Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood Read Online Free PDF

moderate his social adjustment. His child nutritionist alone runs three hundred dollars an hour, and that’s not even accounting for private-school fees, or summer camp, or the Ivy League . . .” She shook her head, as if overwhelmed just by the thought of it. “I’m sorry, but you can see, my hands are tied.”
    Portia sipped her tea. Silence.
    “But . . . what are we supposed to do?” Grace looked at her, horror dawning. She really wasn’t going to budge; Portia was going to take their home. “You can’t just throw us out on the streets.”
    Portia widened her eyes and let out a mellifluous laugh. “Dear girl, what do you take me for — some kind of monster?”
    Grace exhaled in relief.
    “No, I’m giving you until the end of the month to move out.” Portia beamed. “That should be plenty of time.”

Grace managed to hold back the panic long enough to murmur a polite good-bye and make it down to the lobby, but no farther. As she stumbled out of the silent, polished bubble and into the noise and bustle of the street, she was overwhelmed with helplessness, so fierce she could barely breathe. What could they do now? Where were they going to go?
    The tears were stinging in her throat again, but this time, Grace had no strength left to swallow them down. She pulled on her parka and hurried blindly down the sidewalk, her chest shuddered with the first traitorous sob.
    “Grace!”
    She was halfway down the block before the sound of her own name filtered through her distress. Grace turned to find Theo behind her: dressed in preppy khakis and a parka, tugging Dash in a stroller.
    “Grace?” His face changed as he took in her expression. “Are you OK? What happened?”
    She tried to tell him everything was fine, but her voice choked in her throat.
    Theo looked around at the rush-hour crowds, jostling past them with impatient expressions. “Come on.”
    He ushered her across the street, pushing the stroller with his free hand. Grace was powerless to resist; it took everything she had to swallow back the sobs. She was mortified. Weeping in the middle of the street like she was some pitiful basket case. Like she was Hallie!
    Theo steered them into the park across the street, depositing her on a bench. “Do you need me to call someone?” he asked, digging through the diaper bag until he found a packet of tissues for her. “Your mom, maybe?”
    “I’m fine!” Plastering on a smile, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . . my allergies,” she covered. “You know, hay fever.”
    The excuse sounded weak, even to her. “You sure you don’t need anything?” Theo kept pulling items from the bag. “Juice box? Pacifier? Mr. Wiggums?” He waved a stuffed elephant. Grace took the juice with a faint smile.
    “Thanks.”
    She sipped through the tiny straw, focusing on taking one deep breath, and then another. The park around them was shady and green; kids playing on a distant set of monkey bars. The comforting hum of the city surrounded them, a world away from the icy silence of Portia’s apartment. Slowly, she felt herself calm.
    Grace could feel Theo studying her, so she turned to the stroller — which was less a stroller than an off-road vehicle, swathed with sun-netting protection and safety straps. “How’s Dash?” she asked brightly. “Have you guys been having fun?”
    “If by ‘fun’ you mean intellectually stimulating structured playtime, then yes.” Theo grinned. He reached into the stroller, lifted Dash out, and before she could protest, gently placed him in Grace’s arms.
    “Hey, you.” Grace held him awkwardly. “What’s up?” He had blue eyes, and tufts of dark hair, like her dad — their dad — and was swathed in a tiny white sailor’s suit. He blinked at her, gurgling. Grace blinked back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so calm,” she told Theo, surprised. “He’s always . . . you know.”
    “A brat?” Theo laughed. “It’s all the