Her companion swirled Lizabeth around in a circle in their shared excitement, before then her feet touched back down on the ground.

"It's a boy!" she cried out yet again. "I'm so excited!" Her hands squeezed his upper arms as he still hadn't let go of her.

William looked down at her and then seemed to realize that he was holding her around the waist and opened his fingers to release his hold, though he didn't quickly pull his arms away. "Metcalfe wanted a son," he remarked. His arms finally fell to his side.

"I need to find Edgar," she said and turned away without any other word. She'd just hugged that rude man from the country club and the office! She'd been caught up in the group excitement, but apparently, so had he.

Ed was at the back of the garden near the final platform, as the two team leaders posed for photographs. Jane Sweet was organizing the photographer and a videographer.

"You both get a special prize for being our Team Captains," she explained. Lizabeth saw that she was holding two new lanyards, which were black and blue check (baby blue). "Along with the keys on your team lanyards, try these out at our wall of gifts in the game room." Jane handed one to each of the captains.

Edgar took his and did a mock salute towards the event planner then glanced nervously over at his fellow captain. He looked up to see her and waved her over. "Lizabeth!"

"Congratulations," she said, coming up. Her arm reached for him, but he shook off any sign of affection.

"What do you mean," he whispered as he dodged her. "I lost!"

"But you represented Team Blue really well. It was a joint effort."

"I can't believe I lost to a man in a wheelchair," he grumbled, turning his back on her and walking away from the winner's area.

"But he's a great man, and it was all for fun!" Lizabeth continued.

"Let's go eat," Edgar grumbled without waiting to see if she followed. The amount of food was enormous. A formal dining room gave way to a living area, which gave way to a sunroom that opened out onto the gardens. All of those rooms were allocated for food and drink. As everyone rode a high with having participated in the gender reveal, everyone was now eager to get to the partying.

One huge table held nothing but bottles of wine, all lined up waiting to be uncorked. Many were already open. Those same black-clad people were pouring out generous glassfuls of wine to eager participants.

Ed grabbed two glasses and pressed one on Lizabeth. "It matches your dress, cheers," he said, clinking glasses together.

"Cheers," she replied.

They perused the assortment of food. There was something for everybody, food from different specialties to tempt any palate. It had all been reduced to finger food: mini tacos, tiny egg rolls, meat or vegetables wrapped in some covering, most everything was in a pastry shell or crust. All of the items were labeled and had allergen labels. It all looked delicious. She and Edgar wandered around the food area and finally found a place to sit.

They had divergent views about the nature of the event. Ed still grumbled about losing, and having lost; he declared that the entire idea of a human Rube Goldberg machine stupid. Lizabeth wanted to share how excited she had felt through the whole event and how it had gotten everyone involved.

She enjoyed that feeling. "There was a sense of community at the end. It didn't matter if it was the Pink Team or Team Blue who won in the end. As Jane said, it wasn't like we were going to change the sex of the baby. It was that we were all involved!"

Edgar didn't see it that way. "It was just way too over-the-top," he declared and put an end to the discussion. He went back for more food and a second glass of wine, which put him in a better frame of mind. Lizabeth held her tongue and didn't discuss gender-reveal parties anymore. Instead, Ed talked about his long day of work. He and the Spectre crowd had gone back to the Goulding property then discussed a joint venture.

"I think that we need to develop a sophisticated tech area to woo Silicon Valley investors, develop our own little Merton Tech area here as an alternative. Josef mentioned that one of the requirements was a good source of cheap power, which isn't normally an issue with commercial development, but we're on the grid out here and can provide that cheaper than they can over in Silicon Valley."

"Computers take extra electricity?" she asked.

"Seems they do, though I don't understand why," Edgar said dismissively and stood. "I'm going to go mingle."

"Okay. I'm still eating." She went back for a few more tidbits, then settled back to observe the cross-section of people. Some she knew, most of them looked like they were country-club types (it was the best way she could characterize them), the rich and powerful of Merton society. Lawyers, businessmen, and -women, city council members, or those with other government jobs.


"May I join you?" said a voice. Ryan Fitzwilliam had a plate on his lap. He wheeled closer.

"Of course," Lizabeth said. "Are you just now getting to the food?"

"I had a lot of people come up to congratulate me on a job well-done," he explained.

"You did a great job. I was impressed," she gushed.

"Weren't you rooting for the blue team?" Ryan asked.

"I was caught up in the excitement of the whole thing. I think Jane did an excellent job," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed as he nibbled at something on his plate. "Weren't you originally on Team Pink?"

She felt a little twist in her gut. "Yes," she confessed. "But Ed wanted me on his team, so when Jane wasn't looking, he stole a blue lanyard for me." She looked at him with a guilty face. "Don't tell anybody."

"I won't," Ryan remarked as he kept nibbling at his food.

"Have you checked out your prize?" she asked, noting he didn't wear either of his lanyards.

"Oh!" the inflection of his voice fell. "Bottles of wine," he said dismissively. "They're all bottles of wine. It's just the price point on them. I think they have one for every guest."

"That's got to be expensive. There are a couple of hundred people here!" Lizabeth hadn't known deprivation, but she was still learning how the next level up lived.

"Troy's only going to be a father once," said Ryan. "Besides, he's loaded. Unlike me."

"I thought you were…had family here," she asserted, trying to ask a delicate question.

"I am my own man," he declared. "Ex-army and while being a disability advocate is a passion, it doesn't pay much." He had an intense look on his face, so she didn't dare pursue that line of conversation.

"Is there much left to do tonight?" Lizabeth felt it was still early.

"There's always partying," Ryan suggested. "But you're right. I think it's only eight." He glanced down at his wrist, which sported a rather sophisticated outdoorsy-sort of watch.

"I wonder how long Ed will want to stay." Her voice trailed off.

"I thought you two came separately," he noted.

"We did," she replied.

"Look, Lizabeth." He cleaned his fingers on a napkin before he turned his chair to face her better. "I really enjoyed talking with you this afternoon."

"I did too," she replied quickly, taking in his intense gaze.

"I wondered if you wanted to go out with me?" Ryan asked.

"No!" She was caught up short. "I have a boyfriend. Ed's my boyfriend." She thought that had been obvious and that he understood.

"I know, but he's kind of an arrogant SOB," he said softly, still looking at her.

Her gut twisted a little. "But he's my arrogant SOB," she whispered back, her face reddening.

"Okay," said Ryan. "Just putting it out there that I like you."

"I like you too," she replied automatically. Lizabeth looked away, out at the room, then down at her plate; she had only a few uneaten pieces left. She started to feel a little hot. "I…I…think I'm done." She stuttered. "Maybe it's time to head home. It was great meeting you."

"Great meeting you too," he replied, still gazing intently at her.

"Bye." They called to each other as she stood to leave.

Lizabeth walked around and reflected on what Ryan had said about Edgar and her immediate defense of him. Ed was as blustery as his father, though she wasn't sure that was right. Ed was personable and out-going, and sometimes those people just rubbed others the wrong way, right? Besides, Ryan liked her, why wouldn't he try to say something demeaning about her boyfriend in the hopes that she would go out with him?

She wandered around trying to find Edgar, which proved difficult given the acreage of the Metcalfe's house and the number of people inside, finally finding him talking business. "I'm ready to go." She laid a hand on his arm. "Are you ready?" she asked timidly.

"Lizabeth!" He seemed shocked to see her. "Can you give me a minute?" Ed held up his hand. There was another glass of wine in it. "Tell you what, why don't you go get our coats, and we'll head out?" He fished in his pocket for his ticket.

"Okay. I'll meet you in the entranceway?" Lizabeth hinted. "I think I'm going to drive you home if that's your third glass of wine."

"I'll be okay!" He insisted, looking at the men with a grin.

"No, I think not," she remarked; she didn't wish to argue with him in front of his friends, so dutifully went to get their coats. While she waited, Charlene passed by in a group but stopped to talk, telling her friends she would catch up.

"Wasn't that just incredible!" Lizabeth exclaimed.

"It was. I'm so glad that I got to come," Charlene agreed.

"So what did you do? I was in the tires," she gushed. "And when they said casual dress, they really meant it! Frankly, I didn't believe them. I think Jane did an incredible job."

Charlene wore slacks and a pretty sweater. "I was at the top of a ladder and had to retrieve a ball and then toss it. Luckily, I played basketball in middle school—even if I was the shortest player!" She giggled good-naturedly. "But, are you leaving already?" Charlene asked.

"Yes, Ed and I are heading out. He's had a long day. I'm kind of tired myself," Lizabeth admitted.

"Oh…how is it with you two?" her friend asked. The happiness in her voice drained away.

"Fine," Lizabeth answered.

"You know…" Charlene slurred.

"What?"

"Liza." For some reason, her friend had adopted the affectation of calling her 'Liza,' which had never been a nickname she used. But as Lizabeth often did, she let it go. "Oh, never mind," Charlene murmured.

Her friend knew all the details about Lizabeth's relationship with Edgar. She was one of the few people who didn't like him and said so. Lizabeth took that with a grain of salt because Charlene and Ed had grown up together. They had gone to high school at the same time. Charlene wasn't pretty (or pretty enough to attract him), though she dressed well. However, she didn't often attract men and would never have attracted Ed's eyes. Not in high school or now.

Lizabeth didn't want to put this down to some lingering high school jealousy that Charlene harbored for Edgar Stone. With Ed dating her, maybe it had crushed her friend and the lingering feelings Charlene had for him. But some small part of Lizabeth wondered (but didn't pursue) Charlene's hesitancy just then.

"Do you think there's anything more going on tonight besides partying?" Lizabeth asked instead.

"What's wrong with partying?" Charlene murmured. "Besides, I understood there are some interesting people, actors visiting."

"Oh yeah, the LA crowd!" Lizabeth agreed. "I met a couple of them at the country club last night."

"You did! You and I need to step up our game and not have short lunches. Maybe we need to go out for dinner next week as well?"

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed. Ed came stumbling into the foyer then, and Charlene said farewell. Lizabeth looked at her phone and noticed that it had taken him twenty minutes to appear.


There were two black-coated helpers at the front who did car-key checks on people. They didn't have breathalyzers, but they did an excellent job of challenging people on the amount of alcohol consumed. And while Lizabeth wasn't able to talk Edgar into admitting he'd had too much to drink, the black-clad minions were. It was Lizabeth who drove them back to her apartment.

They never went to Ed's house; she had never been to his house. He owned one but insisted that it was the gentlemanly thing to go to the lady's house and that single women didn't visit men. It was as though he subscribed to a set of old-fashioned rules when this was the twenty-first century. Every week on Friday night (and the occasional rare extra day, like tonight), they ended up at her apartment.

The pair made their way up to the second floor. When he slipped on one of the treads, she thought maybe he had consumed more than three drinks. Usually, they watched movies snuggling on the couch at the end of their evenings together, but she wondered if he wouldn't be too tired. Edgar didn't have his car with him that night, and how was he to get home?

Lizabeth turned from hanging up their winter coats to find him just behind her and not waiting on the couch. He wrapped his arms around her for a rather prolonged kiss. "Beth," he said, when he came up for air. He had never called her that before. His hands ran down her back to her buttocks to pull her tightly against him. "Beth, can we forego movies tonight?"

"Yes," she agreed. They'd had some pretty intense make-out sessions on that couch, but that was as far as they had gotten. Shirts or blouses untucked with hands exploring the skin. But that was as far as it had gone in their months of dating, though she had attempted to get him off of the couch and into the bedroom. She'd been too embarrassed to ask outright, and he had never been inclined to push before.

Ed's hands moved all over her body as Lizabeth pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders and onto the floor. He then reached up to loosen and remove his tie. "Come on," he barked, walking down the hall and pushing open the door to the master bedroom, which wasn't her room. It was the one she reserved for her parents; Lizabeth wasn't sure if she had ever mentioned that to him.

He shut the door—which seemed unnecessary—then pulled her over to the bed, sitting her down. Edgar pulled up one leg to undo the tiny clasps on her heels. The left shoe came off, but the right one gave him some trouble, and Lizabeth had to reach down and fiddle with the tiny tongue before he pulled the shoe free. Then he loomed over her, pushing her back onto the bed, all the while kissing her as his hands roamed.

Lizabeth could only think that she was to have sex finally. Her mother had seen to it that she had so few dates, that sex was one milestone she had yet to achieve. Living at home had put such a cramp in her life that she was embarrassed to be twenty-five and still a virgin. She knew all about sex; it was everywhere, all over the media, in movies, even in her romance novels (which were all about love but had explicit details about the act). But she couldn't help feeling more of an observer as Edgar kissed and rubbed her. He didn't say anything. She hoped he wasn't too drunk; she knew that could be an issue for a man's performance.

"I'm glad," he finally said in a deep, raspy voice. "Glad we're here." He partially unbuttoned his shirt and tugged to pull it out of his waistband then sat up to undo the cuffs. "I've been 'being sensitive' for months now. It's been tough, I can tell you."

She frowned as she didn't quite understand his meaning as her thoughts were elsewhere. She was anticipating what was to come and felt a certain excitement in her limbs and around her body. Lizabeth hadn't considered conversation. She sat up on her elbows. "Being sensitive?" she said softly.

"I've had to restrain myself a lot," he grumbled. His shirt came off, and he turned back, pushing her skirts up.

"Ed!" She was mortified suddenly. "Why? Why would you have to?" she exclaimed as she attempted to pull her skirts back down. Suddenly, she felt the need to talk and not…move on.

"Because I know," he said, looking her in the eyes. They went from lustful and a blurred, drunken-eyed stare, to clear-enough.

"Know what?" she asked quietly, pushing herself up a little more.

"That you're a virgin; I need to make your first-time good…and all that. I have to be sensitive about…all that."

Lizabeth frowned as she felt sweat bead on her forehead and temples, and an odd and uncomfortable prickling sensation formed under her skin as she sat up further and scooted back a couple of inches. "How do you know that?" she asked in an oddly deep voice.

"Your uncle told me," Ed grumbled as he moved up to kiss her neck and fondle a breast. He rubbed forcefully, attempting to peel her bra back to expose a nipple despite the dress not being unzipped.

"Uncle Edward told you?" The skin on her face went pale as her mouth hung open for a second. Her stomach churned over, and her breathing intensified—and not because of desire. "How does he know?"

"I'm sure your aunt told him," he said without much concern. "Shush now. Shush," Edgar replied, still rubbing her breast.

"I can't do this," Lizabeth said, pushing at him.

"I'm ready. I'm prepared," he said as she moved away from him again.

"No!" She felt like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Look, I'll get you a ring, how's that?" he declared, pushing himself onto his arms to look down at her. He had part of his body on top of her and was pushing his knee against her thighs, trying to pry them open.

"A ring?"

"Yeah, I'll get you a ring." There was a pause as Ed leaned over to kiss her. "Tomorrow."

"No." She didn't realize how quickly she could move, but she managed to push herself away, upwards to swiftly get off of the bed and stood on the other side. "Ed, you need to leave. I can't do this; I want you to go!"

"What's wrong, Beth? I said I'd get you a ring!" He was almost yelling.

"An engagement ring?" Lizabeth asked.

"Yes," Edgar nodded as he sat up.

"I don't want to marry you!" she shouted.

"What! Why not? I thought that was obvious? That's what was going on between us," he exclaimed.

"We're just dating! I just thought we were going to have sex. But you know!" she moaned.

"Everybody knows," he said. He didn't sound kind.

"Everybody knows? Just leave!" Lizabeth raised her voice, and something penetrated his alcohol-intoxicated mind. He got off of the bed and picked up his shirt, thrusting his arms into the sleeves before walking out without another word. He had a phone and a lot of money to his name. Edgar Stone could figure out how to get home.

She stood shivering in her spare room and stared around, but then moved to lean against the wall when dizziness hit. Lizabeth wondered how her first experience of sex had become awkward and raw—with a presumption of marriage. Edgar hadn't asked; he had just declared that he would get a ring as if she was expecting it. Like it was part of some bargain between them. She was trading her virginity for a marriage license. Tears fell down her cheeks as she felt confused and sad and angry and ashamed and disappointed all at once.

He knew. Edgar knew. He said everybody knew. Was it something they discussed in the Hill Café or on the streets of Merton or at the hotel bar in the evening? Oh! Did you hear, Lizabeth Bennet is still a virgin, and who is going to claim that prize?

She felt the long shadow of her mother over her. If only Mrs. Bennet had given an inch once in a while and let her come home later than 10 p.m. Let her not have to account for every fifteen minutes of every day. In some ways, she was so innocent (and not in the virginal sense—she read racy romance novels, she knew about sex).

But in a way, Lizabeth didn't know how to cope with people and situations because her mother had dealt with any issue, always had run interference. Somehow, her mother was still interfering and controlling her life. She wouldn't have put it past Dawn Bennet to have encouraged this relationship with Edgar. That somehow, it had been prearranged between her and Uncle Ned. They were conspiring together to marry her off appropriately and correctly to someone Dawn hand-picked. All Lizabeth wanted was to feel normal, like everybody else.

The dizziness increased, and she slid down the wall to sit on her butt. Her knees tented under her dress. It had been an expensive one, but she didn't care right then. She laid her head down and cried as she hugged her knees. Lizabeth wondered how she was to get on with her life if her mother was still interfering even though she lived an hour and a half away. How could she face her aunt and uncle at their regular Sunday dinner the next day?

Eventually, she made it into her room and her pajamas. There would be no late-night romance reading. She curled up in a tight ball and fell asleep.


She was still miserable when she woke but was determined, on another level, not to let this affect her. Determined to be able to break away from the shadow of her mother's control.

Lizabeth considered Ed's remark about it being her uncle telling him she was a virgin and that it was probably her Aunt Chrissie who had told her uncle. But she didn't think that her aunt would share that information. She thought that given that Dawn and Edward were brother and sister, it was something that her mother had said in passing. "Take special care of her, you know Lizabeth is still a virgin." And since Uncle Ned didn't have daughters, he must buy into a double standard for women; Lizabeth didn't know for sure.

She needed to talk to somebody. At first, she tried Charlene's number but didn't get through; she was probably recovering from the party the night before. Then she recalled Friday and her drink with Jane and Mary. Lizabeth decided to go to the hotel bar; she had told Mary that she would come.

In some ways, Mary Abel was a sitting duck, waiting for people to find her. She had no choice if people wanted to come over to the piano to speak to her since that was her job. But it meant that Lizabeth knew where to find her. Mary also had the type of job where people came to confess their woes. It was like being a barista or a bartender—to be a lounge lizard singer was similar.

Most hotels with pianos had a huge black grand piano in pride of place. But this configuration was different. Lizabeth didn't know if it was for space or decorating reasons, but a small upright piano had been built into the end of the bar so that they were all one unit. The hotel did a long Sunday brunch service, which was always busy. Guests shuffled in, but local Merton families also made a habit of coming in to eat, taking grandma out, or giving mom a break from cooking.

Sunday brunch music was different from dinner music, which was different entirely from late-night music. Mary played slightly familiar tunes. Ones that tickled the memories across multiple generations and made people say 'oh,' though they couldn't ever quite place them.

She nodded when Lizabeth sat next to her with a plate of food. Mary rarely sang. Currently, she was playing a composition that sounded a little Disneyish, a little Broadywayish, perhaps a little classic rock all mixed together. When she finished, she put her hands in her lap and looked at her audience. Nobody ever clapped, but she was like any performer who sought accolades, even if there were none, then she turned to Lizabeth.

"I heard it was quite the thing," Mary commented. She poured herself a drink from a pitcher of water in front of her.

"It was," Lizabeth agreed. They talked about the Metcalfe's party for a few minutes while she nibbled her breakfast. Mary played while Lizabeth ate.

Someone came up to request a tune; Mary dutifully nodded. As soon as they walked away, she remarked, "I never take requests. I think Mrs. Long asks every week. When will she ever learn?"

It was 'brunch,' which meant that people came as early as eight to eat (these were usually the guests), but some people came for their meal closer to lunchtime. By the time Lizabeth had gotten through her indifferent night of sleep, a shower, and dressed; she hadn't arrived until after ten. Then she and Mary spent the better part of an hour talking both because Mary was working and because there was a lot to discuss about the Metcalfe's wild gender-reveal party. Lizabeth explained about the lanyards, Team Pink and Team Blue, the various stations, and the final race to the finish.

The crowds in the hotel began to thin. She was thankful that there were fewer people around the piano then. A waitress cleared away her plate, but Lizabeth went back for a small plate of pineapple, which she was picking at when she leaned over and asked, "can I talk to you?"

"I thought we were talking," said Mary, who was pouring herself another glass of water.

"Well," replied Lizabeth with a deep sigh.

"Oh," said Mary. There was something that passed over her face as she realized how embarrassed Lizabeth was and that she had a sensitive subject to share. Mary's hands went down to the keyboard and began to tickle the keys lightly, but the tune was soft. Lizabeth didn't feel that she was being put off, but that Mary was creating a smokescreen so that she couldn't be overheard.

"It's about Edgar and me, after we went home last night," she began. Mary nodded and kept playing her little tune that wasn't a tune. It didn't seem to be going anywhere or appear to have an ending. Lizabeth had the idea that it wouldn't end until her story ended. "Ed wanted to have sex last night."

"Yes," it was encouragement.

"And I did too." There was a sound Mary made as though to ask what the problem was? "I've never had sex before," she confessed in the softest whisper.

Both eyebrows on Mary's face rose. "Was it awful? Were you scared?"

"No, that's not the issue. He offered to marry me in return for my virginity."

Lizabeth, whose mother had put her through both piano and voice lessons, could hear the tiniest pause before Mary continued playing again. The tune was also a little different.

"Why…why are you dating Edgar Stone?" Mary asked.

"He asked me out," was Lizabeth's immediate response, though the question chilled her a little.

"Would you date any man who asked you out?" Mary asked next.

"No…I don't know," she admitted, honestly. "I've dated so few men."

"And you've really, never?" The pianist drew out the last word.

"No! I don't know if I've ever explained about my mother?"

"Not really," said Mary. She sounded both interested and bored. A fine line to walk, but one people in her position had used that pulled out information.

"I have a helicopter mother. If you looked up the phrase and it was a picture dictionary, it would be her photo," she quipped.

"She didn't go on dates with you?" her friend asked in a half-joking, half-serious manner.

"Almost," Lizabeth laughed, "almost."

"Can I ask a question?" Mary raised a single eyebrow.

Lizabeth stared down at her dish of pineapple. She'd only managed one bite and realized she was just cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces with the side of her fork. "Yes." After all, she had brought up the topic to Mary.

"You said you wanted to have sex, too," Mary began.

"Yeah," she answered quickly. "I thought we had a relationship and were progressing to the next step. But Edgar said that everybody knows about me, though he was perfectly willing to lift my virginity."

"I didn't know," Mary remarked. "I'm not sure anyone in my orbit knew, so don't let that bother you. All-in-all he sounds like he's a jerk. But do you think you're still boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"I don't know," Lizabeth answered. "I don't think so."

Mary kept playing that endless tune as they looked at each other, and as Lizabeth thought. What had she wanted in her relationship with Edgar Stone, III? She wanted a little experience. She wanted to know what the rest of the world had, but she didn't love him; there was no love between them. Lizabeth felt not the slightest modicum of love for Ed, a rather grim realization as she listened to Mary's tune. She didn't pick up her fork and abuse her pineapple pieces anymore. Edgar had been flattering and had been something to do on Friday nights, but that had been all.

"No," she said with compunction and assurance. "I never loved him. It's over." She pushed the fruit plate away from her. The song came to an end.

"I'm off at noon today," Mary noted.

Lizabeth wondered if the 'lounge lizard queen' had such a well-developed sense of time that she knew twelve was fast approaching.

"Lizabeth!" She turned to find Jane Sweet standing beside her with various people just beyond, indicating that they had come together. "I've never seen you here on Sunday morning. Did you just get here? Would you like to join us?"

As her last name implied, Jane was sweet and friendly and would invite a person into a group even if, maybe, they were not wanted.

"Lizabeth, nice to see you, my lady." The man next to Jane held out his hand. "When we met on Friday, I don't think we were properly introduced. Charles Lee."

"Lizabeth Bennet," she answered, taking his hand. She looked at the others. William was there, as were the two women from the country club retiring room. Jane was a gracious hostess who introduced them. The women's names were Caroline Bingley and Amanda Grantley.

"We've met several times over the course of the weekend," Caroline nodded.

"I don't think we've formally met," said William, who held out his hand. "William Darcy." Lizabeth found her hand clasped in a large, warm one. "Do join us," he reiterated Jane's invitation.

"I've already eaten," she asserted.

"Please sit with us then," Jane pressed. Lizabeth didn't feel inclined, but couldn't find the words to refuse.

Mary suddenly said, "It's noon. I'm off. It wouldn't hurt to talk and not go home alone." No one else caught the underlying meaning, but Lizabeth thought that her friend was hinting that she ought to stay and not go brood about her situation with Edgar. She was better off in the company of others.

"Okay," Lizabeth agreed.

The party settled comfortably in a booth with their various choices of food before them. Lizabeth was gently tucked in between Jane and Caroline in the middle since she didn't need to get up and down to go back to the buffet line. Jane had only met the others the previous day, but seemed on good terms with everyone already. You could obviously meet people and become friends quickly. Like with Mary, who Lizabeth had come to confess to (who had been both philosophical and counseling). Was it Mary's nature or the nature of her job that people confessed things to her? She wanted to take Mary's sympathy at face value.