Eligible (24 page)

“It’s a deal,” Liz said.

“The calluses are because you run too much,” Mrs. Bennet said without glancing up from her catalog. “All that jostling is bad for your ovaries, too.”

In Kitty’s bathroom, which was where she and Liz adjourned to, Kitty was thoroughly professional in demeanor as she applied the layers of polish, focused and serious in a way Liz had never seen. Perhaps most impressive of all, Kitty owned pale pink disposable foam toe separators, which she inserted and told Liz to wear for the next forty-five minutes while the polish dried. “I’ve never waited that long in my entire life,” Liz said, and Kitty said, “I put four coats on. Trust me.”

With the separators in, Liz walked on her heels down the hall to Mary’s room and knocked on the door. After a minute, Mary opened it just a few inches, as if concerned about intruders.

“How’s it going?” Liz said.

“What do you want?” Mary asked.

“I’m just coming to say hi.” It was shortly after eleven
P.M.,
and during her pedicure, Liz had heard Mary climb the stairs, apparently returning from wherever she’d been. “Did you have a good night?” Liz asked.

“You’re acting weird,” Mary said.

Trying to maintain a casual tone, Liz said, “Where do you go on Tuesdays, anyway?” Really, the omertà surrounding Mary’s night life made no sense.

“Nowhere,” Mary said.

Warmly, Liz said, “Well, obviously, you go
somewhere.
”

“I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The inquiry was going less well than Liz had hoped. “I wasn’t,” she said, which may not have been entirely true. “In fact, I was wondering if it had ever occurred to you to find out what happened to Allen Bausch.”

Mary squinted. “My prom date? That guy was such a loser.”

Switching tacks, Liz said, “Of all the degrees you have, which one do you think you’re most interested in pursuing for a career?”

“I won’t finish this one until December.”

“It’s a master’s in psychology, right?” Liz said, and Mary nodded. “Would you like to be a therapist?” Liz asked. The notion seemed at best ill-advised and at worst harmful to others. To her relief, Mary shook her head.

“I’m studying applied psychology, not clinical.”

“Remind me what people do with applied psychology degrees?”

Mary shrugged. “Employee training. Product testing.”

“You should work for Procter & Gamble!” Liz exclaimed. Seeing that her zeal seemed to repel Mary, Liz added more calmly, “I’m sure Charlotte would be happy to talk with you.” Presumably, Liz thought, her own awkward last encounter with Charlotte wouldn’t make an entreaty from Mary unwelcome. Liz then wondered how Charlotte’s visit to see Cousin Willie had gone.

“Are you asking me this stuff for an article you’re writing?” Mary said, and Liz said, “Can’t I just be interested in your life?”

“Yeah, right.” Mary nodded with her chin toward the floor, where Liz’s toes were five different candy colors on each foot. She said, “That looks ridiculous.”

THE CINCINNATI AIRPORT,
while indeed an airport, was not actually in Cincinnati; rather, it was located across the river in Hebron, Kentucky, and this was where Liz picked up Jasper Wick just before noon. He’d texted her after his plane landed, as she was pulling off the highway, and by the time he emerged from the terminal, Liz was waiting by the curb. She climbed from the car to wave, and when Jasper smiled, he looked exceptionally handsome.

His curly blond hair was thinner than it had once been but still abundant enough to be windblown, and his brown eyes remained mirthful. He kissed her on the mouth—this was a bolder display of affection than they partook of in New York and that even in Cincinnati did not feel risk-free—and Liz said, “Welcome to the ’Nati.”

“You didn’t tell me the airport’s a ghost town. I think a tumbleweed just blew by.”

“It used to be a Delta hub, but that was a while ago.” Jasper set his suitcase in the trunk, which Liz closed. Inside the Cadillac, she said, “Should we eat first or just go straight to your hotel?” In case her meaning wasn’t clear, she wiggled her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

“Actually, I need you to drop me at Avis. You know where that is?”

Liz looked at him in confusion. “Why did I pick you up if you’re renting a car?”

“I didn’t know if this was one of those airports where the rentals are a million miles from the terminal. Plus—” He smiled at her. “I wanted to see you.”

“Jasper, I could have been working.”

“I thought we were about to go have a nooner. Don’t be mad, Nin. I didn’t rent the car till yesterday because I didn’t realize how far apart my hotel and the sports mall are.”

Sighing, she started the car and followed the signs to Avis, which was under a mile from the terminal. As Jasper stepped from the car, he said, “I’ll text you my room number when I check in.”

She shook her head. “Let’s just go get lunch. Meet me at the Skyline Chili on Madison Road in Oakley.”

Jasper laughed. “Making me work for it now, huh?” he said. “Okay. I’ll play.”

“BIG NEWS,” JASPER
said as the waitress at Skyline set down their dishes of oyster crackers. “I had a drink with Brett Yankowitz yesterday.” This was, Liz knew, a powerful literary agent, though she had never met him. “He digs my book idea about that Idaho fly-fishing family,” Jasper continued. “If he sells it, I’ll take a leave in the spring.”

“Will
Sporty
let you?” Contrary to the rumors Jasper had previously shared with Liz, no announcement had occurred about the firing of the editor in chief of
Dude.

Jasper said, “If they want to keep me, they will. How long you think it’d take me to write a book—three months? Four?”

“Don’t you need to finish the first fifty pages for Yankowitz to sell it?”

“Presumably.”

“So keep track of your average daily word count. I bet you—” At that moment, Liz glanced at a person passing her and Jasper’s table and was startled to make eye contact with Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was approaching from the rear of the restaurant and was no more than three feet away; to pretend she hadn’t noticed him would be preposterous.

“You really are a regular here,” she said, and Darcy said, “I’m a man of my word.”

“Wait a second,” Liz said. “You guys know each other.”

If she hadn’t been aware of Jasper and Darcy’s mutual antipathy, she’d have immediately intuited it; Jasper did not stand to greet his former college classmate. Instead, coolly, Jasper said, “Fitzwilliam Darcy. It’s been a while.”

Equally coolly, Darcy said, “It has.”

Liz wondered if he’d eaten alone again.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to wash up in Cincinnati,” Jasper said. To Liz, he added, “No offense.”

“I’m a physician at a stroke center here,” Darcy said.

“I’m in town from New York to write about squash for
Sporty,
where I’m a senior editor. Also about to sign a contract for a book about the royal family of American fly-fishing.”

“Congratulations,” Darcy said, and surely the word had never been uttered with less enthusiasm. Darcy looked between her and Jasper. “I won’t keep you.” He nodded. “Liz.”

When he’d moved on, Liz said, “Remember Chip, the
Eligible
guy Jane was dating? Darcy’s good friends with him. Oh my God, have I not told you that Jane’s pregnant?”

“No shit—from the mail-order sperm or the old-fashioned way?”

“The sperm, which seems to have sent Chip running. He didn’t know she’d been trying to get pregnant on her own, so I get that it’s shocking, but still—he’s fled all the way back to L.A. to be on an
Eligible
reunion. Don’t mention any of this when we have dinner with Jane.”

Jasper looked intently at Liz. “You’re not banging Darcy, are you?”

“Are you kidding?”

“I could swear he was giving off a territorial vibe.”

Liz made an expression of distaste. “You’re imagining things. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s going out with Chip’s sister.”

“Is
Eligible
the one where the dude kisses the girl on the cheek when he wants to kick her to the curb?”

“You don’t need to pretend you’re unfamiliar with it, Jasper. We watched the entire first season together.”

Jasper smiled then, and in spite of certain contraindications, Liz had always found his boyish smile irresistible. “We did, didn’t we?” he said. “Okay, busted. But I haven’t seen it since.”

Liz smiled back at him. “A likely story.”

LIZ HADN’T YET
left the parking lot of Skyline when her phone buzzed with an incoming call from Shane Williams. “A colleague of mine has clients who are very interested in your parents’ house,” he said. “What’s the soonest you’ll be ready to show it?”

“How spruced up does it have to be?” Liz asked. “I’ve been working on the basement, but it’s, you know, a large project.”

“What if you take the weekend to address the most pressing stuff and they come over Monday?”

Which meant five days, two of which were while Jasper was in town, to not only make the house look its finest but also to break the news of the impending sale to her sisters and mother. Liz winced, then said, “That seems doable.”

“Sometimes it’s simplest just to rent a storage unit, load it up, and sort things later,” Shane said. “I’d also make fixing the water stain in the living room a priority.”

“I’m following up,” Liz said. “How does pricing work if the house isn’t officially on the market yet?”

“This is what’s known as a pocket listing, which in some cases can drive up offers. You’re still asking the same amount, but it never enters the MLS. My gut tells me 1.1 million if you and your parents are cool with that.”

“That sounds good.” Where in Cincinnati, Liz wondered, were storage units located, and how much did they cost to rent? She had a vague memory of driving past some en route to her father’s physical therapy appointments, but maybe she was imagining it. To Shane, she said, “The people who are interested in the house—do they have kids?”

“I’ll ask.” Shane’s voice was cheerful. “But I assume so because it’s a perfect house for a family.”

CHARLOTTE LUCAS TEXTED
in the afternoon, asking Liz if she’d be free for a drink that evening. Because Liz already had plans to meet Jasper in the bar of the 21c hotel at nine o’clock, when he finished his reporting for the day, she suggested to Charlotte convening in the same place at seven. Prior to this outing, Liz went online to rent a ten-by-fifteen-foot storage locker on East Kemper Road, and also arranged to rent a truck over the weekend.