Chapter 11 #4
He needed to know exactly what she remembered from that night.
Was the connection they’d made—however slight—only the result of a chemical influence?
Or was it something real but now buried under foggy memories and the hurtful words they had hurled at each other the next day?
Could they ever just clear the air, especially now, when she seemed to be hinting that she wanted to?
Charles wandered into the house to check on the leftovers, and Herb followed, curious about whether a “speck of pie” could be found. Jane’s phone chimed and she stared, frozen, at the screen before tapping it.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hellooo, Janiekins! How is my blushing bride?”
“Great, I’m great.” Jane looked at the screen, a smile plastered on her face.
Elizabeth sighed and readied for her fate.
She hated FaceTime calls with Sylvia, especially with an audience.
They required a high-wire performance to keep the conversation neutral and on topic.
Both sisters’ expressions became more pained as their mother’s adopted Southern accent filled the air.
“Show me the house, baby!” Sylvia demanded.
Jane rose and held the phone out in front of her. “Hey, everybody! My mother, Sylvia Bennet-LaRue, would like to say hello. Can you all introduce yourselves?”
The Gardiners waved and splashed their greetings, Ted and Barbara smiled. Caroline, now perched by her sister, peered at the iPhone and seemed to be formulating the best response to the woman on the screen chattering at them.
“Speak!” Sylvia cried. “Wait, are you the twins? Charlie’s sisters?”
Louisa smiled grimly and introduced herself and Caroline.
“By gosh, you gingers are just as I pictured ya! And staying out of the sun with that naturally flaming red hair, eh? Better make sure Janey picks out bridesmaid dresses that won’t clash with that color.”
Jane quickly moved away with the phone, holding it up for quick, desultory waves from Mary and Lydia, and descended on her sister. With a pleading expression, she pushed the phone into Elizabeth’s hand and headed off in search of Charles.
“Hi.”
“Hello, Lizzy. Who is that behind you?”
Cripes. Why is he still out here, not hiding like Charles and Herb? “Um, that would be our host. The owner of the house, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Nice. Hello, Fitzwilliam! My, that is quite a mouthful!” Tickled by her joke, Sylvia began giggling. “Oh, look at that pool. And the beach!”
Elizabeth quickly moved the camera back to her own face. “Here, I’ll show you the house and find Jane so you can talk about the song you’re going to sing at the wedding.”
“You know, I think it’s definitely going to be one of Dolly Parton’s songs.” Sylvia began singing. Elizabeth clicked off the sound as she neared the door. Holy Mother of God, save me from this mortification.
“Here’s the kitchen,” she said after turning the sound back on. She waved the camera in front of her. “And here’s the sunroom and the library and…there’s Jane!”
Her sister was in the foyer kissing Charles. Elizabeth framed the shot and headed for them, giving her mother a show of the couple’s eternal love. “Here you go, Jane. Bye, Sylvia.”
She escaped to the media room, seeking the distraction of television or music to erase the past ten minutes from her memory.
Herb was sprawled on the couch, half asleep, watching ESPN.
Elizabeth leaned in the doorway, staring blankly at the screen and wishing she had a mother who’d found her career dreams in real estate or banking or hairdressing.
What triggered her mid-life obsession with becoming a country-western singer?
Elizabeth worried that she might have inherited some weird gene that would flare up in middle age and send her on some crazy inner-peace journey to hike across the country or give up cheese.
Once again, she wondered how her parents’ ill-fated marriage had ever begun.
A man who loved the classics and a woman who loved Hank Williams were not a match made to last, especially when their wedding was a last-minute affair to cover up an unexpected pregnancy.
Of course, they got along better after they’d both remarried—twice more for Sylvia if you count both times she married Ray LaRue. Elizabeth cringed. Maybe I have her commitment-phobic genes too.
Her inner musings were cut off when the sports channel’s breaking news logo caught her attention.
A huge drug-test cheating scandal had been unearthed, and details were beginning to leak out.
Human growth hormones and performance enhancement drugs from a lab in Atlanta had been illegally dispensed at a New Jersey clinic.
She squinted at the screen, trying to read the name of the clinic.
Oh. That’s weird, she thought, recognizing it was the place where some of the athletes in her book went for physical therapy.
I wonder if they know any of the culprits.
Wanting to hear the news more clearly, Elizabeth looked around fruitlessly for the remote control.
She moved closer to the screen and listened to the announcer detailing the depth and breadth of the scandal.
College athletes, professional baseball and basketball players, even some Olympians were suspected.
She sank into a chair. The volume slowly rose, and she looked up to see Darcy holding the remote and watching her. He looked puzzled.
She turned back to the screen where four headshots were displayed. Oh no. Stefan.