A/N: I don't own what you recognize. And I do think that Jeremy Northam is absolutely gorgeous.
"Jeremy Northam is absolutely gorgeous," I announced as Andrew and Halley and I sat on the couch watching the first season of The Tudors on DVD.
Andrew snorted. "His nose is too long."
I looked at him. "You're one to talk."
He touched his own nose, which was crooked from being broken when we were children. "Yeah, well, I'm a damn sight better looking than Holden."
"Holden is gorgeous," Halley sighed.
"Everyone says that."
I looked at my childhood friend. "Are you jealous?"
"Nah, but I know you're jealous of Jessie."
"She's too perfect, Andrew."
"But at least she's better than Rowan."
Andrew gagged. "I can't stand her. And I can't stand spending time with Ethan. He's so boring. He thinks that man-time is time spent drinking beer and talking about Playboy."
"I didn't know you looked at Playboy."
"I don't, Red. Real men don't need porn."
I smiled. "You're a good man, Andrew. I hope you know that."
He shrugged. "I try."
"I'm going to kill Rowan," Andrew as he walked into my office and slammed the door behind him. On the other side of the door, I heard Halley scream.
It was our second day back after our two-week holiday break. I looked up from five different banana bread recipes that I was studying and said, "Huh?"
"I'm not even kidding. I'm going to tear her head off and rip her shoulders from her arms."
"Rowan?" I asked.
He slammed his fists on my desk. "Where the hell does she get off trying to convince that Jessie to give up her career as a cook to become an au pair?"
Now, please remember that Jessie annoys me as a person but not as a cook. I love her vegan chocolate-almond torte, for example, and think that she should sell it; she'd be an instant millionaire if she did. "Jessie is a great cook."
"I just ran into the two of them in the hallway. Rowan told her that she'll never get married at this rate and it would be better if she just gave up on this cooking crap."
"I'm going to kill her."
"Oh and she also said that you look like a horse."
I'm not exactly sure how I broke the doorknob to my office. Nor am I sure how I broke my wrist; I know that I ripped Andrew's shirt when he was trying to calm me down after I started trying to climb over my (very messy) desk. Whatever happened, I broke my wrist. And I had to go to the hospital and get a cast. And I had to hand my show over to Jessie for three days. I talked Andrew down to two. But still, it hurt.
"You're right-handed, Emma, and you broke your right wrist. You are going to need help," Andrew told me that night as we sat in the living room.
"Get Jessie," I told him. "I know she's a vegan and has problems cooking meat. But I want to piss Rowan off. I want to see if I can get Ethan to quit."
He smiled. "You're trouble, Miss Woodhouse, and I like it."
"I'm tired, Andrew. And I'm sick and tired of Ethan. I want Halley to stop walking on eggshells around the set. I want you to stop pretending to be his best friend. I want Rowan to stop trying to control all of us. I want her to leave Jessie alone so I don't have to keep being nice to someone I don't really like."
"I like codeine. Codeine makes you honest," Andrew said with a teasing smile.
"Shut your face, Knightley. In a couple of days, I'll be back to myself."
"Yeah, well, don't climb on your desk anymore."
"Don't tell me that people think that I look like a horse."
He smiled. "Emma, that's not all she says about you. If you listened to her, you'd think you were a professional pole dancer or something."
I sighed. "I want that woman off my set. Can't I order a closed set or something?"
"If you want to, we could look into it. We'd have to get the network involved. We're a cooking show; it's really weird that we'd do something like this."
"I know. And it's kind of petty. But she's disrupting life around here. I don't like the atmosphere, the tension that Rowan and Ethan create around here."
"You're worried about Halley," he said.
"Six months ago, I had a normal set. Now, I have tension and squabbling. I have an assistant who is scared of Ethan. Nina's hormonal."
"That's nothing nine months won't cure."
"Trust me. I have her due date circled with a bright pink marker on my calendar."
"First babies tend to be late. Remember Ava."
I glared at him. He deserved it. But then he gave me ice cream, so I forgave him. "Andrew, why are you so nice to me?" I asked him.
"What do you mean?"
"I abuse you and I boss you around and I throw things at you and I break my arm doing stupid shit and I whine and moan and I'm spoiled and I'm selfish. And you take care of me and you're nice to me and you're my friend and you work with me. And I'm a bitch, you know?"
"That would be the codeine talking," he replied. "It's your bedtime, Em."
"Will you tell me a bedtime story?" I asked as he led me upstairs.
He shrugged. "We'll see."
"Will you tell me the one about the three piggies and the wolf? I like that one."
He smiled benevolently. "I told that we'd see and we'll see when we get upstairs."
"Oh fine, you can be the boss. But it's just this once, Andrew. Do you understand that?"
He nodded and took me to my bedroom. He tucked me into my bed and sat down next to it. "Do you still want to hear the one about the three piggies?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I want to hear the one about the princess who slept for hundreds of years."
"Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away…" Andrew began. But I fell asleep before he really got going. Codeine will do that to you.
"You want me to cook with meat?" Jessie asked when Andrew and I met with her the next morning after an episode on asparagus-hummus wraps and watermelon sorbet. It was a summer meal but it was the best Jessie could think of with less than a day's warning.
"If you'd rather not, that's fine with us and we'll figure out another way to do this," Andrew told her.
"But we'd like to give you some more publicity," I told her. "And you have such a way with the camera. You're a natural and the viewers seem to like you."
"But I'm a vegan and I wouldn't want to mislead people. It's very important to me."
"We could remind our viewers that you're a vegan," Andrew said slowly.
"Like fine print at the beginning of every episode," I said jokingly.
Jessie, however, didn't see the joke and thought this was amazing. "Oh could we? And could we request that they make donations to the ASPCA or other animal rights groups?"
"I'll talk to the network," Andrew replied. "But we'd really like to have you around."
"And if there's anything else we need to do to keep you around, just let Andrew or I know," I told her.
Jessie beamed. She never just grinned; it was always this perfect, sunshine beam. "That's wonderful. Let me know what the network says but I'd love to help you in whatever ways I can."
"We'd need you around until I get this damn cast off," I said. "And that will probably be six weeks. But it's six weeks of publicity and maybe you'll get your own show out of it."
"It sounds great," she said. "Just tell me when and where to sign and I'll be here."
After she left, Andrew looked at me. "Are you trying to use her to get rid of Rowan and Ethan?"
"Women have wiles, Andrew."
He shook his head. "Red, you're ridiculous."
I smiled at him. "It pays the bills."
"And breaks your wrist too, apparently," he replied.
"You do what you have to do. But can you stay and make dinner for Dad and me tonight?"
He laughed. "Of course I will. Should I expect to be doing that until you get the cast off?"
I nodded. "We'd appreciate that. But I'm not going to be home on Friday night. I have a date with Holden."
"Then your dad and I will have a man-date. We'll drink beer and eat pizza and watch football and grunt and burp."
"You do that all the time with me."
Andrew laughed. Holden has a nicer, prettier, whiter smile than Andrew does but Andrew's laugh is better; it's more real. You know that it's really a laugh from the heart when he laughs. "And your dad would never burp or drink beer. He's too refined for that."
I shook my head. "You are not nice, Mr. Knightley."
"Au contraire, Miss Woodhouse, I am the nicest man you'll ever meet."
"As usual, you're full of shit."
He smiled. "So you're going on yet another date with Holden Caulfield?"
"His last name is Churchill."
"I like calling him Holden Caulfield. It gives him a more James Dean feel."
"Aren't you mixing metaphors there?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "I don't care. Mixing metaphors never killed anyone before. If you want, I could throw in a Jack Kerouac reference."
I laughed. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks for the offer."
"Please tell me that broken arm has a kick-ass story behind it," was Holden's first comment upon seeing my purple cast.
I laughed. "Nope, I was climbing over my desk and I landed on my wrist."
He shook his head. "I expect more from you, Emma."
"I'm not very exciting. You should know that by now."
"I need to do something about that. I can't date a boring girl. I have a reputation to protect."
"The whole Jack Kerouac/James Dean/Rebel without a Cause thing?" I asked.
He grinned his amazing smile. "If I ran around with a leather jacket would that help?"
"Nah, you're like a hippie mixed with James Dean," I replied. "A leather jacket isn't really your thing."
"Should I take up smoking pot?"
I raised my eyebrows and thought of what Andrew would say to that. "Please don't. I hate the way pot smells."
"You're a goody-two-shoes and just like that Jessie Fairfax."
"I thought you barely knew her."
"True story but she's a good girl. There's no way to corrupt her. And such a shame too, she'd be a good lay."
"You can be really gross. It's really unattractive," I told him.
He sighed. "That's what I keep hearing. But Gwendolyn says that I should just be myself and be honest with women. She says there's no reason to pretend to be a gentleman. That's just old-fashioned bullshit."
"Well some of us prefer that old-fashioned bullshit to your comments about good lays."
"It's the twenty-first century. Let me guess. You like watching that PBS Masterpiece Theater stuff."
"I love it," I replied. "Every Sunday night, I make my dad and Andrew watch it with me."
"You're sick."
I shook my head. "I love old movies and classic literature. It's so much fun. And I love Miss Marple."
"Weirdo," he sighed.
I rolled my eyes. "You're just lame and don't appreciate my culture."
"I love anthropology. I love cultures but I think you spend too much time watching television and not enough time living life. It's bad enough that you host a cooking show."
"Hey now!" I said. "I love my show. I teach people how to cook."
"That's what cookbooks are for."
"I published a cookbook."
"Well aren't you special?"
I glared at him. "Look, I don't have to sit here and listen to you act like a pissy thirteen-year-old girl. If you don't like what I'm doing with my life, I can move on with my life and find other friends. I don't need you. I just like spending time with you. But I don't like it when you look down on my job or when you objectify women."
"All right, Miss Prissy," he sighed. "If I have to act like a saint to hang out with you, I guess I can try."
I really liked him. I couldn't tell you why but I did. But at the same time, something about him bugged me and a part of me really wanted to call Andrew and ask him to come get me. I could live with him saying "I told you so" just as long as I felt like a real person. But I didn't call Andrew. Instead, I stayed at the restaurant with Holden. We drank beer and talked about literature. We didn't have a whole lot in common but it was still fun. He could be fun. He could be a nice guy. But he had a tendency to be really base and graphic. I didn't get it. He was so different from his dad.
"I like him, Nina," I told her when we were having coffee together the next day. "But I don't understand him."
"He grew up with Gwendolyn and she has very progressive ideas."
I sighed. "I know. But I don't know how I feel when he talks about women being good lays."
"Tell him to cut it out. He does stop if you tell him. But he used to just talking off the cuff and saying whatever he wants without being judged."
"He was talking about smoking pot."
"He does," Nina said. "But he won't do it around you if you don't want him to."
"I don't want to smell it. And it's illegal."
"I know. But he's used to his mom's anthropology-let's-explore-cultures lifestyle."
I sighed. "I know. He's always telling me that. But here's the thing. He's gorgeous but he doesn't seem to be interested in me as a person, just me as a pretty face."
She shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. "Gwendolyn told Charlie that Holden isn't always good with girls. He gets awkward."
"Are you saying that he's all talk and no action?"
She shrugged. "Emma, I don't really know much about him. But Charlie loves him and I like him. I'd like to see the two of you together."
"I know you would. But he's going to have to clean up his life first."
"I'll tell him."
I smiled. "He is beautiful and he can be very thoughtful and sweet."
"You know that Charlie and I just want you to be happy and we both think that you and Holden would be great together."
"Andrew isn't crazy about him. I'm not saying that's a deal breaker but Andrew is my best friend."
"But I've known Andrew forever," she said. "And you know as well as I do that he's very protective of you. Would he like anyone who you tried to date? He's just trying to protect you. He's skeptical of Holden. Don't worry, Em. He'll come around."
The following week, Jessie and I started working together. To my surprise, we complimented each other really well. I wore dresses and my Chucks while she wore vegan clothes. We cooked together really well and she was very sympathetic about my broken arm. (She didn't know that I'd broken it lunging over my desk after learning what Rowan thought of Jessie and me.)
Rowan had been heard complaining loudly that she should have been asked to help Emma because "I'm a nurse and I know something about cooking."
"Yes but my dear Jessie went to cooking school," Joyce told her. "Andrew told Jessie that Emma wanted to work with someone with talent. And you know how particular our lovely Emma is. She's so like her mother. She likes to have everything just so. And she wants to help Jessie launch her career. Jessie deserves this and I think that Emma knows that. But like I said, Emma is so good-hearted, so sweet. She loves helping people."
"She hasn't helped me get a job in Highbury."
"But, Rowan sweetie, you're a nurse. Why are you haunting the set of a television show? We have no real need for a nurse around here. Like her dear mother, Emma is always extraordinarily careful and never gets hurt."
"Joyce, she just broke her arm."
"But that wasn't a cooking related accident. That was a common household accident. You don't have nurses in every home. Don't be ridiculous."
As Rowan walked away, I could swear I heard her mutter something about "Look who's talking." But I can't be sure.
Wednesday afternoon, Halley came into my office carrying a vase with a bouquet of gorgeous pink roses. "A delivery man from Forde's Florist just brought these by for you," she said.
"Then put them on my desk, please," I said looking up from my desk.
"And there was this note with them," she added, handing me a small envelope. "Who is it from?"
"Could you open the envelope for me please?" I asked her. "My wrist and all, it's kind of rough."
She took the envelope back as Andrew walked into the room. "It's from Holden, Emma!" she exclaimed. "He says that he wanted to get you something that was as beautiful as you are and these are the best he could do. And he's looking forward to your date on Friday. Oh, here's the card."
"That's quite the compliment," Andrew said. "But Emma doesn't like pink or roses."
"But it's the thought that counts," I told him.
Halley gasped. "You don't like roses?"
I shook my head. "Not particularly and please don't ask me why; it's just a matter of taste. I think daisies are prettier."
"Oh, I love daisies! They're so sweet and innocent, don't you think?"
"I think they're friendly and peppy," I replied simply. "And they remind me of my mother."
A few minutes later, I got a phone call from Holden. "So did you get my present?" he said as soon as I answered the phone.
"I did," I replied, fingering one delicate rose.
"And do you like them?"
"They're lovely."
"I knew you'd love them. I saw them at the florist's and thought they were absolutely perfect for you."
I cleared my throat. "They're beautiful, Holden, but I thought that you weren't the type to send flowers. I would think that would be too traditional for you."
He laughed. "According to Charlie and Nina, you're a very traditional girl and I should respect that. And I realized that anthropologically speaking I do have a duty to respect your beliefs and traditions."
"Well, thank you. I appreciate your gesture of respect. And I'm also looking forward to Friday night."
"I'll see you then. I should get back to what I was doing but I wanted to make sure that you got your flowers."
"It was nice hearing from you, Holden," I replied. "Have a great day."
"You too," he said before hurriedly hanging up.
A thought flitted across my brain after I closed my cell phone. He was on vacation; what was he doing that he was supposedly too busy for a phone conversation with the girl he was dating?
A/N: Please review.
