It was Lizabeth and Charlene's weekly luncheon, but when the two friends met in front of the Hill Café, the line up to the counter ran out the doors. As it was drizzling (not exactly coming down hard enough that it warranted umbrellas, but annoying), they quickly made their way around the corner to a Mexican grill. There were fewer people inside, but they had to wait longer for their food. It didn't cater to those working people who had to eat and be back to work in an hour. Most of the other people inside wore suits and seemed to have more time to linger over their meal.
"I can't believe it's March already!" Charlene exclaimed once the pair had ordered. "It's been three weeks since I met Lyle too."
"It seems so much has changed lately. Me and Ed, the Judge's baby, you and Lyle," Lizabeth agreed. Charlene stared for a moment as if not sure how to respond. Lizabeth knew she had been prickly about her breakup with Edgar. "Change in a good way," Lizabeth assured her friend.
Charlene's shoulders relaxed. "I've been pretty happy seeing Lyle this past couple of weeks. Maybe it's been annoying to talk about him so much? Sometimes, when you're blissfully happy, you don't realize you're, like, railroading over others." Her eyes looked straight into Lizabeth's as she waited for a response.
Lizabeth thought about the past few weeks. It had been a new stage for her when her life before had been more ordered (by her mother). Her time now was different and unpredictable and without precedence. Hearing Charlene gush at every Thursday luncheon or on the other days they met had made the loss of her boyfriend harder in a way—but she still didn't regret losing Ed or begrudge Charlene her happiness.
It had been three weeks since Lizabeth saw her aunt and uncle, though she was due there the coming weekend. Her mother still called, but she had finally realized that Dawn Bennet just needed to complain. When Lizabeth let her complain without comment and then hung up, life was simpler. And Jane and Mary were becoming good friends. She also realized that friendship was a two-way street. Initially, she had sought them out for advice without listening to their problems or opinions.
But both women now shared more about themselves. Jane especially, as she and her actor were intensely interested in each other. And Charles drove up from Los Angeles to visit. Jane Sweet was both worried—since their lives were firmly established in two different cities—but infatuated with her handsome, actor boyfriend. Mary Abel was more reticent but indicated she didn't want to spend her entire life being a singer in a hotel bar; she had aspirations that included songwriting and stage performance.
"No." It was concise and honest. "I enjoy your friendship. I like hearing from you, and so I like hearing about you and Lyle." Lizabeth smiled, which the waiter, who was putting drinks down on the table, seemed to think was directed at him. He winked at her; she ignored him.
"Would you want to meet him? Have dinner with us this weekend! I know you and I have taken to shopping on Saturday mornings, and I don't want to stop that. But come out to dinner with us. Neither of us bites, and we'll have fun," her friend assured.
"Okay," Lizabeth agreed. She didn't agree wholeheartedly but didn't have objections either. And after all, she was working on improving her friendships, and that included being supportive of their love relationships, right?
"Not sure what the council is thinking besides tax revenue, but that's going to be a long time coming," said a man who had a file folder open in front of him. He was at the next table over with another man in a suit, frowning back at him. They both were indulging in beers at lunch, though that was taboo in most businesses.
"But that software firm pulled together quite a presentation in short-order. Somehow, after approving the Deburg acquisition in January, the city is going to go forward with more development. I'm not sure if someone on the council isn't on the take, or just doesn't understand how far in the future it will be before the city sees any return," murmured the first suit. The two men were the sort whose voices carried, and who didn't care that they did. They were used to being listened to and neither minded that they could be overheard (or cared if their conversation was annoying).
Lizabeth stared at Charlene and then rolled her eyes. They had often discussed how difficult it was to have lunchtime conversations when everyone else was talking that sometimes you almost had to shout. The waiter came back just then, far faster than they expected, with their orders. He made a big production of serving them, catching Lizabeth's eyes again. She frowned at him so he wouldn't get any ideas.
Charlene pressed about dinner with her and Lyle, and the two friends made plans for Saturday night as they ate, talking in between the conversation by the men next to them. The waiter brought their bill with enough time that they wouldn't be late. He wrote his phone number on the bill, but Lizabeth ignored it.
When she met him, Lyle Collins wasn't what Lizabeth was expecting. Her friend was on the short side, probably five foot three, but Lyle was at least six feet tall, broad-shouldered, thick-necked, and with quite a gut. He was prematurely thin on top and had chosen to shave his head every few days and went with the bald look. But it wasn't his physical looks alone which surprised her. He was talkative and out-going. Lizabeth knew he was a teacher, yet he seemed the sort who treated everyone as though they were a small child of six rather than an adult. She wondered what taking a class with him would be like.
Charlene beamed when she introduced him. Lizabeth expressed pleasure at meeting him, then the three of them walked into the restaurant (another Mexican place, but fancier than their luncheon eatery from the previous day). He wasn't handsome or ugly, Lizabeth decided, just ordinary-looking. After the evening was over, however, she wondered what Charlene saw in Lyle Collins. But love is a fickle thing.
He talked and talked and talked. Lyle was not a listener. Maybe it was because of his profession. He was used to being in front of a classroom and lecturing. But he had an opinion about everything. Lizabeth could barely bring up a subject before she was interrupted, and Lyle would wax on with determination. It meant she and Charlene barely got a chance to speak. While she bristled inside, Lizabeth allowed her friend to make her own choices, just as Charlene and Jane and Mary had let Lizabeth make hers. That evening, she merely carried on with her small portion of the conversation. Maybe he was just a nervous person, and talking was his way of compensating? Lizabeth didn't know.
The couple meant to take in a movie as well, but Lizabeth said she had things to do (like finish another book), so she declined the invitation and went home to her bed, her cat, and her next romance novel.
Dinner with her aunt and uncle after a month apart also wasn't as intense an experience as she feared. For once, the meal wasn't about Lizabeth as it was about Scott. Aunt Chrissie and Uncle Ned were waiting with more apprehension about college admissions than their son. Most of the conversation centered on Scott's college choices, how they ranked, how likely it was that he would get into any of them, and a final rant from Chrissie about how she would miss her baby boy.
On Monday, there was a young couple who wanted to have a civil ceremony performed. Lizabeth had to explain that Judge Metcalfe was still out on leave. "He'll be out for another week. Judge Haggerston in Rivertown is on-call. You can contact him or come back next week."
The young woman, Sally Watson, was indignant. "But that's twenty-five miles away! I don't see why I should have to drive all that way to get married! This is a public service. My right as a tax-paying citizen to be married when and where I choose!"
Her fiancé, Ben Rhys-Jones, agreed with her. The couple argued with Lizabeth for several minutes, but she had nothing else to tell them. They had no desire to drive to Rivertown, so they indicated that they would be back in a week to schedule their ceremony. Lizabeth passed over the recording office's general business card and suggested that they call first to make sure that the Judge was indeed back in the office.
"Some people," Doug Morris remarked, catching Lizabeth's eyes and then rolling his dramatically when she looked at him.
"I know!" she replied with mock indignance. Lizabeth was getting used to dealing with the diversity of emotions people displayed. She thought she preferred the kids signing up to vote for the first time most of all. Even dealing with those people coming in to file for death certificates didn't wear her down as much as the arrogance of people who claimed entitlement to services because they were tax-payers. She said as much to Doug.
"People are assholes," he asserted. "They feel like they can push other people around for the flimsiest of reasons. They feel messed up inside, so they take it out on somebody else by getting all high-handed and superior. It's crap." Doug swiveled in the chair to look more fully at Lizabeth. "Don't ever sell yourself short. You do a great job here. We both know Troy doesn't help at all. I know what it's like to do a job without instruction."
She wondered if Doug was talking about his job or being a parent? She knew he was getting a divorce, but hadn't figured out what the custody situation was like. Maybe he was a single dad now? "Did I ever say thank you for stepping up to help me that one morning?" She was changing the subject, yes, but Lizabeth realized that Doug was a friend too. "When Ed was such an asshole, and you stood up for me? Anyways, I just want to say thank you."
"Any time. I hope that if my daughters were ever in such a situation that they wouldn't have to handle it on their own." He nodded sharply at her. She had imagined his kids as little, but maybe they were older, tweens, or teenagers? They didn't share much, but possibly Doug could be a friend, a man who was a friend. Sort of like William had been a friend that day. Doug must have made the same mental leap as his next comment was, "have you heard anything else from that guy who was here that day too? I got the impression that you and he were friends despite his being an asshole day one."
"Yes and no," Lizabeth answered, then went on to explain that she and William had gotten beyond his rudeness that first day.
"So…" Doug drawled out the word. "Have you heard from him since that last day he was here?"
"No, not since that Friday. He took me to lunch, but then went back to Los Angeles, as far as I know. That was, almost a month ago? He hasn't called or texted. Hasn't visited here, though I know that actor guy has been up here a few times."
"Yeah?" Doug seemed a hopeless gossip. "Why? To see someone?"
"Yes. The event planner at the hotel," Lizabeth explained.
"Interesting. Long-distance relationships never work, though," he shook his head slightly. She wondered if he had personal experience.
"They seem to be just taking it a day at a time, right now," said Lizabeth, who felt like her feathers were a little ruffled. Maybe because of Charles Lee's proximity to William Darcy.
"Won't last," he shook his head. "But…you and…William? Did you think to see him again?"
Very forward of him, she thought. Lizabeth also thought her chest and stomach burned a little at the question. "He said he might see me when he came back in six months to film his show." She tried for indifference but thought she failed as Doug grinned.
"Not exactly what I was asking, but you answered my question," he quipped and swung around to go back to work.
When Lizabeth next spoke to Jane Sweet, they talked about her relationship with Charles Lee and the troubles of dating someone who lived a couple hundred miles away.
"We're still in that new, discovery stage where every day with each other is magic," Jane remarked with a dreamy smile to match. "Every Saturday he comes is almost perfect. We spend time getting to know each other in those little ways, you know, but also the ways that just make your pulse race!" She let out a little tinkly laugh.
Lizabeth considered Jane's comments almost as if they were instructions for how to date. You got to know each other in simple ways, but also ways which made you feel good. There hadn't been anything like that with Edgar.
"But I only see him one and a half days a week, if I'm lucky, and then we're hundreds of miles apart after that." Jane grunted, a very unladylike sound.
"Is it worth it?" Lizabeth asked.
"Yes," Jane said automatically. "Oh, yes." Then something changed in her eyes, and her lips thinned, or was it a smile? Lizabeth didn't know. "But I worry. I am not moving to Los Angeles. I have never, ever, envisioned living in all that craziness and unreality and traffic and cramped apartments. So I would never consider moving there." There was a short silence while Lizabeth looked at Jane, who seemed to be thinking over several scenarios, including her time with Charles ending.
"And he couldn't live here and commute, could he?" Lizabeth asked gently.
"No," she answered. "So we're just enjoying each other's company right now. I don't want to speculate too much on the ultimate fate of our time together." Jane was quiet again. "But I wonder if I don't hold back, because I know it can't last? Do you understand?"
"I think I do," Lizabeth answered. All of this was new territory for her. She felt new, raw, green as far as relationships worked. If she watched TV or read romance novels, they gave skewed visions of simplistic relationships. Maybe she needed to read tragedies for a while and get a different view of the world. Lizabeth knew she was still learning. "But Jane, is it worth it to have time with Charles now?" she asked.
Lizabeth wasn't suggesting a course of action; she was asking a question. Jane seemed to think her friend was advising her as her face visibly brightened. "Yes! Charles is worth my time right now!"
She mentioned her discussion with Jane to Doug the next day. Lizabeth hoped she wasn't betraying confidences, but was exploring the complexities of relationships in her mind. There were so many different types, from casual all the way to marriage and even the relationship between parent and child, and she said so to Doug Morris as they waited for the computer terminal to boot.
"Every relationship is different and complex and maddening, and yet at one point in time, we all go into them thinking that they are worth the effort on our part," he began. Doug had his paper coffee cup and a bag with a breakfast item like he usually did. "Obviously, you dated that Ed guy because you thought it would be worth your effort. You get something from it?" He raised both eyebrows.
Lizabeth had dated Ed because he had asked her out; she had continued to date him because he wanted to keep seeing her. In retrospect, she wasn't sure what she got out of those weekly dates.
"I was a fool," she began. "I had so little experience. But what I got out of dating Edgar was the experience of knowing what I don't like from dating and figuring out a little more of what I do want from a relationship. Is that okay?" She thought she sounded like a little child asking for a parent's approval.
"We all learn from our relationships. Sometimes it's good, sometimes bad." He set his lips together tightly. "It's tough when it doesn't work out." He paused to stare at her. Lizabeth had no real idea of how old he was. She had always had this idea that he was her contemporary, but Douglas could be twenty-five, or he could be forty. He was one of those men who aged well. "My wife, soon to be ex-wife, and I couldn't make things work."
Again there was a pause. Lizabeth wondered if he was considering sharing the issues with his marriage. He continued. "But we are forever connected because of our kids, my girls," he smiled then, a genuine one which made Lizabeth smile back.
"How old are they?" she dared to ask.
"Eleven and nine. We don't want our issues screwing them up any more than they have to, so we're sharing custody and keeping the house. The girls stay at the house. My wife and I are the ones who move in and out a week at a time to care for them. That way, they stay at the same school, keep the same friends, and don't need to pack up and move around because their parents can't stay together."
Lizabeth stared at Doug. It was the most he had ever shared with her, and she wanted to thank him but thought that might sound lame. "Wow, that is great that you're doing the best for them, despite the divorce. I've never heard of such an arrangement; it shows how much you care—how much you love them."
"They're everything to me," he said simply. "But when you care for someone, you do things like live in one place one week and then another the next. I can't say the tiny apartment I live in on the off weeks is at all comfortable. But it's what you do."
"I wonder if Jane and Charles really fell in love, could they come to some arrangement where they might live one week up here, and one week down in Los Angeles to make it work?" Lizabeth asked suddenly.
"Don't know," Doug answered, sipping his coffee. "Love makes you do wild things." He sipped again. "Stupid things too."
"Lyle and I are thinking of going to Los Angeles for a short trip," said Charlene to her the next day at their regular luncheon. "Over a weekend and I wondered if you wanted to come too?"
"Like Disneyland?" Lizabeth asked. She had never been. Dawn didn't like crowds; she couldn't be in control in such a place.
"Well…" hemmed Charlene. "Lyle isn't big on amusement parks. He wants to see museums and other cultural sites like botanical gardens. But there's a three-day weekend, Easter weekend, and we thought we would get away." Her friend looked at her as she spooned soup into her mouth. Charlene seemed a little evasive as her eyes darted down at her bowl to dig the last couple of spoonfuls out. "But we are getting two rooms since we're not there yet, so there would be room for you." Her friend finally looked up. "You'd be staying with me."
"I've never been," Lizabeth said automatically. "And I'd like to go. I think I have that Friday off, is that when you're planning to leave?"
"Yes," Charlene nodded. "We'd leave Friday and have half a day Friday, all day Saturday and come back Sunday."
Lizabeth thought about seeing Los Angeles for once. A big city. Not that she didn't know San Francisco, but that was bound by its location and small, and Los Angeles, was LA! It had figured a lot in her mind and imagination lately since meeting William Darcy and his actor friends.
"I want to go," she reiterated. Of course, her mother would be expecting her to come home for Easter dinner. Perhaps there were plans in the making and her parents would be coming to Merton to the Gardiners for Easter; she didn't know. But no one had said anything to her, though Dawn always assumed that what she thought was law. It would take some careful planning as to how she told her family about her plans.
"Great!" Charlene's face brightened. Something else showed there too, relief maybe? Lizabeth wasn't sure, but she thought that Charlene didn't want to go on a vacation with her boyfriend without a friend in tow, especially if they were staying in separate hotel rooms. The two friends spent the rest of their lunch talking over the details of the trip and what sights they might see.
Lizabeth was distracted that afternoon. Her mind wandered, thinking first of going to Los Angeles and then about the people she knew who lived there. She hadn't allowed herself to think much about William Darcy since that final luncheon before he went away. They had had quite an exciting week together. It had been an intense way to meet a person. But he had gone away and not contacted her, and as she had explained to Doug, William said he wouldn't be back for six months. But Jane had indicated that if there was some spark, even if you were on the rebound, you ought to pay attention to the spark—or were those feelings?
Sometimes, Lizabeth thought she wasn't good at recognizing her feelings. It was as if her mother sucked them all out, leaving her bereft of any. It was as if Dawn needed to be the one always showing how she felt, and no one else in the family was allowed the luxury of happiness or despair or anger or outrage.
But there had been a spark of something with William, though Lizabeth had only allowed herself small dreams. Hopes hadn't been necessary before as her mother and father were going to provide everything for her. But now Lizabeth found herself speculating wildly on thoughts of romance. She knew all those stories she read were unrealistic, yet fundamentally they were about love. And Lizabeth wanted love, romantic love. She wanted to love a man and be loved in return.
She didn't need those traditional trappings of a diamond engagement ring, a wedding, a house, and babies. Lizabeth hadn't loved Edgar; she'd always known that. But until now, she hadn't realized that she was seeking romance and, in hindsight, what she and Edgar had was almost cold. All of her friends had been right to bash him. But what would it be like to date William Darcy? He lived so far away. (Jane bemoaned that she only saw Charles once a week.) William's work was exciting and interesting and of a type of work that she could more easily understand than Ed's (who often insisted that his business was too complicated for her female brain.)
Lizabeth didn't know much about William, and yet they had spent a lot of time together during that week. There was an ease in his company that last day, in particular. He had driven her to work after having taken her home because he felt responsible for her. Then he had supported her when Ed had come to say his piece and ended up attacking her.
She wished he would call. Maybe he didn't know her number? But he knew where she worked and could call her at the office. On the reverse side, she knew he owned his own company. She could easily do a search and find his number and call him. But Lizabeth was new to this game and wasn't confident that she was strong enough to contact him.
Somewhere in the middle of all of these musings, she realized that she was interested in more than just a friendship with William Darcy. It wasn't like Doug, who was sort of a work colleague (he was in the record's office every morning and someone to talk to.) Doug had proven his worth too when he had stood by her side that morning when she had had it out with Edgar.
But she was romantically interested in William Darcy.
Friday morning, it was unusually busy. Lizabeth answered many phone calls, helped a somber-faced man fill out a form to reassess his property taxes, and helped an older couple file for a tax postponement because they were seniors. She felt she had earned her lunch when two familiar faces walked in, Lydia Philips came in with George Wickham. Lizabeth was surprised to see them together since she knew them from different situations. Lizabeth had helped Lydia's mother with a death certificate, and George had been the one kind face at that country club dinner with Edgar months ago.
The couple walked up to the marriage and death certificate station. Lizabeth didn't think that they were there for another death certificate.
"We want to get married," George announced. He looked at Lizabeth, who was still at her desk and hadn't risen to greet them like she usually did. She had been lost in thought, with thoughts of Los Angeles, and then been surprised to see this incongruous pair that she hadn't immediately put on her best customer service display.
"Oh!" She stood to hide her shock, reaching for her prepared clipboard. They seemed unalike. Lizabeth knew George had money, or she thought he did, since he was the one who had the country club membership. And Lydia was as poor as that proverbial church mouse. But if you loved someone, what were such differences?
She moved up to the counter. This situation didn't warrant sitting on the chairs or boxes of tissues. It was almost noon, however. Lizabeth glanced at the clock, calculated the time it would take to process a marriage license application, and figured she would be late to lunch.
"I need you to complete this form. I will need to see identification for both of you, and there's a fee." She tried for brisk and hoped it would rub off and that they would get through the process in record time.
George and Lydia didn't look at the form on the clipboard, but dutifully took out their wallets and passed over their driver's licenses to Lizabeth who photocopied them. She heard Lydia giggling as they stood close to each other and scribbled on the form. Lizabeth walked back to them slowly with their identification palmed; she always made sure she gave IDs back promptly.
Lydia giggled again as she signed the form. George Wickham signed it then pushed the clipboard towards Lizabeth. She first handed their IDs back before taking the form. I just might make it; she thought as she glanced at the paperwork.
There were a few omissions. Lizabeth had to clarify street or road for Lydia's address and ask for the last digit of George's zip code. Then she noticed that George had indicated he was married before.
"I need the date of your divorce decree," she said.
"It was eight years ago. I don't recall the exact date," he said, looking vaguely over Lizabeth's shoulder before glancing at his fiancée. Lydia Philips looked a little troubled. Perhaps she was insecure and didn't like the fact that he had been married before. Lizabeth glanced at the document. He was about twenty-seven, given quick math in her head. He had married young if he had been divorced for eight years.
"I can't issue a license without a divorce date," Lizabeth insisted.
"Look. Marrying Lydia will help out her and her mom. They've been hurting since Ross died. Can't you give us a bye this one time? I'll hunt Andrea down and have her give me the date. But sometimes it's hard to find your ex-wife. She moves around, though I think I know how to get a hold of her," he argued. He pleaded with his eyes more than anything else. Lizabeth wondered about the reasons for this marriage when he stated that he was doing it to help out the family. Was it because he had money and they didn't?
"I'm sorry; I can't," Lizabeth insisted. "We have to record the exact date of the divorce decree. But you said you thought you could get a hold of your ex? Maybe you can come back on Monday?" George didn't respond to this. Lizabeth looked at Lydia, who looked panicked more than anything. She didn't understand why they were in such a hurry to get married and why a couple of days made such a difference. "If you wanted a civil ceremony, you'd have to schedule that, and the judge is out," she added.
"You mean we couldn't get married today anyways?" Lydia looked at her.
"No." Lizabeth shook her head. "The Judge is on leave, but I expect him back on Monday."
"Well then," said George, who sounded angry. "I guess we'll just take this piece of paper," he growled, sounding as though he added a swear word under his breath.
Lizabeth carefully pushed down on the hinge of the clipboard so he didn't tear the copies. Different ones needed to be filed in various places.
"Come on, Lydia," George barked. He put a hand around the young woman's arm.
"You might want this," Lizabeth called them back and gave them the recording office phone number. "I haven't heard that the Judge is returning for sure on Monday, so call me first thing."
"Okay," said George. Lydia nodded, and they left.
That other couple who had wanted a civil ceremony but hadn't wanted to travel to see Judge Haggerston had called that morning to ask and Lizabeth had to tell Miss Watson that she didn't know if Troy Metcalfe was returning on Monday. She thought this situation warranted her confirming with the Judge whether or not he would be back.
Lizabeth thought again about George and Lydia and couldn't understand what their situation was that they were in such a hurry to get married. If Lydia and Lori Philips needed money, why couldn't George give them money without him marrying her? It seemed like a weird situation for George to marry Lydia to support them.
The couple had taken the paperwork with them, but she thought about the fact that he had been married and divorced by the time he was nineteen. The name of his ex-wife was Andrea Younge. Then Lizabeth remembered that woman who had come to see the Judge one day—who was also an Andrea. Lizabeth didn't know her last name. The Judge's name was Metcalfe; they obviously weren't related, but she wondered if that Andrea was George's Andrea. She couldn't explain why she believed that. Andrea was a common enough name.
But here were two Andreas, and it was difficult not to want to connect them somehow. Now, more than she had the day the woman had shown up, Lizabeth wanted to know who she was and what was her business was with the Judge. Because nobody came to see the Judge unless they wanted to be married or they were someone in government who came by to talk politics; it was a puzzle, though one of her own making.
Lizabeth called Troy Metcalfe on his cell phone (which he didn't answer) and left a message. She also texted him. He replied about twenty minutes later to say, 'yes, I will be back in the office on Monday.'
She spent the weekend thinking about the trip to LA and skipping Easter dinner for the first time. Such a venture was a little overwhelming to consider and had to be taken in small parts. Lizabeth thought about it at breakfast, panicked, then thought no more of it while she played with the kitten, but then pondered it again when she went for a short walk. Slowly, she built up enough courage to know that she could face down her mother whenever the subject came up.
She knew she would need to broach the topic carefully, but wouldn't be the one to bring it up—yet. Unless the Gardiners mentioned it on Sunday (they didn't), she wasn't ready to call her mother about her plans for a trip to Los Angeles.
A/N: setting up to begin posting the Hunsford arc (LA) on Friday. But the Hunsford proposal doesn't happen in LA. Like I said the other day, canon scenes, but nothing happens in the usual order.
