The recording office phone began ringing five minutes after Lizabeth unlocked the doors on Monday. Both couples wishing to get married called and asked for Judge Metcalfe before he even appeared, and she had to explain that he wasn't in yet and to call back later. But it seemed a trend was set, as other callers telephoned seeking information about real estate, assessor maps, voting, and obtaining documents.
Judge Metcalfe was tardy as well, and Lizabeth happened to be on the phone with a scatter-brained woman who repeated questions about obtaining property documents. She could feel her customer service front crumbling under the woman's onslaught of questions.
"Ma'am, if you come in, I think I can best help you in-person," Lizabeth tried to get the woman to understand, or just hang up as she was anxious to talk to the Judge. More confused squawking came from the phone, but after five more minutes of calm insistence, Lizabeth succeeded in getting the woman to hang up (even though her patience was gone).
The phone rang again almost immediately.
"Hello, John Muir County Recording Office," Lizabeth said as she answered. Her eyes were on Judge Metcalfe's closed office door.
"Baby!" The voice made her cringe and close her eyes.
"Mom! I'm at work," she cried. Lizabeth looked over at the computer terminal to see if Doug was listening, but he seemed intent on whatever task was in front of him.
"I know!" sang her mother. "I can be assured of getting a hold of you then."
"Mom, I am supposed to be working. I don't know how many times I've explained this. I don't have time for personal calls." Lizabeth expressed her exasperation over this repeat offense, though she knew from experience that wouldn't do any good.
"Now, Easter. Chrissie and I had a long chat this weekend and it came to us! She will host. She even thought to have some friends over, even more than just a family party. Ham, of course. I thought maybe we ought to have it catered, but Chrissie is such a good cook. But a nice, intimate party with local friends. Sounds nice, doesn't it? And we'll get to see you for once as it has been ages. You don't love me anymore, do you?" Dawn finally took in a breath.
Lizabeth had spent most of the weekend preparing to call her mother. Being blindsided at work put her off her stride as far as telling her mother she wouldn't be seeing her at Easter. She mimicked her mother by taking in a lungful of air and missed her first opportunity to say no.
Dawn went into further details about the Easter preparations at the Gardiner's house. Lizabeth found her mind wandering as it often did when her mother spoke. But then she wondered exactly who else might be invited to this dinner? Her gut twisted as she conjectured if the Stones, Ed, LuAnn, and Edgar had been invited. Was this a plot between her mother and her aunt to get her back together with her ex? Lizabeth thought that she had explained to Aunt Chrissie about how awful the breakup had been, but maybe her mother had bullied Chrissie into hosting Easter dinner as Dawn wasn't ready to let that 'good man' Edgar Stone, the third, go.
When Dawn finally drew breath again, Lizabeth spoke up for herself. "Mom, Easter at Aunt Chrissie's sounds like a wonderful idea. I am sure you will enjoy it. But I have plans with friends. I'm going to take a short trip that weekend since it's a three-day weekend." She knew enough not to say where, and also needed to get her mother off of the phone.
"What!"
"Mom, I can't talk. I'm at work. There's somebody here," she looked at Doug, who was still focused on the computer.
"Lizabeth Todd Bennet, don't you hang up on me," shouted her mother.
"I am not hanging up on you, Mom. I am politely saying I need to go because I am at work and have things to do. I really do need to go. Good-bye." She placed the phone down. There wasn't any shouting coming through the receiver as she did; apparently, she had stunned her mother into silence. Momentary silence as Lizabeth was sure she would be subject to a tirade once she was home that evening.
But she could finally talk to the Judge. She knocked on his door, and he asked her in.
"Welcome back. How does it feel?" Lizabeth asked.
"Different," Troy Metcalfe admitted.
"How so?
"My life has changed," he mused.
She thought he looked younger somehow, even if he looked tired. "So, it's all good?"
"Let me show you pictures." He pulled out his phone, flipped to a ready-made album, and began shuffling through photos of his son. Some of them were so similar that it was difficult to tell the difference from one photo to the next, but it was evident that he was a proud father. Lizabeth was tickled to be part of his happiness.
"Anthony, huh?" she finally remarked when they finished. "Will he ever be a Tony?"
"I don't think so. Mimi was keen on the name. While I did have an Uncle Tony which made it even more appropriate, Mimi likes A names."
"Oh!" Lizabeth didn't know what to think of that remark but didn't have a comment. "I should get back to work. The phone has been ringing off the hook this morning. I haven't even done my regular Monday morning checklist. But welcome back."
"Thanks, Lizabeth," he remarked, a little gruff as though eager to have his office to himself.
"Oh!" she turned back as she stood in the open doorway. "I have two couples looking for civil ceremonies, just so you know."
"Couldn't Haggerston handle them?"
"One didn't want to travel. The other couple came in, just last Friday, and I had to turn them away because their paperwork was incomplete."
"Okay. Since I haven't been here, my schedule is pretty open. Though once I dive into my email inbox, I imagine I will be busy," he answered.
"Okay," she replied and closed the door behind her.
Samantha Watson called, and Lizabeth scheduled their civil ceremony for the next day. She wondered if George or Lydia would call soon but was surprised when only George Wickham came in after lunch. Lizabeth spoke first, "you both need to be here to sign the paperwork."
"Look, I haven't been able to find Andrea yet about the divorce. You can't…" he gave her a slightly comical but also very charming grin as he pleaded with her to look beyond requiring the date of a divorce, just this once.
"I can't," she said. "I don't make the rules. It would cost me my job."
"Is Metcalfe back?" he asked then.
"Yes, but I don't see the point of scheduling your ceremony if you can't fill out the paperwork," she argued.
"Well, I know the Judge. I wonder if I could speak to him?" George asked.
"Oh!" Lizabeth stood with her bottom lip poked out for a minute before she bit it. "I'll see if he's back from lunch." She knocked on the Judge's door, and when told to enter, she shut it behind her before speaking. "There's a man, George Wickham, who is asking to see you. Maybe I should explain that he's come to fill out an application for a marriage license, but he doesn't know the date of his divorce, and he's been trying to get me to give him a license without it. I don't know if this is related to why he wants to talk to you? But I am giving you a heads up."
The Judge didn't say anything, but his usual friendliness cooled a little. That was the only way she could explain the slight tension that grew in the room. "I know George; he's a local businessman. The Wickham family has been in the area for many years. Ask him to come back."
"Okay," she answered in a sweeter voice than normal. Lizabeth walked out and asked George to step in, not knowing if her assumption was correct, and he was there to plead with Troy to give the couple a marriage license without a divorce date on it or not? George Wickham was of the country club set, as was Troy Metcalfe. Perhaps they just were old friends, though they were a generation apart. She didn't understand, but she wanted to know.
Lizabeth didn't dare go out after work. Knowing her mother would call, she dutifully went home to suffer the wrath of Dawn. It was an hour-long tirade, and it wasn't the first time that she wished for a speakerphone so she wouldn't have her ear burning at the end, but at least she could tuck the phone against her shoulder.
Her mother seemed to have a sixth sense and called within minutes of her unlocking the front door. Lizabeth hung up her coat and fed the cat while her mother ranted. Dawn blathered on about her ungrateful child and the plans she had made, which were now ruined. She dwelled a lot on the ungrateful child theme, and Lizabeth spent time thinking, I am twenty-five-years old; I am not a child; I am a woman now. But to say so would have further incensed her mother, so she held her tongue.
There were at least fifteen minutes when her mother focused on the topic of the intricate plans that she and Aunt Chrissie had made, which were all for naught. This belied what Dawn had said this morning that it was a thrown-together, spur-of-the-moment party. The whole scenario had grown in proportions given Dawn's wrath about Lizabeth's disobedience.
Finally, it came to the question and answer time. Who was she going with? Lizabeth explained about her friend, Charlene. Why have I not heard about this Charlene? I have mentioned her several times. She thought to herself but didn't say that aloud.
You will need to introduce me before you go! Dawn insisted several times. Lizabeth said she wouldn't do that. Another tirade about her being ungrateful ensued, as no child surely went on vacation without introducing her friend to her mother! (Lizabeth held her tongue about the fact that Charlene's boyfriend was going with them.)
"Mom, I am old enough to make my own decisions. I had this opportunity come up with Charlene inviting me, and I want to go. I haven't traveled a lot."
"What do you mean, dearest! We took you to Hawaii every summer!" There was another long rant. The Bennets owned a time-share at an inclusive resort. They had gone for two weeks, every August, before school started. They saw the same people every year; Lizabeth played with the same set of kids in the same pool, every year.
"I want to see someplace besides Hawaii," she asserted.
"Where exactly are you going?" her mother pressed.
"Los Angeles."
"You're too old for Disneyland!" Dawn cried.
"We're not going to Disneyland; we're doing museums, like the Guggenheim."
"Art museums! Art!" Her mother made it sound like she was going to see a burlesque show.
"Yes!"
Mrs. Bennet seemed stunned. She couldn't conceive of going to Los Angeles if you didn't do the theme parks. She had long argued with a younger Lizabeth about why they couldn't go to Disneyland because of crowds and germs and kidnappings. But now she didn't have a ready argument about why Lizabeth couldn't go to Los Angeles to see the Huntington Library.
Dawn tried one last tactic before she hung up, "but Easter is about family."
"I will come to visit you this weekend," said Lizabeth. "That way, I can see you and Dad. But I am making a life for myself now. I'm not sure when I will have another opportunity to go with friends. Besides, we've been talking for over an hour, and I haven't had a chance to eat. I need to cook dinner." She hoped her mother wouldn't choose this moment to point out that Lizabeth didn't know how to cook. She thought she could almost sense her mother noting down points to consider for future arguments, but they finally hung up.
Lizabeth waffled between calling up Charlene to complain about her mother right then or waiting until Thursday to tell her about her mother's comments. It had been an overwhelming day, however, so after she defrosted something for dinner, she and Kitty went to bed.
The next few days were full of pulses of energy and activity as people, knowing the Judge was back, came in or called which kept her busy. She stood as a witness in Miss Watson and Mr. Rhys-Jones' civil ceremony before the Judge. She had been a witness to a wedding at least a half dozen times now.
George and Lydia didn't return to have their wedding performed, nor did George come back to talk to the Judge. She was curious about that pair and whether the Andrea, who had come to speak to Judge Metcalfe, was his ex-wife. She had no way of knowing except by asking the Judge and that she wasn't brave enough to do.
"My mother," Lizabeth began once she and Charlene settled with their lunch. She explained about Mrs. Bennet's insisting that she couldn't go to Los Angeles unless Dawn met Charlene. Her friend stared, one eye looked as though it was squinting.
"Your Mom wants to meet me, to approve of me?" Charlene asked in a careful voice.
"Yeah," answered Lizabeth, who raised a hand with her palm out. "But, I am not suggesting it!"
"Oh!" Charlene laughed, and she relaxed her posture.
Lizabeth continued. "I'm just putting it out there that my Mom is a nutcase. I thought I'd mentioned that?" Charlene still laughed gently as if unsure. Lizabeth held her hand up again. "I needed to tell somebody how insane she is. You know it's only been seven or eight months since I've been on my own. She's ruled my life up until now."
"What would she do? Insist on going with you?"
"That's what I wanted to ask. Can you think of all the outrageous reasons she might give for me not to go? So I am prepared when I see her this weekend? I'm going home to visit since I'm not going to be there for Easter. And by the way, I think she's trying to set me up with Edgar again." Lizabeth related her suspicions about the Easter dinner preparations at the Gardiners.
Charlene agreed with Lizabeth's insights and helped consider what excuses Dawn might raise. She might insist that Lizabeth take her to LA, or her mother might come over sick (or her father might get sick). Lizabeth insisted that her father wouldn't step that far. Charlene thought she needed to consider all possibilities.
"Is she the type who might show up the day we leave?" her friend asked.
"Possibly," Lizabeth mused, worried then.
"Maybe we need to leave the night before," Charlene suggested.
"Yes, and not tell Mom about our plans. I didn't tell her Lyle was going with us."
"That's a good call!" said Charlene. "You don't have a grandmother or other relative who's going to be hooked into this, do you?"
"No, it's just her and Uncle Ned."
"Can you try appealing to your Dad to run interference?"
"Dad's just in his own little world." That statement made her stomach turn a little as she thought how much her mother had been in control of the house and her life and how much her father hadn't offered much advice or opinions. "I'm ready."
"Ready to go to LA?" asked Charlene.
"No. I'm ready to cut the apron strings."
Dawn played the ill health card; something she had done before. Having talked to Charlene about the possibility of her mother sabotaging the trip, it made Lizabeth more resolved to go, no matter what.
"I've discovered lumps. I think they're cancer," were the words that greeted Lizabeth as soon as she walked in the door on Saturday. She fed the cat then had driven to her old home. There came a long tale of woe with Dawn insisting that she had breast cancer and convinced that she was going to die any day.
"What did the doctor say?" Lizabeth asked. Her father was glued to the TV set.
"I haven't been. You know what doctors are like," moaned her mother.
"How do you know it's cancer?" she asked.
"I just know, in my heart," Mrs. Bennet sighed with a hand on her forehead. This conversation was repeated multiple times. Dawn even went so far as proclaiming that she was too ill to cook.
"If only you could cook," she moaned. "If you moved back home, I could teach you!" Her mother brightened and sat up a little as if this was a winning proposition and it would get Lizabeth to quit her job and move back in with her parents. "I don't know why I never taught you. How did I miss giving you those skills?"
Lizabeth spent most of the day not responding to her mother's barbs. Todd spent most of the day taking in college basketball; it was March Madness. Lizabeth offered to go out and fetch dinner.
"I hate eating out; the food isn't the same and will just make me sick." Dawn pooled in her easy chair.
"I love Japanese from Sushi To-Go," said Todd from his place on the couch. Lizabeth fetched her father's favorite take-out meal. She and her father ate heartedly. Dawn only picked at her plate.
Lizabeth was able to plead that her cat needing attention, so she couldn't spend the night and got home late to find the couch throw shredded. Kitty scolded her almost as much as her mother had. But Lizabeth thought she preferred the kitten's scolding because after she had her say, the kitten curled up on her lap and purred a warm, soft, content creature. Something Dawn Bennet would never be.
One more advantage of the weekend they had chosen for their trip was that it was the March Madness playoffs for college basketball. There was no way that Todd Bennet would be induced to leave the house and drive his wife to Merton so Dawn could either prevent Lizabeth from going or invite herself along.
With the Judge back, it was a smoother week, and Lizabeth had time to look forward to her getaway with Charlene and Lyle. She was attempting to find ways around his talkativeness. But that didn't prevent their meeting up for dinner one night to go over a final itinerary.
All of the little worries which had plagued her fell away. Her trivial preoccupations disappeared, and she was happy to be going. She even ran into Jane Sweet at lunch one day and mentioned that she was going to Los Angeles for the weekend; Lizabeth asked if Jane had been since she began seeing Charles.
"No. I don't know that I would go." Jane seemed distant about the topic of her current boyfriend for once. Lizabeth wondered if some issue had come up, but she didn't know how to ask. Besides, she needed to be back in the recording office in five minutes. There wouldn't be time to stop by the hotel bar until after she returned-Lizabeth would have to check in with Jane later.
The trio left early in the morning on Friday. She thought it would be a straight-forward drive, but Lyle was a cautious driver and the sort who made frequent stops. But they arrived safely in Pasadena. The hotel wouldn't let them check-in as it was too early, but at least it would store their luggage, and the three of them set out to see the first of the sights on their list. Lyle was keen to see the La Brea Tar Pits, which were not as impressive as any of them hoped. But the Los Angeles County Museum of Art next door was far more interesting. They lingered, gazing at and arguing about the works inside.
Next was Griffith Park, which had been at the top of their wish lists. Lizabeth had wanted to see it because it had figured in some movies; Charlene had expressed interest for the same reason. Lyle said he wanted to see it for its historical significance. It was late afternoon when they arrived.
There weren't as many people as they expected. Maybe it was the time of day or the day of the week (like a shift change, but more people would show up later), but no one complained as they walked towards the main entrance. The place was clean and immaculate for something so old. There was a small area on one of the terraces which were cordoned off with metal trunks and those umbrella lights that photographers used. Lizabeth wondered if something was being filmed.
Lyle popped the question, asking a woman standing next to the equipment, "are you filming a movie?"
"A TV show," she answered.
"You know…" Lyle rambled on, expressing his thoughts about the different quality of programs on network TV versus those found on cable or streaming services. The woman frowned and walked away. Her snub didn't faze him.
The trio moved away and went to take in the view from the other terrace. Lizabeth looked at not just the view, but the other people around them, it was more crowded here than on the East Terrace, but she picked out Charles Lee and William Darcy standing together, not against the railing, but over near the building.
As if he felt her gaze on him, William Darcy looked back at Lizabeth.
A/N: hope quarantine isn't wearing you'all down too much. A week in and getting a little old, but we are hanging in there.
