Elizabeth of East Hampton (For the Love of Austen #2)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

At precisely seven p.m. Lizzy pulled her old pickup truck into her parents’ driveway on Surrey Lane. The sun was still peeking over the evergreens surrounding their yard, casting a soft orange glow off the wood-shingle siding of the Bennet home: a modest two-story saltbox house that hadn’t changed all that much over the last twenty years. When the Bennet sisters were young, it had barely been big enough for their family of seven. Now, with all five girls grown up and still living at home, its meager 1,700 square feet felt like it could explode at any moment.

As if on cue, Lizzy’s phone pinged in the front pocket of her overalls. She took it out to find the text chain with her sisters on the glowing screen.

THE BUTTER FACES

LYDIA

I found a pic of Charlie Pierce! Sooooo hot

JANE

Are you stalking him now?

LYDIA

Google image search isn’t stalking

KITTY

Oadsy buot amoeik sudoiur

JANE

???

MARY

She’s typing with oven mitts on.

JANE

Oh. Okay, just finishing up at school—be home soon!

LYDIA

But what time are we leaving???

Lizzy put the phone back in her bag and brought her hand up to the ignition, letting her fingers hover over the keys while she enjoyed a few more precious moments before facing the inevitable chaos inside. She had closed up the bakery at five, flipping off the electric Open sign and ignoring the ringing phone, letting their ancient answering machine field calls from would-be customers so she could prep the kitchen for the following morning. By six she was locking up the back door, dropping her bag in the back of her truck, and getting behind the wheel.

She didn’t go straight home, though. She never did. Despite the bakery being only five minutes from the Bennet house, Lizzy always found a way to extend the drive to almost an hour. Her rusted maroon Chevy truck would ramble down Main Street, past the old Gardiner Windmill to Dunemere Lane, where the scattering of colonial buildings slowly disappeared behind the tangled branches of oak trees that lined the road. As those fell away and the sand traps for the Hunsford golf course swallowed up the landscape on either side, she’d take a right, winding around Hook Pond and parking along the beach to watch the tide come in, mentally giving pointers to the surfers dotting the break line. It wasn’t until the light began to shift, and she had gotten at least three texts from her mother asking where she was, that she knew it was time to head home.

Lizzy waited for the last few notes of Beach House’s “Superstar” to fade from the stereo before turning the key, cutting the ignition. Through the house’s front bay windows, she could view the figures of her sisters and her mother moving in and out of the living room, the blue glow of the television silhouetting them against the curtains. She couldn’t see her father in there, but that wasn’t a surprise. She knew exactly where he was.

For the past twenty years, the eyesore Bob Bennet called his sailboat sat permanently and unapologetically landlocked on their lawn, the last remnant of his dream to sail around the world. When he was Lizzy’s age, he had been working for his dad at the bakery, too, saving up to join a crew for the Newport Bermuda Race with the plan to eventually climb the ranks of international offshore racing. But then his parents retired, leaving the business to him. Not long after, Mrs. Bennet got pregnant with Jane. And slowly, the dream faded until there was nothing left but an old boat parked next to the garage.

A light flickered in its cabin as Lizzy got out of the truck. The red paint along the hull had probably been vibrant a few decades ago, but now it was faded and peeling. The only part of the boat that remained pristine was the name of the vessel, Calcifer , which was perfectly scripted in brilliant gold across the starboard bow.

Lizzy stopped in front of the ladder that led up to the deck. She could hear the familiar muted voices of NPR from above.

“Permission to board?” she called out.

“Granted,” her father answered.

Lizzy pulled herself up, then navigated around the perennial mess of ropes and sails to the steep metal stairs that led below deck. The cramped cabin was barely big enough for the V-shaped sleeping berth at the far end, let alone the galley kitchen here at the bottom of the steps. Yet somehow her father had wedged himself under the small sink, his toolbox beside him.

“I thought you fixed the generator?” she asked, eyeing the battery-powered lantern on the table, the cabin’s only source of light.

“I’ll get to it,” he murmured, grabbing a nearby wrench. “First I need to get this filter working.”

“And then you’ll be set to hit the open seas?” The two had had this conversation a thousand times. He promised every summer he would have the boat ready, but inevitably there was always one more repair standing in his way.

He chuckled. “Right.”

She smiled, but it faltered as he sat up, wincing and massaging his temples.

Her heart dropped and she leaned forward, ready to move. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache.” He made a vague motion toward the house. “Your mom found my stash of beer in the garage and was out here yelling at me about it.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, kiddo. Stop worrying.”

She studied his strained expression. His salt-and-pepper hair and smile lines that peppered his tan skin revealed his age. It was becoming harder and harder to remember the larger-than-life dad from her childhood who used to carry her on his shoulders at the beach and who helped her and her sisters dig holes in the sand to reach the center of the earth.

He caught her expression and sighed. “Why don’t you go inside and grab some food?”

“Okay.” She reluctantly nodded. “Want me to bring you anything?”

He made another gruff sound as he set the wrench down and picked up his pliers. “No. Your mother won’t let me put salt on anything anyway. I’m good.”

She gave him a small salute and started up the metal steps to the deck.

“Shut up!”

Lydia’s voice rattled the house before Lizzy was even through the front door.

There was a familiar wall of sounds and smells to welcome her. The clatter of pots and pans and glasses. The smell of sugar and butter wafting through the air… and burning. Yes, something was definitely burning.

Lizzy left her bag by the door and wandered from the small foyer into the living room, which opened up to the kitchen just beyond. Lydia was curled up on one end of the couch, her phone to her ear as she filed her nails while an episode of Love Is Blind played on the TV.

“That is insane. So insane,” she squealed. “What did you say?”

Behind her, Mrs. Bennet flitted from the refrigerator to where her wineglass was on the countertop, refilling it with her trademark pinot grigio and ice—a staple for the summer months—while Kitty tried to move around her. Mary was there, too, her short blue pixie cut bent over the kitchen table as she folded a pile of pamphlets. She was only a year older than the twins, and looked a lot more like them than she would ever admit. Maybe that was why she seemed to work so hard to distance herself from the fact, both physically and philosophically. Right now that meant wearing a small No Nature, No Future T-shirt and a recently acquired septum piercing.

“Somebody turned off my timer!” Kitty wailed as she opened the oven. She pulled out a muffin tray that was almost entirely black.

Mary ignored her, not looking up from her pamphlets as she asked, “Does anyone know where that leftover red paint is from Christmas?”

The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. They never were. Trying to get answers in the Bennet household was a bit like fishing: you had to just throw a line out and wait for someone to tug.

This time, it was Lizzy.

“The one from the Santa Claus decorations?” she asked, reaching into a nearby cabinet for a bowl.

“Yeah.”

“It’s in the garage. Benjamin Moore, Hot Tamale.”

Mary nodded, as much of a thank-you as anyone could expect.

Kitty cradled her tray of charred baked goods, looking for a place to set them, while their mother took a sip of her wine. Her own cell phone was wedged between her shoulder and chin, and the conversation seemed to require so much attention that she barely noticed Lizzy’s arrival.

“Okay, Donna. Let’s go over it again. You buy a box of Lux Leggings from me, which you go out and sell yourself,” Mrs. Bennet said into her phone, her voice sweet as honey as she waved Kitty away from her corner of the kitchen. Lizzy maneuvered around them both as she headed to the pantry and grabbed a box of cereal. “Then you recruit other people to buy boxes of leggings from you to sell, then share the profits with me. Got it?”

Kitty finally settled at the butcher block island, setting her muffin tin next to where Lizzy was pouring Frosted Flakes into her bowl.

“They’re ruined,” Kitty moaned.

“Oh my God , that’s amazing!” Lydia yelled into her phone from the sofa.

“Did someone move my vegan glue?” Mary seethed, looking around the table.

“No, Donna, it is not a pyramid scheme!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed.

“What were you going for this time?” Lizzy asked Kitty, eyeing the blackened muffin tray.

Kitty sighed. “Paprika popovers.”

Lizzy nodded sympathetically. While the Bennet sisters had all practically grown up in the bakery, Kitty was the only one who seemingly hadn’t inherited the baking gene. Unfortunately, she was also the only one who seemed to have any real business sense.

Lizzy added milk to her cereal and gave Kitty an encouraging smile. “Next time you’ll nail it.” Then she took her cereal bowl and a spoon and headed out of the room.

As she passed the couch, Lydia’s head popped up, ignoring her call for a brief moment to ask, “What time are we leaving?”

“Wow, I’ve never seen you so eager to spend Saturday night at the Lodge,” Lizzy said, working to convey her sarcasm around a mouthful of cereal. “Looking to stalk this Charlie guy or do you just have a hankering for Tater Tots?”

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Oh!” Kitty perked up. “I’m in, too! I want to see if Annabelle Pierce is really here.”

“I have to go and pass out some pamphlets,” Mary added from the kitchen table.

Lizzy sighed. “Fine. We’ll head out when Jane gets home.”

Mrs. Bennet snapped her fingers, the universal Bennet sign to shut up, and the sisters complied, with Lizzy disappearing upstairs as her mother returned to her call.

Lizzy was lying in her usual spot—the flat bit of roof just outside her open window—with her empty cereal bowl beside her and was halfway through chapter 18 of The Court of the Serpent King when she heard Jane’s familiar knock on her bedroom door.

She dog-eared her page, then copied the same knock against the windowsill. Their lifelong cue.

Jane entered quietly, closing the door behind her, and walked across the small room lined with travel posters, dodging clothes strewn across the floor, until she reached the open window.

“God, I’m exhausted,” she said with a groan as she climbed through and landed beside Lizzy. “Do you know how hard it is to get Play-Doh out of carpet?”

“No, but now you have to tell me,” Lizzy said.

“Hours. Those first graders really rub it in there.”

“You live life in the fast lane, Jane.”

“Always,” her sister said with a smile. “What did you do today?”

“Sourdough proofing.”

“Whoa.” Jane laughed softly to herself.

“Do I know how to have a good time, or what?”

“Slow down already.”

“I’m out of control,” Lizzy said through her grin, letting her gaze wander up to the stars overhead.

Jane nodded to the book sitting between them. “Well? What do you think of Lord Magnus Beaumont?”

Lizzy sighed dramatically. “Six foot five, black hair and green eyes. Yes, he has a weird fascination with reptiles, but I think I could change him.”

“I knew you’d love him. Now hurry up and finish so I can give you the sequel.”

“Are there dragons?”

“ So many dragons.”

Lizzy laughed. Ever since they’d stolen a copy of Outlander from the bakery’s lost and found in middle school, the two sisters had been trading romance books back and forth. But while Lizzy usually liked more straightforward rom-coms, Jane had slowly gotten her hooked on romantasy. It wasn’t a surprise—her sister had always loved fantasy and science fiction, so much so that she was bullied relentlessly through grade school. It surprised most people who met her now, but that was only because they weren’t privy to those years when Jane hid her acne and braces behind the stacks at Atomic Comics. As much as she had grown into her looks, Lizzy knew that Jane still saw herself as that awkward teenager who wrote Lord of the Rings fan fiction in her spare time.

“Speaking of dragons, you might want to avoid Mom before she makes you wear a pair of her leggings to the Lodge tonight,” Lizzy said.

In the darkness beside her, Jane groaned. “Are we really doing the Lodge tonight?”

“It’s Saturday. Of course we’re doing the Lodge tonight.”

“But what if we run into those guys who came by the bakery today?”

“Trust me, those two are going to take one look at the Lodge, and then turn right back around.”

Jane seemed to think about it. “I don’t know. I should really get started on my lesson plan for next week, and—”

“Stay holed up in your room again, binging Doctor Who? ”

Jane pursed her lips. “I’m not watching Doctor Who .”

“No?”

“No. The new season of Rings of Power is streaming.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Come on. I know it’s going to be crowded and awful, but it’s better than hanging out here all night.”

“Maybe I like hanging out here all night,” Jane replied in that voice she usually reserved for her students.

Lizzy didn’t argue, mostly because she knew it was the truth. Their childhood had been defined by a mutual need to escape from their small town and their even smaller house. But while Lizzy had tried to get out into the world and never look back, Jane was an introvert and preferred to disappear into her favorite books.

After a moment, Jane sighed. “Okay, I’ll go. But only because I’m craving Tater Tots.”

“That might actually be the only legitimate reason to go to the Lodge.”

Jane laughed, and as it faded, she rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. A rare moment of peace extended then, quiet and calm, and they both knew enough to soak it in, because only a minute later, it was shattered by Lydia’s voice bellowing up from downstairs.

“LIZZY! ARE YOU DRIVING US OR WHAT?”