...
Thank you for all your lovely reviews. Please enjoy chapter three!
All my love,
Pip
...
:::
Chapter Three
Feelings Thus Acknowledged
:::
The night wanes and families begin to pack up their leftovers and wrap them in excessive tinfoil. Peggy Lucas claims she had made an appointment (it was 9 PM) otherwise she would certainly stay to clean up. As usual, it falls to me, my parents, Jane, Kitty, Mary, Charlotte, and her parents. Lydia makes herself remarkably and characteristically absent.
Charlotte informs me she will be staying on my couch. "I brought my toothbrush so I could sleep here," she says with a shrug. "I can help clean until I drop." She's also tipsy so she might drop anyway.
It's one of those friendships that form young, but not too young, so we missed the danger of sharing a playpen and then growing apart during high school. We actually met in eighth grade instead, and have slowly but most assuredly become platonic soul mates. She has refrigerator privileges, which means she can walk into our home and make a sandwich at any given time - even if most of us are at work. She's that kid in the sitcom that goes through a hole in the fence and watches every family blow-out until the sitcom-Mom suddenly yells, "Do your parents even know where you are?"
Formalities of any kind do not exist, and we can talk about anything in graphic detail.
Though I have to draw a line at Charlotte's work at the veterinary clinic; she enjoys telling me a little too much when she assists with surgery. She likes to use the word incision just to watch me shiver with disgust.
:::
Charlotte's parents, Lori and Mark Lucas, work on breaking down tables and folding table clothes and carting mysteriously abandoned casserole pans indoors. Mom forfeits helping outdoors and goes directly to work in the kitchen. She's up to her elbows in Dawn soap and barking for Lydia, which makes Yippee bark too.
I think it's a fact worth noting that Charles and Caroline Bingley are the last guests to leave, hanging out way past the ordinary time as if they were lifelong friends. Charles keeps insisting that we let him help clean up after the crowds, much to the beaming satisfaction of my hungry looking mother.
"Please," he repeats, snaking in and whipping something out of my or Jane's hands, "Allow me!"
"Please, Charles, I'm falling asleep standing up, if I had known you were going to spend the night I would have asked Fitz for a ride."
Caroline keeps pushing him to stop and take her home, though I can't help but think that she could just walk for five minutes and get home herself. We are, after all, technically next-door neighbors. Though in the country, neighbor is a relative term. We're next to a a lot of trees and grass... and they're on the other side.
Caroline finally remembers her manners. "Thanks for your hospitality," she says to me, and it was the first words she'd spoken to me all evening. "I really do appreciate it, and I would totally stay and help, but... I have been unpacking all day."
"You didn't lift a finger!" Charles says. "You put your ear buds in and unfolded a lounge chair."
Caroline ignores him. "You know how it is?"
"Sure... so are all of you... renting the place or something?" I play dumb. No one wants to take Peggy Long's information for granted.
"You're so cute. No. Dad bought this vineyard and plans on expanding the Netherfield label to the Willamette Valley..."
She pronounced it like Willah-meddy.
"Will-lammit," I correct.
She stares. "Come again?" she asks.
"Will, then lammit. Willamette."
'That's not how it's spelled."
"Don't worry, this pronunciation will help you blend in with the locals."
"She's only ever seen the word in print," Charles laughs. "This is what happens when Facebook starts automatically muting all the videos I send her about the area. She only reads the subtitles."
"I'm sure there are plenty of Californian regions known to residents that wouldn't make sense to us either," I try to be nice about it. "If instagram is any indication, we're just the hashtag PNW. Pacific North West? Or Pacific Northwest Wonderland? We'll never know."
Charles chimes in again. "In California we simply refer to anything up here by the closest, biggest city. Portland, or, south of Portland. Eugene... or... north of Eugene. We never saw anything about Meridian till I saw the deed for this place. Never saw the words Willamette or Chehalem Valley until I was living here. It's like a miniature culture shock. For all the social media we have, we're still very self-contained."
Caroline is not having any of his philosophical musings and rolls her eyes. "Oregon people are so weird with their names. At least in California most of the names are Spanish. And most of us know some Spanish from school."
"NOT ALL OF US CAN SPEAK SPANISH!" barks Charlotte in a sing-song voice. Her mom begins to yell at her in Spanish. Charles chuckles and leaves us alone again to help Jane.
"Anyway," Caroline continues, "Charles has been promoted. He's expected to get the marketing out, remodel, build a show room, network the area, hire the viticulturists..."
"Is it a test for the prince before he inherits the kingdom?" I joke.
Caroline nods solemnly. "I believe so."
"And your sister?"
"Actually, she's not really involved in the company. She and Alex moved to Portland some time ago... to be closer to Mt. Hood, the beach, hiking trails, blah blah blah. Alex noticed the property for sale and contacted my Dad. So they're just... around."
"And what about you?"
"I'm getting a little place in Portland soon enough. I cannot stand being out here in the country. Ugh. It's temporary. I just thought I'd get away from family for a little while, you know? A bit of wanderlust. Though I won't be satisfied with Portland, I can tell you that. It will be temporary until I decided where I really want to go. Probably L.A."
"So what... do you do?"
Caroline looks as if I just offered her a partially eaten fruitcake. "I'm a fitness instructor and instagrammer."
"Like instagramming is your job?"
"I have over a six hundred thousand followers. I should hope so." She winks.
I decide to let that one go. "And Charles's friend? Frizz?"
"You mean Fitz?" she laughs. "Fitz is consulting for finances. They know each other from college. He will follow Charles into the wild lands of the North to make sure he has an advocate and doesn't make any stupid financial choices."
"How helpful," I say. Not unlike Peggy, Caroline need only be prompted, but I know I'm not getting the whole download. She is too crafty to over share. For every single thing she says, there are a million things left unsaid.
I feel that Caroline Bingley is spinning a web and I'm walking right into it.
"His official title is interim accountant of the Netherfield expansion, but," she lowers her voice, "Just between you and me, I think he's going to be offered the position of chief financial officer any day now. I don't know if he'll take it though. He's already the new owner of the Pemberly label."
I've never heard of Pemberly label. Another wine? "He works two wine companies?"
"Aren't you cute," Caroline laughs, "The real work falls to the CEO. Ownership, again, passed from parents to son. Ironic how that works. It is sort of like a kingdom. Fitz Darcy hardly does any real work, he smiles for promotions, signs papers, gives tours of his favorite vineyard, makes a shit ton of money, and gets to write little blurbs for the labels."
I suspected as much, and yet I'm suddenly disappointed. I don't know why I expected any differently. Of course Fitz Darcy is filthy rich but hardly does any real work. He makes a "shit ton" of money and thinks it places him in a position of power to judge people like me, evicted from her apartment, trying not to default on student loans, and moving back in with her parents? What an asshole.
Maybe if he worked at his own company at an entry-level position he'd gain a level of understanding for the little people. And while we're at it, he could get visited by ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.
"What are you two talking about now?" Charles asks loudly, holding a stray hot dog bun in one hand, and a broken red solo cup in the other.
"Moving is terrible. Especially with siblings around," Caroline shouts back, waving a hand at Charles.
She expects me to somehow pick up her cue that this is a discussion she loves to have with other women but is best left unshared with her brother. She probably doesn't want her brother to know how much she pays attention to Fitz Darcy.
I take the cue. "Oh, sure," I shrug aimlessly. "I remember the days of moving in and out of the dorms. You must be exhausted."
Caroline smiles at me. A friendly smile, but her eyes remain narrow and calculating. "Oh, yes, dorms... boarding school?"
I pause long enough to make her uncomfortable. "...University."
"How fun!" She says, as if I held up a stick figure drawing I had made during preschool that morning for her fridge and her approval. "What year are you?"
"I graduated back in 2012."
"Oh, wow, I'm sorry. I thought you were younger."
I can tell she wasn't actually surprised. "It's fine." I laugh amiably, "I don't mind looking younger. It will be helpful when I'm eighty-nine and everyone else has shriveled up from excessive tanning bed use."
A very tan Caroline doesn't have a chance to reply. Mom drops something in the kitchen, and it clatters so loudly that every head on the porch jerks upwards. Saved by the bell.
"Gotta go," I scoot through the door, skidding into the kitchen to find a runaway box of tupperware lids had fallen from the top of the fridge. How that happened, I couldn't begin to tell you.
As I help collect the slippery plastic, Mom is talking full speed ahead without a single pause.
I don't hear any of it. I watch through the window as Charles and Jane walk side by side towards his Porsche, which looks terribly out of place beside my gray 1989 Honda and Dad's green 1991 Ford Ranger.
Caroline speedily gets into the passenger side. Jane and Charles remain outside a moment, talking and smiling. Jane tucks her back behind her ear... a nervous gesture I'm familiar with.
And then they exchange phones, the screens lighting up their faces in a greenish glow. Charles looks completely ecstatic, and Jane looks bashful. They fill in each other's information, and pass the phones back to each other. I suppose their fingers probably touch briefly.
Then they leave, and Jane floats back towards the porch.
:::
Eventually Lori and Mark also bid their farewells, and Charlotte excuses herself to go inside and pet sit so that my mom won't pull her hair out. Yippee seems to sense that Charlotte is studying to be a vet and works with animals three days a week. He just about pees himself with excitement every time she's within licking distance. It's a special relationship.
I find Jane making good use of a broom handle as a dancing partner. She swings around the porch in lazy circles, humming to herself. Cinderelly.
"Well, look at you," I say with a smile, grabbing a cooler out of the sunporch and dragging it across the cement. "Someone looks happy. And I think I know who may be responsible for that..."
Jane looks at me with wistful expression. "And pray who is that, do tell?"
"A certain tall, dark, and handsome man named Charles."
Jane sweeps the broom from side to side gently, admitting nothing.
"You do realize you're sweeping up dirt, not pixie dust, right?" I ask.
She gives me an annoyed look. "I'm capable."
"Sweep, woman! Sweep! and don't give me that look, no, I am going to hover out here until you tell me what you think of Mr. Charles Bingley."
With a low groan I heave the cooler onto its side and dump the melted ice out into the grass. The miniature tsunami interrupts two maskeeter-eaters making love in the air. (for those of you not from Oregon, they're supposedly called crane flies in other parts of the world).
"Well, if you intend to force me," Jane replies loftily, "I think he is the most beautiful person I've ever met."
"And?"
"I know you're not supposed to trust first impressions... but... he has everything in maturity, personality, and morals that I have ever wanted in a man. A real man. Not a man boy."
"Five points for Charles!" I declare, leaving the cooler to let it drain over night. I return to the sunporch and grab the second one. "Also, he's hot. Did you notice that?"
"I did and I can honestly say I don't see how he could even look twice at me."
"I heard him say the same thing about you."
"YOU DIDN'T," Jane drops the broom. "You're kidding, right?"
"I'm not."
"He thinks I'm pretty?" Jane tries to sound casual, picking up the broom again. "Wow. I... um. I'd never expect that. From a guy like him."
"You'd never expect that?" I repeat in disbelief. "I certainly did. It's fairly routine in my perspective."
"What? Being attractive? No it is not," Jane disagrees quickly.
"Here's the difference between us, Jane. Compliments always take you by surprise." I dump the cooler into the grass. The sudden rush of melted ice made a sound like a slushie machine. "They never surprise me. Ever. If someone doesn't say, 'isn't Jane's hair pretty today?' it's unnatural."
"Oh, stop it, you know that's not true."
"Your modesty has always been a virtue, Jane, but you're not allowed to be stupid. It's okay if you know you're hot."
"Good grief, Lizzy, you're laying it on thick tonight. Have you been drinking?"
"Probably!"
"Are you tipsy?"
"You know I'm not the lightweight in this family," I remind her to my smug satisfaction. "I'm just saying accept his attention. Roll with it. Be cool." I grab the third and final cooler. "I over heard him talking to that Grump Ass friend of his, and he said he liked you. He wouldn't shut up about you."
Jane squeaks. "Really?"
"I give you my permission to love him and make beautiful babies. You know I've had some strong opinions about people you've gone out with before..."
Jane gives me the benefit of an annoyed laugh. "I am fully aware."
"You have a tendency to like people quickly, you know, and then they show their true colors later... You know Dad only just found out about the Hat Guy?"
Third cooler goes up, over, and sloshes. Now we have a flood in the flower bed.
"I wish you all would stop calling him that! It's Stephen."
"He wore a trilby and called it a fedora."
"How do you even KNOW that stuff? Lizzy, seriously..."
"My point is you took forever and a day to acknowledge that Stephen was just... so..."
"Awful?" Jane fills in sadly. "Immature? Unhygienic? Unfashionable? Irresponsible with money?"
"Hearing you describe him like that gives me hope for the future."
"I'm honest, you know that," Jane huffs. "You act as if I am blind to mankind in general but I'm really not. I just like to give people the benefit of the doubt... giving everyone grace. What's so wrong with that?"
"Nothing, but you have to admit that sometimes you are naive. Letting Stephen string you along for god knows how long because you were blind to everything that he really was."
"Of course I'm not too proud to admit I was wrong about Stephen," Jane says, leaning the broom against the wall. "But it's so much better to love everyone you meet and let them disappoint you, then it is to love no one and hope they can live up to impossible expectations."
"You should have been a teenager in the sixties."
"It's something you should think about doing, Lizzy Bennet," Jane says sternly.
I abruptly steer the topic. "Well, speaking of first impressions and loving everyone... what did you think of his sisters?"
"Well, Amelia and her husband were fairly snooty at first," Jane shrugs. "See? I can form hasty judgements."
"So hasty," I say dryly.
"They were too busy playing on their smart phones to form any friendships, but they kept mentioning skiiing this slope or hiking that. That's why I suggested badminton. They finally lightened up a little. I cracked their code. They thrive on energy and athleticism. They can't handle people who are... still. Lazy? What's the word?"
"Idle?"
"Exactly."
"And the other sister?" I continue.
"Caroline was so nice. I like her a lot. We're very similar people! I've followed her on Instagram before, it took me awhile to realize she was the same person. She's sort of famous."
"You must have missed the part where she was sending negative signals from her eyebrows."
"You're so weird. She was not. They're certainly not as extroverted as Charles. But once you get them talking... Caroline and I have a lot in common actually. We wear the same make up. And we have the same size shoe. She said she had a bag of heels she was getting rid of, and said she'd bring them over here for me instead! She's very thoughtful."
If it were a bag of shoes from Charlotte Lucas, its thoughtful. A bag from Caroline seemed... mocking. I could not imagine someone like her giving Jane a bag of heels without a message; subtly placing Jane beneath her in the caste system as if she were a Salvation Army drop-off zone. A benefactor of her generosity and ego, but not her friendship or compassion. It was placating charity without grace.
"What are you thinking?" Jane asks, in my pause.
"She has judgy eyebrows," I repeat. Whenever Jane puts me in a corner I fail in eloquence.
"She was polite, more than I can say for you," Jane shakes her head. "Though I will agree with you on one thing."
"And what's that?"
"Charles's friend? Fitz Darcy? You're right about him. He's a total Grump Ass."
"And what makes them friends, I wonder?" I say. "Charles is obviously a people person. And Mister Fitz Darcy... Well, I don't get it. One is bright and vivacious and full of... ready laughter and quick wit," I add the last part in a posh British accent, "But the other is decidedly morose and unfriendly."
Charlotte pops her head out of the back door. "Are you talking about us?" she asks. "Because I would most definitely agree that I'm full of ready laughter and you are decidedly morose and unfriendly."
"What makes you friends, I wonder?" Jane chuckles, with a pointed look at me as if she was hoping that I was learning a valuable lesson.
"I think I'm skipping the moral of the story," I say. "If you want me to catch a point you need to tell me what it is."
"Maybe you and Fitz have more in common than you think!"
"We have nothing in common. I'm insulted at the suggestion," I sigh.
"Opposites attract," Jane says with a smile, looking fondly at the broom.
"Why, Jane? Did you get... swept off your feet?" Charlotte cackles loudly. Yippee hears her laughter and starts barking wildly. "Not again," Charlotte sighs.
"If only I could find a love like the relationship between my best friend and my dog," I say gloomily.
:::
...
...
...
...