma. Harriet would come back from a bad date completely devastated. She'd mope and cry for days at a time, eating pints of ice cream and watching The Notebook on repeat, and then suddenly a week later go out on another date with someone new like she hadn't been crying her eyes out only 24 hours earlier. Harriet was not the type of girl Emma was used to living with.

When Harriet hung up her cell-phone , Emma gave her a knowing look. "So who're you flirting with now?"

Harriet laughed, looking sheepish. "There's this boy…"

Emma moved her books off the sofa to make room for Harriet, who rushed over to sit by her.

"We both took a math course this summer, and we've been talking ever since then. He's so funny and nice. I have the biggest thing for him."

"And his name is?" Emma asked impatiently, laughing. She wondered which of their acquaintances it was. She'd introduced Harriet to a lot of the boys she knew. Hadn't Bret taken that class…?

Harriet grinned. "It's Rob Martin." A dreamy look came over her face.

Emma, on the other hand, was not impressed.

"Isn't he younger than us?" was all she had to say, her tone incredulous.

She thought she'd had a class with him too her sophomore year. Or had it been her junior year. Didn't he have brown hair--or maybe it was blond. She had a vague idea that he wore glasses. Whatever his looks, Emma knew that he'd made no impression on her whatsoever, which was a terrible sign in a potential love interest for her friend.

Worse, Emma knew he was one of those computer tech nerds. She was sure he must be seriously lacking in social grace. For Harriet to be interested in such a little nonentity…Emma wouldn't stand for it. Harriet could do so much better! She wanted the best for her new friend, and the best was most certainly not Rob Martin.

Worse still, Emma didn't know what she would do if she lost another roommate to a boy!

Harriet's face fell slightly at Emma's lack of enthusiasm. Emma had risen to the occasion for all of her other dates, so this lack of response was significant. Her opinion held a lot of sway for Harriet.

"Yeah, he's only a sophomore…but he's really mature…"

Emma grasped one of Harriet's hands. "I'm sure he is," she consoled. "But, to be honest, I'm sure you could find someone much better."

Someone whose face could actually be remembered from one moment to the next, was the snide thought in Emma's head.

Harriet was looking confused, and disappointed even, her eyes wide. "You think so?"

Emma nodded vigorously. "Of course. With your looks and personality you could have anyone you wanted. I'm not saying to stop being friends with Rob or ignore his calls. That's ridiculous." Emma shook her head. "I'm simply…suggesting that you keep your options open. It's only the first week of school. You don't want to be tied down already, and Harriet, you could get anyone you want--why settle for any old thing? I know there's a top-notch man out there just waiting for you."

Harriet was making little nods with her head. Conviction was a foreign idea to her, and she had certainly never held one of her own in the face of opposition. She no longer looked dazed. "I think--I think you're right."

Emma nodded, smiling. "Of course I am. And I'm going to spend the whole night picking out someone perfect for you."

Emma had a huge number of acquaintances at school. Half of the time, she couldn't remember how she had actually become acquainted with them, but she still nodded or waved when she passed people around the campus that she vaguely knew. She was pretty and friendly; it had never been a problem for her to meet people. She was sure it wouldn't be hard to find someone a little more exciting than Rob Martin for her friend. Harriet needed to get the full Harvard experience, and Emma definitely knew some boys that could give it to her.

Harriet looked excited and pleased. "Okay!"

"Let's order some food and then we can brain storm together. You can tell me what all you're looking for. The tall, sensitive type? Or maybe someone more brawny…This is going to be too much fun."

Conveniently forgetting her senior thesis, Emma reached for her phone. She had found herself a new project.

Emma went through every male name in her cell phone with Harriet, searching. After much deliberation, she'd narrowed it down to, in her humble opinion, two very eligible candidates. Now she simply had to choose which one was the best. She was still deep in thought about it at the daycare the following day.

She daydreamed about the soon-to-be bliss Harriet was to experience. In her mind, it always ended with Harriet as the radiant bride in white satin, with Emma in a stunning red silk dress as the maid of honor by her side. In her speech, she would be able to say, humbly, how she had set the two of them up. She was so caught up in all the details of planning the wedding that she accidentally gave Henry a carton of milk instead of orange juice during snack time.

He adjusted his glasses and tugged lightly on her shirt hem as she started to walk away.

"Miss Emma, I'm lactose intolerant," he said in his quiet voice. The large word took him a moment to wrap his tongue around. "That means I can't have milk. Or cheese. Or ice cream." This last word was said rather bitterly. He sighed and pointed to the bag of cereal in front of him that he'd brought from home. "Cereal is only good with no milk--otherwise bad things happen." He rubbed his stomach and Emma laughed.

"I'm so sorry, Henry. No milk--that's right."

She switched his milk for an orange juice and lightly patted his brown curly hair. His hair was soft and warm under her fingers. Henry was one of her two favorite children. At 6 years old, he was already the biggest hypochondriac she had ever met. She and Grant made a real effort to get him to try new, different things, as it was painfully obvious that his home life offered a very narrow window of experience. She prayed he wouldn't grow up as rigid and strict as his mother.

Emma still remembered the day they had all stood in a circle in the back courtyard and played Frisbee. Henry had resisted the most, but in the end had loved the game the best of all the children. He'd continued tossing it back and forth with Grant long after all the others had lost interest. Henry only needed a little prodding now and then.

"Mommy says no cereal either unless it doesn't have gluten in it." He squinted and looked up at her curiously. "What's gluten? Is it in candy too? 'Cause I can't have that either."

Looking down into his inquisitive face, Emma couldn't resist smiling. "If your mom says so, then I think it must be true. She knows best."

Emma had to pass out the rest of the drinks, but before she turned away she heard him wonder aloud, "Is this organic orange juice?" and she couldn't keep the smirk from her face.

Grant walked over to her once she'd finished handing out the drinks. "Giving Henry milk?" He shook his head. "You must really have something on your mind," he teased and she laughed, sure they were both remembering Henry's first day at the daycare center when his mother lectured for at least ten minutes about the entire extent of his numerous allergies and how very important it was that he Not Drink Milk.

"I know; what a catastrophe that would have been. I'm sure she'd want me to get out the EpiPen just because he touched the carton."

He laughed, but wasn't deterred. He was still looking curiously at her, his head tilted. "Anything wrong?"

"No, no." She tried to shrug it off, but she knew he wouldn't let it go so easily. She sighed. "If you must know, I've decided to set up Harriet with Phil Elton. She's been just dying to date someone, and I know he's still single. I was distracted thinking about what would be the best way to do it. I want them both to get a good impression of the other, but in a low-stress kind of way."

A few minutes earlier, Emma had decided on Phil for Harriet. She'd had her first year seminar with him and they'd remained acquaintances. He'd always been friendly toward her. He was charming, although sometimes a little crude and rather fond of skipping class, if Emma remembered correctly. Emma had specific standards for herself, and Phil wasn't her type in the slightest, as he was more brawn than brain, and at this point more beer bloat than brawn, but Harriet had said she liked large, football boys with large football necks, and so Emma was sure she'd be attracted to Phil.

Grant was looking skeptical. She could practically feel it radiating from his eyes. It was one of those patented looks he used only for her, a mixture of half-vexed amusement and complete disbelief. "So one of them asked you for help with this? Is that what happened"

He was trying to look in her eyes, but she avoided his gaze, looking out instead at the children who were all being docile, eating their snacks.

"Not exactly." She caught the brief slag of his shoulders as he sighed, and she could tell he was about to interrupt, so she hurriedly said, "But they'll be so perfect together! I know it. He's all Harriet's been looking for, and I know he'll love her. They're just asking to be helped, to be turned in the right direction." She shifted to look at him, and a small part of him seemed amused, but mostly his face showed exasperation.

"Emma--" he began in a tone that instantly made her defensive, like she was a dog who had just been caught rooting its nose through the trash bin.

"What? There is nothing wrong with helping friends."

"It'd be fine if that's what you were actually doing, but--"

They both heard a tiny voice saying 'Miss Emma' from somewhere in the room and Emma waved him off, hurrying over to help before Grant could finish his sentence.

She managed to avoid him by staying busy with the children. She knew he was going to try to use logic to make her understand some silly point he was trying to make, and she didn't want to listen. Her dream of wedded bliss for Harriet was too new to be destroyed so early on. Maybe he didn't approve, but she knew she wasn't doing anything bad. Her intentions were only for good things to happen. Harriet wanted to find someone to love so badly; Emma was just trying to make it happen for her.

He caught up to her outside in the parking lot later as she clicked the button to unlock her car.

Grant opened his mouth to speak, but Emma cut him off, turning from her car to face him.

"I already know what you're going to say so you can save yourself the trouble. 'I'm wrong to mess around in their affairs. As much as I'd like it, they're not my own, personal playthings, but real people, and everyone involved would be much better off if I left it alone'," she said, mocking Grant's way of talking fairly accurately.

He blinked and raised one shoulder to shrug. "Well--no, that's not what I was going to say, although it's all true. I was going to say that you're wrong. Phil and Harriet aren't compatible."

Emma huffed indignantly, swinging her hair off her shoulder. She fiddled with her keys and squinted at him in the fading sunlight. She wondered if the soft glow from the sun was making her look as angelic as it was making him. Not that he would have noticed.

With anyone else, she would have used it to her advantage, playing up her looks to win the argument, but not with Grant. He was too annoyed with her, and Emma had decided long ago that Grant Knightley was made up of rocks. Stoic, immovable, and unfeeling toward all things like fading sunlight and glowing hair.

"What would you know?" she talked back, reverting, as always in such situations, to the maturity of a 15 year old. "You don't even know Harriet."

Ever the adult, he only grinned in response to her taunting. "No, but I do know Phil, and you talked nonstop about Harriet for a week, so I've got a pretty good idea about her too." Grant shook his head. "She's not the type of girl he goes for. She's too eager and he likes the chase."

"Oh please. Harriet is everyone's type." She waved him off. "You'll see. They'll be just like Taylor and Mike."

Grant looked as though he might say more, but then thought better of it. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, and looked down at the pavement, a resigned smile on his face. He'd had many years to practice such futile arguments with Emma. She was too stubborn to listen to any advice until all of her plans blew up in her face. He shifted his gaze to her, and she looked in to his clear, intelligent eyes. "Okay, Emma. Whatever you say."

"You don't mean that; you're just saying it to shut me up."

He nodded. "Basically, yes."

She ignored his last sentence. She didn't much care what he thought about her plan anyway. He obviously didn't realize the amount of thought she had put in to her idea. It wasn't as if she had preemptively rushed into a terrible decision…

And although Grant was definitely attractive, Emma had noticed through the years that he didn't pay much attention to the other sex. He seemed to date about as often as she did, which was seldom. What would he know about someone like Phil or Harriet? Rocks don't go on blind dates, after all.

"Good. I'm glad that's settled then. I'll make sure you get an invitation to their wedding. Make sure you don't wear that blue tie of yours to their reception; it won't go with the color scheme. 'Bye Knightley." She opened her door and waved as she got in, and he gave her a nod, though she saw him shake his head afterward.

She sighed as she put the key into the ignition. It was obvious that he disapproved, but she knew she was right, and she wasn't going to let him make her feel bad about what she was doing. Phil and Harriet were right for each other. Once they spent a little time together they'd see it too. She'd get to prove Grant wrong and make her friend happy in the meantime. It was a win-win situation.