other’s spiked drinks. This would be her first real love affair, with much more at stake. Tinsley and Callie chattered on about the rumor that the entire pizza family was extremely well endowed and whether or not they could prove it. Their waiter came back, and Tinsley put in an order for a deep-dish pie with extra cheese and mushrooms on half.
“Earth to Brett.” Tinsley waved her slender arm in front of Brett’s face. “Anybody home?”
Brett didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the platinum link bracelet on Tinsley’s right wrist. She stared. Was that …
Eric’s?
It looked exactly like the one she had noticed him wearing when they went to Newport. The one from his great-great-grandfather. How on earth could Tinsley have it?
“That’s a cool bracelet,” Brett remarked, trying to keep her voice an alto although it sprang up to soprano in panic. “Where’d you get it?”
“Oh, my crazy aunt Elinore gave it to me the last time I saw her,” Tinsley answered, twisting her wrist to admire the bracelet. “She’s getting a little batty and gives away her shit whenever someone comes into her house. I walked off with this great pearl-drop necklace too.”
Huh. How likely was it that two incredibly rare and valuable platinum antique bracelets that looked exactly alike would appear in the teeny town of Rhinecliff?
Pretty unlikely.
Instant Message Inbox
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: Thursday, September 12, 9:43 p.m.
Subject: Flappers and Philosophers
Eric,
It was such a pleasure meeting you this morning; consequently, I read the short story you suggested. I have a sinfully thin flapper dress that’s exactly like something a Fitzgerald heroine would wear. ... Thought you might enjoy seeing me in it sometime.
Much as I love being back at good old Waverly, sometimes I ache to feel the city pavement pounding beneath my heels again. Ever get the urge to disappear and hole up in a luxurious hotel suite, lounging in bed all afternoon and ordering Dom 1958 from room service? Thought daydreaming might be another thing we have in common …
T
Instant Message Inbox
BretMesserschmidt: I just finished a bottle of Meet and you know what? I think we’ve gone slow enough. When do I get to see you next?
EricDalton: Brett, I’ve been thinking. ...
BrettMesserschmidt: Good things, I hope.
EricDalton: The thing is, I don’t think this is a good idea anymore—it’s not smart. I’m sorry.
BretMesserschmidt: Excuse me???
EricDalton: Maybe we should do this face-to-face?
EricDalton: Brett, are you still there?
BrettMesserschmidt: Is there someone else?
EricDalton: Of course not. But we need to go back to a purely student-teacher relationship, OK?
EricDalton: Hello?
EricDalton: Brett?
BrettMesserschmidt: Yes, sir. I think I understand. Perfectly.
13
A CLEVER WAVERLY OWL KNOWS HOW TO TELL FRIEND FROM FOE .
“I didn’t take the picture, did I? How is this possibly my fault?” Callie screeched into her cell phone, already tired of having to deal with yet another complaint from Nicholson Adams, her mother’s publicist. Apparently a photo taken of Callie at a late-summer pool party had shown up in the Weekend section of the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution,
with the snide caption
Mary-Kate Olsen, Nicole Richie, and Governor Vernon’s Daughter: Starving for Attention?
So what if she’d lost some weight in Barcelona, pining over the disaster that was her relationship with Easy? Who the hell’s business was it, anyway? Not the
Journal-Constitution
‘s and certainly not smarmy Nicholson Adams’s.
Callie stood in the empty room in her camisole and Hanky Panky low-rise boy shorts, the phone having rung when she was about to put on her pajamas. As Nicholson proceeded to lecture her on how an eating disorder would reflect badly on constituents’ views of her mother’s family values, she looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to take in her thin body from a variety of angles,
“Earth to Brett.” Tinsley waved her slender arm in front of Brett’s face. “Anybody home?”
Brett didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the platinum link bracelet on Tinsley’s right wrist. She stared. Was that …
Eric’s?
It looked exactly like the one she had noticed him wearing when they went to Newport. The one from his great-great-grandfather. How on earth could Tinsley have it?
“That’s a cool bracelet,” Brett remarked, trying to keep her voice an alto although it sprang up to soprano in panic. “Where’d you get it?”
“Oh, my crazy aunt Elinore gave it to me the last time I saw her,” Tinsley answered, twisting her wrist to admire the bracelet. “She’s getting a little batty and gives away her shit whenever someone comes into her house. I walked off with this great pearl-drop necklace too.”
Huh. How likely was it that two incredibly rare and valuable platinum antique bracelets that looked exactly alike would appear in the teeny town of Rhinecliff?
Pretty unlikely.
Instant Message Inbox
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: Thursday, September 12, 9:43 p.m.
Subject: Flappers and Philosophers
Eric,
It was such a pleasure meeting you this morning; consequently, I read the short story you suggested. I have a sinfully thin flapper dress that’s exactly like something a Fitzgerald heroine would wear. ... Thought you might enjoy seeing me in it sometime.
Much as I love being back at good old Waverly, sometimes I ache to feel the city pavement pounding beneath my heels again. Ever get the urge to disappear and hole up in a luxurious hotel suite, lounging in bed all afternoon and ordering Dom 1958 from room service? Thought daydreaming might be another thing we have in common …
T
Instant Message Inbox
BretMesserschmidt: I just finished a bottle of Meet and you know what? I think we’ve gone slow enough. When do I get to see you next?
EricDalton: Brett, I’ve been thinking. ...
BrettMesserschmidt: Good things, I hope.
EricDalton: The thing is, I don’t think this is a good idea anymore—it’s not smart. I’m sorry.
BretMesserschmidt: Excuse me???
EricDalton: Maybe we should do this face-to-face?
EricDalton: Brett, are you still there?
BrettMesserschmidt: Is there someone else?
EricDalton: Of course not. But we need to go back to a purely student-teacher relationship, OK?
EricDalton: Hello?
EricDalton: Brett?
BrettMesserschmidt: Yes, sir. I think I understand. Perfectly.
13
A CLEVER WAVERLY OWL KNOWS HOW TO TELL FRIEND FROM FOE .
“I didn’t take the picture, did I? How is this possibly my fault?” Callie screeched into her cell phone, already tired of having to deal with yet another complaint from Nicholson Adams, her mother’s publicist. Apparently a photo taken of Callie at a late-summer pool party had shown up in the Weekend section of the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution,
with the snide caption
Mary-Kate Olsen, Nicole Richie, and Governor Vernon’s Daughter: Starving for Attention?
So what if she’d lost some weight in Barcelona, pining over the disaster that was her relationship with Easy? Who the hell’s business was it, anyway? Not the
Journal-Constitution
‘s and certainly not smarmy Nicholson Adams’s.
Callie stood in the empty room in her camisole and Hanky Panky low-rise boy shorts, the phone having rung when she was about to put on her pajamas. As Nicholson proceeded to lecture her on how an eating disorder would reflect badly on constituents’ views of her mother’s family values, she looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to take in her thin body from a variety of angles,
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