Almost Amish (34 page)

She went on to list the specials, all of which sounded delicious. Gary nodded politely with each dish mentioned, but he also shifted in his seat and glanced at Susan repeatedly.

“All right, I’ll start with the ladies.” Mary Jane took everyone’s order, smiled once more at Gary, and walked away, leaving Julie to wonder if there was more to this story, or if she’d simply noticed something that wasn’t there.

“So, Aunt Susan, now that we’re bringing all this out into the open, can I ask a question?”

Susan looked at Whitney, wondering what was left to ask at this point. Still flush with her interaction with Angie, she was prepared to be patient. “Sure.”

“What is it you dislike so much about Chris?”

What?
Susan knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t seem to close it. This was by no means the question she’d expected.

“Whitney Kate Charlton, that is none of your business.” Julie glared at her daughter. “You know better than to ask something like that.”

Whitney shrugged, her face showing not a hint of remorse. “Sorry, but I’m just curious. I think he’s terrific, and I can’t understand why Aunt Susan doesn’t.” She turned back toward Susan then. “Is it his funky haircut? He’s artistic, you know. Those kinds of people tend to be a bit more expressive in their appearance.”

“Whitney, stop this right now.” Julie reached her hand across and smacked it on the table in front of Whitney.
As if that’s going to get her attention.
Nothing would shut Whitney down when she got in one of these moods.

Whitney shrugged and looked down at her root beer. She mumbled something that Susan couldn’t quite make out, then looked up at Angie.

Perhaps it would be best to just get everything out in the open. “As long as we’re talking about all these things, I suppose it’s only fair that I answer that question. First off, the rules were that you were not supposed to talk with the crew. So for Angie to even speak to him was breaking a rule. Secondly”—Susan held up two fingers—“Angie never came to me and told me she was interested in Chris and asked for my blessing or even my opinion; she simply snuck out of the house to go meet him. Of course, my third experience with the young man in question involved sneaking away from the property altogether. I hardly find that a résumé for the kind of young man I would approve for my daughter. However—”

“But, Mom, I—”

“I wasn’t finished.” Susan looked at Angie and waited until Angie made a circular gesture with her hand for her to go ahead. “However”—she nodded toward Angie—“through the course of our conversation last night, I came to understand that perhaps he is more upstanding than I’d assumed.”

“Thank you.” Angie nodded.

“That said, it really doesn’t matter, because Kendra found out about last night and kicked him off the job.”

Somehow this news didn’t bring the reaction of despair Susan expected from the younger crowd. In fact, Whitney actually laughed. “Is that what she told you? That she sent him away because of Angie?” She shook her head. “He was leaving today anyway, because he’s got another job lined up somewhere. We’ve known that since the first time he took us to youth group.”

“Really?” Susan marveled once again at the half truths Kendra was prepared to tell.

“But . . . if that were not the case, would you still be opposed?”

“I don’t think Chris is the appropriate boy for Angie.”

“Be-cau-use?” Whitney leaned forward, waiting for the response.

“Angie is a hardworking, clean-cut Christian girl. I know these quiet, moody boys, the rebels if you will, often turn the corner and become upstanding citizens, but that’s mostly in romance novels. It rarely happens in real life.” She held up her hand to fend off the argument she knew Whitney would launch. “I know you all are convinced how wonderful he is, but I’m saying that I see a boy who is putting out signals that he is looking for trouble.”

Angie shook her head slowly as she stirred her tea. She didn’t say anything, but her silence didn’t necessarily mean she would follow her mother’s wishes. The last few weeks had proven that.

“So I believe I heard someone say that there is some good news to announce tonight. I’m thinking right about now would be a good time for some good news.” Gary laced his fingers together, then rested his chin on the back of them, face turned toward the kids’ end of the table.

Whitney and Brian both looked at Angie, whose face had gone bright pink. Angie looked toward Susan and licked her lips. “Well, yes, I uh . . . got this thing in the mail today . . .” She reached down and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her purse. She held it up, still folded. “It seems that I am a finalist in a writing contest.”

“A what?” Susan reached for the paper, and Angie handed it to her.

“You submit the first twenty pages of your novel and a synopsis. All entries are judged by several experienced judges, and the top twenty percent move on to be semifinalists. Then three published authors read and rank the semifinalist entries, and the top three become the finalists.”

“And you’re a . . . finalist?”

“That’s right.”

“Which means you’ve already been a semifinalist?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Early April.”

Susan looked at her daughter, wondering where the joke was in all this. “If you’ve known since April that you were a semifinalist, why have I never even heard of this contest until this very minute?”

Angie shrugged and looked at her tea. “I knew you would be mad at me for spending so much time doing this, when I should have been working on my precalculus.”

Susan stopped long enough to consider that one. She had to admit, Angie had a point. She would have been mad.

“So is that what you’ve been working on in class since you’ve been here? The notebook that you always put away every time we walk into the room?” Julie was leaning forward, all smiles.

Angie grinned up at her. “Yeah. Charlotte’s been helping me tighten up my plot.”

“But why is she helping you now? You must have entered this thing months ago, right?”

“Yes, but the judges for the final rounds are editors and agents. In the rare event that I should actually win my category, they may request the full manuscript. It’s not completed yet, but I want to have it as close as possible, just in case.”

Susan put her hand over her heart, almost to prove to herself it was still beating. “I’m at a complete loss here. I had no idea.”

“Are you mad?” Angie’s head was ducked, but she looked at Susan through the top of her eyelashes.

“Well, I’m shocked. And stunned. Floored? Probably. But mad? No, honey, I’m thrilled. Truly, truly thrilled. I just had no idea you were even interested in writing. Why have you never said anything to me about it?”

“You always get mad at me for wasting time when you find me reading a novel not assigned for homework. I assumed that writing one would be considered even more of a waste of time.”

In that moment, the hammer fell. The reality of things Susan had never acknowledged or even understood before. She had lost all clue of who her daughter was. Her vision blurred, but she blinked hard and fast. She was not going to cry right here, in front of everyone. “Honey, I am so sorry. I had no idea. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own plans for your life that I’ve completely forgotten to listen to you, haven’t I?”

Whitney made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Aunt Susan. We’re teenagers. No one ever listens to us.” She tilted her head to the side. “I think it’s a denial thing, because it’s embarrassing to grown-ups that we’re so much smarter than they are.”

The entire table burst into laughter except for Whitney. She looked around and said, “What? What did I say?”

After dinner, Gary leaned toward Susan and whispered, “Can we talk privately for a second?”

“Sure.” They walked to the back part of the room, where no one was sitting at the tables. She turned to him. “What is it?”

“Well, here’s the thing. The ‘entertainment’ ”—he put air quotes around the word—“I had planned for this evening . . .” He looked back toward the table. “Well, it was to go see this Christian rock band that is performing in town tonight.”

“That sounds great. It’s probably the one kind of rock music I can stand, and the kids will love it.”

“Well, when I made these plans I didn’t understand the full extent of what has been going on with your family. You see . . . the lead singer is Chris. I don’t want to do anything that would seem like I’m taking sides against you.”

“Chris? As in production-assistant Chris?”

“The very one.”

“He’s in a Christian rock band?”

“An up-and-coming Christian rock band. In fact, that’s his new job. Rumor is they’ve just landed a recording contract.”

Susan looked back at Angie. “She never told me any of this.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t know about the contract. He’s a very humble person and probably would consider it bragging. And . . . well, she wouldn’t have told you anyway. Seems like ‘rock star’ probably isn’t an approved career in your mind. Plus, she’s a teenager. They don’t tell you everything, especially when boys are involved. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“How old are your kids?”

“Twenty-seven and twenty-four.”

“Both out of college?”

“Yep. My oldest daughter went to the University of Tennessee; my youngest just got her master’s from Vanderbilt.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Susan said. “I hope I can keep it together long enough to get Angie to that point. You must be really proud.”

“Oh, I am. I think she is amazing. You know her, too.”

“I do?”

“Charlotte. The kids’ tutor.”

Susan froze. Instantly, she thought of every moment she’d made disparaging comments about Char in front of him over the last few weeks. And how could a small-town Tennessee farmer afford to pay Vanderbilt tuition? He must have sacrificed so much.

She sighed. She had lived too long in the world only as she wanted to see it. “As of this very moment, I vow to no longer operate on preconceived notions of people. And I think the best place to start is tonight, by going to see Chris’s band.”

“Good for you.” He nodded, then started back toward the group.

Susan cocked her head. “How did Angie convince you to set this up?”

“She didn’t.” He stopped. “She doesn’t know a thing about it.”

Early the next morning, Susan put wood in the stove, wondering if this would be her last time. Good riddance to that. But everything else? So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours that she wasn’t sure how she’d feel once the final decision was made. She walked over to the dish drain and picked up the coffeepot, but as she did, the lid slipped off and went clattering across the kitchen floor.

“Knock, knock.”

Susan jumped at the voice. She looked up at Kendra. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m not surprised, given the racket you were making with the coffeepot.” There was nothing in Kendra’s expression that hinted at what kind of news she brought.

Susan had no intention of playing games, so she put the lid on the counter and simply said, “Well?”

“Why don’t you get dressed and come over to the shack. We’re going to film our conversation.”

“No.” Susan let the one-word answer find its mark.

Kendra simply looked at her for a long time, as if determined not to speak first. “You mind telling me why not?”

“Why are you filming the conversation? So you can give it to your lawyers?” She gestured at the walls and ceilings. “We are being filmed right now, so what’s the point of going over there? So you can make one last episode out of it? Like I said, I am no longer a part of this show if you are intent on showing that footage of my conversation with my daughter. I need you to tell me now whether or not we should pack our bags.”

Kendra put her hands on the edge of the counter behind her and leaned back. “Listen, I want you to save all this passion for the on-screen interview, so I don’t want to tell you everything now. But I believe that you will be more than happy with our conversation once we get over there. There will be no lawyers involved; I can promise you that. Now, can you get dressed and come over as quickly as possible, please? We want to air this footage as soon as possible. Like three hours ago.”