Elizabeth stared at him. “What?”
George reached across the table and took her hand. “I was dating the most beautiful woman. She was wealthy, a blue-blooded Vassar girl, but she loved me.Me.A guy from Yonkers. She was at some Park Avenue shindig without me, and he was there and put the moves on her. Told her she’d be the perfect Mrs. Darcy, but once he’d slept with her and was done messing with her head, he tossed her aside. As always. He uses his money and his nice cars to get what he wants. I wanted to marry her, but after she saw the life I couldn’t give her, she didn’t love me anymore.”
“Oh my God.”She doesn’t sound like a keeper, though.
“Darcy’s likely slept with every socialite between here and London. He’s got himself some serious mommy issues. His mother was a bit of a party girl herself.”
Oh.
“Do be careful around him, Liz. You’re a nice girl, so you’re probably safe. He doesn’t touch nice, middle-class girls.”
“Oh dear. Well, you know us nice state college co-eds; we have cooties.” She rolled her eyes until she recalled Darcy’s censure of their interlude.“This is wrong. We can’t do this.”
George smiled and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “He’s an idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s missing with someone like you.”
Tell me about it.She pulled her hand out of his and sipped her coffee. She could tell George had more to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. Darcy apparently was even more awful than she thought. She knew enough about unhappy mothers, and learning Fitzwilliam Darcy also had mommy issues left her feeling uncomfortable for reasons she didn’t want to explore.
Not long after that overly caffeinated conversation, George texted her about a probable meeting with Derek Jeter. Then he asked her out on a real date. After rolling her eyes at histextedinvitation to dinner, Elizabeth declined, citing the ethical separation of her work and social life. She didn’t bring up Darcy again and kept their subsequent meetings focused on George’s acquaintances and whether they—Hall of Fame tight end for the Cowboys, Olympic silver medalist in speed skating—could be contacted. Other than that dinner date, he hadn’t asked for anything in return…yet. In truth, she didn’t want him to. His charm was infectious, but that made him dangerous. Being around him was all too easy, and that, like his solicitous charm, was a red flag.
Besides, she didn’t have time for men. There was work, there was her research on the 1950s Red Scare for the book she was writing in herspare time, and there was her hope of going for her PhD once she was out of debt. And there was Jane, who needed Elizabeth’s ear more than usual. Charles was “The One.”Hmm…was he?Tony, James, and Jeff had seemed pretty much perfect too—until Jane decided they weren’t. And then they all went off and found women who liked them just the way they were, got married, and in at least one case, became a father.You’re twenty-six, Jane. Just have fun.This isn’t the nineteenth century. You have at least another decade, maybe more, before you can start to freak out.
So much time. Their parents, Ted and Sylvia, had made a mistake, the first of many, when they married two months after they met. “He didn’t pull out,” according to their mother’s oft-told “Let This Be a Warning to You!” story, and she became pregnant their very first time. So they got hitched; it’s what nice girls did then. That baby was lost but they forged on together. A few years passed, and they welcomed Jane, followed just over a year later by Elizabeth. Rather than justifying her choice to marry, having two little girls only compounded their mother’s belief that her life as then scripted was a mistake. Jane might chalk it up to undiagnosed post-partum depression, but Elizabeth could neither excuse nor forgive her mother for spending mortgage payments on QVC, going off for “girls’ weekends” in Atlantic City, and then, finally, leaving them for good a decade later. Last time either girl had seen a birthday card from their mother it had arrived from Branson, Missouri, where Sylvia Bennet-LaRue was pursuing a career as a backup singer at Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede.
Elizabeth wondered whether she and Jane were afraid of making the same mistakes as their mother—not by late-night credit card binges on purses, kitchen appliances, and Elizabeth Taylor jewelry knockoffs, but by settling for somebody because it felt safe and only realizing the mistake too far in with children, mortgages, and car payments. Jane always jumped in with both feet and her heart on her sleeve. As a result of her emotional leaps, Jane’s twenties had proved messy. Until Charles. “The One.”
Elizabeth, on the other hand, treaded water and avoided commitment. As if she’d had time between college, soccer, grad school, and working to actually focus on any of the guys she’d dated. And she didn’t have time now. No—the thing to do was to concentrate on her work and pay attention to Jane. She could be her sister’s guardian angel and keep an eye on Charles. It seemed as though she was always trailing in their wake anyway. Maybe someone decent, someone she really liked and trusted, would bob up in the flotsam andjetsam. Someone smart and interesting, for God’s sake. No more men interested in fish, metallurgy, or arcane sports statistics. Between the guys she met at parties and this book project on athletes and their heroes, she was tired of listening to stories about the catch that should’ve been made or the asterisk that some player should have next to his record. She needed to talk to someone about the new Rushdie novel, why Supreme Court appointments were for life, or why mesh leggings remained an office no-no. Any subject of intelligence would do.
There she was, though, on a cold Monday night, emptying the dishwasher and listening to Charles and Jane discuss office politics. Then he mentioned a charity benefit later that week. “The earth is warming, Janey. And if writing a check and eating figs wrapped in bacon will help, then I’m going to plunge into those icy waters and save the baby penguins.”
Jane giggled and murmured, “My hero.” Elizabeth had to start humming to avoid hearing any more.I need to keep my earbuds handy at all times. Soon the whispering and moaning stopped, and she heard laughter.
“Lizzy should come, too. The food will be fantastic, and that cool Swedish guy is deejaying.”
Jane walked into the kitchen and raised her eyebrows. “Thursday night at seven. The Waldorf Astoria. Be there.” She held her sister’s gaze until Elizabeth broke into a resigned smile and nodded.
“Sure. I like penguins too. But they better drink a toast to Gus. Best polar bear ever.” Elizabeth had been a frequent visitor to Central Park Zoo when the neurotic bear was a denizen there.
“Yes, I think you liked Gus better than half the guys you’ve dated.” Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Not that it’s such a long list,” she added quickly in the face of her sister’s fierce glare. “Okay, I need to change. We’re going to couples yoga.”
It took a minute before Elizabeth could repress the vision of Charles and Jane in matching leotards doing synchronized poses.Her musing ended as she heard Charles speaking.
“C’mon. You’ll know everybody. It’ll be great.”
“Define ‘great.’”
Elizabeth froze when she heard Darcy’s voice.Why does Charles have his phone on speaker?
“There’ll be lots of beautiful women. Besides Jane, of course.”
“The last thing I need is to go to one of Bertram’s parties.”
“C’mon, it’s a benefit for polar bears and penguins. Glaciers. You know, climate change awareness or something.”
“I’d rather not deal with?—”
“Caroline’s out of town; you’re safe. And Jane says Elizabeth will be there.”
Elizabeth suddenly realized Darcy hadn’t replied. She peeked around the corner and saw Charles posed in a downward-facing dog.Ah…the endless possibilities of hands-free phones. Is he actually practicing his positions?
