Museums & Misunderstandings - Section VIII

    By Kate F

    Previous Section, Section VIII, Next Section

    Chapter 44

    Posted on Wednesday, 27 February 2002

    February 15

    Darcy woke up early and lay in bed thinking about the previous evening. He hadn't planned to take Lizzy out that night. His schedule had been so jammed, he thought he wouldn't even get out of the office until after 8. But when his last appointment canceled, he had tried his luck and found that Lizzy was available.

    Darcy laughed when he recalled the canceled appointment . Poor Mr. Smythe! The man had forgotten Valentines Day, and was trying to figure out how to make up for an error that was, in his wife's eyes, unforgivable. Smythe rearranged his schedule to be able to shop for chocolates and still get home early.

    Lizzy hadn't minded that Darcy called her last minute on Valentines Day. Of course, she had known that he wasn't supposed to be home until late, so she hadn't expected anything. But still, plenty of other women he might have called would have complained about being taken for granted.

    Darcy hadn't been joking when he told Lizzy that it made him uncomfortable when women threw themselves at him. The type of woman who would do anything to get his attention was always also the type that became whiny and possessive the minute she thought she had his attention.

    Lizzy was not the whiny type. No, Lizzy was more...explosive. Yes, that was it. She was quick to get annoyed over things that might seem minor to him. But she was also fair, and would calm down again when she understood the situation. Darcy chuckled as he recalled their argument over lost messages. They had been on the verge of "I called you!" "Did not!" "Did too!" But when they realized that the missed messages had been the result of coincidences (neither one was aware of Caroline's treachery), their stances and tempers had softened.

    Darcy sighed. Lizzy would never be a dull girlfriend. Girlfriend. He tried to remember what he had said when he and Lizzy were in her apartment. Something about a girlfriend's parents. When did he begin to think of Lizzy as a girlfriend? Had she caught that inference? Did she want to be his girlfriend?

    He sat up and shook his head. William Darcy, CEO, millionaire, veteran of many "most eligible" lists, was worrying over whether a girl liked him or not. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He looked at the face in the mirror and smiled, Funny, you don't LOOK like a ninth grader!

    As he showered and dressed, he thought about Lizzy. A week ago he had made a date with her for this evening. Now he wasn't sure he wanted to keep to his original plan. He went to the kitchen, in search of Mrs. Reynolds and some ideas.

    Several blocks away, Lizzy woke up from a lovely dream, in which she and Darcy were dancing cheek-to-cheek on a dimly lighted dance floor. She smiled and rolled over, hugging her pillow, willing herself to return to the dream. Instead, she was kept awake by thoughts of the night before.

    Lizzy wondered about Darcy's remark about having a personal interest in having Jane out of the apartment. What does he want? OK, aside from the obvious, what does he want? She knew that the remark about an engagement party was a joke. And so was the remark about naming their firstborn. But many a true thing has been said in jest. Just what are his intentions? Lizzy wondered. And what are mine?

    Georgie groaned when the telephone rang. She had hoped to sleep late.

    "Hello?"

    "Georgie? It's Sharon. From your history class?"

    "Oh."

    "Listen, I was hoping I could get your notes for today. I have to cut to go to a dentist appointment and Dr. Michaels is giving a test on Tuesday-"

    "What? When did he announce this?"

    "He posted a note late yesterday. I think he's doing this on purpose to punish students who try to extend the holiday weekend."

    Georgie swore. This surprised Sharon, who giggled, "I guess this isn't good news."

    "No, it isn't. I'm one of the students who was hoping to extend the weekend by leaving early. We're going up to my boyfriend's house this weekend, and I'm going to mess up all the plans. This sucks!"

    "Tell me about it! If I skip this appointment, I won't be able to get another for at least a week, and I need this filling fixed now."

    "Well, don't worry about it, Sharon. I'll run a quick copy of my notes and drop them off at your dorm. Good luck with the dentist.

    "Good luck with the boyfriend."

    Georgie hung up and dialed Chris's number.

    "H'lo?"

    "Hi Chris. I have bad news. Dr. Michaels is giving a test on Tuesday, so I can't cut today. He only posted the note late yesterday."

    "He's doing that to get even with students who take off early."

    "No kidding."

    "Well, we'll leave as soon as your class is over."

    "I don't want to ruin your day. You guys can go early, and I can take the train. Didn't you say you sometimes take the train?"

    "Yeah, but I hate to ask you to do that."

    "I don't mind, Chris. I'll check the train schedule and let you know. What station do I go to?"

    "Poughkeepsie."

    "OK, I'll let you know what time."

    "You aren't going to back out on this weekend, are you?"

    "No! Why do you think that?"

    "You seemed a bit nervous when we talked about it. My parents aren't nearly as scary as your brother."

    "I know. I'll get up there as soon as I can."

    Charlotte set down her suitcase in the hallway and knocked on Lizzy's door. Still in her robe, Lizzy answered the knock.

    "Hi, Char."

    "Good morning, Lizzy."

    "Are you ready to go?"

    "Just about. Here are my contact numbers and the number of the vet."

    Lizzy smiled, "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill your cat. Siggy and I will get along fine."

    Charlotte sighed, "It's Sigmund." She had come to regret naming her cat for Freud. Everyone shortened "Sigmund" to "Siggy," which often was misinterpreted as "Ciggie," as in cigarette. Charlotte had heard way too many jokes about ciggie butts.

    "Right. Sigmund. He'll be OK. I may go up to your place and read or watch TV for an hour or two to keep him company."

    "He'll like that. Oh! I almost forgot. This was put in my mailbox by mistake."

    Charlotte handed Lizzy a large envelope. Lizzy turned it over and grimaced.

    "Ugh! It's from that idiot Collins. How can the man be smart enough to get through dental school and still be so stupid that he can't take a hint!"

    "Open it, Lizzy."

    So Lizzy opened the card, which was a soppy, sentimental valentine. In an effort to be cute, Collins had put heart-shaped confetti in the card. The shiny confetti now littered the floor inside the doorway to the apartment.

    Lizzy groaned, "What a mess. Now I have to vacuum up this junk. Oh, well, at least I opened it here and not in your place. Siggy-excuse me, Sigmund-would probably try to eat it. Have a good time, Char. What did you say your friend's name is?"

    "Dr. Madison. See you on Monday!"

    Charlotte shut the door behind her, grabbed her suitcase and headed for the front door. Lizzy shook her head at her friend's sudden exit. Then she headed for the kitchen to show Jane her precious valentine.

    Jane and Lizzy had a good laugh over the card and sat down to breakfast. Jane sighed.

    "You miss him, don't you Jane?"

    "Oh, Lizzy, I didn't expect to, but I do, very much. I'm thinking, since you have a date with Will tonight, and Charles is away, I might go home for the weekend. Mom and I could go shopping or something."

    "That sounds nice. And you and Mom always enjoy shopping together. If I go with her, she tries to turn it into 'let's make over Lizzy.'"

    "You don't mind being on your own all weekend?"

    "What on my own? I have a date with Will, and if he stands me up, I'll just tell my troubles to Siggy."

    Anne fished in her purse for the phone number of the florist. She spoke to a young woman who was willing to look up the order. Anne listened to the shuffling of papers as the woman rummaged through stacks of order forms.

    "Here it is, Ms. deBourgh. It has your name and address and then it says 'no card.' So I guess whoever sent the roses wanted to be mysterious."

    "Isn't the sender's name on the form?"

    "No, these were done by Interflora. They were ordered from a shop in New Orleans. I can get you their number if you-"

    "Oh, no, don't trouble yourself any further. You've been very helpful. Thank you."

    Anne hung up the phone. She doodled on a pad on her desk as she went through a mental list of friends and family. She couldn't think of anyone who lived in New Orleans. It didn't make any sense. The only thing she could imagine was that it was all a mistake, and some poor woman didn't get flowers on Valentine's Day.

    Chris picked up Sandy, then headed down to collect Kitty. By the time he reached Georgie's building, he had explained why she wouldn't be driving Upstate with them. Sandy ran into the lobby and picked up Georgie's skis, boots, and suitcase. He added the skis to the others in the rack on the top of the Jeep and tossed her other things in the back. He got in and Chris stepped on the gas.

    "This stinks, you know?" pouted Kitty. "I've heard about professors doing this. What do you bet she gets there on Tuesday and he'll say, 'Oh, you know what, I've changed my mind'? He's just doing a power trip thing."

    "She's going to miss the best skiing, too. It won't be as crowded today as it will be on the weekend." commented Chris.

    "Maybe we shouldn't go without her?" asked Sandy.

    "No way!" cried Kitty. "I hate for Georgie to miss your debut on the slopes, but we need to get you started today. No chickening out!"

    Lizzy added some water to the vase that held her rose. Since Jane had brought her flowers home, Lizzy decided to leave her flower on her desk. She inhaled the sweet scent and sighed, recalling the lovely evening she and Darcy had spent together.

    She smiled when she thought about the months that had led up to last night. They hadn't started off too well last fall. She had thought he was stiff, and way too controlling when it came to his sister. He had thought, well, she didn't know what he thought of her at first, but she could guess. And it probably hadn't been good.

    But slowly, they had become friends. And now they were getting closer. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone on her desk.

    "Lizzy Bennet."

    "Good morning, Lizzy."

    "Will! Hi! How are you this morning?"

    "Great. You?"

    "Mmm, just fine. I want to thank you again for a lovely Valentine's Day. I was just sitting here, enjoying the scent of my rose."

    "I was afraid you might think the single rose a trite gesture, but I thought you might not see the wasp in a big bunch of roses."

    "It was perfect, Will. And it did appeal to the practical side of me. As much as I love flowers, I do resent the fact that the florists always up their prices for Valentine's Day."

    Will smiled at that comment, knowing that the pin cost a great deal more than a few dozen roses would have. "I was also a little afraid that you would think I was being cheap."

    "Not cheap, Will. Practical. Oh! speaking of practical, I have to call Jane. I want her to buy me some candy when she goes to the mall."

    "Candy?"

    "Yeah, Jane and I usually hit one of the department stores the day after Valentine's Day and treat ourselves to leftover Godivas on sale. You know, the heart-shaped boxes that didn't get sold by Valentines Day. The stores mark them down."

    "Oh."

    "Great, now you think I'm the one who's cheap. It's just the principle of the thing. You probably just buy whatever you want whenever you want it, so you don't understand."

    "You make me sound like I have no sense of the value of money."

    "No, I don't mean that. OK, I know you're wealthy, and you don't have to wait for a sale to get what you want. But I meant it as a gender thing. Women love to shop for bargains. Guys just shop to get what they want and get out of the store."

    "I have to admit, you've got me there. I never saw shopping as a major form of recreation. I called you to talk to you about tonight. We have a date, remember?"

    "Yes, I do. What did you have in mind?"

    "I wanted to ask you about that. I was planning on taking you out to dinner."

    "I hope you weren't planning anything too extravagant. Last night was so lovely, I don't want you to think I expect that sort of dinner tonight, too."

    Darcy smiled, thinking of his original plan of dinner at an elegant restaurant. "Actually, I did plan something like that. But at the time, I hadn't expected to be able to take you out on Valentine's Day. Since I was going to be a day late, I wanted to make up for that. I didn't want you to think I was a marked-down-box-of-candy kind of guy."

    Lizzy giggled, "I can't imagine anyone thinking of you that way. Really, Will, you don't have to do anything special for tonight."

    "I do have something, um, unusual in mind. Do you mind doing something casual?"

    "No, I don't mind at all? What do you want to do?"

    "I'm thinking about staying in and having Mexican food. Georgie is going upstate to Chris's, so we'd have the place to ourselves."

    Lizzy laughed, "An embarrassment of riches, or maybe I should say opportunities. Jane is going home for the weekend. She and Mom will go shopping, which is what made me think of the chocolates."

    "Well, before we get into 'your place or mine,' let me insist on my place for tonight. I have the larger kitchen."

    "What does that have to do with it?"

    "Tell you tonight. Dress casual. What time should I pick you up?"

    "Since we're going to be at your place, don't bother to pick me up. I'll go home, change, feed Siggy, and take a taxi to your place."

    "Who's Siggy?"

    "Charlotte's cat, Sigmund Freud. Char is away for the weekend and I'm cat-sitting. See you tonight."

    Chris pulled off the new York Thruway and onto local roads. Kitty and Sandy looked out the windows and commented on the scenery.

    "Wow!" said Sandy, "This really is way out in the country. It's beautiful."

    "The color must be phenomenal in the fall," added Kitty.

    "It is. We have a lot of trees on our property, and Dad curses them when we have to rake the leaves and heap them on the compost pile. It wasn't so bad when I was at home, but now he has to do it without me. We only clear the house side of the stream, so it isn't as bad as he makes it sound."

    "You have a stream?"

    "Yeah, a stream runs behind the house. We have a waterfall, too. There's a sort of natural pool at the base of the waterfall, and we swim in there. In the spring, a lot of the water is meltwater from snow, so it's very cold. But by late summer, even Mom goes swimming."

    Chris made a turn and said, "Not far now."

    "Whoa! We're in Woodstock. Is that the Woodstock?" Sandy made a peace sign. Kitty giggled.

    "Yes and no. Yes, I live in Woodstock, NY. But the famous music festival was held in a farmer's field near, but not in, Woodstock. I'll drive you by there later.

    "Groovy, man," said Sandy. Kitty's giggles erupted into full blown laughter.

    Chris drove up a winding road and pulled into a driveway. The side door opened and a golden retriever bounded out onto the deck that wrapped around the side and back of the house. A tall brunette followed the dog at a more sedate pace.

    "Belle! Come!" called Chris and the dog ran to him. He bent over to pet the dog and she rewarded him with sloppy doggie kisses. "Good girl, good girl."

    While Chris was becoming reacquainted with his dog, his mother greeted the guests.

    "Hello! You must be Kitty and Sandy. Welcome!"

    "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter," Sandy shook her hand.

    Kitty gestured around her, "This place is beautiful."

    They followed Mrs. Carter onto the deck.

    "Oh!" gasped Kitty, "You really do have a waterfall!"

    "Oh yes," replied Mrs. Carter. "Unfortunately, we haven't had quite as much snow and rain as usual, so it isn't at its best. Chris's sister got married last summer, and she had the wedding in the back yard. They took lots of pictures of the wedding party with the waterfall as a backdrop."

    Mrs. Carter held the door open and gestured for the guests to come in. Over her shoulder, she called, "Belle! Chris! In!"

    Kitty stared open mouthed as the dog and her master turned and ran toward the house.

    "I don't usually call him the same way I call the dog," confided Mrs. Carter, "But it does work."

    Chris and Sandy unloaded the car. Chris showed Kitty to his sister's room and took Sandy to his own room. After they had settled in, Chris showed them around the house. Kitty admired the family photographs on the mantle over the huge stone fireplace. She saw a picture of a smiling bride and groom standing in front of the waterfall.

    "Is this your sister?" she asked.

    "Yes, that's Megan. They had the ceremony in the ruins across the stream, and the reception in the back yard."

    "Ruins? You have ruins?"

    "Yeah, it's the foundation of a mill that was here about a hundred years ago."

    Mrs. Carter joined them. "Are you all settled in? Do you need anything?"

    "We're fine, Mom."

    "How about some lunch?" She led the way into the kitchen. "I have a bunch of cold cuts, and here are the rolls. Chips are already on the table. Help yourselves." Turning to Sandy and Kitty, she added, "We're very informal. Any time you're hungry, feel free to raid the kitchen. We have cookies in the cookie jar, fruit in the bowl over there, sandwich stuff in the meat drawer in the refrigerator. Don't be shy."

    "This is a great kitchen," said Kitty. We live in the city, so a big kitchen like this just doesn't exist. It's so, I don't know, livable, I guess is the word I'm looking for."

    "We do spend a lot of time in here. In the winter, we keep the wood stove going, and in the summer, we spend most of our time in here and on the deck."

    Kitty took an apple from a large china bowl that stood next to a matching pitcher, which held an arrangement of dried flowers. She looked at the obviously old piece of furniture that held the bowl and pitcher.

    "Do you know what that is?" asked Mrs. Carter gently.

    "No," replied Kitty.

    "I do," said Sandy. "It's called a dry sink. A long time ago, when houses didn't have running water, they kept water in the pitcher, and washed in the bowl."

    "That's right. The pitcher and bowl are a matched set, which used to be called a ewer and basin."

    "The dry sink is obviously an antique. Are the ewer and basin antique, too?" asked Sandy.

    "Yes, they are. I'm impressed," said Mrs. Carter.

    "My Mom has an antiques business back home, so we have lots of antiques in the house."

    Over lunch, they discussed their plans for the afternoon. Kitty and Chris teased Sandy about his upcoming skiing lesson. Mrs. Carter gave him a few pointers and told him which runs at Hunter were not for beginners, "no matter what Chris may try to tell you.".

    Charles sat in his seat, waiting for the officials to file into the room. He pulled out his cell phone and called Jane's work number.

    "Membership, how may I help you?"

    "Hello. Is Jane Bennet in? This is Charles Bingley."

    "Hello, Mr. Bingley. Jane is out. Would you like to speak to Lizzy?"

    "Yes, thanks."

    He waited for the call to be transferred, then he heard Lizzy's voice.

    "Hey, stranger! How are you?"

    "Great. What's up? Is Jane sick?"

    "No. She has no reason to stay in the city. I thought she called you or sent you an email. She went home for the long weekend. Big Presidents' Weekend sales at the mall, you know."

    Charles chuckled. "I don't have much time here, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. Do you guys have a TV in the offices?"

    "No, why?"

    "There's going to be a press conference. They've decided to give a gold to the Canadians. It's an additional gold. The Russians get to keep theirs."

    "No kidding! That's amazing. I wouldn't have expected them to 'fess up like that. Jane is probably at home. Do you have the number there? And do you have her cell number?"

    "I have the cell, but I don't have the home number."

    Lizzy gave Charles the number and then added, "Jane may be too shy to say so, but she misses you a lot."

    Charles wanted to say that Jane wasn't as shy as Lizzy thought, but decided against it. "Thanks Lizzy." was all he said.

    Charles quickly dialed Jane's cell phone, but got no answer. After leaving a message, he tried the Bennets' home phone. He left a very brief message, as the press conference was about to start.

    The skating officials filed in. They made the announcement, answered some questions, and then left the room. Shortly after that, the Canadian pairs skaters, Sale and Pelletier, held a press conference. Serious and witty by turns, they charmed the press easily. Through both press conferences, Charles took notes and held up his tape recorder.

    The skating scandal had been great fodder for the press. Now that it was being resolved, the skaters were hoping for a little calm in their lives. Charles especially liked David Pelletier's answer to the reporter who asked how they were going to get out of the limelight. Pelletier told the press to all go to other events. As long as the press and the network kept bringing up the whole business, the skaters would be unable to dodge the limelight. Charles was impressed with how well they had kept their cool during a very difficult week.

    After the press conference, Charles and Pete, a longtime colleague, walked back to the press room. There they found a young reporter from a newspaper that the two New York Times columnists thought of as a "lower tier" paper. Jack, the young reporter, was typing furiously into a laptop.

    "Charles! Thank goodness you're here. You'll be able to help me. What's that poem about a dream deferred?

    "You mean the Langston Hughes poem?"

    "Yeah, I guess. I'm thinking-hey, you can't steal this, right? I'm thinking about justice deferred. Great, huh?" He grinned and kept typing. "H-u-g-h-e-s. Right. He wrote that play about a Raisin in the Sun, too, didn't he? It was made into a musical, too, I think."

    Charles was about to suggest that Hughes's poem was about something more serious than Olympic medals, and that "raisin in the sun" was a reference from a Hughes poem, and that the play was written by someone else. Pete put a hand on his arm and shook his head.

    "Sounds cool, Jack. You go for it. We won't steal it."

    Outside the room, Charles stared at Pete in amazement. "I can't believe you encouraged him to do that. Trivializing an important poet, not to mention getting all those other references wrong. What were you thinking?"

    "He has an editor. The article will be fixed. Not that anyone who reads his stuff would notice anyway."

    Charles laughed, "Pete, you are such a snob. OK, his paper isn't the Times, but it isn't a total rag."

    "Isn't it?"

    "I don't know who's worse, Pete, you or Ginny!"

    "Ginny, definitely. She totally corrupted me. Just you wait. You'll end up with all of Jane's worst habits. No, wait-let me guess-she doesn't have any, right?"

    "You're right, Pete, Ginny has totally corrupted you. I think I'll have to keep my Jane away from the two of you."

    Georgie ran out of class, found a copy machine, and delivered the copies to Fran's dorm. Checking her watch minute, Georgie stood anxiously on the crowded subway car. She made it to the train station in time to buy her ticket and get on the train moments before it pulled out.

    Georgie took out the notebook that she used as a journal. Over the past year, she had filled several. Sometimes she wrote random thoughts, sometimes she wrote comments or essays about events in her life. She even wrote letters to people. The more worried she was about a situation, the more random her writings became. She tried some of the focusing exercises that Dr. Madison had taught her, back when she was in Boston, back when she dreaded each day and feared every new person she had to meet.

    Chris-I don't know what you're thinking. You say you don't blame me for what happened in my past. But I think something is different since you found out. You're distant. I'm not sure why you even want me to be there this weekend. You probably have lots of old girlfriends at home, like this Nikki. You don't need me.

    Georgie read over what she had written. She tried to put herself in the role of Dr. Lucas. So, Georgie. Why don't you believe that Chris doesn't blame you? What has he said about Nikki to make you worry? She sighed. No good answers came to mind, but she still couldn't shake the insecurities.

    What if his parents don't like me? What if I say something stupid? What if I meet Nikki? What if she's prettier? She probably has a better figure. And she's older than I am, and probably experienced, and I don't know anything. And-

    The train made a stop. Georgie had to fight the impulse to get off and catch the next train back to the city. Breathe, she told herself. You can do this. You can do this. The train began to move again. The mechanical voice from the ceiling announced that the next stop would be Poughkeepsie. No going back now.

    Chris parked the Jeep near the station. He looked at Kitty and Sandy in the back seat.

    "Do you want to wait here? I'll be just a few minutes."

    "I think we'll run over for coffee." Sandy pointed to a coffee shop. "We'll get some for you, too."

    Chris walked briskly to the station and arrived just as the train was approaching the platform. He stood on a bench and scanned the crowd of people getting off the train. He found Georgie and ran to her.

    "Georgie!" He swept her into a bear hug. He set her down and reached up to straighten her hat. "So how was Dr. I-love-to-be-a-rat Michaels?"

    "Ugh! Incomprehensible. He rambled on and on and didn't make any points that weren't in the book. Not a hint about what's on the test. I have no idea what to study."

    "Then don't. Just ski. Kitty and Sandy are waiting." He took her briefcase. "Let's go."

    Georgie smiled up at him. When he put his arm around her like that and smiled at her, she felt foolish for having doubted him. For the first time all day, she was looking forward to the weekend.

    On the ride to the Carter's house, Kitty and Sandy entertained Georgie with tales of Chris's waterfall, Sandy's first skiing lesson, and the plans for the rest of the weekend.

    Lizzy had achieved the status of instant recognition at Darcy's building. The doorman no longer called upstairs when she arrived. He just smiled and said hello. But for some reason, this evening, he called up to the apartment. While she waited for the elevator, Lizzy removed her coat. She pulled off her hat and shook her curls loose. When the elevator door opened, Darcy was standing there, holding something behind his back.

    Lizzy got in the elevator, and Darcy pushed the button. Lizzy started to ask what was going on, but the door closed, and Darcy pulled Lizzy into his arms and kissed her. When the elevator arrived at the penthouse, Darcy picked up Lizzy's coat and purse, which she had dropped in order to free her arms for better use.

    "Here," he said, holding out a folded white cloth. "Put this on."

    "We're here!" Chris turned off the Jeep and ran round to open Georgie's door. Holding her hand, he led her onto the deck and into the kitchen. His father was sitting at the kitchen table, but rose when he saw the guests come in. Chris's mother was stirring something on the stove. She turned to get a look at her son's girlfriend.

    Chris introduced Georgie to his parents, and his mother could see that Georgie was nervous. She smiled and hugged Georgie.

    "Welcome! I'm so glad you could come. I've heard quite a lot about you."

    Georgie blushed and looked down. "Thank you."

    "I expect that you'd like to freshen up after your trip. Kitty, will you show her to your room?"

    After the two young women had gone upstairs, Mr. Carter turned to his son. "She seems sweet, but so shy, timid even. Does she ever talk?"

    "Dad!" hissed Chris.

    "Oh, relax, I won't embarrass you. But really, Chris, what am I here for, if not to make sport of my children? Just think, someday you'll have children of your own to embarrass in front of their friends!"

    Lizzy stepped out of the elevator and looked at Darcy in amazement. She held up the white object.

    "Is this what I think it is?" she asked.

    "Yup. Put it on. I told you I had something different in mind for tonight."

    He led her into the apartment, took the object from her hands and slipped the neck strap over her head. He turned her around so that he was behind her, and passed the tapes around her waist, tying them in the back.

    "There we go. Very professional."

    "No hat?"

    "No. You have to earn your toque."

    "My what?"

    "Toque-chef's hat. Come on, Lizzy, Mrs. R is waiting."

    Darcy led Lizzy into the kitchen. He grinned at her as he put on an apron of his own.

    "Welcome to Mrs. Reynolds's school of cooking."

    "Will!"

    "Yes, yes, you say you can't cook. So we're going to learn together. What's tonight's menu?"

    Mrs. Reynolds smiled, "Chips with guacamole and salsa to start. Then fajitas. And flan for dessert." Lizzy's eyes widened, and Mrs. Reynolds continued, "I've already made the flan. And the rest is easy. You'll see."

    Mrs. Reynolds got Lizzy started on the guacamole. Lizzy sniffled as she chopped onions. She watched Darcy open a bag of chips.

    "Hey, no fair! How come he gets the easy part?" She reached for the blender container.

    "No you don't! I get the blender first." Darcy took the container and nearly filled it with ice. "This is the most important part." He added the ingredients for margaritas and turned on the blender.

    Mrs. Reynolds handed Lizzy a second container. "Here you are. I have several of these. I hate to stop in the middle of what I'm doing to wash the blender, so we bought extra containers. Now, you won't want to completely puree this, so you'll just use the pulse button to mix it up."

    When Darcy finished with the blender, Lizzy put her container on the blender base and watched as avocado, garlic, onion, and lime juice became guacamole. She dumped the finished mixture into a bowl. Darcy grabbed a chip and was about to taste it when she swatted away his hand.

    "No way! I made it, I get to taste it first." As Lizzy took a chip and dipped it into the green mixture, Mrs. Reynolds looked at Darcy. She winked at him, and he grinned back.

    "Cool! I made guacamole!"

    "Does anyone else get a taste?" asked Darcy, still holding the chip. She held out the bowl and he took a generous dollop of guacamole.

    "Delicious!" he declared. Mrs. Reynolds tasted it and agreed.

    Kitty took Georgie upstairs and showed her the bedroom they would be using. Georgie sat down on the edge of her bed. Kitty stretched out on hers.

    "Great house, huh?" asked Kitty.

    "Yes it is. Oh, Lord, I am so nervous," confided Georgie.

    "I can tell. What's wrong?"

    "I don't know. What if they don't like me?"

    "What's not to like? Come on. Let's go back down."

    "In a minute. I should call Will and let him know I got here OK."

    Kitty and Georgie returned to the kitchen. Sandy, Chris, and Dr. Carter had moved to the living room, where they were discussing Olympic hockey.

    "Mrs. Carter? What can we do to help?" asked Kitty.

    "You girls could set the table. The silverware is in that drawer and plates are in that cabinet." She pointed to the locations of the items in question and returned to her cooking.

    "It smells delicious," said Georgie.

    "It's chicken and dumplings. My husband's grandmother taught me this recipe when I was just a bride. My husband's family is originally from the south.

    "Carter," said Kitty thoughtfully. "Any relation to the Carters?"

    Mrs. Carter laughed, "You mean the former president? Very, very, very, very distant relation. Certainly not close enough to get invited to the White House."

    The three women chatted, and by the time the men were called in to dinner, Georgie had relaxed. During the meal, Dr. Carter entertained everyone with stories of the antics his hygienist had to go through to get one of his younger patients to open his mouth to have his teeth cleaned.

    "Some days, I wondered why I became a dentist. People hate dentists.'

    "I don't hate you, Dad," offered Chris.

    "Thanks, son. How are things going in school?"

    "House rule!" interrupted Mrs. Carter. "We do not discuss anatomy class at the table."

    After Lizzy's success with the guacamole, Mrs. Reynolds set her to chopping tomatoes and onions to make salsa. When it was mixed, Mrs. Reynolds took a bowl from the refrigerator.

    "Here," she said, placing the bowls in front of Lizzy. "Taste them both."

    Lizzy did as she was told, and frowned. "How come yours is so much better?"

    Mrs. Reynolds smiled, "It has had time to sit and merge the flavors. Yours will taste just as good in a few hours. So we'll use what I made earlier, and you can take yours home. How is that?"

    "So the lesson here is, if the recipe says to let something sit or soak for some amount of time, don't skip the sitting time?"

    "Go to the head of the class, Miss Bennet! After a while, you learn shortcuts and substitutions and ways to cheat. And you also learn where you can't cheat. If something needs time to steep, you can't shortcut that without affecting the results."

    Lizzy nodded. Darcy leaned against the counter, smiling. He turned, picked up a margarita glass, rubbed a lime around the rim, deftly rolled the rim in salt, and poured some of his frozen mix into the glass.

    "For you, oh master chef," he said as he handed Lizzy a frozen margarita. "Mrs. R? Can I offer you one?"

    The housekeeper laughed and declined a drink. She showed Lizzy the ingredients for fajitas. The chicken had already been cut and was marinating in tequila and lime juice. Lizzy picked up a green pepper and sliced and seeded it.

    "My, you do that expertly," said Mrs. Reynolds.

    "I help in the kitchen sometimes, and the slicing and chopping jobs usually go to me."

    Mrs. Reynolds took the knife from Lizzy's hand. "Well, dear, since you are already a proficient prep chef, let's give this part of the lesson to the other student. Mr. Darcy? Lizzy can teach you how to prepare the vegetables."

    Under Lizzy's watchful eye, Darcy sliced tomatoes, peppers, and onions. They continued to work on the dinner preparations while sipping their drinks and eating chips, salsa, and Lizzy's guacamole.

    Lizzy looked around and smiled, "I don't see anything left to slice or chop. I take it that we're ready to cook?"

    Mrs. Reynolds handed Lizzy a card with the cooking instructions. She watched Lizzy heat some olive oil in a large frying pan. Lizzy showed Darcy how to use the garlic press, then tossed the onions into the pan. The onions were just beginning to soften when Lizzy picked up the chicken, and added strips of chicken to the pan. She was concentrating on stirring the food and didn't notice Mrs. Reynolds talking to Darcy.

    Lizzy reached for the bowl of peppers and added them to the mix. She looked up to see Darcy grinning at her. He stood behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist.

    "Having fun?" he whispered in her ear.

    "Yes. Where's Mrs. Reynolds?"

    "She decided to leave us on our own for a bit. She'll come running if we need her. And you should get used to calling her Mrs. R. The family always have."

    The family. Does he think of me as being part of the family? To break the silence, she pointed to a small bottle and said, "I need the cumin. And you can grind some pepper into this."

    "In a minute," he murmured, as he nuzzled her neck.

    "No, now. Will, come on, behave yourself."

    Laughing, he handed her the spice jar and picked up the pepper grinder. When the cooking was done, they called Mrs. Reynolds to get her approval. She tasted, approved, and reminded them to heat the tortillas in the microwave and get the sour cream out of the refrigerator.

    After dinner, Mrs. Carter announced that Chris and Sandy were on clean-up, since the girls had helped with preparations. While the boys loaded the dishwasher, Mrs. Carter made coffee. Dr. Carter entertained Georgie and Kitty in the living room. He asked Kitty about the snow conditions and asked about their plans for the next day. He talked to Georgie about her plans for law school.

    Mrs. Carter brought out the coffee, and soon Chris and Sandy joined them. They turned on the television and watched the Olympics.

    Sandy groaned when another group of ice dancers was shown. "It's so boring. They all use the same music."

    "They have to," explained Georgie. "This is a compulsory dance. They all have to do the same thing, except for the very beginning and the very end. The judges focus on the technical things, and creativity isn't a big deal here."

    "See? That's what I said. No creativity, just boring."

    Kitty swatted at Sandy's arm, and everyone laughed. Georgie stifled a yawn, hoping that nobody would notice.

    Mrs. Carter smiled and reminded them that they had plans to get an early start. "Perhaps it would be wise if we all gave up for the night." Kitty and Sandy went up first, followed by Chris and Georgie a minute later. They said their goodnights in the hallway and went to their rooms.

    In the living room, Mrs. Carter looked at her husband. "So?" she asked.

    "I like her. She's sweet. And although she didn't say a lot, I get the impression that she's quite bright. Chris seems different with her, somehow, did you notice?"

    "That may not be a fair comparison. We didn't get to meet a lot of the college girlfriends, so it's been several years since we've seen him with anyone serious."

    "You think he's serious, then?"

    "I don't know. Aren't boys supposed to talk to their fathers about things like this?"

    "Did Meg talk to you?"

    "Point taken. I guess we just have to wait and see how it goes."

    Lizzy and Darcy enjoyed their fajitas with another round of margaritas. Lizzy giggled when sour cream and salsa began to leak out of the end of the rolled-up tortilla.

    "I always put too much stuff in, and then it leaks."

    Darcy laughed as she set the dripping tortilla on the plate. "Tuck the end in when you fold it. See?" He held up his tortilla proudly, only to discover a small leak. They both laughed at that. Then Darcy turned serious.

    "This is delicious, Lizzy. You did a wonderful job."

    "It's all Mrs. Reynolds's doing. I used her recipes and she was there to coach me."

    "Every cook uses recipes, Lizzy. You may have had her recipe, but you executed the plan."

    "And it was fun."

    "She likes you, Lizzy. I think she'd be willing to give you a cooking lesson any time you wanted."

    They cleared the table, and discovered that Mrs. Reynolds had set up the coffee pot for them. While the coffee pot ground the beans and brewed the coffee, they stacked the dishwasher and got out the dessert. They took their coffee and dessert into the living room, and Lizzy settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

    "Excuse me." Darcy left the room for a moment, and returned holding something behind his back.

    "What is it?"

    "Guess."

    "I have no idea."

    "Here." He held out a red velvet heart-shaped box.

    Eyes wide, Lizzy gasped, "You didn't!"

    "Oh, yes I did. I went to Lord and Taylor. And you were right, they do mark down the boxes the day after Valentine's Day. I had no idea!"

    Lizzy giggled at the thought of this rich man buying sale chocolates. "I can't believe you did this," she said, opening the box.

    "I paid in cash. I didn't dare use a credit card. If I were recognized buying leftover chocolates, I'd be banned from every 'most eligible' list for life."

    I'd like to keep you off those lists, thought Lizzy, as she pulled out a small envelope and read the card inside. "Rats. No diamond."

    "They put diamonds in those?"

    "No, but there's a contest every Valentine's Day. See, the card says that I didn't win. Well, I didn't win the diamond. But I still think I came out a winner."

    Lizzy took off her shoes, tucked her feet under her, and snuggled next to Darcy. She fed him one of her chocolates, then picked up her plate and fork. She fed Darcy some of her dessert, and then she took some. They continued in this manner until the plate was empty.

    "Comfortable, Lizzy?"

    "Oh, yes."

    He pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head. Stay with me. He wanted desperately to say it. He knew it was too soon, too fast. He wanted to get this right. She was too important to him to risk it all for one night. How could he tell her he wanted her but was willing to wait?

    Acutely aware that Georgie wasn't home, Lizzy wondered where the evening was headed. If he asked her to stay, would she? No man she had dated made her feel the way Darcy did. If he asked and she said no, would he be disappointed? Angry?

    "Lizzy?"

    "Mmm?"

    "This is awkward, and I'm probably going to say this all wrong. So don't say anything until I'm finished. With Georgie being away, well, it's very tempting, but I don't want to do anything that will jeopardize things. I don't want to rush you. I don't want you to wake up and say 'what have I done?' I want things to be right. But I don't want you to think I'm not interested. If you meant less to me, I'd probably be less cautious. Does any of this make sense?"

    Lizzy sighed. "Yes, it does make sense."

    He laughed softly, "You sound relieved."

    "I think I am."

    "Am I that bad?"

    "No. You're wonderful. I'm just not sure yet, and you saved me from having to say no."

    "Perhaps I should take you home?"

    "Yes, it's late."

    "And I have to go to Connecticut tomorrow. Uncle Matt doesn't like coming into the city, so I go up to Greenwich when we need to confer about Foundation business."

    "What about your Aunt?"

    "I meet with her separately."

    "Sounds like shuttle diplomacy. Isn't it time consuming?"

    "Not as time consuming as sitting through a discussion with Aunt Catherine and Uncle Matt in the same room."

    He found her coat and helped her into it. They stood in the foyer, waiting for the elevator. Lizzy smiled.

    "What?"

    "The mirror made me think of Caroline Bingley. She'd have said yes."

    He shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked her."

    They walked into the elevator. The doors closed, and Lizzy turned to Darcy with a smile. He pulled her close and kissed her. As the door opened at the garage level, she pulled back and said, "What is it about you and elevators?"

    Chapter 45

    Posted on Wednesday, 27 February 2002

    February 16

    Georgie awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon and the sudden cold she felt when Kitty pulled down her covers.

    "Hey!"

    "Get up sleepyhead. We have a date with some snow!"

    Georgie yawned and stretched, "Man, I slept like a log."

    "Me, too. But I skied yesterday, so I have an excuse."

    "I spent yesterday fretting. You have no idea how much energy that takes."

    Kitty and Georgie had just finished dressing when Chris knocked on the door.

    "Breakfast is ready. If you don't come out soon, Sandy's going to eat everything."

    Giggling, Kitty ran out of the room and down the stairs. Georgie was about to follow her when Chris grabbed her arm.

    "Hey, you," he said softly. "Aren't you going to wish me good morning?" He bent down and kissed her. "Did you sleep well?"

    "Good morning to you," she replied. "And yes, I slept very well."

    "You seemed nervous yesterday."

    "I know. I'm sorry."

    "Don't apologize. It's OK. My parents like you, if that makes you feel better."

    "A little."

    Chris kissed Georgie again and she smiled up at him, "Now, that makes me feel a lot better."

    They walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand. Mrs. Carter smiled when Chris held Georgie's chair out for her. He really did listen to all those lectures on manners.

    Dr. Carter joined them for breakfast, and was pleased to see that Georgie was more at ease than she had been the night before. Chris smiled across the table at Georgie, who was laughing at Kitty's endless stream of skiing instructions to Sandy.

    Sandy groaned, "So when exactly does this get to be fun?"

    After breakfast, Dr. Carter left for Saturday office hours, and the four skiers collected their gear and piled into the Jeep.

    Darcy pulled up in front of his uncle's house. He smiled as he remembered what a good time everyone had there at Christmas. While he was lost in his thoughts, his aunt opened the front door.

    "Will? Helloo? It's cold out. Get yourself in here!"

    "Good morning, Aunt Sue! How are you?" He kissed his aunt and she took his coat.

    "Your uncle's already in the study. I'll bring you some coffee."

    Darcy walked into the study, but when he saw that his uncle was on the telephone, he started to leave.

    "No, Darcy, stay. It's just Richard."

    I heard that, Dad!

    Matt Fitzwilliam chuckled and held out the cordless telephone to Darcy, "Here, talk to your cousin."

    "Richard! How are you doing? Are you back in Salt Lake City?"

    "Yes, got back late last night. How are you? How's Georgie?

    "We're good. She's Upstate skiing this weekend."

    "Good for her. I assume she had a date for Valentine's Day, but what about you? See anyone I know?"

    "It was very nice, and that's all I have to say. You?"

    "Lonely. That's the soldier's lot, I suppose. Although there were quite a few unattached women in the bars."

    "Ah, you were, what, doing research?"

    "Not doing much of anything, really. Um, have you talked to Anne lately?"

    "No, I haven't."

    "Oh, just wondered what she's been up to. I haven't heard from her."

    "Were you expecting to?"

    "Um, no, not really, I guess."

    Darcy wondered why Richard expected Anne to call him. "What," he teased, "I suppose you sent her a rude Valentine and now you're waiting for retribution?"

    Silence.

    "Well, sorry I don't have anything to tell you. You could give her a call. Ah, here's your mother." Darcy handed the telephone to his aunt in exchange for a mug of coffee.

    "Hello darling!" Sue Fitzwilliam set a plate of cookies on the desk and walked out of the room with the telephone.

    Matt watched her go. He shook his head, "Her baby. Richard probably knows three dozen unusual ways to kill people, and she still asks him if he's eating his veggies."

    Darcy laughed and sat down. Matt opened the folder on his desk, and they started to review the most recent round of grant applications.

    As they walked to the lifts, Kitty continued to tease Sandy about his beginner status as a skier. Chris laughed at the bickering, then turned when Georgie tugged at his arm.

    "I want to do the beginner slope."

    "Why? Georgie, I thought you could ski?"

    "I can, but I didn't ski all last winter, so I'm rusty. If you and Kitty want to go up higher, I'll do the beginner with Sandy."

    "Kitty," yelled Chris, "Get off his back. I think we should all do a warm-up on the beginner slope."

    By the time they were ready for lunch, all the slopes were crowded.

    "Is it always like this?" asked Sandy.

    "Holiday weekend," explained Chris. "It's always busy on weekends, but this is one of the busiest."

    "Maybe it's time to quit for the day," suggested Georgie. "Some maniac little kid almost cut me off on that last run."

    "Yeah, the snow isn't all that good now, either," added Kitty. "I could give up."

    "What a bunch of wimps!" laughed Sandy. "I'm only getting warmed up."

    "OK, we'll wait while you ski another run or two," said Kitty, calling his bluff.

    "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to keep you guys waiting."

    Kitty swatted his arm, and they laughed as they removed their skis and went in search of something warm to eat.

    "And then you fold in the beaten egg whites. Do you know how to fold egg whites, Siggy?"

    Sigmund Freud stretched and yawned. He shifted his position on the floor so that he was in the patch of sunlight that streamed in through the window. He had been listening to Lizzy read recipes for a half hour and was bored. Humans made the strangest noises.

    Lizzy set down the cookbook. She sighed, "I don't think I'm ready to try a soufflé." She slid to the floor and stroked the cat. "What do you think I should cook for Will, Siggy?"

    The cat stood up and trotted to his dish. He sat down in front of it and turned to look at Lizzy. The message was clear, so she opened a can of cat food and left Siggy to enjoy his liver and bacon dinner.

    Back in her own apartment, Lizzy returned Jane's collection of fancy cookbooks to the shelf. She made a quick phone call, then picked up her coat and purse. She ate one of her "sale" Godivas before heading out to the bookstore.

    During the drive back from his uncle's house, Darcy thought about his conversation with Richard. It was unusual for Richard to ask about Anne. Why had he expected to hear from her? She seldom called Darcy, and she had always been closer to him than to Richard.

    When he got home, the apartment was quiet. He checked the kitchen and saw that Mrs. Reynolds had left a note saying she had gone shopping. He checked the answering machine, but the light was steady. No messages. He didn't really expect Lizzy to call. She knew he would be out. But he was disappointed anyway.

    He poured himself a glass of water and went into the study to review his notes from his discussion with his uncle. He found himself thinking about Richard and Anne. Darcy had hoped for some progress by now, but with Richard's hectic schedule, there hadn't been much opportunity to throw Richard and Anne together. Richard had seemed reluctant to talk about Anne or the Twelfth Night party. So why was he curious about Valentine's Day?

    Unable to concentrate, Darcy reached for the telephone.

    "Hello?"

    "Anne, how are you?"

    "Darce! Hi. To what do I owe this honor?"

    "Just checking up on you. I was up at Uncle Matt and Aunt Sue's today."

    "Oh? What for?"

    "Foundation discussions with Uncle Matt."

    "To be followed with similar discussions with Mother?"

    "Yes. Between the way they bait each other and the fact that he won't come to the city and your mother won't go up to Greenwich, well, it's just easier to do it this way."

    "They do squabble like naughty children, don't they?"

    "Yes. Oh, and while I was there Richard called."

    "Is he still keeping the country safe?"

    "He's doing his part, anyway. He's back in Salt Lake City."

    "Back? I thought he was up there for the duration of the Olympics.

    "That was the plan, but remember the unspecified terrorist threat this past week?"

    "Yes."

    "In response to that, they moved some people to other high-profile events. Trust Richard to get a plum assignment."

    "What did he get?"

    "Mardi Gras, can you believe it!"

    "Mardi Gras? In New Orleans?"

    "Yes, New Orleans. Where else?

    "Oh."

    "Anne? Are you all right?"

    "Fine."

    "When Richard gets back, maybe we can do a cousins thing. Or a double date with Lizzy and...Anne? Are you there?"

    "Huh?"

    "Anne, are you sure you're all right?"

    "Hmmm? Oh, sorry, I'm in my studio and trying to concentrate on my painting."

    "Right. I'll let you go then. Talk to you soon."

    "Uh-huh."

    "Bye, Anne."

    "Uh-huh."

    Darcy hung up the telephone and tried to make sense of the conversation. Anne had been fine until he mentioned New Orleans. Why did it matter to her that Richard went to Mardi Gras?

    Across town, Anne sat in her studio, looking at the sketches she had been preparing for her latest painting. She went into her bedroom and picked up the rose that was still on her bedside table. She caressed the petals and inhaled the scent. The flowers had been ordered from a florist in New Orleans. Was it possible?

    Anne pulled a thick art book off the shelf, opened it to the middle, and carefully placed the rose inside, with the intention of pressing it. Somehow, she couldn't close the book. She couldn't bring herself to crush the rose, not even to preserve it. She returned the rose to its vase and went back to her sketches.

    By the time the four skiers had returned to the Chris's house, showered and changed, it was getting dark. They were getting ready to go out again, when Dr. Carter stopped them.

    "Who's driving?"

    "I am," said Chris. "We're going to Chappy's for burgers. And then I thought we'd check out that new place in Kingston, Flyers."

    "The new place is a bar?"

    "Yes, Dad. They have a band on weekends. And once we get there, I will give the keys to Kitty."

    "Kitty?" Dr. Carter turned to her, "You're willing to be the designated driver?"

    "No choice, really. I don't turn 21 until next month."

    "Be careful, behave yourselves, and have a good time."

    "Yes, Dad."

    "Yes, Dr. Carter."

    They were at the door when Sandy turned around. "Dr. Carter? Have you met Georgie's brother?" The foursome dissolved into laughter, leaving a very confused Dr. Carter standing in the kitchen.

    Lizzy opened her door and dropped the shopping bag on the floor. She checked the machine, but there were no messages. Not that she expected any, since Darcy was supposed to spend the day in Greenwich.

    She dumped out the contents of the bag onto the coffee table. Mrs. Reynolds had recommended Betty Crocker and Better Homes & Gardens as good starter cookbooks. In addition, Lizzy had picked up Suppers for Simpletons and Baking for Dummies.

    While she read one of the cookbooks, Lizzy opened the refrigerator and took out the care package that Mrs. Reynolds had insisted she take home. Reheated fajitas weren't quite as good as they were the first time, but they still were pretty tasty. Lizzy smiled, remembering how she and Darcy had stood at the stove together. Lost in her daydreams, she jumped at the beep of the microwave. She took the steaming hot food back to the living room, and ate her supper while she read recipes and cooking hints.

    Chappy's was jammed, but service and table turnover were quick. As soon as they sat down, Chris ordered a basket of onion rings and home-made potato chips. They looked over the menus and, by the time the waitress returned with drinks and the basket, they were ready to order.

    Their burgers had just been served when a tall blond man dressed in biker leathers walked in. He spotted Chris and yelled, "Hey! Slap Shot!"

    Chris groaned as the man approached their table. "Hey, Bob."

    Bob addressed Chris's three friends and anyone else within earshot. "You guys have the honor to be dining with Slap Shot Carter, the fastest shot on the ice. This guy scored more goals at last weekend's reunion than anyone else." He turned to Chris and slapped him on the shoulder, "Betcha did some scorin' off the ice, too, huh, buddy? I saw all the old girls hangin' around you."

    Chris turned scarlet and Bob laughed heartily. "Way to go, man!" he said, as he walked to the counter to place his order.

    "Slap Shot Carter?" asked Sandy, causing Chris to hold his head in his hands.

    Scoring off the ice? wondered Georgie, as she stared at her plate.

    After dinner, Chris suggested they try Flyers, a new bar. "I think I mentioned it to you, Georgie. An old friend from high school tends bar there. Come on, it isn't far. Kitty, pay attention to where we go, you're driving us home."

    They pulled into the parking lot and stared at the building. They had expected Flyers to have an aviation theme. But the theme was sleds, as in the famous Flexible Flyer. Just as the Hard Rock Café had its Cadillac over the door, Flyers had an oversized sled sticking out of the wall above the doorway.

    Inside, the sledding theme was carried through with a huge array of mittens, scarves, and hats hanging from the beams of the ceiling. Old photographs of children in snowsuits adorned the walls. And various kinds and sizes of galoshes were lined up on the mantle of the fireplace.

    Because Flyers was new, it was drawing a large crowd. Chris led the others toward the bar, and found two stools for the girls. He and Sandy squeezed in beside them.

    "Hi there," said the bartender as she slapped cocktail napkins on the bar. "What can I-Chris! Well, look at you! I had about given up hope that you were coming. You just made my evening!"

    "Hi Nikki, how are you?" asked Chris in a disinterested tone.

    Nikki? Georgie looked at the woman she imagined as her rival. Nikki's skin-tight "Flyers" T-shirt and jeans showed off a well-toned figure. A large amount of eye makeup accented dark eyes. Long dark hair was pulled back from a face that had cheekbones to die for. Next to Nikki, Georgie felt as if she looked like a ten-year-old.

    "I'm great!" replied Nikki. "Wasn't last weekend wonderful! It was so good to see all of you guys together again. You know, some of them have really let themselves go. But you still look terrific, Chris."

    "Thanks, Nik. Um, this is Georgie, and Sandy and Kitty."

    "Sandy, how are ya? Hello, Georgie. Hello, Kitty. Ooh! hey, hello kitty. Get it?"

    Kitty smiled weakly. Yeah, like I haven't heard THAT before.

    "Huh?" asked Sandy.

    "Never mind." hissed Kitty.

    "So, what can I get you guys?" Nikki turned to Georgie, "I'll need to see some ID from you, honey."

    "Sure." Forcing a smile, Georgie dug out her wallet and showed the bartender her ID. Nikki shrugged. Chris ordered beers for himself and Georgie. Sandy ordered the same and turned to Kitty.

    "Tequila sunrise."

    "But-" Sandy stopped short when Kitty kicked him in the shin.

    Nikki went off to fill the order, Chris excused himself to go to the men's room, and Sandy looked at Kitty in amazement. "What are you doing?"

    "The b**** carded Georgie, but not me. So, if she thinks I'm old enough, I'll order a drink. I was hoping she'd get caught. Serve her right if she did."

    "Kitty, it's OK," said Georgie softly. She got up and went to look at some of the pictures.

    Nikki returned with the drinks. Kitty lifted her glass and took a long swig. "Delicious!" Then she lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. "Listen you, I'm only 20 and you just served me. If you don't want me to find your boss and tell him, you'll quit hitting on my friend's boyfriend. Go flirt with some other customer. Got it?"

    Nikki nodded.

    Kitty pushed the glass toward her, "Replace this with a tequila-free sunrise." Nikki did as she was told.

    Sandy leaned over and kissed Kitty on the cheek, "hello kitty indeed," he whispered. "You're like a tigress protecting her young."

    Georgie returned to her seat and took a sip of her beer. She turned to Kitty who grinned at her. "Don't sweat it. She'll stay out of our way."

    And she did. Nikki flirted with several other customers. She kept glancing at Chris, annoyed that he didn't even notice. She did, however, have the satisfaction of catching Georgie watching her more than once.

    Although none of them had much to drink, Chris did give Kitty the keys. He rode shotgun in order to give her directions. When they got back to Chris's house, they were surprised to see his father sitting by the fireplace. Dr. Carter looked up when they came in.

    "Dad! Waiting up for us?"

    "No, just reading. Well, reading and dozing. How was Flyers?"

    "Good band. We danced, and we only drank a little."

    "I wasn't asking for specifics. You aren't stumbling and slurring, so I will let it go at that."

    "Check out my T-shirt, Dr. Carter." Kitty held up a T-shirt that showed a snowsuit-clad child riding down a hill on a sled. "Sandy bought it for me as a trophy."

    Sandy put his arm around Kitty's shoulder, "First prize for bartender intimidation."

    Chapter 46

    Posted on Wednesday, 27 February 2002

    February 17

    When Georgie woke up the next morning, she was alone in the room. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Strange dreams had kept her from sleeping well. In one of them, she and Nikki were playing hockey, and Chris was the goalie. Nikki kept elbowing Georgie out of the way and getting to Chris first. When Georgie got off a masterful slap shot, the puck sailed by Chris and into the net. At the same time, Nikki dropped her stick and jumped into Chris's arms, shouting "she scores!"

    Georgie sat up in bed. She got a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Clear porcelain skin, blue eyes, and honey-blonde hair with highlights no salon could ever create suddenly seemed pale and insignificant when compared with Nikki's dark eyes and raven hair. As for the rest of her, Georgie knew she could never look like Nikki did in a tight T-shirt.

    This depressing inventory was interrupted by the arrival of Kitty.

    "Hey, you're awake."

    "Has everyone been up long?"

    "Not everyone. Sandy just got up a little while ago. Chris and I have been up for a few hours. We took a walk a little earlier. He showed me the ruins. Pretty cool."

    "Oh."

    "Now don't tell me you're jealous of me, too!"

    "No, of course not. What do you mean, 'too?'"

    "Georgie, I know that tart behind the bar got to you last night. You tossed and turned most of the night."

    "I'm sorry if I kept you awake."

    "You didn't. I wake up a couple of times during the night normally, especially if I'm in a strange place. But just look at your bed-yesterday morning, it hardly looked like someone had slept in it. Today..." Kitty shrugged and gestured toward the covers that were all askew.

    "She's just so..."

    "Tarty? Pushy? Forget about it. Chris isn't interested in her. Come down and have something to eat. Sandy is whining about his legs being tired, so we're thinking about skipping the slopes today. We could go into one of the towns and window-shop."

    "I guess."

    "Good." Kitty walked to the door and looked back at Georgie, "If you're not downstairs in five, I'm coming back to get you!"

    When Georgie arrived downstairs, she saw that everyone was in the living room. Mugs of coffee sat on end tables and the Sunday papers were strewn about. Chris was reading the sports section and Sandy was reading the comics. Kitty was reading advertisements, hoping to get a sense of the local stores before she ventured out for a day of shopping.

    Mrs. Carter stood up and walked to the kitchen with Georgie. She poured a cup of coffee and handed Georgie a plate.

    "There are muffins in the basket, butter and jam right there on the table. I can fix you an egg or we have cereal if you prefer."

    "No, muffins are fine. Our housekeeper often makes muffins..." Georgie trailed off, realizing that the reference to the housekeeper might have sounded like bragging.

    "Our housekeeper loves to bake," laughed Mrs. Carter, pointing to herself. "So help yourself. And feel free to take your breakfast into the living room. Don't worry about crumbs. That's one of Belle's main tasks, cleaning up after us."

    Georgie settled near the fireplace. Dr. Carter smiled down at her and bid her good morning. She smiled back.

    "Do you always keep a fire going?" she asked him.

    "If we're going to be home all day on weekends, yes we do. It makes the room cozy, and saves on the electric heating bills. Sometimes we toast hot dogs over the fire and have a picnic right here on the living room floor."

    Sandy started to laugh, and Georgie turned to him with a questioning expression.

    "Sorry, Georgie, but I'm trying to imagine your brother holding a weenie roast in you living room."

    "You should try imagining my Aunt Catherine doing that," laughed Georgie. "Although, we did live more casually at the summer place. My family has a house on Long Island, and we used to spend the summers there when we were little. I don't remember a lot, but I do remember my brother and Richard being inseparable, and poor Anne trailing along after them. She was a tomboy."

    "Morticia? A tomboy?" asked Chris. "Who'd a thunk it?"

    A similar, but lonelier and more "civilized" version of muffins and newspapers was taking place at the Darcy apartment. With a cup of coffee and plate of muffins next to him, Darcy was reading the Sunday New York Times.

    He put down the sports section and fished for the section that contained the movie listings. Since Georgie was away again tonight, perhaps he would see if Lizzy wanted to go to a movie. Or maybe they could rent a video and stay in...

    Lizzy put the muffin pan in the oven and looked at her watch. She had just time enough, she thought.

    She grabbed the key to Charlotte's apartment and ran up to feed Sigmund Freud. As soon as she opened the door to the apartment, she was met with an imperious meow. Sigmund turned and led Lizzy to his dish. Sitting down, he gave her a disgusted look.

    "Oops! Am I late, Siggy?"

    He swished his tail and stared at his dish.

    "Sorry, kitty. Let me take your empties." She picked up his water bowl and empty food dish. She dumped the remaining water in the sink and refilled the bowl. She set the water bowl down in front of the cat. He continued to stare at her.

    Lizzy dumped some cat kibble into a clean food dish. "Here you go, Siggy, lovely kibble. Yum!" The cat stopped paying any attention to Lizzy the moment the food appeared in front of him. As he chowed down, Lizzy said, "You're welcome," and left the apartment.

    When she let herself into her own apartment, she could smell the faint aroma of something burning. Checking her watch, she saw that she had returned in plenty of time for the muffins. She ran to the kitchen to check on them.

    The smell was definitely coming from the oven. Lizzy had filled the compartments of the muffin pan too generously, and the batter had risen beyond the level of the compartments. A little had dripped onto the bottom of the oven. Peeking in through the window in the oven door, Lizzy could see that the muffins were baking beautifully. As for the bit on the bottom of the oven, she wondered if their oven was a self-cleaning model.

    After breakfast, Chris suggested a ride, so the four of them piled into the Jeep. He drove his guests through the countryside, and past the farmer's field of Woodstock fame. Then he suggested Poughkeepsie as a destination. There was a particularly good coffee shop there, and they could wander around a bit.

    They found a place to park and started by finding the coffee shop. From there, they did some window shopping. Georgie admired a hot-air balloon wind chime in the window of a gift shop. Kitty groaned when Sandy pointed out a "hello kitty" shirt in the window of a clothing store. They read the posters in the window of a video store, and wandered around in a book store.

    Georgie was flipping through some books about movies, and Chris pulled Kitty to the other side of the shop.

    "What's up with Georgie? She's kind of quiet today."

    "I don't know. I don't think she slept too well." Kitty debated telling Chris the real problem, but decided that it would be better to have that conversation in a less public place. Kitty returned to Georgie's side.

    Once outside, they crossed the street and started back toward the car. Kitty saw a sweater that she wanted to try on. Sandy and Chris announced that they were not interested in holding the girls' purses and that they would wait outside the store.

    Looking across the street, Chris noticed that one of the shops that had been closed when they passed it earlier was now open.

    "I'm going to check out that wind chime for Georgie. Stall the girls if they come out before I'm back."

    "Like there's a chance that will happen. They're trying on clothes, Chris."

    Chris crossed the street and went into the shop. A little bell tinkled as the door opened and closed.

    "Hello! Can I help you with anything?"

    Before he could answer, a voice cried out "Chris!" He turned to discover Nikki walking briskly toward him.

    "Hello, Nik." He turned to the saleswoman, "I'd like to see that wind chime, the one with the hot air balloons."

    While the saleswoman was taking the wind chime down, Nikki took advantage of the situation. "So, did you ditch your friends to come see me?"

    "No. I came here to buy a present for Georgie." He accepted the object in question from the saleswoman and smiled, "Thank you."

    He held the top of the chime and studied it. Ceramic clouds and balloons struck each other and made a series of pleasant sounds. Nikki wrinkled her nose.

    "Looks like something for a child's room."

    "She isn't a child, Nik. You should know that, you proofed her last night."

    "Yeah, shoulda proofed the kittycat that was with her, too."

    Chris turned to the saleswoman, "I'll take it." The woman disappeared to find a box for the gift.

    "She doesn't look like your type, Chris."

    "My type? How would you know? We haven't seen each other in ages, Nik. I'm not a goofy high-school hockey player any more. I've grown up. Maybe you need to-sorry, that was uncalled for."

    Nikki smiled slightly. "Well, whatever." She stood close to him. "For old time's sake."

    She moved to kiss him, but Chris turned his head so she kissed his cheek, a bit longer than was necessary for "old time's sake."

    "Just a little something to think about."

    "I have plenty to think about, thank you."

    "Yeah, well, see you around, Chris." Nikki returned to her browsing.

    "Yeah, see you."

    The saleswoman returned, and Chris asked her to wrap the purchase. He looked at the earrings and other small items in a display case while he waited. He didn't look across the street even once.

    Georgie was holding Kitty's purse and waiting for Kitty to sail out of the dressing room in her next outfit. Bored, she wandered to the front of the store and looked out. Sandy lounged on a nearby bench. Chris was nowhere-there he was, in the shop across the street.

    Georgie stared at the scene in front of her. Chris nodded to the saleswoman and then turned to Nikki. They seemed to be having an intense conversation. They were standing close together, then-

    Georgie held her breath. Blinking, she looked again. They were still standing together. She hadn't imagined it. Oh, my God!

    She handed Kitty's purse to the salesgirl. "Give this to the girl in the dressing room," she said, and ran out of the store.

    Through the tears that were welling up in her eyes, Georgie spotted the train station. She started to walk at a fast pace-almost a run-and Sandy called after her.

    She shouted back, "I'm going home. Tell Kitty to pack my stuff!"

    Sandy ran to catch up with her. He reached for her shoulder, but she shrugged off his hand.

    "I'm going home!"

    Sandy stopped and looked back. If he followed Georgie, Chris and Kitty would have no idea where either of them was. He ran back to the store.

    Inside the store, Kitty emerged from the dressing room, "So, what do you think?" She looked for Georgie, but saw only the salesgirl, who handed her the purse and said that her friend had left.

    By now Chris had left the gift shop, purchase in hand. He crossed the street to find Sandy running toward him.

    "She's leaving," panted Sandy.

    "Who? Kitty? What happened?"

    "Georgie. I don't know."

    They entered the clothing store, to find Kitty grilling the salesgirl.

    "I'm sorry, miss, she didn't say anything. Just to give you your purse."

    Sandy interrupted, "She's gone to the train station. Get changed and meet us there."

    Inside the station, Georgie saw a train approaching. She ran down to the platform, and saw that the train said "New York City." The minute the doors opened, she ran onto the train.

    The train was moderately busy, but Georgie was able to find a seat by herself. The conductor came by to take her ticket. She explained that she hadn't had time to buy one, so she paid the extra fee and bought the ticket on the train.

    Georgie folded her arms across her purse, and stared out the window. She felt something hard inside the purse, and looked to see what it was. My journal. Thank heavens, I'd die if I'd left it. What if someone read it? She dug out a pen, opened the book, and started to write.

    Chris-How could you do this? I thought you cared for me. And if you wanted Nikki, why did you have to go after her while I was here? You could have done that any time. Why now? Or is it now? Maybe you've been seeing her all along, and I didn't know. OK, so it isn't like we had promised each other anything, but I thought

    What did I think? What did I expect? Would I be so upset if she weren't so ... so ... Arrrgh! She makes me feel like some insignificant little nothing.

    Me-her
    pale-striking
    wimpy-aggressive
    plain-flashy
    skinny-stacked

    Georgie read the list again. A little voice in the back of her head made a few suggestions. "You're smarter. She quit college and you're going to go to law school. You're always nice to people. She's only nice to attractive men."

    She shook her head. That isn't what counts. Men don't want smart. Men want sexy.

    "Where is she?" cried Chris, looking around the empty station.

    "I swear I saw her run in here," answered Sandy.

    Chris looked toward the ticket window, but saw that it was closed. He looked out at the tracks, but saw nobody there. He turned and saw Sandy studying the schedule. Chris walked over to join him.

    "Bad luck, Chris, she must have just caught the train to the city." Sandy pointed to the schedule."

    "What's going on?" called Kitty as she ran into the station. "Where's Georgie?"

    "On a train, apparently," answered Chris.

    "What's she doing on a train?"

    "Going home." Sandy turned to stare out at the tracks.

    Kitty turned to Sandy, "Why?"

    "We don't know. Did she get a phone call or anything while you were in the store?"

    "I don't think so. I was in the dressing room, and when I came out, she was gone."

    "Damn!" said Chris, patting the pockets of his jacket. "I put my cell on the charger this morning. Kitty, do you have yours?"

    She took out her cell, found Georgie's number, and hit the "call" button.

    Georgie continued to stare at her comparison chart, becoming more depressed by the second. She was surprised when her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and answered the call.

    "Kitty, I'm sorry, I-"

    "Georgie, it's me. What happened? I came out of the shop and-"

    "You should have stayed there, Chris." She broke the connection and returned the phone to her purse. She reached up and removed the locket Chris had given her for Valentine's Day. She held it out in front of her and let go.

    She stared at the locket on the floor. Her cell phone rang again. She took it out, checked the caller ID and turned off the phone.

    A few minutes later, she was staring out the window when the conductor cleared his throat to get her attention.

    "Excuse me, miss, is this yours?" He held out the locket.

    Part of her wanted to say "No," but she reached out and took it. "Thank you," she said softly, shoving the necklace into a pocket of her jacket.

    Chris swore and handed Kitty her cell phone. "She isn't answering or she turned it off."

    "What now?"

    "Beats me. I guess we go home and hope she calms down enough to call and let us know where she is."

    Lizzy left Sigmund Freud analyzing his dish of cat food, locked the door to Charlotte's apartment, and returned to her own apartment. She had barely opened her door when the buzzer rang. She hit the intercom button.

    "Yes?"

    "Lizzy? It's Georgie. May I come in?"

    Lizzy buzzed Georgie in and went to open her door. Georgie ran into the apartment and, sobbing, flung her arms around Lizzy. Amazed, Lizzy managed to get Georgie's coat off and then led the girl to the sofa. She held Georgie for a while, trying to make sense of the random words and phrases that came out between sobs. When Georgie seemed to calm down a bit, Lizzy decided to try to make sense of the situation.

    "Georgie, can you tell me what happened-slowly, please?"

    "Oh, Lizzy, what am I going to do?"

    "I don't know. Suppose you tell me what you've done up to this point?"

    "I ran to the station and got on the train, and then when I got here, I mean the city, well, I couldn't go home and face Will, and I didn't know what to do, so I came here."

    "What train? What station?"

    "Poughkeepsie. I couldn't stay there, not after-" The tears started again and Georgie couldn't speak. Lizzy found a box of tissues and placed them in Georgie's lap.

    "What was so awful that you can't face your brother?"

    "He'll think I'm stupid."

    "Oh, Georgie, you know he could never think badly of you." Trying to think of something that could help, Lizzy could only come up with her mother's remedy for everything. "Would you like a cup of tea? You must be cold."

    Georgie sniffled and nodded. Lizzy rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. As she put the tea into the pot, she remembered her baking experiment, and put a few muffins on a plate. Lizzy tried to piece together the bits of Georgie's incoherent ramblings. But "How could he?" and "tramp" and "Nikki" and "waterfall" and "shops" and "panic" didn't connect at all.

    Lizzy returned to the living room with the tea and muffins on a tray.

    "Here we go," she said. "Have a sip of this, and maybe we could try again."

    Georgie nodded.

    "What were you doing in Poughkeepsie?"

    "Shopping." The tears started again. "Chris (sniff) and Kitty and Sandy and I were shopping, and Chris (sniff) sneaked off (sniff) and he met (sniff) her."

    "Who is that?"

    "Nikki (sniff), some old girlfriend. He's probably sleeping with her because she will and because he doesn't want me." The sniffs were replaced by sobs. "And it's all my fault."

    "So you and Chris had a fight over this Nikki?"

    "No."

    Lizzy pulled a tissue out of the box and handed it to Georgie. "Georgie, I'm confused. I can't help you if I don't understand what happened. Start from the beginning. What were the four of you doing in Poughkeepsie?"

    "We went up to Chris's for the long weekend, to go skiing. And we went out Saturday night and she was there, and, well, I just know something is going on." And Georgie finally managed to tell her sad story.

    "So you just bolted?" asked Lizzy. "You didn't tell anyone where you went?"

    "Sandy. I told him that I was going home and that Kitty should pack my stuff."

    "So that's all they know? You should call and let them know you got back all right. Chris is probably beside himself with worry."

    "He doesn't care. He has her." The tears started yet again.

    "You don't know that for certain."

    Georgie nodded stubbornly, "Yes I do. He doesn't want me. Not now."

    "Georgie, you have to call and let them know where you are."

    Georgie shook her head. "No. I don't want anyone to know where I am. Please, Lizzy? I just need to sort things out before I face anyone."

    "At least call Will. He must be worried."

    "No, we weren't supposed to come back until much later, so he won't know anything happened."

    "Chris will call him to let him know you left there. If he doesn't call, Kitty will."

    "No! I can't face Will now. I put him through so much, I don't want him to worry. And he won't understand."

    "Georgie, you really need to-"

    "NO! If you call Will, I'll leave before he can get here." Georgie stood up and looked around the room for her coat.

    Sensing that Georgie was beginning to panic, Lizzy backed down. "OK, no calls. Sit down, Georgie. Try to relax. Would you like to lie down? You can use my room."

    "You won't call anyone while I'm in there?"

    "No, I won't. I think you need to call someone, but I won't go behind your back."

    "Promise?"

    "Promise."

    Lizzy settled Georgie on her bed and returned to the living room. She wandered around the room, trying to figure out what to do. Georgie had been irrational and, at times, incoherent. If she left the apartment, Lizzy had no idea what she would do. If only Charlotte were here, she thought.

    Lizzy went to the kitchen to fix a fresh cup of tea. Charlotte's contact numbers were on the refrigerator. Lizzy reached for the telephone, then stopped as she realized that Charlotte was probably also on the "don't call" list.

    Lizzy looked in on Georgie and found her curled up, asleep. Returning to the living room, Lizzy turned on the television and tried all her favorite channels before finding a movie to take her mind off the situation with Georgie.

    Mrs. Reynolds put the apple pie in the oven, wiped her hands, and picked up the telephone.

    "Darcy residence."

    "Mrs. R, is Georgie home yet?"

    "Chris? Is that you? I thought she was with you?"

    "She left. She took the train home, I don't know why. But she should be there by now. Is Will there?"

    "Yes, just a moment." She set down the receiver and ran to the study.

    "Mr. Darcy, Chris is on the phone. I think something is wrong."

    Imagining skiing accidents and ambulances and emergency rooms, Darcy grabbed the telephone on his desk. "Chris? What is it? Is she hurt?"

    "I don't know what happened. One minute we were in town, looking around the stores, and the next thing, she bolted to the train station. She told Sandy she was taking the train home."

    "She isn't here."

    "She should have been home about an hour ago."

    "Why didn't you call me right away?"

    "Actually, I was calling her. I hoped she'd call from the train or when she got in. I tried her cell, but she isn't answering, or it's turned off. Then I figured I'd wait until she was home and call to find out what was wrong."

    "You should have called me sooner. Are you sure she got on the train?"

    "She wasn't in the station when we got there. And the train to the city had just left. Where else would she be?"

    Images of emergency rooms flashed through Darcy's mind again. "I don't know."

    "Please tell her to call me when she gets home."

    "What happened?"

    "I don't know. She just up and left."

    Darcy disconnected. He told Mrs. Reynolds what little he knew as he punched in the first few digits of a telephone number. Then he slammed the receiver down. What good would it do to call Richard? He was in Salt Lake City.

    Mrs. Reynolds returned to the kitchen to fix her cure-all, a nice cup of tea. Darcy sat at his desk, head in his hands, trying desperately not to think about that autumn day when Georgie hadn't come home when she was supposed to.

    After about an hour later, Georgie reappeared in Lizzy's living room. She looked defeated, almost exhausted. Lizzy looked at her anxiously.

    "Do you feel any better?"

    "A little."

    "You must be hungry."

    Georgie shrugged.

    "I could order pizza?"

    Georgie shrugged.

    "I think I have salad makings. How about that? Pizza and a salad?"

    "OK."

    "Good, let me find the number." Lizzy went into the kitchen to call in the order. She wondered if Georgie would follow her to make sure she didn't call anyone other than the pizzeria, but Georgie just sat on the sofa, staring blindly at the television.

    "The pizza will be here in about 20 minutes. Come help me make a salad," Lizzy called from the kitchen.

    Georgie stood in the kitchen doorway. Lizzy turned to face her. Tears welled up in Georgie's eyes, and Lizzy went to her and hugged her.

    "There, there. Don't cry, honey."

    "Lizzy, I didn't know what to do.'

    "It's all right," said Lizzy soothingly.

    "Thank you for being my friend." Georgie made it sound as if Lizzy was her only friend in the entire world.

    "Would you do a friend a favor?"

    Georgie nodded, "What?"

    "Call your brother. Please? Just let him know you're OK. Say you decided to return early, and stopped by here to say hello and we got to talking, something like that. You don't have to tell him all that happened, at least not over the phone. But just in case Chris called. Please?"

    "I know I should."

    Lizzy picked up the cordless phone and handed it to Georgie. "Call from the other room if you like."

    Georgie walked into the living room and dialed the number. It rang just once.

    "Hello?"

    "Hi Will, just wanted to let you know I'm at Lizzy's."

    "Are you all right? I've been worried sick! What are you doing there?"

    "I just, um, well, I left early, and stopped by here, to um, well, talk, and, um, anyway, I'll be here for a while."

    "I'll be right there to pick you up."

    "No. I just want to stay here for a bit."

    "Georgie-"

    "No. Really, I'm not ready to come home and answer your questions. I'll be OK."

    "But Georgie, Chris-"

    "I'll see you later." Georgie disconnected the call. She returned to the kitchen and put the receiver back into the base.

    "I called him."

    "Good. I feel better knowing that your brother isn't worrying. Do you want soda or wine?"

    "A glass of wine, please."

    Lizzy handed Georgie place mats, plates, and wine glasses.

    "Why don't you set the coffee table in the living room? We can eat there. Just dump the pile of magazines on the floor. See if there's something good on TV and I'll open the wine."

    Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Lizzy poured them each a glass of wine. Seeing that Georgie had turned to the Olympics, Lizzy offered a toast to gold medals. They clinked glasses and sipped the wine.

    "So are they showing an event you want to watch?'

    "No, I was hoping for skating but there isn't any on at the moment."

    "You like figure skating, don't you?"

    "Yes, very much."

    "Would you like to watch a tape? I have hours and hours of skating tapes, and last summer, I took them home and Dad helped me edit the tapes. I have some great stuff-Brick House, have you ever seen that one?"

    "Ooh, Kurt Browning's best ever!"

    "And lots of Scott Hamilton, Walk This Way, and the lounge lizard one."

    "The footwork in Walk This Way is outstanding!"

    Pleased that she had finally hit on something that would cheer up Georgie, Lizzy dug out the tape and popped it into the VCR. The buzzer sounded, and Lizzy ran to answer it.

    "Hi! We're at the back!"

    Wallet in one hand, wineglass in the other, Lizzy opened the door, expecting to see the pizza delivery man.

    "Where is she?" Darcy strode into the apartment. He heard "Brick House" blaring from the television, and saw the wine bottle on the table in front of his sister. He turned and stared at Lizzy.

    "What the hell is going on? You two are sitting around here swilling wine, while I worry myself sick. Georgie, get your coat."

    Lizzy cut him off. "Hello, Will," she said smoothly. She turned to Georgie, who stood open-mouthed, staring at Darcy, "Honey, go finish the salads, OK?"

    Georgie walked to the kitchen, and Lizzy turned to Darcy. "What do you think you're doing, barging in here and yelling orders at everyone? Georgie came over here, she was upset, so I tried to calm her down."

    "By getting her drunk?"

    "I beg your pardon! I just now opened this bottle. We're about to have supper. In fact, I thought you were our pizza. You're welcome to join us if you can keep your temper."

    "My temper? Do you have any idea what I've been through? How long have you two been here, chatting? Did it even occur to you that I might be worried? Why didn't you let her call me sooner?"

    "Geez, you really are a control freak! Do you know how old your sister is?"

    "Don't be ridiculous! Of course I do!"

    "Then you know that she's old enough to come and go on her own terms. You need to learn to trust her. I did not kidnap her. I am not holding her against her will. She came here because she was upset and didn't want to face you until she got herself under control. She was too embarrassed to face you. I didn't understand at the time, but I certainly do now."

    "It's true, Will," came a small voice from hallway. "Don't blame Lizzy. She wanted me to call you right away. I said not to."

    Darcy stared at his sister. She was siding with Lizzy against him? Lizzy was amazed that Georgie would stand up to her brother, especially when he was so angry. Georgie was astonished at her actions, too.

    The silence was broken by the buzzer. Lizzy hit the intercom button.

    "Pizza."

    "We're at the back."

    Lizzy turned to Darcy, "Well, Mr. Darcy. Dinner is here. Are you staying or going?"

    "Georgie?" he looked at his sister.

    "I'm staying," she said softly.

    Darcy turned, opened the door, and brushed by the pizza delivery man. Lizzy paid for the pizza, set it down on the coffee table, and looked at Georgie.

    "Are you all right?"

    "Yeah. I think I'm out of tears. I'm just numb."

    They nibbled on salad and pizza in silence. Lizzy put away the leftovers. When she returned to the living room, Georgie was crying quietly.

    "What now? Is it Chris? Or is this about your brother?"

    "I've ruined everything. I've been a burden to him for so long, and just when things were getting better, I made it worse again."

    "You can't blame yourself because your brother is a control freak who envisions disaster and evil at every turn."

    "You don't understand."

    "No, I don't. Your brother is determined to see the worst in any situation. He doesn't trust anyone to be near you."

    "That's my fault." Georgie began to cry harder.

    "I don't see how it can all be your fault." Lizzy put her arms around Georgie and rocked her gently.

    "I'm such a disaster. Lizzy, it is all my fault. I was raped."

    Lizzy drew back and grabbed Georgie by the shoulders.

    "You should have gone to the police! Oh, I don't know if I should call the NYPD or the police Upstate. And we should get you to an emergency room so they can-"

    "No! Not today. It happened over a year ago, when we were still in Boston." And Georgie told Lizzy the story of Wickham's attack.

    "Oh, Georgie, how awful."

    "I was a mess for months. Will finally suggested the move back to New York to give me a new start. Dr. Madison arranged for Dr. Lucas to take me over. Your friend is my therapist, Lizzy. And she has been so helpful. But now I feel like I did before I left Boston.

    "See, I told Chris a few weeks ago, and now I think he doesn't want to, well, he must think I'm disgusting. That's why he's back with his old girlfriend. I'm sure she's willing, and since he won't with me, well..." she shrugged.

    "You don't know anything for certain. I think you're underestimating Chris. I wish Charlotte were home. You need to talk to a professional. I don't mind you talking to me all you want, but I don't know how to help you."

    "It has helped to talk to you, Lizzy. Will tries, but he doesn't know how I feel. And Mrs. R is always there for me, but she's so much older. You're different. You really stood up to him tonight. I wish I could be strong like you."

    "My strength, as you call it, isn't always a good thing. I shouldn't have called your brother a control freak."

    "I don't think he has been that angry since, well, since it happened. He wanted to kill George. But then he just put all his energy into taking care of me. Will has given up a lot for me. He had made friends in Boston, had his office up there, but he moved back here just for me.

    "I know everyone thinks he's too controlling, but he's just trying to protect me. He actually had been getting a lot more relaxed about things. Then I had to go and wreck it. Now he'll hover, and obsess about me. And I caused a fight between the two of you."

    "Oh, Georgie, such small shoulders to carry so much guilt. I think we should call Charlotte. I have her contact numbers."

    "I hate to wreck her weekend like I've wrecked everyone else's."

    "Shh, none of that. So what now? Are you ready to go home? You're welcome to stay here for a while, even overnight if you wish. But if you're going to stay here much longer, I think we need to call your brother again."

    "I have to go home sometime. It might as well be now."

    "Do you want me to go with you?"

    "Please. I don't want to face Will alone. He was so angry."

    "More at me than at you, I think." Lizzy did her best to sound encouraging. She knew that Darcy would forgive his sister anything. She had less hope for herself.

    Continued In Next Section

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