19
Such a charming man! So handsome! So tall! —Pride I felt so grown up and capable. I’d love to give my kids the same childhood. But my mom never took to the farm. She didn’t like being so far from the city or living in an old house. Over the years, my dad spent more time in the corporate office. Eventually my parents bought land closer to Sacramento and built their dream home. I honestly had no idea we were rich until we moved into such a wealthy neighborhood and my dad bought a sports car.
I’ve always thought we had the best fall. At least compared to the rest of California. But it sounds like I really need to check out autumn in Iowa.
Liam is totally angling for an invite. And I’m tempted to give him one. But once we see each other in person. It will become so much more real and scary. I really want to pursue this relationship, I do. But I’ve created this timeline in my mind, where we have until December. Moving any faster freaks me out. But at the same time, December feels so far away.
We started harvesting in August. First, the tree shakers shake the nuts out of the trees—pretty cool process (I’ll have to show it to you one day). Then we leave the nuts on the ground for a week or so to dry—and pray it doesn’t rain. Now, it’s October, and we’ve wrapped up the almond harvest.
How are you doing? Bored yet? I suspect your eyes are glazing over at this point. Georgie is always telling me to rein in the almond talk. I give her weekly updates because I still hold out hope that she’ll decide to come back to Pemberley. The whole Noah thing soured her on the company. Which is a shame since she’d make a far better CEO than I do. She has much better people skills. I can’t wait for you to meet her.
Liam always writes comments like this, mentioning a future where we will meet each other’s families. I must admit that the idea of a future with him is appealing. Also, reading what he said about Georgie joining the company makes me think of another lie Noah told me. He said Liam didn’t believe in having women in the boardroom. Whenever I think of Noah’s lies, I cringe. I’m so ashamed of believing them. At least he’s no longer working at Bennet Parties. The people I know are safe from him.
I’ve been helping my mom bake her famous pumpkin muffins for the Pumpkin Hunt. If you give me your address, I’ll send you some. I’m not sure about my favorite Halloween costume. As a kid, I was always Spiderman. I mean, who doesn’t like Spiderman? I was Obi-Wan Kenobi because of Star Wars (sorry to remind you of the great Star Wars / Twilight debate. Too soon?), but my strangest Halloween costume was when I was eight. My mom read Charlotte’s Web to me, and I thought Templeton, the rat who steals all the food from the fair, was the coolest. I begged my mom to make me a rat costume. I’ll send you a picture.
Now, it’s my turn for questions. Basically, answer all the questions you asked me. Plus, are you a night owl or an early bird? I can’t decide from the various times you send emails. Or are you a superhuman who never sleeps?
Yours,
Liam
From: [email protected]
Subject: Reply to: So Many Questions!!!
Liam! My Sweet Templeton!
Thank you for that picture of you as a little boy dressed as a rat. It’s my new screensaver and brings me endless joy. Also, I love that your mom made you a Halloween costume.
Not to make too big of a deal about it. But the more I read Liam’s letters, the more I see some similarities in our families. His mom made his Halloween costumes. And she embroiders like my mom. I bet she has a beautiful sewing room in that gorgeous house. Suddenly, I really want to see it.
I also was obsessed with Charlotte’s Web as a little girl, but I didn’t dress up as Templeton. I wanted to be Charlotte, of course. My mom was all over that spider costume. She always gravitates toward challenging costumes. My Charlotte costume was amazing. But like all the best Halloween costumes, absolutely no one recognized it. I got so tired of people thinking I was the spider from Harry Potter . Couldn’t they tell with my long lashes that I was a lady spider?
As for sleep, I like to stay up late because that’s when the house is quiet, and I can finally write in peace. For the same reason, I also wake up early. I’m a huge napper. I love naps. Napping is basically my superpower. I would ask, but I already can tell you’re an early-morning person.
I haven’t baked anything good lately, and your pumpkin muffins sound delicious.
Yours with dreams of pumpkin muffins,
Lettie
P.S. Tell Fitz that in just six weeks, I’ll see him.
When Liam takes two whole days to reply, I’m tempted to break my personal rule and text him. More than once, he has tried to move us to texting. And I keep responding through email. I prefer email because there’s a slight buffer in our correspondence. It’s a little slower than texting and allows us to write long-ish letters. I live for Liam’s emails. When he texts, he’s all business, sending a series of short, rapid-fire sentences. There’s no way he would have composed a “Ten Things Not to Do” list through text.
I’m trying to be patient, but if I don’t hear from him tomorrow, I’ll have to break my own rule and text him. If I don’t hear from him soon, I’ll worry that he’s been in a terrible accident or that he, horror of horrors, has met someone.
“Lettie, something came for you in the mail.” Tilly runs into the kitchen holding a Priority Mail box. “Whose L. Darcy, and why are they sending you a package?”
“He sent them!” I jump up from the table where I am supposed to be writing, but I have been rereading Liam’s emails. (For research, obviously.)
“What’s going on?” asks Gretta, who just popped into the kitchen to get a chocolate doughnut off the doughnut cat. “Lettie, you’re all lit up?” Gretta turns to Tilly. “This has to be about a guy. That is absolutely a guy smile.”
“You’re right,” I say, getting scissors to open my package.
“Who’s the guy?” asks Tilly.
I cut open the box. Inside I find an envelope with my name on it. I recognize the high-quality stationery from the first time I received a letter from Liam Darcy nearly a year ago, back when I thought he was a distinguished old man. Seeing my name written in a familiar flowing penmanship, I clutch the envelope to my heart before I tuck it in my back pocket. There’s no way I’m going to read this with my sisters looking on. I lift open the tissue paper with a pretty fall leaf pattern and find a nest of mini pumpkin muffins. They smell like pumpkin spice and chocolate chips. I pop one in my mouth. It tastes like fall and laughter and love. Liam sent me a package, and he wrote me a letter. I might explode with happiness.
“I have so many questions!” Gretta says, looking at me like I’ve grown two heads.
I hand her a muffin. “Try one. They’re really good.”
“These are good,” Tilly says with a mouth full of pumpkin greatness.
“I have to agree.” Gretta eats her muffin in small bird bites. “Now about this guy?”
“Is he your boyfriend?” asks Tilly
“Not exactly, we email.”
“Is he 50?” scoffs Gretta. “Why is he emailing you?”
“We also text. But we email more.” How to explain our correspondence?
“So?” Tilly asks in a sing-songy voice. “What’s his name?”
“Liam Darcy and... ” Gretta taps on her phone, then gasps! “Violet Helena Benson!” she exclaims. “He’s gorgeous! I just Googled him. He’s thirty-one, CEO of Pemberley Almonds... Oh, Lettie! He’s really rich.”
“Hush! I didn’t want to tell you guys because Mom will absolutely freak out.”
“Um, yeah,” says Tilly. “I’m freaking out. You sent this handsome specimen a selfie with me in it?”
I forgot about that. “I may have sent him a few pics with you in it.”
“I am in this hot guy’s phone?” Tilly squawks.
“Keep it down. I don’t want Mom to know.”
“You’re being weird about this,” Gretta says as she takes another muffin. “Hot, rich, and he bakes—why are you not dating?” she asks. “Ooh, he has a great smile; I like his crooked teeth.”
“We live 1700 miles apart,” I answer, trying not to get side-tracked by my sister’s praise of Liam.
“Move back to California,” says Tilly, who’s on her fourth muffin. They’re that good.
“I’m considering it,” I say.
“I would move to Antarctica for this.” Gretta points to a photo of Liam shirtless from his college rowing days. I haven’t seen it before, so I take a minute to appreciate it. It’s been four months since I’ve seen him in person, but it feels a lot longer.
“What’s this?” Mom asks. I have no idea when she entered the kitchen.
“Not what, but who?” says Tilly. “Liam, Lettie’s almost boyfriend.”
“Lettie has a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me?” my mom asks, her face a strange mix of excitement and hurt.
“Mom.” Gretta gently places a hand on her shoulder and guides her the few short steps to the living room. Tilly and I follow. “You better sit down for this.”
My mom looks warily between the three of us.
“It’s good news,” I promise. She settles on the leather sectional my parents bought at Costco when I was 11. I sit on one side and Gretta on the other. Tilly sits on the coffee table.
I scroll to another photo of Liam, one where he’s wearing a shirt and a suit.
“Okay, this is Liam Darcy, and he and I... ” I debate what to say. Liam said I could call him my boyfriend. He was kidding, but only kind of. I’m positive the moment I tell him that I told my mom he’s my boyfriend, he’ll book a flight. It’s strange that I know this about him, but it’s also comforting. Not that long ago, I thought Liam was a player. And now, I trust him; I know he’s in this for the long run, and so am I—I think.
“Lettie... ?” My mom prods. “You just stopped talking. Who is this Liam?”
“He’s this guy that I like, and he likes me.”
Tilly thrusts the box of muffins onto my mom’s lap. “And he bakes great muffins.” My mom points to a particularly flattering photo of Liam. “This guy bakes?” she says dumbfounded. “And he likes Lettie?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” says Gretta.
“Are you dating?” My mom still seems a little shell-shocked.
“Not yet, but he’s made it clear he wants to date me.” My mom takes my phone and scrolls through other pictures of Liam. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet. She takes a muffin.
“Mmm... these are good.” She swallows and then smiles. “I suppose this means Victor’s out of the running.”
***
Later, after I’ve filled my family’s insatiable appetite for all things Liam, I go to my room and pull out his letter. Running my fingers over thick paper, I can’t help but think of how his hand touched this stationery. I laugh a little at myself and how much my feelings have altered since June. Back then, I begrudgingly liked him, now... I don’t know how to describe it. Love, the word everyone uses, seems too quaint for this buoyant hopeful joy expanding in my chest. And yet, what other word is there?
I unfold his thick, monogrammed stationery.
My Lettie,
How did you like the muffins?
As to your question, you’re right; I have always been a morning person. And then, years of rowing have made me more so. I never find it hard to wake up if I know I’m going to be on the water. I feel the same about getting up to check emails from you. I like the quiet of the world in the morning. I especially like it when I’m on the water early when the reservoir mirrors the sunrise. It feels like I am rowing through the sky.
With the harvest over, we are going to England. Georgie doesn’t get Thanksgiving off, so we are going to her. If there’s anything you want from England, I will gladly bring it back for you.
Fitz wanted me to send you his regrets that he won’t be able to make Charlie and Jane’s wedding. They are not inviting dogs. (Rude.) He wants you to know that if he could be there, he’d give you a big, sloppy kiss. I promised him that I’d take care of the kiss. It will be big, but not sloppy. I am very much looking forward to it.
Love,
Liam
I stare at the letter. That is not a toss-a-way “Love.” He wrote it deliberately. He purposely saved it for a real letter. And he promised to kiss me. December can’t come soon enough.