Chapter Two
Never one to miss out on an opportunity for causing mischief, Peter's lips curled into a tight-lipped smile. "I think she did say that he was single."
"Dad, don't encourage her. Please!"Lizzy slammed her mug down. Tea splashed over the coaster and onto the table. "Now look what you both made me do." She pulled out tissues from her pocket and proceeded with mopping up the spilt tea.
Peter grinned. "It's no use crying over spilt tea," he mocked.
"You got the idiom wrong, Dad, besides I am not crying."
"That kitchen table is older than you, Lizzy," said her mother. "I want to buy a new one, but your father won't let me get rid of it. We have a beautiful oak table and chairs in the dining room. Then we still have to have this." She pointed to the worn rectangular pine table, marked with stains and varying degrees of scratches. It had once been Franny's pride and joy when she and Peter had moved into their first home as newlyweds. By the time Lizzy's younger sister Kitty arrived, Franny had given up trying to keep it in a pristine condition. Their growing family required them to find a larger family home. Fortunately, their expanding plumbing franchise meant they had the means to upgrade. Franny had tried to give away the table to a friend. However, Peter insisted it had too many memories attached to it. She scoffed at his sentimentality.
Franny approached the table and sat beside her daughter. She prodded her shoulder. "Stop trying to distract me." Turning her attention to her husband, she asked, "Don't you think him coming here is a good opportunity for our girls?"
"How would it affect them?"
"If you are trying to make me angry again it won't work this time. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
He shrugged his shoulders. She glared at him. "By now most parents would have at least one daughter married."
"Most don't have five daughters," snorted Lizzy.
"Be quiet Lizzy and don't interrupt me or I will forget what I am saying. I think we should at least get to know our new neighbour after he moves in, of course, I am certain one of our girls will catch his eye."
Peter drained the last of his tea from his mug before speaking. "How do you know that this Charles Bingley is interested in anyone catching his eye? Do you know he is interested in our girls or any girls? I know nothing about this man. What kind of character he has." He contorted his face and lowered his voice to a whisper, "for all I know he could be an axe murder."
Franny would not be deterred. "Stop talking nonsense. Shortly after he moves in you should pay him a visit on behalf of the business. That building has been empty for such a long time it's bound to have some plumbing issues. Ask him if he has any problems and then engage him in a conversation."
"What kind of conversation?"
"Goodness knows, it's no good asking me. Besides you can talk for England. Surely both of you should be able to find something in common."
Peter stood up and pushed his chair back from the table. "I have no intention of visiting Charles Bingley in a professional or personal capacity. If you are so intent on him falling in love and marrying one of our daughters you can send one of the girls, all of them, or even better still, go yourself. He may even take a fancy to you.
Lizzy put her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.
"I will not sit here and be insulted by my husband!"
"No, you can stand up and be insulted by me if you like. I am not your puppet." Peter stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.
Franny sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue Lizzy had just thrust into her hand. "Your father has no consideration for my nerves."
"I would say Dad is well aware of your nerves. You remind him of them on a near-daily basis." Her mother opened her mouth to speak again, her bottom lip quivering. Lizzy held her hand up. "Mum, listen. Just like Lydia, you have a bad habit of bringing things up at the wrong time." She grinned.
"Why are laughing at me," sobbed her mother.
"Your mascara is running. You look like the mascara monster."
Franny wiped her eyes with the sodden tissue. "Is that better?"
"A little. Let's forget this crap and go and sort out your email password."
"Lizzy!"
"What?"
" Thanks."
"You're welcome, Mum." Lizzy escorted her mother out of the kitchen and into the study. It was days like these she wondered when the roles of parents and offspring had been reversed.