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Chapter 50

Posted on Sunday, 17 March 2002

February 26

Georgie picked up her coffee cup and stood up. Darcy frowned.

"Is that all you're having for breakfast?"

"Stop fussing, Will. I have a test today. I'm going to my room to study, and then I'll have more to eat before I go. OK?"

He nodded, and watched her stalk to her room. She looked tired, despite having gone to bed early the previous night. Darcy suspected that she hadn't slept well. Since Monday afternoon, Georgie had become increasingly agitated. It wasn't like her to worry so much about a test, but that was the only thing he could think of. She had a session with Dr. Lucas that afternoon, but she had never dreaded those. It had to be the test.

Darcy rose and went into the kitchen. Mrs. Reynolds looked at him and shook her head.

"I don't know what it is."

"Please give me a call at work after she leaves for class today. And try to get her to eat something?"

"I will. Don't worry, Mr. Darcy. She'll be all right."

He sighed, "I certainly hope so."

Darcy knocked on Georgie's door and called in a voice that sounded more cheerful than he felt, "Bye, Sweetie, good luck on the test."

"Bye, Will," Georgie answered in an expressionless tone.

Darcy collected his briefcase and left the apartment. When the elevator doors opened, he was surprised to see his cousin.

"Richard!"

"Hi Darce, I just flew in from Utah, and boy, are my arms tired!" Seeing no response, Richard became more serious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't' give me that, Darce. I can tell something is wrong. Is someone ill? Georgie?"

"Not ill. She had a misunderstanding with Chris last week, and she hasn't been herself since."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Richard, you were busy. And what could you do from Utah?"

"Something. I don't know. What did he do?"

"Don't blame Chris, it's complicated."

Richard unlocked the door to his apartment. He turned to Darcy and held the door open.

"Tell me about it."

"I have to get to work."

"Come in and tell me or I'll find Chris and beat it out of him."

"You will do no such thing, Richard!"

"Probably not. But why don't you make sure-tell me yourself."

"I'll tell you tonight."

"No. I've got a few days off, and I'm flying to Florida this afternoon to sit in the sun. I'm tired of snow. So you have to tell me now."

Darcy sighed and pulled out his cell phone. "You win, Richard. Let me call the office and let them know I'll be late."

Once again, the weather turned unseasonably warm. Before she left for work, Lizzy unlocked the back door and walked outside to check her tiny garden. When she and Jane decided to move to their own apartment, they looked at several prospects, but the minute Lizzy saw that this rear apartment had a backyard, she made up her mind. The first autumn, she had planted all sorts of bulbs, and every spring her efforts were rewarded.

She opened the door and leaned in, calling, "Jane! Come see what's coming up!"

Jane joined her sister and was pleased to be shown the newly sprouting crocuses, daffodils, and grape hyacinths.

"Should we take the mulch off?"

"No, Jane, they can come up right through it. That's what I love about bulbs. You plant them in the fall and forget them, but they remember to come up each spring."

The phone rang, and Jane ran inside to answer it. Lizzy made one more circuit of her garden, returned to the apartment, and locked the back door.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Caller ID says it's Charles, but he hung up without leaving a message. That's odd."

Lizzy checked her watch. "We don't have to leave for a few minutes. Call him back. Tell you what, I'll leave now, pick up coffee for both of us and see you at the office." She picked up her light jacket and left for her walk to work.

"Charles!" Caroline's voice shrilled through the apartment.

Charles groaned and hung up the telephone. He would have to call Jane later.

"Good morning, Caroline. Why are you here so early?"

"Well, that's a fine greeting. Can't I miss my brother?" She looked him up and down and frowned. "You still aren't dressed yet?"

"My flight got in late last night. And I don't have to be at work today." He yawned.

"You haven't even made any coffee."

"I just got up. I was going to call Jane first."

Caroline grimaced. "So you haven't talked to Jane in, what, 10 hours?"

"I don't count the hours I'm away from her, Caroline. Instead, I make the hours I'm with her count. What are you here for? It's too early for sarcasm." He yawned again. "Let me make some coffee."

"No, thank you. You make dreadful coffee. I'll make the coffee while you get dressed."

Charles shuffled toward his bedroom. As she puttered with coffee beans and filtered water, Caroline could hear the shower running in her brother's bathroom.

The telephone rang. Caroline glanced at the caller ID. She considered letting the answering machine pick up, but remembered the trouble she got into the last time she deleted a message. Then inspiration struck.

"Hello-oh," she purred into the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, they-uh. Who may ah say is callin'?"

"This is Jane Bennet. Is Charles Bingley there?"

"Chahlie? Wah, of coahse he is, sugah, but he's in the showah just now. May ah take a message?"

"I, um..."

"Mah name is Peggie Lou," drawled Caroline, accenting the middle name. "Chahlie and ah met at the 'lympics, and he just couldn't wait to show me New Yo-ahk. Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh."

"Are y'all one of Chahlie's co-workahs? Ah'd be pleased to take a message for y'all."

"Um, no."

"Well, sugah, ah don't think he's goin' into the office today. We're just gonna have a prahvaht day togethah. But I'll tell him y'all called."

Click.

Caroline smiled like the cat that got the cream. She poured herself a mug of coffee and reached for the sugah-make that sugar-bowl.

Charles appeared in the kitchen, toweling his hair dry. Caroline poured a mug of coffee and handed it to him.

"Thanks. Did I hear the phone?"

"Yes, someone trying to sell you a subscription to the Times. Isn't that funny? Don't they check those calling lists before they call people?"

"I guess not. I thought maybe Jane..."

"Oh, really, Charles, I don't know what you see in her. I've tried to fix you up with so many lovely women, and-"

"Don't, Caroline. I am not interested in your society clients. And I doubt they're interested in me, either."

"Oh, but they are. When I tell them that my brother is an important journalist, they're very impressed."

"Get over yourself, Caroline."

"Well, that's some thanks, I must say. Did you even notice how well I took care of your plants? And you didn't thank me for improving the furniture arrangement in the living room."

"Thank you? I was cursing you last night. I disc-rather, my shin discovered the rearrangement when I went into the living room in the dark. Don't do things like that, Caroline. This is my apartment and I like it the way I had it."

"If you're going to be so crabby, I may as well be on my way." Caroline gathered up her purse and coat and slammed the apartment door on her way out. Charles yawned and got up to refill his coffee mug, while he contemplated laundry and other mundane chores.

"Lizzy Bennet."

"Hi, Lizzy."

"Jane, are you still home?"

"Yes, I'm not coming in this morning. Could you let everyone know?"

"What happened? You were fine when I left."

"I'm just a little upset. I'll be fine later."

"What happened to upset you so much?"

"Oh, Lizzy, I called Charles back and there was some woman in his apartment. Apparently he picked her up at the Olympics and brought her to New York."

"I don't believe it. Charles wouldn't do that."

"I wouldn't have thought so, Lizzy, but I talked to her. Her name is Peggy Lou and she's southern."

"And where was Charles?"

"She said he was in the shower."

"Are you sure this isn't one of his friends pulling some kind of joke? Maybe one of them swiped his cell phone?"

"No, it was the phone in his apartment, so if she was there, he let her in."

"Look, Jane, I'll come home-no, damn, I can't. I have that volunteer meeting over at the Met."

"I'll be all right, Lizzy."

"Why don't you call Aunt Maddie? She'll cheer you up."

"I'll be all right. Say hello to Anne for me."

Darcy finished telling Richard the saga of Georgie and Nikki and Chris-minus the part about his argument with Lizzy and the ensuing reconciliation.

"So we've all been walking on eggshells for the last week. And this morning, she was even edgier than ever. I hope today's session with Dr. Lucas helps. I just don't know what to do."

"I wish I could think of something to help."

"There isn't much you can do. Just be aware of how she's feeling and don't tease her as much as you usually do. She was good on Sunday, but downhill since."

"What happened on Sunday?"

"Lizzy and Jane came over for brunch and newspapers."

"Lizzy?" Richard's eyebrows went up.

"And Jane. And Anne," added Darcy, hoping to distract Richard.

"Oh. What did Anne have to say for herself?"

"Nothing much, really. Well, until she won the puzzle race."

"Puzzle race?"

"Yes, we all worked on the crossword at the same time, and she finished first. I'll be hearing her crow about that for months."

"She beat the master cruciverbalist?"

"She got the gimmick first. That's always an advantage." Changing the subject, Darcy added, "It's funny, she didn't mention the flowers."

"Flowers?"

Noting that Richard's voice had gone up a bit, Darcy smiled, "Yes, Anne got flowers for Valentine's Day."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Aunt Catherine told me about them when I saw her last week. She thinks I sent them."

"You sent Anne flowers?"

"No."

"Anne thinks you sent her flowers?"

"Aunt Catherine thinks I did." Darcy was enjoying Richard's discomfiture. "Anne received flowers for Valentine's day. Aunt Catherine thinks I sent them Why Anne didn't tell her who sent them, I don't know."

Richard frowned. Darcy stood up and walked to the door.

"I'll let you know how things go with Georgie. Have fun in the sun."

After Darcy left, Richard started to pack for his mini-vacation. He dumped out the contents of the suitcase he had just brought home. He piled dirty clothes on the floor, put clean clothes away, and transferred things he needed for his trip to a smaller carry-on bag. He added shorts and T-shirts, and a few other garments.

Leaving the carry-on bag open in case he thought of anything else, Richard found a laundry bag and stuffed his dirty clothes into it. He looked around to see if he had missed anything and then took the bag to the front door so he could collect it on the way out. He noticed his winter jacket lying on a chair. "Might as well take that in to be cleaned while I'm at it," he said to himself.

Richard picked up the jacket and began his ritual of searching the pockets. His tendency to stuff all manner of things absentmindedly into his pockets was a family joke. His garments often yielded ten-dollar bills and phone numbers he didn't recognize when he finally got around to checking the pockets. On this occasion he found only one five-dollar bill in the inner pocket and several pieces of paper in the left side pocket.

He glanced at the crumpled papers. It took four drafts, he recalled as he unfolded the discarded drafts on the florist's Interflora forms. Richard started to put them in order, One, two, three, four. Four??? In a panic, he read the fourth message. How had it ended up in his pocket? And what message was delivered with the roses?

Richard sat down heavily on the sofa. He had no idea what to do now. The grandfather clock chimed, shaking him from his stupor. Richard looked at the clock and swore. He barely had time to drop off his laundry and get to the airport to catch his flight.

Lizzy took advantage of the warm day to walk across Central Park to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, or the Met, as many people called it. Always one to enjoy people-watching, Lizzy found plenty to amuse herself on her walk. Nannies pushed babies in baby carriages and toddlers in strollers. Dog walkers with arms stretched out by taut leashes walked briskly along the paths-until one of the dogs stopped to sniff at something. A bird watcher with binoculars around her neck scanned the trees for early migrants.

While she walked, Lizzy tried to unravel the mystery of the woman in Charles's apartment. Her first thought was that it was a joke, maybe one of the "widows." But there was no good reason for any of them to be at Charles's place at such an early hour. She was sure that there was a logical reason-she just couldn't think of it.

At the museum, Lizzy met several of her counterparts from other museums. They met periodically to discuss common needs and problems, and to share ideas for making the best use of volunteers. They took turns hosting, and Lizzy was sorry that she had to get back to her desk after lunch. She wouldn't have minded the chance to see the current display of early photographs of Egypt, or the newest show in the Costume Institute.

Another time, she sighed, as the group walked past several sarcophagi and found their way to a conference room.

Georgie chewed on her pen and read the question for the third time. Dr. Michaels was one sick b*****d. How he could come up with so many questions unrelated to his lectures was a mystery to her. More than anything, she wanted to scrawl "I have no clue!" across the paper, but she didn't have the nerve. She tried to think about other things she had read about the Civil War. Vicksburg...

Images of Vicks Vaporub came to mind. Aware that this was not a good time for free-association, Georgie forced herself to think about the question. She had read some very good books on the Civil War over the past few years. Vicksburg. She must know something about that battle. Even if it doesn't exactly answer the question, I can write something to fill the space.

Once she started writing, Georgie recalled more and more from one of the books she had read. It had been both scholarly and a "good read." As she wrote, she felt better and better about her answer.

After the class handed in their papers and filed out of the room, Sharon caught up to Georgie.

"Hey, feeling better, Georgie?"

"No. I won't feel better until I see my grade."

"I know what you mean, but I meant your stomach. All better?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Georgie, you're really good at this stuff. Did you know where that Vicksburg question came from?"

"No. I don't remember him assigning any outside reading on it, and what he asked isn't covered in the textbook. Thank goodness for all the history books I read last year when, um, I took a year off."

"A year off sounds good to me right now!"

You wouldn't say that if you knew why, thought Georgie. "Yeah, well, we were moving, and things were kind of in upheaval, you know? So when we got to New York, I transferred my credits here."

"So you're a Civil War buff?"

"I like lots of time periods in history, but ever since that PBS Civil War thing, I've been interested in it. My brother helped me track down a lot of the sources that were used in the series. He bought me a bunch of Civil War books. There was this one, I forget who wrote it, but it was terrific. And if I got the Vicksburg question right today, it's because of that book, not because of anything from this class."

"You may be the only one who does well on this test. It will be interesting to see how he grades it. I have to go. See you, Georgie." Muttering under her breath about sadistic professors, Sharon left the building. Georgie walked in the opposite direction, wondering how to kill the hour until her session with Dr. Lucas.

Charles moved his clothes from the washer to the dryer and returned to his apartment. He checked the answering machine, but there were no calls. He tried Jane's office, but was told that she was taking the morning off. He tried the apartment, but there was no answer. He left a message, then tried her cell phone.

"The person you are calling is either on the line or has turned off the telephone. Leave a message..."

He didn't leave a message.

After a half hour of sulking and trying not to cry, Jane decided that the best therapy would be to do something active. So she dug out her Walkman, found a lively tape, and set out for a brisk walk.

She stepped out of the building just as the telephone in the apartment rang.

The warm air and sun felt good, and revived her spirits. He'll call, she told herself. Lizzy must be right. It was someone playing a joke. Then the doubts crept back. But what if it wasn't a joke?

When she returned to the apartment, Jane decided to stop wallowing and get to work. Having something to do would be therapeutic. So she took a fast shower, and headed for work. She didn't stop to check the answering machine.

When the meeting broke up, Lizzy declined the offer to join a few colleagues for lunch, saying she had a previous engagement. Using the phone in the meeting room, she called Anne.

"Conservation Department.

"Hello, this is Lizzy Bennet. Would you tell Anne deBourgh that my meeting just ended?"

"Yes, Ms. Bennet."

Lizzy waited for a few minutes, chatting with the volunteer coordinator from the Museum of Modern Art. A voice interrupted them.

"Is this where I sign up to volunteer?"

Laughing, Lizzy greeted Anne and introduced her to the young man from MoMA.

"Right," said Anne. "That would be the museum that my mother says has 'art that doesn't look like what it is.'"

"Ah, yes, the formidable Catherine deBourgh. I believe she once turned down a grant application for a Pollack exhibition because her little girl could do better than that. May I assume that you were the little girl in question?"

"Probably," laughed Anne. "To be fair, I must tell you that she did take me to MoMA when I was a kid. Dad still teases me about how I raved about the 'drippy watches.'"

"I'm sure Dali would be thrilled to hear it. I must be going. Ladies, enjoy your lunch."

Anne and Lizzy watched the young man depart.

"Not bad," murmured Anne.

"He's taken," said Lizzy. "He lives with someone called Jean."

"Ah. Would that be as in G-E-N-E or as in J-E-A-N-N-E?"

"I don't know. I figure taken is taken. Now, how about lunch? I have to get back to the office, so I can't linger too long."

"We have several choices, but my first choice is the roof."

"Are they open up there?"

"They aren't serving there, but we can get something and take it up there."

So they took their sandwiches and sodas up to the roof garden, where they had a panoramic view of Central Park and the buildings that border it.

"I love it up here," sighed Anne. "You should come up in the summer when they do jazz in the evenings. It's wonderful."

"Can you believe that we're sitting in the sun and it's 60 degrees? In February?" Lizzy leaned her head back to face the sun.

"You should have brought one of those reflector things," laughed Anne. The glint of sunlight on the lapel of Lizzy's jacket caught her eye. "I see you're wearing your anatomically incorrect wasp again. When did Darce give you that?"

"Valentine's-how did you know it's from him?"

"Lizzy! The Shakespeare? The dialogue from Shrew? Although I didn't think you did the waspish part of the dialogue..."

Believing that a good offense was a good defense, Lizzy counter-attacked, "You were a bit, shall we say, distracted after your scenes, so I'm surprised you had any idea what Will and I did."

Anne's blush was Lizzy's reward. But Anne regrouped and continued her line of questioning.

"You and Will looked pretty cozy on Sunday. And that wasp is not a casual sort of gift."

"No, he had it made for me."

"Why the wasp? You guys didn't do the waspish dialogue. I'd remember that because it ends in a sort of double entendre, about tongues and tails."

"Anne! You just want to crow because you were part of the conspiracy to get us together. Don't try to look innocent, I know that Georgie has been playing matchmaker, and that you and Richard have been helping her."

"Who squealed?"

"It doesn't matter. Anyhow, it isn't that serious. We've gone out a few times, that's all."

Uh huh. Lizzy, have you seen the way he looks at you? "Well, you should be glad we're all working to help you two, because the forces of evil are against you."

"What do you mean? What forces of evil?"

"That crazy society decorator of Will's doesn't like you-or Jane." Anne went on to recount the story of eavesdropping on Caroline.

"Oh, Anne, you didn't! I wish I had been there."

"I was angry, but after I got my revenge, I could see that it was funny. I'm glad you're taking it so well."

"Will and I did almost get into an argument over lost messages, but we sorted it out. And Caroline is no threat. Will has made it quite clear that he has no interest in her. She keeps trying, but he's like a hockey goalie, just deflecting her and sending her back into play."

"Caroline Bingley as a hockey puck. Now there's an image!"

"Anne, you said that she hates Jane, too. Why? I'm a rival for Will, so that makes sense, in a twisted sort of way. But what has Jane ever done to her?"

"Jane has screwed up Caroline's big plan to get her brother involved with some rich society type, which would then give Caroline access to lots of rich clients, preferably single men like Darce."

"Right, because a single man with a fortune..."

"There you go!" agreed Anne. "Well, it's been fun, but we both have work to do. I'll walk you out."

As they neared the front of the museum, Lizzy exclaimed, "The other woman!"

"What other woman?" asked Anne, looking around.

"This morning. Jane called Charles and there was some woman he supposedly brought home form the Olympics. What if it was Caroline?"

"Ooh, sounds like something she'd do. Hey, if you want revenge, I'm in! Call me!"

"I will, Anne. Bye!"

Lizzy practically skipped across the park, so eager was she to see her sister and tell her what she had learned.

"Well, Georgie, how long do you think you can avoid seeing him?"

Georgie looked down and shrugged. Charlotte sighed and tried again, "Do you have your letter to Chris?"

"Yes."

"Are you at least ready to give that to him?"

"I guess."

"I have his letter to you. He dropped it off early this morning."

Charlotte couldn't miss the look of hope in Georgie's eyes.

"Do you want to read it?"

"Yes."

"Very well, if you give me your letter to Chris, I'll give you his letter to you."

"How will he get mine?"

"He will pick it up. I just have to call him. When you read his letter, keep an open mind. He had the same rules you did-write what you feel and don't go back and change it later. I told him that he should explain what happened from his point of view and also to tell you how he feels about your actions. If anything he says makes you angry, that's all right. You are entitled to your feelings. But keep reading, and remember that he promised to tell you the truth."

"Even if it hurts?"

"This is a time when you both need to be honest. He doesn't know what you want to hear. He only knows what he wants to tell you. And that, Georgie, is what you need to hear. If. as you read, you think of something you want to say to Chris, then write it down, on a new letter to him. But don't scribble on the letter itself. "

"Why not? Will he want it back?"

"I don't know. But you shouldn't do anything to damage the letter. After you have read it, put it aside. Don't look at it for a day. Then read it again. You may find new things to think about if you read it a second time. You don't want your first reactions to influence your feelings when you read the letter over again."

"I doubt my feelings will change in just a day."

"You may be surprised at some of the feelings the letter brings up."

"Have you read it?"

"No. This is private, just between you and Chris. Just as I've never asked to read your journal, I won't read either letter, unless there is something you want to share with me. All right?"

Georgie nodded.

"Very well, then. Give me the letter."

Georgie held out a small book, "I did it as a sort of side journal. I don't have an envelope for it."

Charlotte rose and went to her desk. She pulled out a large manila envelope, and handed it to Georgie.

"Here. You seal it."

Georgie dropped the book into the envelope, licked the flap, and stuck it down. She picked up a pen and wrote "Chris" on the envelope. Then she gave it to Charlotte. Charlotte handed Georgie an ordinary legal-sized envelope that appeared to hold several pages. Georgie stared at her name, written in Chris's handwriting. She looked up at Charlotte.

"Did he say anything when he dropped it off?"

"I was with a patient. He left it with my receptionist."

"Oh."

"Well, take it home, and read it in the privacy of your room. If you need to talk to me, call me. I'll let my service know that they are to put you through."

"Thank you, Dr. Lucas."

Lizzy found her sister hard at work. Anyone else would think that Jane was very busy. Only Lizzy could tell that Jane was working way too hard at concentrating. Obviously, she hadn't heard from Charles. Briefly, Lizzy described her meeting and mentioned that she had met Anne for lunch. Lizzy decided that a recitation of Caroline's sins could wait for another day.

Lizzy had barely sat down at her desk when the telephone rang.

"Lizzy Bennet."

"Hi, Lizzy. It's Charles."

"Hello, Charles. How are you?"

"I'm worried about your sister. Is she ill? The office said she wasn't coming in, and she didn't answer the phone in your apartment, and her cell is turned off."

"When did you call the apartment?"

"Hours ago. I didn't want to call again in case she was sleeping."

"Oh. Well, she was a bit under the weather this morning, but she's feeling better now. In fact, she's in her office. I'll transfer your call if you like."

"Thanks, Lizzy."

"Oh, by the way, you wrote some wonderful pieces on the Olympics. Well done. Did you have a good time?"

"It was fabulous. I missed Jane something awful, but it's just as well that she didn't come with me. There were so many events to cover, people to catch up with and interview, I was rushed off my feet. I wouldn't have had much time for, um..."

"A love life?"

Silence.

"Geez, Charles, I can hear you blushing all the way across town! So, no late-night parties? No cruisin' the bars?"

"Yes to the parties, no to the cruisin'. Lizzy, I wouldn't, well, I mean..."

"I know, Charles. I'm sure Jane is eager to talk to you. It's good to have you back." Lizzy was about to transfer the call when inspiration struck. "I'll bet your sister missed you."

"I guess. She watered my plants and rearranged my furniture. Then she showed up early this morning expecting me to be grateful that I couldn't find my way around my own apartment."

"That sounds like your sister. OK, you'll be on hold while I transfer your call. And if the system loses you, just call Jane's line directly. Bye Charles." Lizzy punched in Jane's extension. "Mr. Bingley on the line for you, Miss Bennet. Don't bring up this morning, Jane. It was all a mistake, I'll explain later."

Lizzy hung up in time to hear Jane squeal "Charles!" and then close her door. Lizzy smiled at the obviously happy tone of Jane's voice. Jane was so sweet, she deserved to be happy. Caroline, on the other hand... What's Katharina's line? Lizzy asked herself.Ah yes, 'I shall sit and weep until I can find occasion of revenge.' Only I have no intention of weeping!

The plane made a smooth landing, and as soon as they turned onto a taxiway, the pilot announced, "Welcome to Miami. The current temperature is 78 degrees."

Richard looked out the window at the palm trees. Just this morning, he had been looking at snow-covered mountains and walking around in boots and a winter jacket. He frowned when he remembered what he had found in the jacket. How could he have been so careless? There was no way to tell Anne that the roses had been from him. Telling her now would make him look ridiculous. She would probably say that it was the botanical equivalent of ringing doorbells and running away, the way kids used to do on Mischief Night.

No wonder he hadn't heard anything from her. He had expected some response, even if it was merely surprise. He had been hurt when she didn't acknowledge the flowers. Now he was disappointed at his own mistake.

Richard unbuckled his seat belt and retrieved his carry-on from the overhead bin. As he walked through the airport, he saw several souvenir shops. Since the flower episode was impossible to correct now, perhaps a souvenir from Miami Beach would be a good idea. He had bought Olympic souvenirs for Darce and Georgie, but nothing seemed right for Anne, who had little interest in sporting events. In the end, he had bought Anne a scarf from one of the shops in Park City. It was a shade of blue that he was certain would match her eyes. Now he wasn't sure he could give it to her. It was more of a gift than a souvenir. Keep things light, he decided. Find a silly souvenir.

The taxi dropped him off at his hotel in South Beach. Richard tipped the driver generously, then ran into the hotel to check in. He loved the Tides, with its big windows facing the ocean. As he waited for an elevator, he read the Oscar Wilde quotes on the wall. He was still chuckling over the one about "no indiscreet questions, just indiscreet answers" when he got to his room.

Unpacking took very little time, and he changed into shorts and sneakers. A jog on the beach before dinner was just the thing to clear his mind.

Chapter 51

Posted on Sunday, 17 March 2002

still February 26

Georgie left Dr. Lucas's office. A block away, she was seized with a desperate desire to run back and reclaim the little book. What if it made him angry? What if he started to read it and wouldn't finish?

When Georgie reached the apartment, Mrs. Reynolds was waiting with milk and brownies. Georgie took the snack and went into her room. She looked at her purse, which she had tossed onto the bed. The letter was in there. If her purse had held a poisonous snake, she wouldn't have been as afraid of its contents as she was on this afternoon. You can do this. she told herself. She pulled out the envelope, stretched out on the bed. She ran her finger over her name written in his writing.

Georgie hadn't expected it to be as hard to start reading his letter as it had been to start writing hers. She remembered how she had straightened her desk and her bookshelves. She had spent five minutes choosing a pen. Anything to put off facing the truth, or at least her version of it. And now she had to face Chris's version.

Georgie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tore the envelope open.

February 19
Dear Georgie,

I walked out of the gift shop and Sandy came flying across the street. He told me you were leaving. I didn't understand what he meant at first. Then we ran to the train station. When we got there, it was deserted. No you. No ANYBODY. The ticket guy wasn't there, and there nobody on the platform. It was like you vanished. Sandy was sure you'd gone to the station, and when he checked the schedule, he saw that a train had just left. We could only assume that you were on it.

I looked at the tracks, and for a minute I had this unreasonable urge to run after the train. I thought of driving to the next station, but I knew that we would never have caught up with you. Wild ideas ran through my mind, like maybe you were kidnapped. Maybe that what's his name guy broke out of prison and found you.

When I called you (I used Kitty's cell because mine was home on the charger), and you found out it was me, you said "You should have stayed in the store." I should have realized then that you had seen Nikki, but I was so worried about you, it didn't register. I was just relieved that you weren't in the clutches of some-I don't know-criminal or something.

I can't remember ever being so frightened. The only thing that comes close is the time Meg fell skiing and lay so still in the snow that I was sure she was dead or paralyzed or something. I remember wishing I could back up time and tell Meg to take the run slower. Sunday, I wanted to back up time and find you before you could leave.

We were all stunned. I don't think any of us said a word all the way home. I didn't know what to tell my parents. We just said you got upset over something and decided to take the train home. We tried your cell every five minutes for at least an hour before we gave up.

We debated calling your brother. Mom said to call right away. Sandy and I said we should wait until you would be home. I had to believe you were going home and that you would be safe. When I finally called and spoke to Will, that was the worst. I could hear the fear in his voice. You know what they say about killing the messenger? If I had been there to tell Will in person, he would have killed me.

After I hung up, I realized that your brother was all alone, except for the housekeeper. I felt sorry for Will. At least I had my parents and my friends, who did their best to distract me. Dad actually dragged out a jigsaw puzzle, just to keep us occupied. And when your brother called back, the ring of the phone made us all jump. I can't express the relief I felt when I knew you were home.

Will told me how you had gone to Lizzy and why you were upset. And when he said not to call you, to let you call me, I felt so alone. Even with Mom and Dad and Kitty and Sandy there, I felt alone.

Tears stung Georgie's eyes as she read. When she ran, it didn't occur to her that Chris would care that she was gone. That he would be frightened to the point of having irrational thoughts. Even Will wouldn't think Wickham had broken out and kidnapped Georgie. And Will-what was it Lizzy had said? He saw evil at every turn.

February 20
I reread what I wrote last night. This no-revision rule is killing me. All I wrote about is what happened, very little about what I'm feeling.

What am I feeling? At first it was just fear. Terrible fear that you would come to harm. Then once I knew you were home, it was such a mix-I was hurt, disappointed, numb, confused.

Surprised. That's it. I was surprised. I had no idea that Nikki had upset you so much-I mean on Saturday night. Kitty realized it, but she didn't say anything. I guess Nikki is so obvious, Kitty figured it wasn't necessary. And on Sunday, I had no idea you had seen Nikki with me in the shop. No, no, not like that. XXXX! (Apologies to Dr. Lucas, but I will cross out cursing) It sounds like an assignation when I write it like that. All I'm saying is, I had no idea Nikki was there when I went into the shop.

For the record, I did not kiss Nikki. She kissed me. I had tried to tell her that I wasn't interested in her. She said "for old time's sake" and kissed me. She did it before I knew what she was going to do. Maybe she saw you in the store across the street and did it on purpose. For "old time's sake," I'd like to think it was just Nikki being Nikki.

Georgie frowned. Did it really matter who kissed whom? He was quibbling. Maybe she did it on purpose? Was Chris really that naïve? Or did he think Georgie was?

I'm disappointed and hurt that you don't trust me. That you thought one kiss-in a public place-was evidence that I was "cheating" on you. I hate possessiveness, and I thought you were above that.

Your brother called me tonight. He's worried about you. He tried to make me feel better and understand that it was your insecurities at fault. I don't feel guilty-well, maybe sort of. I guess what I feel is sorry. I am sorry that something I saw as trivial caused you to be so upset.

February 22
This "assignment" sucks, you know that? I want to call you and talk to you and explain things. How do I know what to write? What do you want to ask me? I feel like I'm rambling. Is that how this is supposed to feel? Oh, XXXX!

Is this what one of your sessions with Dr. Lucas is like? Being a shrink was never high on my list of possible specializations. Now I KNOW I couldn't do it. Does she really sit and listen to people ramble on all day? XXXXX XXXXX! Give me a kid with a broken arm any day!

So, the feeling of the day is frustration. I want to talk to you. I need to hear your voice. The last time I heard your voice, your tone was so angry! It went through me like a knife.

I'm going home this weekend. I have this incredible need to sleep in my old room, in my old bed, and have Mom cook all my favorite comfort foods. I'm 23 years old, Georgie, and I'm going home to cry on my mother's shoulder. How pathetic is that!?!?!

The anger practically leaped off the page. Chris was not used to dealing with emotions in this way; that was clear. Georgie read this section again. She couldn't tell where the anger was directed, but she began to feel guilty for upsetting him like this.

February 23
The flowers you sent Mom were still in the living room when I got home. They're very pretty. She said that she called you. She said that Will was very nice, but she could tell that he was worried. I asked her how you sounded, and all she could say was "sad."

Will told Mom that the problem was caused by the combination of your insecurities and my "old girlfriend." Nikki isn't an old girlfriend. She's just an old friend, really. Nikki is, well, Nikki. It's hard to explain about her. Mom says I should tell you, so here goes.

Nikki is an only child who grew up in a neighborhood full of boys. Her parents-less than attentive a lot of the time-let her be a tomboy. She didn't have many girl friends, she was one of the boys. We all grew up playing baseball and hockey, and Nik was always one of the first players called when we chose sides. She would slide into second base fearlessly. And hockey-she could hip check better than most of the boys. And her slap shot was awesome. In fact, we let her play in the reunion when we did the penalty shot contest (it's a one-on-one with a goalie). She nearly won.

So Nik was your classic tomboy. She wasn't interested in "girlie" things (her word, not mine). But as she got older, things changed. She wasn't allowed to play hockey with us, not after her mother finally noticed it was kind of rough for a girl. Her mother suggested the girls' field hockey team. I can't remember all of Nik's reply to that. (I do remember going home to ask my mother the meaning of pearls, twin sets, and the Junior League. I already knew the expletives.)

Nik's mom tried to make her into a girl, and Nik resisted. What almost nobody knows is that, deep inside, Nik wanted to do the "girlie" things. But she had never made friends among the girls. And you know what teenage kids are like, especially the girls (sorry, but it's true). The cliques had formed and Nik didn't fit into any of them. It didn't help that she was what Mom calls a "late bloomer." I know you won't believe that, seeing her now, but it's true. (I guess her ample endowment is God's form of an interest payment on being late with a gift.)

Hmph! Late bloomer! Someone ought to prune her a little if you ask me!

Try to imagine being 15, flat-chested, no friends in the "in" crowd, and no desire to be friends with the "loser" crowd.

Been there, done that. What, does he think Nikki is the only girl who had a difficult adolescence?

Her one asset was that she had a lot of friends among the "jock" crowd. She was our mascot, everyone's kid sister. She turned her back on the girls, even though she wanted to be like them. Mom felt sorry for Nik and sort of befriended her, so Nik hung around here a lot, which is why we know her so well.

Then one summer, she bloomed. The "in" crowd found her attractive, and she did go out with some of the "cool" boys. But she hated the "cool" girls. So she dated one group of boys and hung out with another group. It made her an oddity, and she thrived on it. She was the hockey team's unofficial mascot. She came to our post-game parties. We all learned to drink beer together, sneak smokes behind the school. Some of the guys in town claimed to have learned other things with her, too. NOT ME! For all I know, the other guys were making it up.

I can picture you wrinkling your nose and saying "tramp!" I think Nik enjoyed the role, whether it was true or not, because it made her different. But she isn't as much of a tramp as she appears to be. It's her act, her armor. She doesn't know how to be like you-ladylike, refined, soft-spoken, feminine. She probably still would like to be. And now I picture you snorting in disgust. But it's true. You look like the nice girl she once wanted to be. Believe it or not, Georgie, you pushed her insecurity buttons every bit as much as she pushed yours.

Asking for your ID-that's how she does a hip-check these days. You handled it well-so well that I didn't know it upset you at all. You were very cool about it. Cool as in Grace Kelly cool, as in rising above it cool. Cool as in the way Nik wishes she could be.

Georgie's jaw dropped. Nikki had absolutely oozed confidence. She could flirt with three guys at the same time. Georgie could barely hold a conversation with one. Chris had to be mistaken. Still, he knew Nikki very well. Georgie chewed on the inside of her cheek as she continued to read.

I think Nik is disappointed and a bit threatened that one of the last of her old buddies is dating a woman who appears to have grown up in the "in" crowd, doing all the right "girlie" things. Sunday, in that shop, was one last test-and she didn't like my answers.

So that's the story of Nikki. And if you're angry that I spent so much paper on her, blame Mom. She thought it would help. See, Georgie, everyone has insecurities and ways to deal with threats to those insecurities. Nikki's is to get right in your face. Yours is to run and hide. I love Nikki like a sister, but I am tired of her in-your-face XXXX. She could use some sensitivity training. Not that I'm advocating your response, either. Surely there must be some middle ground that won't drive a guy crazy?

So, you love Nikki like a sister. What about me?

February 25
So tomorrow I drop this off with Dr. Lucas. Sandy knows about this letter. He hasn't read it, but he has seen me rereading it often enough. He says if I don't' stop reading it, there'll be no ink left for you! He says hello, by the way.

I guess the feeling for today is apprehension. Once this leaves my hands, there will be no taking back anything and no chance to explain until I get to talk to you.

I suppose by now you're wondering what happens next. I haven't said anything about the future because I don't know what it will hold. Given all we both have to do before we can even start our careers, much less establish them-well, I don't know what will happen in that time. The practical thing, I suppose, is to give up now and let it go, uncomplicate my life. But love isn't practical.

I love you, Georgie, and I don't want to walk away from this. But I don't ever want to go through the roller coaster of feelings I've experienced this past week. I'm not asking for unconditional love and devotion. I'm asking for something that's harder-trust and friendship. And I'm willing to offer the same in return.

Love,
Chris

Chris was sitting in the sun, trying to study. As he stared at the notebook in front of him, it metamorphosed into the lined pad on which he had written his letter to Georgie. he could still see his wretched beginning. For almost an hour, "Dear Georgie" was all it said. The space under it was peppered with little dots where he had put the pen to the paper, only to find he didn't know what to say.

In truth, he knew what he wanted to say. But he didn't know how to say it. "Just write what you feel," Dr. Lucas had instructed. "Don't plan it, don't think about it. Just tell her what you're feeling." It sounded so easy, but it wasn't. Chris had been trained to organize his thoughts and present them in a logical way. This stream-of-consciousness kind of writing was the exact opposite of the scientific approach he had been using for years and years.

Term papers and lab reports, those he could write. He knew how to outline, write topic sentences, and make succinct presentations of facts. But a letter, especially something like this? When had he last written a letter? Postcards, and short notes on birthday and Christmas cards. Chris closed his eyes and found his thoughts once more returning to the moment when Sandy had run up to him and panted, "She's leaving!"

His cell phone roused him from his mental wanderings. Dr. Lucas's receptionist said that there was a package for him. Chris picked up his books and ran to the subway.

When he arrived, Chris asked the receptionist if Dr. Lucas might be able to see him for just a moment. After five minutes, Charlotte walked out to greet him.

"Hello, Chris. My next patient isn't here yet, so why don't you come in." She gestured to her office and indicated a chair. She sat down and smiled. "I see you have Georgie's letter."

"It feels like a book."

"It is. She thought it would be nicer written in a little journal."

Chris shook his head. "That's Georgie. White glove treatment all the way. Your average neurotic has emotional baggage, but Georgie-we're talking seven-piece matched set of Louis Vuitton!"

Charlotte laughed, "I hope one day you'll feel confident enough to tell her that. Seriously, Chris, I know that this has been a difficult week for both of you. I don't know what either of you wrote. Read her letter and think about yours. If you want to continue to see her, then you can simply call her. If you think you need some mediation, we can set up a session here with both of you. Or if you want to ask someone else to mediate, that's OK, too."

"I really want to talk to her, Dr. Lucas."

"Then read the letter and call her. I would suggest calling her tomorrow. She may not read the letter until later tonight. Or, for all we know, she has already read it."

"You don't know?"

"I'm not clairvoyant, Chris." She stood up. So did he. Chris shook Charlotte's hand, thanked her, and left the office.

Chris wanted to rip open the manila envelope the second he was on the elevator, but someone got on at the next floor, so he didn't. He wanted to open it while he waited for the subway, then while he was riding, but he knew he couldn't read something that personal in a public place.

When he got back to his room, Chris popped a beer, sat on the bed, and opened the envelope. A small blank book slid out. He picked it up and noticed that it smelled vaguely of her perfume. He wondered if she had kept it in a dresser drawer with some of her clothes.

He propped up a pillow, leaned back, and started to read.

2/19
Dear Chris,
Dr. Lucas says I should tell you what I'm feeling as I write this. Well, right now I'm feeling incredibly stupid and ashamed of myself. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to se me again. You deserve someone who can behave like a grownup, not like some stupid six-year-old.

I guess I could claim temporary insanity. God knows I went nuts when I saw Nikki kiss you. Come to think of it, it isn't temporary insanity at all. It's probably a continuation of an existing insanity. I thought I was getting better, but if one small incident could send me into a total nutcase panic, well, I guess I'm not all that much "better."

When I told you about Wickham, I thought I had included everything that happened. But I did leave something out. See, he always told me how pretty I was, and when we'd go out to lunch he'd say that other men probably envied him. You've said things like that too. Oh, now it looks like I'm saying you're like him. I'm not. You're not. Like him, I mean. The thing is, he didn't mean it.

On the day he-well, before he forced me, he expected me to want it. When I said NO, he said that I should be grateful to him, that he was the only man who would want me. Others wouldn't, because I was just a pale, skinny kid, and that most men want someone "hot," a "real woman" as he put it. See, the thing is, he didn't say skinny, he was more specific, and his details of what a "real woman" would be were more specific, too-and very vulgar.

So do you see what happened when I saw Nikki? She fits Wickham's definition of a "real woman" perfectly. Oh! I shouldn't have said-oh, and I can't cross it out. Dr. Lucas said no going back and editing. Well, to be honest, that is what I thought when I saw her, that we should send her to visit Wickham in prison. Well, there's another thing for me to be ashamed of. She probably isn't that bad, but she became a focus for my insecurities.

I didn't sleep well that night. I couldn't shake the image of Nikki, flirting and laughing and wearing that tight T-shirt. And I was afraid you couldn't, either. And then when I saw you two together, well, I...

Wickham said "I never meant it when I said you were pretty." When I saw you with Nikki, it was as if YOU said "I never meant it when I said you were pretty." And it was like some sort of flashback. All I could think of was getting away. When I saw the train to New York, I couldn't get on fast enough. And if it hadn't been a New York train? I don't know. I probably would have jumped on anyway. Anything to escape. Anything to avoid facing another betrayal.

I know, I know, you DIDN'T betray me. I know, honestly I do. But at the time, I was in a panic. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And then I sat on the train, going over what had happened again and again. All I could think about was how hurt I was. When you called me, I was angry with you. Not fair, I know. I was stupid. And then I turned my cell off. Anything to avoid dealing with you.

When I got back to New York, I didn't know what to do. If I went home and told Will, well, after all he went though with Wickham, I just couldn't upset him again. I would have gone to Kitty, but she was Upstate with you. Richard was not an option-I don't think he would have understood, and he would have taken me home to Will immediately. Anne-well, maybe, but not if it meant having to get past Aunt Catherine.

So I went to Lizzy. She told me to call Will, but I wouldn't. So she listened to what happened and was so kind. She finally convinced me to call Will. And he came running over, and they had a fight, and I messed up yet another person's day.

Chris sighed as he continued to read Georgie's description of what had happened that Sunday evening-her call to Dr. Lucas, her hope that her brother's relationship with Lizzy wasn't ruined after all. He thought about some of the things he had written to her-that she had frightened him half to death when he didn't know where she had gone. He was disappointed that she hadn't said anything about other people's feelings, except for causing an argument between Darcy and Lizzy. He turned the page and kept reading.

2/21
Your mother called me the other evening. She's so sweet. She said she understood how Nikki might upset someone who wasn't used to her. I'm the one who made a mess of the weekend, but your mother apologized to me for Nikki's behavior. I don't deserve such kindness. I told her how sorry I was, but she just said that it was OK and that she understood. You're so lucky to have such great parents. After meeting them, I see why you're the sort of person you are-kind and generous and gentle, and funny and good-natured.

It made me realize what a spoiled, selfish, little-rich-girl princess I am. Poor Will, trying to bring me up without parents to help him. He moved me to Boston to get me away from Aunt Catherine. He says it was to get away from painful memories. I think it WAS that for him. But he didn't want Aunt Catherine to take me over the way she did Anne. Anne had the strength to be her own person. Aunt Catherine would have overwhelmed me totally.

I'm not blaming Will for my selfishness. He was a good "parent." He did spoil me a little, I guess to make up for me being motherless. But Mrs. R kept an eye on things, and when he wanted to buy the entire contents of FAO Schwartz for me for Christmas, she was there to give him a reality check.

But after Wickham, it all changed. Will would have bought me the Space Shuttle just to get me to smile. I became self-pitying and morose, and he did anything in his power to cheer me up. I'd like to think it wasn't a conscious behavior, but I did exploit it. I liked being indulged, being allowed to take a year off from school and read whatever I wanted and watch old movies and sleep late.

The move back to New York was probably the best thing Will could have done to get me out of that behavior. I went back to school, met you and Kitty and Sandy and everyone. And Lizzy. She did so much to help me. I didn't realize it until now, but I think of her as a big sister. That's why I wanted so much for her to like Will. I think I wanted to give her to Will, does that make sense? I wanted her to be as good for him as she was for me.

Chris read over this last section again. Poor little rich girl. He shook his head when he contrasted their lives. Her apartment was bigger than his family's whole house. Her brother probably COULD have afforded to buy her the entire contents of FAO Schwartz. All that money and all those opportunities, and it hadn't made her happy.

"Someday you'll thank us for this." How many times had his parents said that when he couldn't have to do something he wanted or had to do something he didn't want to do? As a boy, he had wondered how being deprived of something could possibly be good for him. Now he understood. It's called reality. Georgie's reality was so different from his. Maybe it was just as well that they figured it out now, while they could easily go their separate ways.

Did he want to give up on Georgie? That was the million-dollar question. Literally. No, more than just one million, probably. Anyway, it wasn't just what he wanted. What if she wanted to give up on him? There were plenty of regrets in her letter, but no request to see him again. Putting her journal aside, he picked up a textbook. Maybe studying would clear his mind.

After a half hour of staring at the same diagram of coronary circulation, Chris knew that the only way he would find any peace of mind would be to finish the letter.

2/24
We had a nice day today. Will invited Lizzy and Jane and Anne over for brunch and newspapers. Anne beat Will at doing the crossword. She's going to tease him about it endlessly. And Will and Lizzy look so, well, comfortable together. It was nice, like Sunday morning at your house before we went out and I acted like a fool.

I wish we could-would it be asking too much if maybe some Sunday we could do a brunch-newspaper morning? And Kitty and Sandy, and Lizzy and Will. Just try to be the way we were? Will we ever be like that? You know, happy just to be together. I miss you. I miss coming out of class and seeing you waiting for me. I miss being able to bring you Mrs. R's muffins and watching you scarf them down (yes, you do!). I miss you. I miss us. Were we an "us?" Will we ever be?

2/25
Oh, God, I snapped at poor Will. I've been on edge all day. He thinks it's Michaels's test tomorrow. Stupid man, as if I care. Oh! I mean Dr. Michaels and his test. Of course I care about Will. He tiptoes around me as if I were a grenade with a loose pin. I almost wish he'd yell at me. He never does. That's why it was so awful when I watched him fight with Lizzy.

The truth is, I'm nervous about seeing Dr. Lucas tomorrow. That's when I have to turn this over to her to give to you. I just read it over. God, am I really that self-centered? It's all about me and what I feel and what I think about what happened. Well, that was the assignment. But I should have written more about you.

I've been so worried about how you feel, to think that you might be out there hating me. I wouldn't blame you. You've been understanding and kind and patient. And the first time my faith in you was tested, I let you down. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally, not someone who will leave you over a little misunderstanding.

I do love you, Chris. I wish there were a better way to say it. We throw that word around too much. Hate, too. You know, "I love chocolate" and "I hate Michaels's tests" and "I love the beach" and "I love my new shoes" like that. So how do I tell you that I love you, and that it's a much bigger love than chocolate or my new shoes? (OK, maybe not more than chocolate...) Oh! I shouldn't have made a flip remark in the middle of telling you that I love you. I really, really, really want to cross that out. But I promised...

I am so scared of what's in your letter. And what you're going to think when you read this. There's nothing now to do but wait. I guess all that's left to say is, God bless you.
Love,
Georgie

Chapter 52

Posted on Sunday, 17 March 2002

February 27

"Good morning Jane, you were out late last night!" Lizzy poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her sister.

"Good morning, Lizzy! Charles and I had dinner, and then we went back to his place. He told me all about the Olympics. He got to meet Picabo Street! He said she's terrific, just as nice as she seems to be when you see her on TV. And he said that Jamie Sale is even prettier in person than in her pictures."

And Jane rambled on and on about Charles's experiences in Utah. Lizzy sat back and smiled, pleased to see Jane so happy. Finally, Jane stopped her narrative and looked at Lizzy.

"You never got around to telling me why I shouldn't mention that woman to Charles."

"Oh, you're right, I didn't. Jane, please don't be too upset by this. It was Caroline." She shrugged, "I guess it was her idea of a joke."

"A joke? Come on, Lizzy, I'm not stupid. If Caroline did that, it wasn't meant as a joke. I do wish she liked me. She thinks I'm not good enough for Charles."

"No, she thinks you aren't rich enough for Charles. "If Charles had a more, um 'upmarket' girlfriend, that would throw Caroline into the paths of rich men. It would also give her a chance to pick up more wealthy clients. She wants to use her brother's life to improve her own."

"That's so sad."

"Selfish, if you ask me. Don't think about her. Charles thinks you're plenty good enough for him and that's what counts. And as long as he thinks that, then I guess he's good enough for you!"

Jane got up from the table and gave her sister a hug, "Oh, Lizzy! I wish you could be as happy as I am."

"I'm not sure I have quite your capacity for happiness. I'm not as nice as you are, Jane. You're willing to forget Caroline's antics."

"There isn't much else I can do."

"See? That's the difference. I'm still trying to think up a way to get even."

"Lizzy!"

"Now, Jane, we all know that you're the sweet one. Lydia's the flirt, Mary's the bookworm, and I'm the-"

"Clever one!"

"Thank you, Jane. I was going to say the one with the attitude."

Jane laughed, "And how does Will feel about your attitude?"

"Oddly enough, he likes it. Well, most of the time anyway. It's a novelty. Most women flatter him. I am a little concerned that the novelty will wear off in time, and then he may see me simply as bitchy."

"No, Lizzy, I don't think so. Well, we should get going. I can't believe it got so cold again. Is it raining or snowing now?"

"I think just rain."

"Your poor flowers, just coming up, and they got snowed on."

"They can take it Jane. They're tough, just like the sister with the attitude!"

Richard took a cup of coffee and his newspaper down to the beach. He watched the waves and the early morning joggers and smiled. He had watched the Weather Channel to see what was happening back home. They were having a mix of rain and snow, and very cold temperatures. He was having sunshine. He made a mental note to take a picture of the thermometer. That would be a fun thing to torture the folks back home with!

Richard fished his small digital camera out of his pocket. He snapped a few pictures on the beach, then strolled over to check the thermometer. On a brick wall near the headquarters of the Preservation League in South Beach, there is a large thermometer. The date is always posted on the wall, so that tourists can take home photographic evidence of having been in Miami Beach, enjoying summer temperatures on a winter day.

When he got there, Richard saw an attractive woman walking her dog.

"Excuse me, could you take my picture?" He gestured toward the thermometer. The woman looked him up and down and smiled.

"Sure. What do I do?"

Richard handed her the camera and showed her the button to push.

"Smile!" she called out. He smiled.

He walked back to her and took his camera from her outstretched hand.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Thank you, that would be lovely. We have to go someplace outdoors." She held up the leash.

"Right," replied Richard, bending down to pet the terrier, who was delighted with the attention.

"Irish?" asked Richard.

"Yes! Not many people know the breed. His name is O'Shaughnessey."

"Well, hello there, O'Shaughnessey!" Richard finished petting the dog and stood up to look at the owner. "This may be the first Irish terrier I've seen outside of a show. I love terriers. I had an Airedale when I was a kid."

"That's a lot of dog."

"Yeah, he was great. There's a feistiness about terriers that I like. Sinbad the sailor. He loved to go out on our sailboat. I'm Richard, by the way."

"I'm Bridget." Richard groaned, and she giggled, "You got it!"

"Sure, Bridget O'Shaughnessey is one of the aliases in 'Maltese Falcon.' Cute, very cute."

Darcy checked his email just after lunch, as was his habit. He was surprised to hear from Richard. He opened the message and laughed when he saw a photograph of a grinning Richard standing next to a palm tree and pointing to a thermometer that read 76 degrees and a clock that said 9:30 in the morning. Then he read the message.

Check it out! Sunshine, warm sand, beautiful waves. And your weather today would be...?

And you should see the young lady who took my picture. Very nice. She has an Irish terrier, and we went for coffee. Bridget and I had coffee, that is. O'Shaughnessey had a bowl of water. It was a lovely morning-until her cell rang and she had to talk to her boyfriend.

Ah well, can't win 'em all.

Darcy laughed. Richard certainly had an aptitude for having a good time and meeting young women. Thinking that Lizzy might be amused by the photograph, Darcy clicked on "Forward." He noticed that Richard had sent the picture and message to several people. One of them was Anne. Darcy swore softly, knowing that Anne would probably not be very amused at Richard's talent for picking up women.

February 28

When Lizzy stepped off the elevator, Darcy was there to greet her. He took one look at her and shook his head.

"Lizzy! It's freezing out. I would have picked you up! Why didn't you take a taxi?"

"I love to walk, Will. And the cold air is bracing."

He took her coat, and she shivered. His frown turned to a smile.

"I'll just have to find a way to warm you up."

Once they were inside the apartment, he offered Lizzy a glass of wine and they sat together on the sofa.

"Mmm, lovely," said Lizzy after tasting the Merlot.

"Yes," replied Darcy, looking at Lizzy, "Very lovely. The walk in the cold has brightened your eyes."

"And turned my nose red, no doubt."

Darcy kissed the tip of her nose and said, "You look adorable."

Lizzy smiled at him, then looked down. "I hate to kill the moment, but I have to ask. How's Georgie doing?"

"It's hard to say. She has pretty much kept to her room. She and Chris exchanged letters about what happened. It was Dr. Lucas's idea. Since Georgie refused to see Chris, Dr. Lucas said that they should tell each other what happened that way."

"She still won't see him?"

"I don't know. But at least she wrote to him, and read his letter."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"Me, too." He sighed.

"She'll sort out her feelings, Will. Just be patient. Hey, things could be worse. She could disapprove of me."

"Not possible!"

"What if she did, Will? What if Georgie had done something to try to break us up instead of trying to bring us together?"

"I can't imagine it. Why are you asking that?"

"It's a theoretical."

"Lizzy, outside of an ethics class, people don't ask theoreticals for theory's sake. They ask them to avoid discussing something specific. What has happened?"

"It's about Caroline Bingley. Do you remember how she tried to get you to interfere with Charles and Jane?"

"Lizzy, I told you I didn't-"

"I know. But she has grand plans for Charles to find a rich woman who will, in turn, lead her to a rich man. Actually, this is a sort of plan B. Plan A is getting you."

"Lizzy, I swear I've tried to discourage her." He stopped when he saw Lizzy smirk. "What?"

"Are you so afraid of my temper that you think I'm trying to pick a fight?"

"No. Well, maybe."

Lizzy grinned, "I like a man with insecurities!"

"I'm not sure I like a woman who is overly secure!" He tried to scowl, but he couldn't fight the grin that was determined to take over his face.

"Point taken." She kissed him lightly. "But seriously, Will. I'm not accusing you or Charles of anything. I know that this is all Caroline's doing. I want you to help me decide what to do."

So she went on to tell him how Caroline had deleted the message Lizzy had left on Darcy's machine. Then she told him the saga of Peggie Lou.

"I can't believe it. I mean, I believe you, but this is such an unbelievable stunt! Was Jane upset?"

"Yes. But Charles called her and they're fine. But here comes the ethics question. Do we tell Charles?'

"Who's 'we'?"

"Me, I guess. I don't think Jane should tell him. I was hoping you'd help me. That is, if you think we should tell him at all."

"I don't know."

"That's why I asked you the theoretical. If Georgie had done something to break us up, well?"

"Yes, I would want to know so that I could give her a stern lecture on minding her own business. But she's so much younger than I am. It's going to be harder for Charles because he and Caroline are close in age." He looked at Lizzy curiously. "You're handling this awfully well. I remember how angry you were with me when you merely thought I might have said something to Charles. You know what Caroline did."

She shrugged.

"Lizzy, you're up to something. You've done something to get even?"

"No, but I've made a list of possible means of revenge. And if I need a confederate, Anne would be delighted to help! You could help, too."

Darcy groaned, "You and Anne are trouble enough. I don't think you need my help."

While Lizzy and Will spent a quiet evening together, Georgie stayed in her room. She had abandoned studying. Instead she read Chris's letter again. She couldn't remember how many times she had read it.

Her telephone rang. She gasped when she saw the caller ID. It was Chris! What was it, six seconds between rings? And her machine would pick up after 4 rings. That gave her, what, 24 seconds to made a decision? The phone rang for the third time. Just before it rang again, she grabbed it.

"Hello?"

"Georgie, it's Chris."

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"OK." She paused, trying to think of something to say. What was the rule? The weather and everyone's health. "How are you, Chris?"

"OK, I guess."

"Oh."

"I'd like to talk to you, but if I've called at a bad time..."

"No. It's OK. Lizzy is over, and-"

"Are you sure? If you're in the middle of something with Lizzy..."

"No. Actually, I'm hoping Will is." She giggled.

Silence. Chris was so happy to hear her laugh he forgot to say anything.

"Chris?"

"Sorry. I didn't realize how much I missed that."

"Missed what?"

"Hearing you laugh. And, hearing your voice, just, um, in general."

"That's a nice thing to say."

"I mean it. I've missed you, Georgie."

"I've missed you, too."

"The obvious thing to say is that we should just forget about what happened and put it behind us. But I don't think that's wise. We need to finish dealing with it before we move on."

"Move on?" It was barely a whisper.

"S**t! NO! I didn't mean move on as in move on to other people. I just meant go forward with our lives. I'm no good at this. I really need to see you. Writing the letter was so, I don't know-distant, I guess would be a good word. And the phone isn't much better. If you're uncomfortable with it, Dr. Lucas said she'd be a sort of mediator. Whatever you want, as long as we can have this conversation face to face."

"I'd like to see you. You could come here."

"With your brother there?"

"He'd hide out in his study. Maybe he's going out with Lizzy. If I asked, I'm sure he would go out."

"Good. Tomorrow night? Six? I'll bring takeout. Is Chinese food OK?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

"See you tomorrow, Georgie."

"Goodnight, Chris."

Georgie hung up and tiptoed to the living room. She could hear a movie playing. It sounded like one of the Indiana Jones movies. She peeked in and saw Lizzy next to Darcy on the sofa. She was cuddled next to him, with her feet tucked beneath her. Suddenly, Lizzy buried her head against Darcy's chest.

"Euwww! Not the snakes!" she giggled.

"Lizzy, are you afraid of snakes?" he asked.

"Not really, but that scene is creepy. And it was a good excuse to get closer to you." She smiled up at him. He ran his fingertip along her jaw line, and bent down to kiss her when he heard a cough.

They both jumped.

"Sorry," said Georgie.

"Don't DO THAT!" cried Darcy, clutching at his chest, while Lizzy slid to the floor. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Your trust fund not big enough? You can't inherit my money if you murder me, you know."

"Yes, I can, as long as they don't convict me."

Between giggles, Lizzy asked, "Have you been studying up on this, Georgie?"

"I saw it on 'Law & Order.' You can't profit from a crime you're convicted of. If they don't catch you, then it's all yours."

Her shoulders shaking with laughter, Lizzy rested her head on Darcy's knee. He reached down and played with one of her curls. Looking at his sister, he scowled, "I can see you have an incomplete education. I knew you should have lived on campus. Then you'd have learned some house rules."

"Like what?" Georgie sat on the end of the sofa and looked at her brother.

"Like when your roommate has company, you make noise before you enter a room."

"Oh."

"So now, if you have to walk down the hall, sing."

Lizzy had almost recovered, but the image of being entwined with Darcy while his sister stood out in the hallway singing was too much. She slid down onto the floor and lay there, face down, laughing. Darcy was fascinated by her hysteria. He nudged her with his foot.

"Come on, Lizzy, it isn't that funny."

"Yes, it is. I thought that's what you do on a boat. You know, if someone has to go, everyone else moves to the other end of the boat and sings."

"I didn't know that. Any boats we had in the family always had a head."

"Well, excuuuse me!"

Darcy turned to his sister, "Was there something you wanted?"

"Huh?" she turned from Lizzy to her brother. "Oh, yes. Are you going to be home tomorrow night?"

"No, Lizzy and I are doing something with Jane and Charles. Why?"

"Just wondering. Chris might come over so that we can talk."

Lizzy sat up, beaming, "Oh, Georgie, I am glad!"

"So am I, Sweetie." Darcy patted his sister's hand.

March 1

"Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!"

"Good morning, Lizzy," laughed Jane. "I see you remembered."

"Of course I did. Do I ever forget to say 'rabbit, rabbit, rabbit' on the first of the month?"

"You aren't really superstitious, Lizzy?"

"No, I don't say it for luck. OK, well, I do. But mostly I do it to remember Gran. She had such a collection of superstitions!"

"Yes, I love the one about sitting down and counting to ten when you run back into the house for something. I think that's so funny."

"Mom does it, you know. Sure she does, Jane. Why do you think it takes her so long when she goes back for something?"

"Does Dad know?"

"Probably, but he has decided it's easier to ignore it than to fight it."

"So, Lizzy, it was your turn to be late last night. How was dinner at the Will's?"

"Dinner was good. But Georgie stayed in her room. She said it was to give us privacy, but Will thinks she's hiding."

"Not good."

"No, but she did come out to say she had talked to Chris, and she's going to see him tonight. All we can do now is wait."

Kitty waited in the hall, sitting on the floor, reading a book for her Philosophy of Education course, a requirement for education majors. Intro to Philosophy had been a drag, but Kitty had lucked out this time, with a small class and a professor who believed in discussion, not lecture, as a way to teach philosophy. So immersed was she in her reading, that she almost didn't hear the classroom door open. She jumped up.

"Georgie!" she called. "Let's go for lunch."

"Hi, Kitty. I'm not very hungry."

"Come on, I know you have two hours until your next class. Let's go for pizza."

Kitty practically dragged Georgie out of the building.

"Can you wait a minute? Let me zip up my jacket. And check out my hat!"

Georgie proudly donned the USA team beret.

"Cool! Where did you get it?"

"Richard brought it home for me. He was in Salt Lake City, doing security."

"Wow. I heard that those things were hard to come by. He must have done his shopping early."

"Not likely. I think he found someone who knew someone, who knew someone..."

"Georgie! You make your cousin sound like an underworld mobster!"

"Sometimes I wonder, Kitty."

"Sounds like you're feeling better."

Georgie shrugged, "I don't know. Mostly, I'm trying not to think about it."

"That doesn't sound healthy."

"Thank you for your advice, Dr. Stevens."

"That isn't fair, Georgie. You know you can't hide forever."

They were a block from the pizzeria when Georgie stopped in her tracks. "Hey, you didn't!"

"Didn't what?"

"If I get there and he's inside..."

"He? Chris? No, I did not set anything up. Although, now that you suggest it-Georgie, wait!" Kitty grabbed Georgie's arm. "I swear to you, I didn't set up anything. I think the guys have a big practical coming up and they're off studying someplace."

They reached the pizzeria, and Georgie peeked inside. She gave Kitty an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she said in a small voice.

"Forget it. Come on, let's eat!"

Richard sat alone at a sidewalk table, sipping his margarita and munching on chips. He admired the passing parade of young, tanned denizens of South Beach. It was the evening parade, see and be seen. He looked at the other tables in the restaurant. Most were occupied by couples.

Richard felt conspicuous being on his own in a restaurant. This was a new feeling for him. Years of solo travel had made him inured to loneliness. Or so he had thought. He leaned back in the comfortable basket chair and pulled out the scrap of paper he had been carrying since he discovered it.

Annie,
I wish I could be back in NY tonight.
XOXO
Richie

He had used their taunting nicknames for each other in an effort to balance the sentiment, just has he had signed with XOXO instead of "Love." Coward! He shoved the paper back into his pocket.

"Your dinner sir?"

Startled, Richard nodded at the waiter. "Another margarita, please."

The waiter retreated. Richard wondered if Anne would enjoy South Beach. With her pale skin, she tended to burn. He remembered the time she had convinced him to take her out on the boat. He and Darcy wore shirts, but Anne, proud of her first bikini, wanted to work on a tan, and fried. Just another of my many sins against her. No wonder she hates me.

Georgie paced up and down in the hallway. She looked at her watch every thirty seconds. It was five to six. Would he be on time?

Mrs. Reynolds retreated to her rooms to watch television. All week she looked forward to her Friday night "Britcoms" on PBS. She had set out the Chinese tea and tea set, plus a large tray on which they could put the various take-out containers. Georgie had declined the use of the dining room, saying they would sit in the living room, where they could be more comfortable.

Georgie continued to pace. The sound of the buzzer startled her and she ran to the intercom.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Carter is here."

"Send him up."

Georgie ran to her room, checked her hair and makeup and kicked off her fuzzy slippers. As she walked to the door, she looked down at her freshly painted toenails. There was something about painted toenails that made her feel more confident, as if she were dressed to the nines, even when she was just wearing jeans and her Columbia sweatshirt.

She opened the apartment door just as the elevator doors opened. Habit made her start toward him as if to give him a welcome kiss. She stopped short and reached out for the shopping bag instead.

"Let me take that."

"Thanks."

"Come in. I thought we could eat in the living room, sit on the floor, like a picnic?"

He nodded and removed his jacket. She watched him toss the jacket on a chair.

"I can hang that up for you."

"It's OK there."

"Oh, I'll just make some tea. Be right back." She ran to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. Breathe, just breathe. She started to unpack the food.

"Can I help?" Chris leaned on the door frame.

"Thanks. You bought an awful lot of food."

"I couldn't decide. Actually, it's mostly appetizers. Fried stuff, not very healthy. I crave fried food when I'm nervous or worried."

"You're nervous?" Georgie looked at him in amazement. He nodded.

"Everyone gets nervous at one time or another." Everyone has emotional baggage. He remembered his joke and smiled.

"I don't think it's so funny."

"It isn't, I just thought of a joke. Tell you later." He picked up the tray of food and carried it to the living room.

Georgie followed with a smaller tray that held the teapot and cups. They settled on the floor and started to nibble on the food.

"Mmm, fried wontons. I love these. Oh, and steamed dumplings."

"I remembered how much you love dumplings."

They chatted about the food and inconsequential things, then Georgie asked, "What was that joke? The one you thought of earlier?"

"Oh, that one."

"What? Is it too rude?"

"No, I just hope you'll take this OK."

"Is it vulgar and demeaning to women, as Anne would say?"

"No. It's demeaning to rich people. What's the difference between your average, middle-income neurotic and a rich neurotic?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Well, everyone has emotional baggage. But the rich ones have matched Louis Vuitton."

Georgie laughed, and they both relaxed. The joke got them started talking about the things that mattered. Georgie kept apologizing, and Chris kept forgiving her. The subject of Nikki came up, and Georgie said that the explanation about why Nikki acted as she did helped.

"But I don't believe she was ever flat-chested. No way."

"Oh yeah, over one summer, she went from ironing board to-" he started to raise his hands to make his point, but stopped. "Sorry. Almost did something VDM."

"VDM?"

"Vulgar and demeaning to women." He brightened, "But I'm learning. I was really pissed at Nikki on Sunday, and referred to her as something Kitty told me was extremely VDM. She used the whole phrase, but it's so long, I decided to give it initials."

"You are so PC, Chris. I'm proud of you!"

He smiled and reached for her hand. "So, are we friends again?"

Georgie nodded.

"I've missed you. I've missed this." He waved his arm around.

"My apartment?"

"Not specifically. I mean being with you, just hanging out, laughing. Just being together."

"I know what you mean," she sighed contentedly. Then she grinned, "I do have to correct your joke, though."

"What? Do you want to make it vulgar and demeaning to middle-income people?"

"No, but I want you to know my luggage is not as classy as you think. It's TravelPro, not Louis Vuitton."

"I should have known. Who else would have professional emotional baggage!"

She giggled, "OK, then, what's yours?"

"Totes," he deadpanned.

"Oh, so you can fold it up when you're feeling emotionally healthy and expand it when you're feeling upset?"

Darcy could hear the laughter when he got off the elevator. They had made an early night of it when Lizzy said he was too fidgety to be good company. He quietly opened the door to the apartment and walked toward the living room.

Georgie and Chris were sitting on the floor, their backs against the sofa. A huge tray covered with take-out containers sat on the coffee table. The tea set was on another tray. Georgie was cracking open a fortune cookie. Chris made a grab for her fortune, but she clasped it tightly in her hand. She stopped laughing when she saw her brother.

"Will! I didn't expect you so early."

"It really isn't all that early." Darcy smiled, "What's your fortune?"

Georgie cleared her throat and pronounced, "Your good looks and charming personality will win you many friends."

"Don't believe her, Chris. That's what Richard always says, no matter what is printed on the paper."

Georgie pouted, and Darcy turned to leave the room. "Hey, Will," she called, "You forgot to sing!"

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "House rules are different for the senior roommate."

As he left the room, Georgie stage-whispered to Chris, "Louis Vuitton, definitely."

Continued In Next Section