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

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

When Lizzy finally walked into Bennet Bakery at noon, it was chaos. The bell above the door heralded her arrival, but no one seemed to notice. Lydia was behind the counter talking over Kitty, who was glued to her cell phone as she paced the length of the glass display case in her most sensible slacks. Jane was in the doorway to the kitchen attempting to calm her two sisters down, while also trying to placate their mother, whose wailing echoed from the back.

It had taken fifteen minutes to quiet everyone—their mother was still crying on the phone but had at least shut the office door—and another ten minutes for Jane to lay out exactly what had happened. Even then, Lizzy wasn’t sure the details made any sense.

She leaned across the bakery’s glass counter and closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath before saying, “Okay. Explain this to me one more time.”

Jane stood across from her, biting her bottom lip. Her expression was grave, which alone would have been enough to make Lizzy panic, but right now she was too focused on trying to unravel the knot in her belly, to make sense of the insanity and ensure it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“Mary was arrested last night for crashing Tristan’s party in the city and destroying a really expensive piece of art.”

Never mind. It was as bad as she thought.

Lizzy looked back down at Jane’s phone in her hand and pressed play again.

The video was a blur of color and light, a crowd of people in a sprawling apartment, moving in time with the blaring music. Suddenly, shouting erupted as a figure dressed in black stepped into frame, a can of spray paint in hand. Their face was covered, so Lizzy couldn’t decipher who it was until they began to yell.

“This is for Gretna Island! Our home won’t be exploited for profit!” Mary’s distinct voice bellowed. Then she took the can of red spray paint and wrote GREEN JUSTICE FOR ALL across a huge modern art piece on the wall.

The video ended in chaos, people running and screaming as the image blurred, only to start again from the beginning, this time with an odd array of hearts flying up over the footage.

Oh God .

Lizzy handed the phone back to Jane. “Who posted this?”

“Who didn’t,” Lydia murmured.

“Everyone at the party recorded it,” Kitty clarified. “There’s like a dozen different videos from a dozen different angles.”

“What was she doing at the party? Was she even invited?” Lizzy asked.

“It sounds like everyone in town was invited.” Jane sighed. “But we all thought she was still doing that protest on the North Shore, so we didn’t notice when she wasn’t home yesterday morning. Then Donna called and said her niece sent her a link to the video…”

“So everyone’s seen it,” Lizzy said.

“Obviously,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “Have you seen the views? She’s up to like eight million.”

“Nine,” Kitty corrected her.

Lydia frowned with a look of self-pity. “So jealous.”

Lizzy turned to her. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Since when is that my responsibility?” Lydia replied.

“Didn’t you go?”

Lydia almost looked insulted. “Yeah, for five minutes. Then I realized it was just a bunch of people looking for celebrities but, like, no actual celebrities.”

Lizzy ignored her and focused on Jane. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s on his way into the city. We don’t know when she’ll see a judge, but once she does, he should be able to get her out on bail.”

For a moment, Lizzy was tempted to just walk out the door and drive back to Montauk. Crawl into Will’s king-sized bed and sleep until this whole thing was over. But then the image of Will’s face when she left flashed in her head, and she cringed.

Things happened between Jane’s call and climbing into her truck, but Lizzy barely remembered them. There had been a mad grab for her clothes, a rush downstairs as she fielded texts from neighbors and friends. Will had been there, too, always just a step away to pick up the bikini top she’d dropped behind her, the shoes and surfing gear left in her wake. But he was altered, too—that severe line of his brow that had been omnipresent those first few weeks of the summer was back, and he was watching her like he was waiting for the right moment to speak.

That moment came outside, as she scrambled to throw her board and her bag into the bed of her truck.

“Elizabeth,” he’d said from where he stood behind her.

But his voice only joined the jumbled mess in her head, everything too distorted by anger and worry and embarrassment. She had to get back to East Hampton, fix this mess before it got any worse and—

“Lizzy.”

This time her name was hard. Clear. Two syllables that ran right down her spine.

She glanced over her shoulder to find him just a foot or so away, arms crossed over his chest, and that hard glare focused entirely on her.

“I have to go,” she said, opening the driver’s-side door. “If I don’t leave now, everything’s just going to—”

“Not before we talk.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “You want to discuss everything that’s happened over the last few days now ?”

“No. Jesus,” he growled, head falling forward. It was like he had to get a handle on his frustration before he looked up again. “What do you need me to do?”

Crap . Of course that’s what he meant. Her anger dissolved into guilt, but frustration and fear were still too overwhelming to give it its due.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “This is on me.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “We fix problems for the people we love, Will. That’s what we do.”

The line of his lips turned down to a frown. “Your parents could—”

“My parents could barely keep the bakery running after my dad’s stroke. I did that,” she blurted out, tears suddenly threatening the corners of her eyes. “Just like I got Jane over the worst heartbreak of her life. And I’ll find a way to get Mary out of jail, too. I’ll get Tristan out of our lives and out of East Hampton, and we can all just pretend this summer never happened!”

Something changed in his eyes then, a subtle darkening that made his expression unreadable. She wished she hadn’t said it, or that she could explain that she didn’t include him in that statement. That he was the only bright spot in any of this, but before she could open her mouth, he replied, “You can’t do this on your own.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “There you go with that brute honesty again.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” he said, his voice stern as he stepped forward to tower over her, one arm braced above her on the car, caging her in. “But this is too big.”

“I’ve got it,” she seethed. She was suddenly desperate to leave, to avoid the look in his eyes that was so dangerously close to pity she wanted to scream.

“There’s probably more that you don’t know, and—”

“I said I’ve got it.”

“—you can’t expect Tristan to—”

“I don’t need you to solve my problems for me, Will!” she yelled. He stilled, watching her carefully as she took a deep breath, a feeble attempt to get her emotions back in check. “I don’t want your help. Or your pity. I need you to let me go. Just… let me go.”

A moment. Then, slowly, he lifted his hand from the car door and took a step back.

“Then I won’t keep you.”

She avoided his gaze as she climbed into the driver’s seat and fumbled with the keys. When the engine finally roared to life, she pretended to check the gauges, buying herself another precious moment before she looked up at him again.

He was staring at her, his expression stern and cold. “Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

She waited a beat, wanting to say something, anything to fix this. But nothing came.

“Bye, Will,” she finally replied. It was all she could manage.

And then she shut the door and put the truck into gear, making the full loop of the drive around the front of the house before turning onto the gravel road. She hadn’t even had the courage to look back. She hadn’t even waved.

Lizzy squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the memory into the back of her mind. She couldn’t let herself wallow right now. She had to focus.

“All right,” she said, opening her eyes again to look at her remaining sisters. “We have to trust that Dad will get Mary out on bail. And if Tristan is pressing charges, the next step is finding an attorney. I know Marv passed the bar, but I think we need someone with actual experience in a courtroom. Jane, can you make some calls? And Lydia, can you calm Mom down and get her home? Kitty, you and I can man the bakery until Dad gets back, and then…” She looked up to find her sisters staring at her. “What?”

“There’s something else,” Jane said. Her voice had taken on an even softer tone, as if the real crux of this mess hadn’t been reached yet.

Oh God . “Do I want to ask?”

“Tristan quit HamptonFest and now it’s not happening!” Kitty blurted out. She turned her phone to show Lizzy her screen. “It’s all over the East Hampton Gazette. New York Magazine even picked it up!”

“And DeuxMoi,” Lydia said. “Word is they called Leo for a comment.”

“But HamptonFest is Hank’s idea. He doesn’t need Tristan.”

Jane winced. “No, but he paid a huge portion of the HamptonFest budget to Tristan. Part of it was a nonrefundable retainer fee. He was supposed to secure those permits, help line up talent… but apparently he hasn’t actually delivered anything yet. Then he quit this morning, claiming hostile work environment. So now there’s no money, no permits…”

Lizzy groaned. “And no HamptonFest.”

Of course Tristan quit. This entire debacle probably gave him the perfect excuse to keep his paycheck, even though he hadn’t done anything to earn it. Echoes of Will’s voicemail came back to her about how Tristan had spun lie after lie to manipulate a small fortune from his father.

Lydia shook her head. “Asshole.”

“I thought you said he was hot?” Kitty said skeptically.

“What, you think that’s enough to get me to run off and marry the guy or something?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Just because I think he’s hot doesn’t mean I can’t also acknowledge that he’s a dick. Look at how he treated Lizzy.”

“Can we all focus, please?” Lizzy said, looking around the room.

“Focus on what?” Kitty said. “The fact that Mary is facing felony charges or the fact that Hank blames her for the collapse of HamptonFest and now everyone in town is boycotting the bakery?”

The realization was like a swift punch to the gut. Lizzy had thought it was bad before, but this… there was no coming back from this. Hank held a lot of sway, almost as much as Marv, and to get on his bad side was to face social ostracism.

Mrs. Bennet came flying out of the back room, her phone to her ear. “No one is picking up. None of the book club ladies. Not Barb or Nancy. Not even Donna!”

“It’s okay,” Lizzy said, working to keep her voice level. “Once Dad gets to the city, we’ll know—”

“Oh, I already know!” Their mother dropped her phone onto the table between Kitty and Lydia, making them both jump. “I know everything. Your sister screwed us! Absolutely destroyed our lives!”

Lizzy was about to try to soothe her, assure her that they’d find a way to keep the bakery afloat, but then her mother continued.

“Weeks of work and preparation!” she cried. “I learned how to sew for this! I have a thousand ounces of rhinestones and two hundred yards of Lycra in the basement, and for what?”

Lizzy’s jaw clenched. “Mom.”

“While she’s off trying to save the world, did she even think for one minute about all my hard work? My sweat and my tears and my nerves —”

“MOM,” Lizzy repeated. “I’m pretty sure we have more important problems than your leggings.”

“Oh really? You think so?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice had hit a frantic octave, so her sarcastic tone came out wobbly and manic. “Well, maybe they’re not important to you, but they’re important to me. I had things in motion, and now”—the bakery phone began to ring in the office—“I’m left with nothing. Nothing! Did any of you think of that?”

“Mom,” Jane said, her tone suddenly the same one she used in her classroom full of six-year-olds. In the back, the office phone was still ringing. “I know you think—”

“Don’t tell me what I think!” Mrs. Bennet wailed.

The phone kept ringing, an incessant clangor that was shredding Lizzy’s patience.

“Lydia,” Lizzy said, turning to her sister. “Go see who that is.”

“Why can’t we just let the machine get—”

“Go.” Lizzy rarely let her voice get so stern. Lydia’s eyebrows bobbed up before she stomped off to the back office.

Lizzy brought her attention back to her mother. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Oh really? Would you rather we talk about tomorrow’s bread orders? Or how many muffins we’ve sold today? Because I can tell you right now that both are zero, Lizzy. Absolutely zero!” Another cry.

Lydia’s head popped out of the doorway to the back. “Lizzy?”

She ignored her. “I know it’s bad, Mom. Which is why we need to focus on—”

“Don’t tell me what to focus on!” her mother shrieked.

“Lizzy,” Lydia called to her again.

“Do you want to see the order I just put in for zippers?” Her mother picked up her phone again, her acrylic nails tapping on the glass as she unlocked it. “Who’s paying for that, Lizzy? Who?”

“Lizzy!” Lydia yelled.

Lizzy whipped around to glare at her sister. “What?”

“There’s a call for you.”

Lizzy stilled as her heart tumbled down to her stomach. Everyone she knew had her cell number. Everyone except Will.

“Who is it?” she asked.

Lydia shrugged. “I don’t know. Some woman.”

The disappointment was potent. She turned away, swallowing it down as she waved her sister away. “Take a message.”

“She says it’s important.”

“So is this!” Lizzy said, her voice almost a shout. Then she let out a sigh, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment’s reprieve before continuing. “Just take a message, okay? I’ll call them back later.”

Another eye roll, then Lydia disappeared into the back again.

“No one in this family cares,” Mrs. Bennet moaned. “What about me ?”

Lizzy wanted to argue. She wanted to tell her mother she’d just cut the best week of her life short to be here, that she’d put her dreams of becoming a journalist on hold for her family. But the fight had left her. She felt hollow, like all her emotions had been used up and she didn’t have the strength to replenish them again. She turned to Jane. “Take Mom home. Lydia and Kitty, too. I’ll call Dad and close up here. We’ll figure out next steps in the morning.”

Jane paused, giving her sister that look they had shared since they were children, but now it was laced with concern, as if for a moment, she saw the full weight of what Lizzy carried with her every day. Then Mrs. Bennet wailed again and Jane sighed, ushering everyone out the door before she disappeared with them.

The next few hours were a fog. No one came in, and her calls to her dad went straight to voicemail. Despite the promise of no customers tomorrow, Lizzy still went through the motions of prepping the bread dough, filling the muffin trays, getting everything ready for tomorrow’s usual five a.m. start.

She locked the doors at five p.m.

She was home by 5:10 p.m.

Her dad’s sailboat was dark and empty as she walked by it on her way to the front door. She ignored the arguing and yelling inside the house as she marched up the stairs and into her room.

Once the door was closed, she emptied the contents of her Montauk bag on her bed. There were her books, her clothes. All her surfing supplies. But then she found what she was looking for: Will’s hooded sweatshirt with COLUMBIA written across the front.

Then I won’t keep you . His words rang in her head. It had sounded so final. A punctuation on their time together, one that ended it with a definitive period. But what did she expect? She had taken for granted that they had time to figure out what this was and where it was going. But now they were left with this truncated version of events, and no road map of where to go next.

That was her fault. She’d left without letting him know what she wanted. What she expected. God, she left without even getting his number.

Of course, she could get it. She could probably find a way to call him right now. But she didn’t want his pity, or to become another problem he had to solve. She needed to fix this herself.

She slipped the sweatshirt over her head. It still smelled like him. Sandalwood and leather and salt. She burrowed her nose in it, closing her eyes and working to memorize each note. The smell would fade, she knew that. But for now, she could hold on to it. Even if only for a little while.