Section I, Next Section

Prologue One

Darcy Williamson paced back and forth in the lobby of the de Bourgh building, staring at the floor. As the time increased, his pacing grew more frenetic and his mind, already in turmoil over the recent trouble with his sister Ginger, filled with such fear that his hands, clasped behind his back, started to shake. He could see his face in the polished floor and closed his eyes, hoping he could erase the look of sheer terror written there.

I have nothing to fear from my aunt. I have nothing to fear from my aunt. I have nothing to fear from my aunt.

He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the lobby. Who was he kidding? His Aunt Catherine petrified him. Being called into her inner sanctum only made things worse. He had never been called to the top floor of de Bourgh Enterprises' building unless he was in for it. And he knew exactly why he was there. The pacing continued as his fear rose.

That does it. Tomorrow morning I'm calling my therapist and firing him. "Conquered your fear of your aunt," my foot.

"Darcy!"

He stopped pacing and turned around. Catherine de Bourgh stood in the doorway of her office, looking more imposing than he had ever seen her. Her silver hair was cut short like a boy's. Her dark eyes might have been thought pretty if they were not so cold. Her face was impassive except for her thin mouth, which had almost disappeared, and had it not been for the fact that the summons had been issued through her trusted assistant, Ruth Jenkinson rather than being sent directly, he would've been hard-pressed to think himself in trouble.

"Aunt Catherine," he replied politely, trying not to betray his nervousness.

Too late, of course, because she'd caught him pacing. She knew he paced when he was nervous.

"Step into my office," she said.

Said the spider to the fly, Darcy thought drearily. Wish I didn't have to be the fly today.

Darcy slowly made his way through the office door, trying not to look around at the opulent room in which his aunt worked. She had spared no expense to furnish her work space when she'd taken over de Bourgh Enterprises. Her priceless Picasso hung against the wall opposite of her desk. Her collection of antique Greek vases sat properly aligned in an antique curio cabinet next to the painting. The "vanity" wall behind her was filled with pictures of herself with important celebrities.

When Aunt Catherine had first assumed guardianship of Darcy and Ginger after their parents' death in a car accident seventeen years ago, Darcy had gaped at that wall, unable to comprehend that his aunt actually knew famous people like Vice-President George Bush and Donald Trump. (The picture of Catherine with Larry Bird continued to escape him because his aunt hated basketball.)

Today he had no time for the pictures on the wall. He was in Trouble.

"Darcy, you cannot pretend you don't know why I've asked you to come," Aunt Catherine said, sitting at her mammoth desk. Darcy knew he wasn't going to be offered a chair, and if he sat, Catherine would refuse to speak to him until he stood.

"I know why you have sent for me." Darcy looked down at the floor, wishing that his parents were still alive, that Catherine hadn't offered to take him in, that Ginger hadn't been so foolish. He wished to be Dare Williamson again, the eleven-year-old kid who'd bloodied more noses than he could remember because of his real first name. He wished his therapist hadn't been so lousy.

Mostly, he wished he could go to the bathroom.

"I made it perfectly clear to you when your sister got in trouble that she was no longer part of the company or family," Catherine said, warming to her subject.

"I know." Darcy hung his head so that his aunt could not see his true feelings on the subject.

"I warned you that you were not to give her money, grant her any favors, or contact her in any way."

"I know."

"She has made her bed, and by God, she shall lie in it."

There's my aunt for you. A walking cliché, he thought in a rare moment of disrespect.

Not that he would ever consider saying it to her.

"I know."

"You keep telling me that you understand, Darcy, yet I have been informed that you have sent Georgiana money. You have helped her find a job with Westendorf Inc. You have even contacted her--against my command."

He looked up at last. "Aunt Catherine, I only wanted to be sure she would be all right. She is my only family-"

"I am your family. Have you forgotten that, Darcy? Anne is your family."

Darcy could not prevent a shiver of distaste from rippling through him at the thought of what she was implying. Catherine had her heart set on Darcy marrying her protégée, Anne Ripley. Anne was the daughter of Catherine's closest friend and while Anne was nice, she was also another way Catherine would control him.

Catherine had chosen the prep school he had attended (Andover) and also the college (Harvard). She had chosen many of his so-called friends from those hallowed halls. She had chosen when he would go to Europe and Japan to oversee de Bourgh Enterprises' interests. She had ordered him and criticized him and now, she had cut off his only link to the world he'd left behind as a child, his sister.

By God, she wasn't going to choose his wife as well. If he had to share his life and his bed with a woman, he'd do the choosing.

"Ginger is my sister," he said calmly, amazed at how firm he sounded. "I cannot turn my back on her."

"Cannot or will not?"

"Both."

Catherine's dark eyes narrowed at him. If there had been any warmth to her at all, he would've believed her to be furious. But Catherine de Bourgh, the Lady Titan of the business world, hadn't gotten there by being a sensitive, generous woman. She'd never learned these traits and never would, for she saw them as signs of weakness.

And she could not understand or forgive them in him.

"I see," she said after a cold silence. "You are determined to be stubborn?"

"I...I am sorry, but I must."

There was another cold silence. Darcy expected to be thrown out of her office, but Catherine just sat there, staring at him. If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn she looked surprised, as though she couldn't believe that he was refusing to cave in to her demands.

"Loyalty such as yours is quite admirable, Darcy Williamson," she said at last. "Were it not for the fact that it is misplaced in this case, I would be extremely proud of you. But, I have always said that bad blood will tell, and it certainly has in your sister. Georgiana has become as foolish a woman as my sister Amelia was. And she does not deserve your assistance."

Darcy's jaw clenched and he wished he could tell his aunt exactly who was undeserving in this instance. His mother did not deserve the slanders Catherine had heaped upon her name over the past seventeen years any more than Ginger deserved them now. But years of living under Catherine's rule prevented him from saying so, along with the pleading look in Ginger's eyes when he had told her he was meeting Catherine.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Catherine, but we must agree to disagree on this point. I will not abandon her."

"I'm sorry as well, Darcy, because you realize that I cannot allow you to go against my wishes. Despite being my nephew, you are still my employee and I cannot have people accuse me of nepotism. For your sake, I let Georgiana go without receiving the punishment she deserved. But I gave everyone in this company strict orders to stay away from her, and being her brother doesn't exclude you from that rule."

"I understand," he said. He had no idea what on earth he was going to do with his life once she'd fired him, but anything had to be better than this.

"If I wished, I could disown you as I disowned Georgiana," she said.

"You mean...you're not going to?"

"I may consider it at some point in the future. But I've always seen much of myself in you, Darcy, and I don't want to lose the potential you have. Plus, Anne cares for you a great deal and it would mean so much to me and her if you would consider making your relationship a more permanent one."

I wasn't aware I had a relationship with Anne.

"But you do need to see the error of your ways, and I have decided exactly what you shall do for the next twelve months." Catherine smiled, and Darcy again felt a chill run down his back. "I believe you are acting this way because you have no idea of what life in the real world is like. You do not know what it is like to have to actually work for a living."

What do you call the work I do for you? Child's play?

"You have been coddled by my lifestyle too much. The blame rests partly with me, for I should've done this long ago, as I did with Anne." When he didn't say anything, she continued. "I own a franchise of pizza restaurants in the Midwest. They are quite profitable but nothing out of the ordinary. I think what you need is to spend a year working there, understanding just how good you have it here."

Darcy's mouth dropped open. "You want me to run a pizza corporation?" he asked in disbelief.

"No. I have a perfectly capable man as the head of it."

Darcy swallowed. "You want me to run one of the stores, then?"

"No. I believe the people running it are good at what they do."

"Then what, exactly, do you expect me to do?"

"You are going to wait tables."

Darcy couldn't stop himself from laughing for a minute. When Catherine just stared at him, he realized that she was serious.

"I won't do it," he said when he stopped laughing. "I quit, effective today. I'll find work elsewhere. I'm sure that somewhere in this city, someone is looking for a person with my skills."

"They'll never consider you without a good reference from me. And if you do this, Darcy, you'll never get one."

The trap slammed shut. Catherine had him just where she wanted him. He wasn't fit for any sort of work other than what she'd groomed him for-taking over her company. If she didn't give him a reference, everyone would suspect something was wrong with him.

"You'll spend a year waiting tables at Planet Earth Pizza. Hopefully you'll learn people skills and understand that some people don't deserve your sympathy. I'll check on you every three months."

"You can't expect me to spend a year waiting tables!" Darcy exclaimed.

"I most certainly do. But I will give you the opportunity to come back into the fold. If, when I check on you in three months, you are willing to apologize for your disloyalty to me, I will forgive you and you may return here to work for me. This arrangement will stand until the year is over."

"And if I refuse at the end of a year?"

Catherine didn't even raise an eyebrow. "You won't last a year, Darcy. You don't know how to survive. You have become accustomed to my life, which is what I hoped would happen when I took you and...well, when I took you in. I think three months shall help you see the light."

"And if I refuse? Will you disown me as you did Ginger?"

She did raise her eyebrows this time and brought her hands, folded as if in prayer, to her lips. She gave the matter some thought and said, "No. I shall strike a bargain with you. If you last the year, I shall give Georgiana a small allowance. Not what she is used to, mind you, but enough for her to get by. But as I said, I do not see you waiting tables for a year. I did it myself, you know. It's disgusting, degrading work. I shall expect you back here within three months."

"And if I come back before the year is up?"

"She gets nothing, because you will have promised me that you shall never see her again." Catherine smiled again. "So, what shall it be? Am I to wash my hands of you and your worthless sister today? Or are you going to take your punishment and return the better for it?"

"I shall take the punishment," he replied quietly.

Catherine nodded. "Very well. You shall spend the next month here, training the gentleman who shall be taking your place and preparing to move your things from your apartment. You shall need to find an apartment of your own. When you are ready, I shall inform Sean Fitzwilliam that you're to be hired at once. Is there anything you are unclear about?"

"No, I think you've managed everything," Darcy said, barely able to keep the venom out of his voice.

Why do I do these things? he asked himself. Sadly, he knew the answer, and he didn't like it at all.

"Oh, Darcy," his sister groaned when he told her of his fate. "I wish it hadn't gone so badly."

"You and me both," Darcy replied. He glanced about his surroundings. His sister's apartment could've fit easily into Catherine de Bourgh's office with room for another apartment of this size to spare. He wished he could've found something better for her, but this was the best she was going to get until she had some money saved.

And yet, for all the heartache which had ensued from her expulsion from the family, Darcy saw something in his sister that he greatly envied. For the first time in years, Georgiana Rose Williamson looked happy. Happier than him, as a matter of fact.

"You shouldn't have helped me," she said quietly. "It's costing you too much."

"If it were the other way around-I had done something to get fired from the company and disowned by Aunt Catherine-would you abandon me?"

"In a heartbeat." But Ginger's eyes told the truth, and Darcy knew she would no more abandon him than she would willingly stop breathing.

"How are things at Westendorf?" he asked.

"Going well, I think. No one seems to know what happened with Aunt Catherine, for which I am truly grateful."

"She said she didn't tell anyone out of respect for me."

Ginger laughed bitterly. "More likely she didn't want to have to admit that she had a relative who'd been so foolish," she replied. "Bad for her image, you know."

"It wasn't your fault, Ginger."

"Yes, it was. I should've been smarter. I should've seen through him and I didn't."

"You're only nineteen. Aunt Catherine should've remembered that."

"I don't think she was ever nineteen. Cantankerous old cow."

"Ginger!"

"Don't deny it. You know she is. You're just afraid to say it to her."

"Well..."

"I knew it. No gumption." Ginger sighed. "It was a long time coming, Darcy. She was looking for anything she could use to get rid of me. I remind her too much of our mother. And now she's got her heart's desire. I'll never set foot in that place again."

Darcy knew of his failings as a brother, and it caused him great shame. He should be able to stand up to his aunt and tell her that he wasn't going to be her lackey anymore, and that what happened wasn't completely Ginger's fault, and that he didn't need her money. Dare Williamson could do just fine without it.

But deep down, he was scared. Dare Williamson existed only in his mind, the memory of a boy he'd once been when his mother was an angel in his eyes and his father was invincible. The reality he saw every day in the mirror was Darcy Ambrose Williamson, who at the age of ten had looked up at his imperious aunt without realizing how different his life was going to be.

The first words out of her mouth after being introduced to her niece and nephew were, "What foolish names. Your mother, foolish girl that she was, gave you distinctive names worthy of the position you might have had if she hadn't run off with that worthless Ron Williamson. Darcy, you were given your mother's maiden name, and a proud one it is. I shall hear no more of this Dare nonsense. Georgiana, you were named after our illustrious father, George Darcy. Ginger is a spice, not a name. You are not to refer to yourselves by those silly names again."

Ginger, being only two and a half at the time, screamed, "No! No! No! Ginger my name!"

It was the only time Darcy could remember his aunt ever losing her temper, yelling at the toddler and ordering him to take control of her. "Just like her mother," Aunt Catherine had muttered as she'd taken them away from their family home. Even then, his aunt had had little use for the pretty girl with the pale blonde curls. Darcy hadn't understood just how deep Catherine's dislike of his sister ran until recently.

"I'm so sorry, Ginger," he said softly. "You must hate me very much."

"No," she replied. "I love you, Darcy. You didn't have to defy her for me, and yet you did. I feel honored that you took a stand for me...even if I think you shouldn't have done it." She frowned. "But you can tell that woman that I won't take a dime of her money. I don't want it anymore, not that I ever really did. If you go for the year, do it for yourself, not because you think it would help me. I'll be fine."

"Catherine was right, you know. I won't last the year. I'll be lucky if I last the three months she said she'd give me."

Ginger's lips curled into a smile. "I have a feeling you're going to do better than you think, Dare."

Prologue Two

Elisabeth Bennet knew something was wrong because she was cold.

She never could explain it to anyone, but she always knew something bad was going to happen because she would start getting goosebumps all over. When her sense of impending doom was really bad, she would start shivering. She'd had her worst reaction a couple of years ago, right before Matt Philips, one of her close cousins, was involved in the car wreck which had left him in an irreversible coma. She'd been so cold that night that her teeth had chattered for nearly an hour in spite of the sweltering heat of the night.

This was nothing on the level of that horror, of course. All she was feeling at the moment were goosebumps. They made her want to snuggle further under the covers and closer to the warm body in bed with her.

Only there was no warm body there to snuggle.

And then she knew why she'd gotten goosebumps.

Elisabeth opened her eyes and saw George Wickham tiptoeing out the door. She could've called out to him to stop, but she knew, deep in her heart, that she didn't care. George had been interesting, but outside of her bedroom or his, they had very little in common. Though they were both in management at Planet Earth Pizza-he was the assistant manager here in Effingham while she managed the store in Newton-they had fought constantly when they'd been working together.

Come to think of it, they'd been fighting a lot ever since they'd gotten together, too. It seemed as though yet again, Elisabeth's cousin Charlotte Lucas was going to be proven right. It had been nothing but physical attraction between the two of them.

George shut the door quietly, and Elisabeth felt a moment's gratitude toward him. He was taking the coward's way out, but at least she didn't have to deal with the Big Deal Break-Up Scene, crowned with the big deal break-up speech. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep. She'd deal with these nagging feelings in the morning and wonder why her goosebumps hadn't gone away yet.

A moment later, she heard flesh striking flesh, followed by a loud thud as someone fell to the floor. Elisabeth sat up in bed. When the expected howl came a moment later, she threw back the covers and reached for her clothes.

"You hit me!" George yelled.

"You deserved it!" Charlotte yelled back. "You weasel your way out of everything else, but by God, you're not weaseling your way out of this!"

Elisabeth put on her shirt, not noticing that it was on backwards. If she didn't hurry, Charlie would kill him, which wouldn't be a bad thing but then she would get stuck having to pay the rent on her own.

She opened her bedroom door and walked into the living room, where Charlie glared down at George, who was holding his left eye.

"George?" she said, feeling a little colder now that she was fully awake.

"Damn," he whispered. "Uh...Elisabeth."

She put her hands on her hips. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"Um...we have to talk."

"How original," Charlie muttered.

"Do you mind?" George snapped.

"Not at all." Charlie leaned against the wall and looking as though she fully expected to have a front row seat for this.

Elisabeth looked at her for a moment before saying, "Charlie, could we have a minute?"

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, and Charlie walked toward her bedroom, but not before giving George one final death look.

When they were alone, or something close to it, Elisabeth walked over to her couch and sat down. "You were saying?"

"Look, you're...I'm...this...well, I want to see other people."

"Uh-huh."

"I can't get tied down right now. I'm only twenty-two, and that's not an option for me right now. I don't want to get tied down. I-"

"George?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, save your speech for the dumb blondes with bust sizes larger than their brain cell count. I don't need it. It's not like we were actually dating."

That caught him off guard. For once, he had nothing to say, and for her wounded female pride, it was priceless. "You were just a fling, and it wasn't that great."

George blinked. "You mean you don't care?"

She shrugged. "Why should I care? I'm twenty-six. I don't want to be tied down any more than you do." She reached for her cigarettes and lighter sitting on the end table. She took a cigarette out and hoped he didn't notice that her hands were trembling as she lit one.

"It's nothing personal, Elisabeth."

"It never is with you, George." She kept her voice calm.

Not that she was really ticked at him. Not that she really cared. She'd known this day would come eventually-working with the jerk for nearly a year had given her a good idea of how he operated.

The person she was really ticked at was herself, for being dumb enough to fall for his cornball crap and feel sorry for him after his return from New York. He'd given her a sob story about how terrible it had been and how everyone had treated him like a hick, and she'd bought it all.

"We don't get along well outside of...well, you know," he protested, like she was begging him to stay. "I'm not even sure we like each other."

"Who are you trying to convince-yourself? I already told you that I don't care. You can go with a clear conscience. I'm not going to commit suicide or anything."

"Something's bugging you."

Elisabeth took a drag off her cigarette. "Cowardice always makes me mad."

"Cowardice? I'm not a coward."

"Sure. That's why you were being so quiet when you put on your clothes and walked out my bedroom door. That's why you didn't turn on any lights. If Charlie hadn't caught you, I wouldn't have realized until morning. Were you planning to write a note, or were you going to leave without any explanation?"

"You really are mad," George said, looking pleased. "Look, I'm really sorry about this, Elisabeth."

"I'm not mad because you're walking out. I'm mad about the way you're doing it." She reached for the ashtray, tapped her ashes into it, and had another drag. Smoking, though she knew she needed to quit, helped steady her nerves.

"I wanted to avoid a scene like this one."

"I see." She shrugged again. "All you had to do was tell me you didn't want to go out anymore. And you didn't have to sleep with me beforehand. What was that, anyway? One to remember you by?"

"I didn't mean for that to happen. It just-"

"Spare me. I don't care, I really don't. Just get the hell out of my apartment."

"Fine. Whatever." George's favorite last words, Elisabeth thought to herself as he found his shoes and put them. He slammed the door behind him.

Elisabeth finished her cigarette and set the ashtray back on the end table. She wished she'd brought a blanket, because she was still cold and she would be for a while.

George Wickham isn't worth this reaction.

Charlie walked back into the room. "You okay?" she asked.

"Sure," Elisabeth replied. She noticed that Charlie was wearing her Planet Earth Pizza uniform. "You're sleeping in that thing now?"

"No. I was in the bathroom when you two came in, then went to my bedroom to read. So..."

"So, I guess that's it." She shrugged. "We're over, not that we were ever going to make it. You'd think that after Walter I'd have learned my lesson about dating people I sort of work with."

"Are you going to be okay?"

Elisabeth looked down at her hand. It was shaking slightly, which might've been what Charlie was reacting to. "I'm going to be fine. Trust me. George Wickham is just a bad memory."

The next morning, Elisabeth sped into work, checking her clock and seeing that she was just in time. She turned off the engine and realized that there were two cars in her parking lot that shouldn't have been there. Thomas Palmer's company car was nothing unusual-he was the district manager and he was at her store about twice a week. But the other car made less sense.

It was a truck, actually. George Wickham's fire-hydrant red truck.

Elisabeth used the driver's door to enter the building, as she did every morning. Thomas was looking over a stack of papers, leaning against her front counter. George was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Elisabeth," Thomas said with a grim look on his face.

"Hi, Thomas. Where's Marianne?" she asked, referring to her prep cook who should've been preparing buffet pizzas.

"She called and said her sitter was running late. She'll be here in about fifteen minutes. Where were you? She said she couldn't reach you on your cell phone."

Oh, no. She'd taken it out of her purse to charge it up last night and had forgotten to put it back this morning before she'd left. Too bad Charlie had been off to St. Louis with a doctor's appointment-she would've noticed it and told Marianne not to panic. And she certainly would've told her not to call Thomas.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. I must've forgotten it. I had a bad night," Elisabeth said, glaring at George when she saw him walking from the back of the store.

George just smiled at her.

"So it appears. Elisabeth, we need to talk about something...George, would you mind excusing us for a moment?"

"Not a problem," he replied, still smiling as he walked away.

Elisabeth knew immediately that whatever Thomas wanted to talk about, it had to do with George. Oh no. Please don't be giving me George as an assistant manager. Anything but that! I'll kill him!

"I want you to know that I've received a lot of praise about the way you deal with employees. The turnover rate in this store has improved dramatically from when Willoughby was in charge."

Elisabeth opted not to make a sarcastic remark about how easy that must've been, considering that Willoughby had tended to tick off his employees by not showing up on time, not having things prepped, and by having an affair with a waitress he turned into an assistant manager despite the fact that she'd needed all of her fingers and toes to help her do cash counts.

"And you've also done well with customers. We've received fewer customer complaints. In fact, you've gotten the fewest complaints in the district three months running."

Again, for the same reason she could've mentioned before.

"But your numbers aren't good. Your food costs have gotten high, your labor is the worst in the district, and...well, things just haven't worked out like they should. You should..."

It was then the Elisabeth realized why she'd been so cold when she'd awakened abruptly last night. It hadn't been because of George at all.

She was being fired.

"So...we've decided to let George have a try at running things."

George?!

"Now, we don't want to lose you, Elisabeth. You were a terrific assistant manager for Sean in Effingham, and he said he'd be happy to have you back there. You can pick up some more knowledge and in a few months, if an opening becomes available, we'll see if you're ready for another store."

Elisabeth could see George listening from near the ovens. He was now smirking at her.

The jerk had known. He'd known she was about to be demoted last night-he had to have known, the little creep, and-

Thomas looked a little wary, and she realized that she should've said something by now. It was clear he was looking for some sort or response out of her. George must've lied and said she was the overly emotional type.

I'm not about to give you the satisfaction, pal.

"You want me to go back to Effingham," she said quietly.

"Yes. It'll mean a cut in pay, but I've talked to Thomas Bertram and he's agreed to give you a bit more than you were making before you came to Newton."

Elisabeth swallowed past the lump in her throat and said, "Fine. I'll go back." She looked down at her key ring, seeing the keys she'd been so proud to receive last Halloween when Sean had announced at the staff party that she was going to Newton to run her own store.

She couldn't believe this was happening to her. She grasped the key to the front door and wrenched it off, breaking a nail in the process. She handed it to Thomas with trembling fingers, refusing to hand it to George. She then grabbed the keys to her employee files, and the ones to the freezer and the shed. She managed to untangle them from her other keys and hand them to her boss.

"Thank you. Sean said to take a couple days off and then go talk to him about your schedule," Thomas said.

Elisabeth nodded dully and watched Thomas hand the keys to the store--my store, this was supposed to be MY store--to George. The look of triumph in George's eyes galled her. She decided that she had to say something, even if it did get her in trouble with Thomas later.

"Congratulations, George. It's not every man who can say he's screwed me over twice in one day," she said coldly before turning on her heel and walking out of the store.

She swore she'd never return to it.

Chapter One

Elisabeth tapped her sensible, blunt-cut fingernails on the counter and sighed heavily as she waited on the telephone for someone at Pepsi to get off their butt and take her call. Six weeks she'd been back in Effingham, and it was starting to feel as though she'd never left. The people were pretty much the same, as were the routine, the customers, and of course, the problems.

They should just put a wrecking ball through this building and be done with it. That was the most popular solution to the problem that was the Effingham store. It was the oldest of the bunch and needing serious renovation, more than the paint job and new carpeting they'd gotten. They'd just heard from The Company and found out that it wasn't coming.

Still, in spite of the creaky hot water heater, balky oven, and the seriously defective soda fountain, business was good. Elisabeth looked out over the dining room and felt cheered by the fact that she knew her numbers for the day were good. They were approaching last year's sales total and the day was only half over. The happy feeling lasted only a moment and then faded as she wondered how George was doing over in Newton with her store. Everything seemed to lead back to that these days.

Her mood was not being improved from having to wait so long for the Pepsi morons to pick up the phone. It had been ten minutes with no end in sight. Usually Pepsi was pretty nice to deal with, a lot better than the produce people, for example, who brought things she hadn't ordered and usually forgot something she had. With her mood today, however, Pepsi was lumped in with the rest.

Stupid Pepsi, she thought crabbily as she listened to the Muzak version of "Because You Loved Me," which was Muzak in its original form but even worse when there were no words and a cheesy synthesizer played it. Her stomach, which had been a minor irritation earlier, was beginning to bother her. She wondered if she had any Tums in her purse and made a mental note to herself to check it if she ever got off the phone.

"They're ducking our calls," she heard Charlie say to Jack Middleton, her day cook. Jack was sliding a pizza back into the pan and reaching for a cork to stick underneath it.

"Of course they are. Would you want to deal with our stupid soda machine?" Jack set the large deluxe pizza on the counter. "Order up, Charlie, table thirty-two."

"Thank you." Charlie looked at the pizza. "Good looking pizza, kitchen."

"Good looking kitchen, waitress."

"Can't you just say 'thank you' like normal people do?"

"If I were normal, I wouldn't be working here."

"True." Charlie laughed, stuck a spatula in the pan, and walked the pizza over to her table in the back of the dining room.

Despite her growing ire at the person who was keeping her on hold, Elisabeth smiled.

Jack looked over at her. "They still got you on hold?" he asked.

She nodded. "If they keep me on hold much longer, I'm going down there with a shotgun."

Charlie returned from delivering her pizza. "Every time they fix something on that machine, they break something else so we have to call them back. It's extortion. We should buy a new machine."

"And this time make sure Pepsi made the machine instead of Coke," Elisabeth added. "Leave it to The Company to buy a used Coke machine because it was cheaper."

"Tightwads," Charlie mumbled.

"You got that right-hello? Am I talking to a real person this time?"

"Yes," an annoying chipper voice on the other end said. "This is Michelle. How may I help you?"

"This is Elisabeth Bennet. I'm at Planet Earth Pizza in Effingham. I have yet another leak in my machine, the same one you guys fixed three weeks ago."

"And three weeks before that, and two months ago," Jack added.

"It's leaking again," Elisabeth repeated.

As Michelle cheerfully asked if Elisabeth knew specifically where the leak was-as if she would know anything about that hunk of junk-Elisabeth somehow managed to restrain herself from using the language she wanted to use. Michelle, still cheerful, told her that a Pepsi repairman would be at the store as soon as possible.

"When, next February?" Elisabeth snapped after slamming down the phone.

"The usual run-around?" Jack asked as she started flipping the make table, starting with the almost-empty cheese container.

"Yes. 'We'll have someone there to fix it as soon as we can.' It took a week the last time. Sean had to call six times to get someone out here."

"Cheer up, it could be worse. Back in November the leaking was so bad half the carpet was drenched."

"How'd I miss that?"

"It was the week after you'd gone to Newton." Charlie reached for a peppermint, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.

"Yeah, well, this really isn't putting me in a positive mood to do this so-called interview today," Elisabeth said. "I need a cigarette."

"Go have one. Jack and I can keep an eye on the front."

"You sure?"

She nodded.

"Thanks." Elisabeth sighed in relief and walked into the back room, wondering-as she did almost every day except her day off, and sometimes even then-why she'd ever wanted to be in charge of things. Waiting tables had been almost as profitable as being a manager with only a fraction of the headaches.

She took out a Marlboro Menthol Light and lit it, inhaling sharply. Aaahhh...

Bliss. She hadn't had a cigarette in nearly four hours.

The phone rang. Elisabeth ignored it, knowing that someone would get it so she could continue enjoying her smoke. Sure enough, she heard Jack's jovial voice say, "Thank you for calling Planet Earth. This is Jack. Can I help you?"

How the hell he managed to sound so cheerful was beyond her. Elisabeth took another deep drag off her cigarette and realized that Jack had forgotten to say Planet Earth Pizza, which was pretty usual for him. People probably thought they'd accidentally dialed a psychic hotline when Jack answered the phone.

"Elisabeth! Kit's on line one!" Jack called.

Oh, no! Elisabeth checked her watch. Two-thirty. There could only be one reason why Kit Longbourne would be calling now, because she was supposed to be in at five.

Elisabeth walked back to the office and picked up the phone there. "Hello, Kit."

"Elisabeth? I'm not going to make it in."

What a shock. Kit had called in every day for a week, though Elisabeth had yet to see a doctor's note or hear what was wrong with her. Some sort of virus, or so someone had told her.

Fine thing when the assistant manager isn't told why one of the employees feels bad enough to miss seven days of work.

"Kit, what's actually wrong with you?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound as though she didn't believe her. She knew that Kit had various health problems and they were legit-she'd shown everyone the pictures of her ulcers and blood sugar readings to prove them-but sometimes she had to wonder, even if she felt guilty about it later.

"I don't know, but I feel dreadful. I'm going back to the doctor in an hour."

Elisabeth wished she had her cigarette, but Sean had stated there would be no more smoking in his office after someone's cigarette nearly started a fire. Even though he wasn't due in that day, she wasn't going to break his rule. Somehow, he'd find out.

"I'm really sorry, Elisabeth."

"It's okay, Kit. Just call when you find out how much longer you'll be out...and get well soon."

"Okay."

Elisabeth hung up the phone and ran her hands through her close-cropped brown hair. Well, hell, she thought as she tried to figure out how she was going to cover Kit's shift that evening.

She slowly made her way back to the back room where her cigarette still had a bit left to it. She took one long, lasting puff before crushing it out.

"She called in again, didn't she?" Charlie stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

"Uh-huh. You wouldn't be willing to work her shift until at least four, would you? I might be able to talk Caroline into coming in early if you would."

"No."

"C'mon, Charlie. Please? Just till four?"

"I can't. It's Tuesday, remember?"

Elisabeth swore under her breath. Of course it was Tuesday, Charlie's day to have ultraviolet treatments for the rare type of skin cancer she'd gotten. "How much longer do you have to have those?"

"Probably until the end of the year," Charlie replied, the weariness in her voice matching that of her cousin's. Elisabeth knew that Charlie was sick of the whole mess and wanted nothing more than for it to be over.

This still left her scrambling to cover Kit's shift.

"Bubba's going to have to wait tables until Caroline gets here-whenever that'll be."

"Pray we don't have any tables."

Elisabeth lit another cigarette and took a drag. A moment later, she set the cigarette in the ashtray and grabbed hold of the shelves, feeling dizzy all of the sudden. Her stomach started turning flip-flops as she tried to remember when she'd last had anything to eat. To try to calm her stomach, she took a sip of the 7-Up she'd had the presence of mind to bring along. It was then that she remembered to look for the Tums.

She reached for her purse and opened it. After taking out her wallet, she rifled through old debit card receipts, paycheck stubs, ink pens, gum wrappers, dental floss, and glow-in-the-dark condoms. At the bottom of her purse lay the half-used roll of Tums. She reached for them and popped two in her mouth just as she heard Jack yelling for her.

"Your interview is here, Elisabeth!"

She prayed the Tums would settle her stomach as she walked to the front counter. She stuck the rest of the roll in her pocket, just in case.

A tall, sandy-haired man of about twenty-six or -seven stood there, looking very hesitant. In his jacket and tie, he looked better suited to a boardroom than to a small-town pizza restaurant.

But hey, maybe the suit was a good sign. At least he looked like he was serious about getting this job, as opposed to the smart-aleck teenagers who worked one Friday night, messed everything up, then didn't bother showing up for Saturday night, which was even busier than Friday. This one, at least, looked as though he'd stick around for a while. Plus, Sean was all hot to hire him. He'd told her this interview was just for show as far as he was concerned. That had to count for something.

"Darcy Williamson?" Elisabeth asked, admiring his dark blue eyes.

"Yes. That's me."

Elisabeth extended her hand and mustered as friendly a smile as she could. "Elisabeth Bennet. I'm the assistant manager here at Planet Earth Pizza."

Darcy Williamson looked at her hand for a long moment before shaking it. Elisabeth noticed a slight disdain in his eyes.

Forget it. This wimp won't last a week.

"Let's sit over here in the smoking section," Elisabeth said, pointing to a table close to the front. "You won't mind if I light up, will you?"

"Well, actually-"

"Great. Would you like a drink?"

"Do you have bottled water?"

She would've thought he was kidding if it hadn't been for the expression on his face. There was no humor in it at all. "No," she said, wanting to roll her eyes. A quick glance at Charlie confirmed that her cousin was being kind enough to do it for her.

"Then nothing, thanks."

Elisabeth walked over to the table and sat down. As he settled himself in the chair across from hers, she took a closer look at him. Darcy Williamson was attractive, she'd admit. Not her type, though-too tall, too blond, too stuck on himself. She'd had quite enough of the stuck-on-themselves type, thank you.

Once he was comfortable-though he didn't look too comfortable and he kept staring around at the place as though he'd rather be in hell than here-she glanced at his neatly typed application.

"So, Darcy, you want to be a waiter," she said after a brief pause.

He looked as though he wanted to contradict her, but he nodded.

"Any past experience?"

"No."

She knew that, of course. She glanced at his application again. He'd put down that he'd worked for Pemberley Food Distributors, but his job title sounded too important to have ever done grunt work like this. He'd written down that he'd gotten a BA and an MBA from Harvard.

So why in the world did he want to be a waiter in a dead-end place like Planet Earth Pizza?

"What can you do, exactly?"

"Whatever is required, as I told Sean."

Elisabeth's shrewd green eyes looked at him. "Do you know what that will entail?"

He shrugged. "I figured just about everything I could imagine."

"You'd be close. It's not easy working on that floor when we're rocking. You've got to make sure you've got the order right. You've got to get drinks out to the table as fast as possible, make sure the appetizers get out to customers before the pizza, and everything else down to having dinner mints on the tip tray when they're through. You have to be nice and courteous to the customer, no matter who they are or how much they complain."

"Which they will, constantly," Charlie said cheerfully as she passed by their table, picking up shakers and placing them on a tray.

"Thank you, Charlie," Elisabeth muttered, waving her away. Charlie continued her trek around the dining room, searching for shakers to refill. "Think you'll be able to handle it?"

"Of course."

"You'll have to do your fair share of the cleaning around here. You can make good money at this job, but you'll have to earn it once the rush is over."

"That's fine."

"Any question you'd like to ask before I run the paperwork you'll need to sign?"

"That's it?" Darcy Williamson seemed shocked.

Elisabeth nodded. "Sean said to hire you, so I have. If you have time, there are a couple of videos you'll have to sit through-"

She heard snickering coming from the front counter. She turned to see that Charlie was filling shakers and listening in. "They're pretty lame," she added reluctantly. "But they're necessary."

"That's fine."

"Good. If you'd like, you could also start learning the computers. They're simple once you get the hang of them. Charlie can help you go..." Elisabeth swallowed, feeling her stomach roll violently. "Charlie's good with computers. I...uh...I..." Elisabeth leapt from her seat and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up.

Three minutes later, her system purged, Elisabeth looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was white, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. God, no wonder he was reluctant to shake my hand. I look like a zombie.

With a groan, she splashed water on her face and wished she could be anywhere but here at the store.

Darcy looked at the hell to which his aunt had consigned him for a year. While the building looked as though it had recently been repainted, it was clearly falling apart and would need to be torn down within the next few years. The dining room was tiny compared to what he was used to seeing in fine restaurants. He could only hope it was his imagination, but it appeared that the soda machine sitting in the middle of the dining room was leaking water onto the carpet.

Darcy was ready to walk away from it all right now. He'd thought he could do it, but this was ridiculous. That miserable-looking girl who'd introduced herself as the assistant manager had looked at him like he was a bug, as though he weren't good enough to work at this store.

Just what was so hard about waiting tables, for heaven's sake? It seemed easy work compared to running a company. More physical, maybe, but he could handle that.

The heavyset brunette who'd been filling cheese shakers behind the counter walked over to him, wiping her hands on her apron. She had a pretty face, dusted with freckles, and lovely green eyes behind what appeared to be safety glasses.

"Don't worry about Elisabeth. She'll be fine," she said.

Darcy wondered why she'd bothered to come out and tell him that.

"You were looking a little worried," she added. "I'm Charlotte Lucas, but you can call me Charlie."

"Darcy Williamson."

Charlie's eyebrows rose for some reason, but if she thought his name unusual, she said nothing. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh...likewise."

She sat in the chair Elisabeth what's-her-name had vacated. "You ever worked for Planet Earth before?"

Darcy paused for a moment, struck by how ridiculous that sounded. "Not for Planet Earth Pizza, no."

Charlie laughed. "It does sound pretty stupid, doesn't it? Beats calling this place 'the store,' That's when you know you've been here too long, when you don't even have to clarify what you're talking about when you say 'the store.' It's even worse when someone calls it that and you don't ask them what they mean."

"Where did the name come from?" Darcy knew, actually, but he was curious to know if she did.

"Until five years ago, we were Mario's Pizza. I have no idea who Mario was, but that's what we were called. Then The Company bought us-"

"The Company?"

"De Bourgh Enterprises. We call them The Company around here. It's another sign you've been here too long."

"Oh."

"Anyway, some bigwig at The Company thought we needed one of those cutesy names like hair salons have, so they called us Planet Earth Pizza-'home to the best pizza on planet Earth.'" Charlie grinned.

"Are you?"

He didn't like the assessing look she gave him. "Let me guess. You've never eaten here before."

"No," he said, feeling defensive. This was the second person in a row who had made him feel like he wasn't going to make it in this place. It was bad enough that his aunt was certain he would fail without dragging co-workers into it.

"You should try it and see," Charlie said.

Elisabeth walked out of the bathroom just then. Charlie rushed over to her. The two of them spoke just low enough that he couldn't hear, but he had a feeling it was about him.

Darcy looked out the window, which had ever-so-charming view of the donut shop next door, and wished he were anywhere else but here.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Elisabeth found the roll of Tums in her pocket and took two more. "You weren't giving Darcy a hard time, were you?"

"Sean's new golden boy? Are you kidding?" Charlie said in a low voice.

Elisabeth looked over at the table where Darcy sat. He was staring out the window, but even in profile she could tell he was fighting the urge to run out before he was even hired.

"Good. I'm going to have you train him."

Charlie looked aghast. "Me? Why? I had to train the last one, and look how long that Twinkie lasted after she found out how much work was involved."

"At least I can count on you to teach them how to do things right. Caroline taught that blonde twit, Penelope Clay, and you remember how terrible her closes were."

Charlie groaned. "God, I hate it when you're right."

"Then grin and bear it. And don't go rolling your eyes when he asks the inevitable million and a half questions about the computers. Kit thought you didn't like her for a while when she started."

"It's hard not to do with the new people. I get so tired of the same questions every time."

"I mean it, Charlie. For some reason, Sean really likes this guy. He's going to be here for a while, so don't go ticking him off. You'll only make Sean mad that way."

"Okay, okay."

Elisabeth walked on shaky legs back to the table. She plopped into her seat. "Sorry about that. I think I finally caught the flu that was going around a while back."

"It's okay."

"If you want to cut this short, we can-"

"Actually-"

"That's okay. Can't blame you."

"If you're feeling up to it, I'd like to go ahead and finish up the paperwork and watch the videos. I don't mind staying."

Elisabeth was surprised. He looked like the sort of guy who ran at the thought of getting germs on him. She was surprised enough to ask the question she'd been dying to know the answer to since she'd seen his application.

"Why are you applying here?"

Darcy was startled by her question. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I've looked over your application. It's very professional. You've worked in food distribution for a few years, but in upper management only. You're dressed in a suit that's probably worth more than two months of my salary. You've got degrees from Harvard..."

"We all get downsized," Darcy said curtly.

Elisabeth knew there had to be something more to it. She sensed that much, but knew better than to pry. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said instead of continuing further.

Darcy saw the doubt in her eyes. Something deep inside of him wanted to elaborate further, to tell her that he would never have come to work in this place in a million years if his aunt hadn't ordered him here. It would do no good, though.

"To be quite honest, it was a good thing," he lied. "I was getting burnt out on what I was doing. This is a good change for me."

"I can think of less stressful jobs than this."

"Stressful?" Darcy scoffed.

Elisabeth heard the sarcasm. Her green eyes narrowed, and it was then that she saw Darcy Williamson for what he was. He was here because he'd been fired-"downsized," her foot-from the prestigious job he'd had before and now he wanted a job where he thought he could do as little as possible.

Not stressful? Wait until he works a Friday night rush, Elisabeth thought, her anger fading away at the images her mind created. Darcy Williamson, wearing a sauce-splattered apron, grease spots all over his shirt, a wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, maybe a piece of pepperoni or a straw wrapper stuck in his hair from some little kid showing off to his friends...

"No offense, but this is just a restaurant. It's not a Fortune 500 company. I think there's going to be less pressure working here. Less stress. This is-"

"There's stress everywhere. I think you'd be surprised."

He looked hesitant to continue speaking, and she kept smiling. "I think we should go ahead and do the paperwork, Darcy," she said, standing up slowly. She willed her stomach to stay settled.

"All right," he said, standing up as well.

Elisabeth watched Darcy walk out the door and into his modest convertible before turning to Charlie and Jack, who had been talking at the counter for lack of anything better to do. The store was empty and business was slow, except for deliveries.

"He thinks this is a low-stress job," Elisabeth said.

Jack snorted. "Wait till he works a Friday night rush."

"I give him a week," Charlie said.

"I give him one night-Friday night," Jack replied.

"He starts tomorrow afternoon, so I wouldn't place money on that, Jack." Elisabeth leaned heavily on the counter, feeling very tired.

"I think everyone should have to start on a Friday night," Charlie said with disgust in her voice.

"You only think that because you did."

"I'm still here, aren't I? You baby these kids by bringing them along slowly. When they finally get to work a Friday night, the hard work does them in. If you start with hell on earth, the rest of it looks like a picnic."

Elisabeth leaned her head on the counter and missed seeing the streak of blue speed into the parking lot. The squeal of tires, however, told her all she needed to know.

"J.P.'s back," Jack said.

Elisabeth and Charlie groaned.

"How fast was he going?" Elisabeth asked, raising her head.

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do."

"Fast."

She put her head back on the counter.

"Wasn't someone from the Effingham PD supposed to talk to him about doing stuff like that?" Jack asked.

"Uh-huh. Someone did, I thought."

"He was obviously not paying attention," Charlie muttered just as the driver's door opened and a loud voice yelled, "Driver in!"

"No kidding," Jack said.

J.P. Thorpe was short and squat, and not well-liked by much of the staff at Planet Earth Pizza because he tended to be nosy, insensitive, and rude. He had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Elisabeth thought it was a miracle that someone hadn't slugged him yet. The pool on who would do it was up to seventy-five bucks, most of it betting on her.

Elisabeth walked over to the register and brought the computer to the delivery screen, frowning at what she saw there. "Who took the order to the Nazarine Church?" she snapped.

"I did," Charlie replied. "I asked J.P. if he wanted to take it and he said he would."

"I don't get enough deliveries during the day for me to turn one down," J.P. said defensively.

Elisabeth looked at the screen as J.P. handed her correct change for his order. He headed over to the ovens, where the pizzas for his next delivery were being kept warm. She glanced at the delivery screen again. The delivery to the Nazarine Church would take him a good ten to fifteen minutes to get to if traffic was good and the people were there already waiting for him. It was flashing red on her screen, meaning he should've been gone with it already. There were two other deliveries waiting for him after that one, still showing green but coming close to being in the red.

"Did you take the one to 504 Pembroke?" she asked Charlie.

"No."

"I did," J.P. said, putting the pizzas in a delivery bag.

"How long did you tell them it would be?"

"Thirty to forty-five, like always."

"It's almost got twenty minutes on it now. You'll be gone at least twenty with the Nazarine Church order if traffic is good."

"No, I won't. I'll be gone fifteen minutes, tops."

"It takes me fifteen minutes to get there, and I drive seventy once I get outside the city limits. No way will you be able to get there and back in fifteen."

"I can do it. Don't worry about it."

Elisabeth felt her temper starting to rise at J.P.'s "so what" attitude. "Don't you think you should call the Pembroke order and let them know you might be late?"

"Not really. If you think they need to be called, you do it."

"Oh, God," Jack murmured, backing away from the counter.

"Run for cover," Charlie said.

"Excuse me?" Elisabeth asked, her voice low.

"I don't think I need to call. I'll be there on time," J.P. said, clearly oblivious.

"Get going." It was all she could trust herself to say.

"Huh? But I need to cash out my other-"

"Out." Elisabeth could feel herself trembling with anger.

"But-"

"Out."

"Okay, okay. I just need to call-"

"I'll call. Get your delivery and get out."

J.P. headed back to the delivery area. He pecked at the screen a little harder than he should have before yelling, "Driver out!"

When the door had slammed shut, Elisabeth ran to the back of the store. She walked into the walk-in, where refrigerated food was kept and where she knew she wouldn't be heard by any customers who might wander in. After the door closed behind her, she screamed several times and cursed violently.

The cool air felt good after all she'd been through that day. Elisabeth breathed in the cold air and felt her temper calm slightly.

"Is it safe to come in and get some pepperoni?" she heard Jack ask from the other side of the door.

"Yes!" she yelled.

"Are you sure? You still sound mad."

"I am mad, but not at you. Come on in."

The door opened, and Jack walked in. "What a moron that guy is."

"I know. How much longer until Chazz can go back on days?" she asked, referring to his roommate, Chazz Bingley.

"Two weeks until the semester's over, then he's all yours for the summer."

"He's not going to take summer classes?"

"Nah. Chazz says he's ready for a real break. I gotta warn you that he doesn't want to go back to days. He likes the money he makes at night, even if he does have to put up with Bubba Collins."

"I don't care. If I have to, I'll bribe Sean to get him back on my shift."

"Sean doesn't take bribes."

"I'm sure I can find something that would be worth getting Chazz back on my shift." Elisabeth exhaled sharply. "I can't take much more of J.P.'s attitude. If I have to keep putting up with it, one of these days I'm going to snap and kill him."

"You'll have to stand in line. Erin's still looking to kick his butt for that comment he made about her needing to find a man."

"Whaaat? What comment about her needing to find a man?"

"You didn't hear?"

"Apparently not."

"J.P. was arguing with Erin over something and he said that her problem was that she needed to find a man and 'get her some,' I think was his exact phrase."

"Oh, my God. And she let him live?"

"She complained to Sean, but I didn't hear that anything came of it."

"God. I can't believe he'd say that to a widow of five months. What a jerk."

"That he is."

"Did you call the people so they'd know he was on their way to the church?"

"Charlie did it. She's then going to call the cops and report him for being a menace on the roads."

"Don't let her do that. Sean'll just make him a cook and then he'll be in the store all the time. Or even worse, they'll promote him. Remember Bubba?"

Jack swore, then opened the door and yelled, "Charlie, hang up the phone! They'll make him a manager if he loses his license!"

As the door shut again, Elisabeth laughed and felt more tension slide away from her. She was still extremely upset, but she didn't feel like murdering J.P. anymore.

At least, not at the moment.

"Maybe I'll ask to go back to nights," she said.

"And stick us with Bubba? I'll kill you and let Charlie dig the hole to put your body in."

"Come on. Bubba's really not that bad. He's just an idiot."

"That's not what you call him every morning when you come in and the store looks like crap."

"I know."

"And you know the complaints Caroline has when she's working with him. And Louisa. And Lucy."

"Caroline and Louisa always manage to have something to whine about."

"Yeah, well, they're justified in this. He sits on his butt half the time, talks on the phone or to customers when we need him to actually work, does unimportant crap during the rush, never helps out-"

"Never showers and needs to brush his teeth before they grow mold, I know," Elisabeth said, having heard this a million times before.

"Why Sean made him a manager is beyond me."

"It shouldn't be. Bubba's in good with Sean, just like George was. I'll bet you my next paycheck that this new guy's gonna be the exact same way."

The door opened again. Charlie stuck her head in and said, "Register, Elisabeth."

"Thanks."

"You know, if you two aren't careful, people are going to start saying you're sleeping together," Charlie said. "Caroline and Louisa already wonder."

"If I'd slept with everyone the Gossip Sisters said I did, I'd be dead," Elisabeth muttered. "Besides, I'm holding out for Chazz."

"You sister Jenna would rip your tongue out if she heard you say that," Charlie said.

The three of them laughed. "I'll be sure to pass it along, though. He'll love it," Jack said.

Continued In Next Section