Finally, Tuesday morning, Mr. Watson called her in to his office.
“I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Yes?” she asked eagerly, completely unable to play it cool.
He smiled. “Dr. Ian Mellen, the physicist—you sat in on a meeting with him—is struggling with his book. He needs someone who can assist him, but also edit him and in some ways act as a guide. The House also needs a liaison between Dr. Mellen, and occasionally other authors like him, and us. Someone keeping us informed, telling us if he’s staying on track, encouraging him to do interviews. Dr. Mellen would have to approve you of course. The hours would be unpredictable at best and the pay would be hourly, as far as the assistantship goes, and a flat rate for the liaising, so I don’t know if financially you could swing it—”
“I could swing it!” she jumped in.
“I thought you might say so.” He smiled and handed her a piece of paper. “This is Dr. Mellen’s contact information; he’s expecting your call.”
Liz took the paper eagerly and put it in her bag. “Thank you so much, Mr. Watson!”
Elizabeth wanted to rush straight up to Will’s office and tell him all about her exciting news, but just as she was heading to the elevator she remembered that he was out of town until Friday and she wanted to tell him in person. She sighed and called her sister instead and then quickly contacted Ian Mellen. They set up an appointment for that evening and Elizabeth spent the next several hours planning what she would say and alternately celebrating and freaking out.
She had nothing to worry about. An hour into their meeting, Dr. Mellen told her she had the job and they quickly set up a schedule. He would spend most of the summer in Scotland, so they would have to communicate electronically, but he’d committed time over the next eighteen months to writing the book while his other work was in a slow phase.
The two hit it off, and by the end of the week, they’d spent several hours already mapping out the manuscript.
*
“Lizzy! Are you home?” Will called when he walked into the apartment Friday evening. “Liz?”
“Back here!”
He found her in her study, typing away at her desk.
“How was your trip?” she asked as she kissed him hello.
“Good, uneventful. Did you meet with Watson again? What did he say?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. And he had good news.”
“Really? That’s great! Are they going to let you work part-time?”
“Yes and no. There is an author who needs an assistant and also a sort of guide-slash-liaison at Taggston.”
“And that person is you?”
She nodded.
“Brilliant! Who’s the author?”
“Ian Mellen.” She watched him silently, wondering what his reaction would be.
He just stared at her open-mouthed. “Wow. That’s, that’s just, wow.”
She smiled. “I know! Just think, now you’ll be able to meet him!”
He was silent for a while but eventually said, “Surely that won’t be for a while yet.”
“You don’t want to meet him?”
“No, I do! I just meant that it wasn’t likely to occur anytime soon. At least that will give me time to prepare.”
“Oh, well, you’d better get ready quick. He’s coming for dinner tomorrow night,” she said.
A loud timer went off in the kitchen. Liz jumped up and left the room, exclaiming about a casserole in the oven. Harper just stood there, frozen in place, an odd sense of excitement and nervousness running through him.
**
Saturday, Harper was a nervous wreck. He went into the office for a few hours in the morning, met Jamison for a game of racquetball, and was home by four in the afternoon. Liz tried not to laugh at how he changed his shirt three times or when she caught him taking his reading glasses off and on in the mirror.
“Do you want to help me with dinner?” she asked.
“Sure, what can I do?”
“See if the dough over there has risen enough to split into rolls. If it has, cut it up and put them on a greased pan and cover them, then set the timer for an hour.”
“Got it.”
She smiled as he got to work, remembering how a year ago he couldn’t even put on an apron, let alone handle more than one direction at once. She was always the one who cooked, but he often came in and opened a bottle of wine and talked to her while she worked, pouring her a glass and helping out here and there with simple tasks.
“What kind of salad do you want?” she asked.
“What are my choices?”
“I’ve got the ingredients for lemon salad, but I’m not really in the mood for it, and for the goat cheese one with the candied pecans you like.”
“Ooh, let’s have that one. Do you have time to make the pecans?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered with a quick glance at the clock. “Can you turn the oven on to 250 please?”
She got to work whisking egg whites and mixing sugar and cinnamon together while Harper finished his rolls and placed them on the island for their second rise.
“What all are we having?”
“I made a tiramisu yesterday. It’s supposed to be better the second day when all the flavors have had a chance to settle in. Cross your fingers it’s good.”
“It will be,” he smiled. Since he’d given her the dessert classes as a Christmas gift, he’d done a lot of taste testing and loved every bite of it. She had done the class with her sister Jennifer and between the two of them, their shared meals together were always memorable.
“I made a meatloaf earlier today, it just needs to bake.”
Harper made a face.
“Hey! You said you loved my meatloaf!” she cried indignantly.
“I do! It’s just not the most showy thing you make and I was a little surprised, that’s all,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck and making a sheepish face.
“Well, Mr. High Society, it just so happens that Ian specifically requested meatloaf because he’s never had it and wants to try something American.”
“Ah, now it makes more sense.”
She swatted him with a towel. “I’m making green bean bundles right now and some sort of potatoes.” She pointed to the colander filled with potatoes in the sink. “Should we have fried or mashed?”
“I love your fried potatoes. And mashed are pretty common in Scotland.”
“All right, fried it is. You want to make the honey butter now that you’re done with the rolls?”
Will quickly agreed and got to work, proud of himself that he knew how to make this without any instruction now and happy to be contributing. He asked her about her last week as an intern and she told him all about the impromptu farewell party they’d had the night before with the other interns and several of their coworkers.
Liz smiled, glad Will was distracted. She’d never seen him this jumpy and nervous. She just hoped he’d be able to relax during dinner and not let his nerves get the best of him. To that end, she opened a bottle of pinot noir and poured him a glass.
Dinner was a huge success. Dr. Mellen insisted Will call him Ian and told several geeky but funny jokes that had everyone laughing and almost made Liz snort her wine. Will was tongue-tied for a little while, but halfway through the salad he loosened up and found his groove. He asked intelligent questions and gave thoughtful answers while Liz looked on proudly. She didn’t know what half of the words they used even meant and barely understood the context, but she was happy they were getting along and pleased that Will got to meet one of his heroes thanks to her.
Dr. Mellen loved the candied nuts, he thought the meatloaf was odd-looking but delicious, and declared the tiramisu to be divine. Liz thanked him and they settled in the living room with drinks and seconds of dessert and chatted until late in the evening when Will called his driver to take the doctor home. When they walked him to the elevator, Dr. Mellen declared it to be one of the best nights he’d had in thi
s over-crowded city and kissed Liz on both cheeks, a favor she returned, and then did the same to Will while Liz nearly doubled over in laughter at the shocked look on her husband’s face.
“These stodgy Englishmen,” Ian said to her as he waggled his eyebrows mischievously.
Will recovered just as the elevator opened and they parted merrily, promising to get together again soon.
“Well, you survived the night. What do you think? Does your hero live up to your expectations or are you disappointed?” she asked Will as she turned on the water to wash the dishes.
“Not disappointed. A little surprised, but pleasantly so,” he said as he grabbed a towel and began drying the wine glass she passed to him.
“Just think, at work on Monday, you can tell all your nerdy friends that you were kissed by Ian Mellen,” she teased.
“Don’t think I won’t,” he said with a shake of the towel in her direction.
***
“I talked to my sister today,” Will said after dinner a few nights later.
“Yeah? What did she say? Are they doing all right?” Liz asked.
“Yeah, they’re great. She wants to come visit soon.”
“Really? When? I thought she was coming in July.”
“Next week. I told her that was when you had your hooding ceremony and party and she said she’d like to come.”
“That’s great!”
“It is?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I thought Jacqueline exhausted you,” he said.
“She can be a little… difficult, I’ll grant you, but she’s a perfectly nice person and more importantly, she’s your sister.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly.
“Plus, I’m seriously thinking about buying some property and she knows all about buildings. I’m sure she’d be willing to help me choose something.”
“Oh, no doubt about that! If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up with more than one ‘something’.”
Liz smiled. “Will she stay with us or in a hotel?”
“I thought your family was staying with us?”
“We can all bunk in if we need to. Heather and Tiffany can have the Murphy bed in my den, Jacqueline can take my room and I can sleep with you.”
He raised his brows.
“What? Do you not want me to sleep with you?” she asked.
“No, not at all. I love it when you sleep with me. But will your sisters want to share? And won’t that be a little crowded?”
“Not at all. It’ll be fun. And I don’t want your sister to be the only person staying in a hotel. She’ll feel left out.”
“I don’t know. I think she’d rather be comfortable.”
“You don’t think our place is comfortable?”
“Of course it is, but we don’t really have proper guest quarters. And she’d be staying in your room. Aren’t you afraid she’ll get into your stuff?”
“Are you telling me your sister is a snoop? And what exactly are guest quarters?”
“Yes, I think she is a little bit of a snoop, though she’d never admit it. And guest quarters are rooms designed for guests, like we have at the beach house. No personal stuff for them to go through, everything a guest could need, that sort of thing.”
Liz shook her head. “Well, we can always ask her what she wants to do. Did she say why she’s coming? It can’t possibly be just for my ceremony.”
“She said she wants to go through some things from the old apartment. And talk to me about something.”
“Uh oh. That sounds ominous. Did she say what it was about?”
“No, but I have a feeling it’s about the apartment. And maybe some artwork from the beach house.”
“Why do you think that? And what art work?”
“I think she wants the collection of pictures of her and mother. There’s a particularly nice painting done a month before she died. Jackie’s always loved it and I think now that she’s settled semi-permanently, she wants to have it.”
“Does she have to ask you for it?”
“Technically yes, I own the house and all of its contents.”
“Will you give it to her?”
“Yes, of course. I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t. I’d like to have a decent copy made before she drags it halfway around the world, though.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you get the house in the Hamptons instead of Jacqueline? From the looks of things, she was more attached to it.”
“Because it was my father’s and everything that belonged to him came to me,” he said simply.
“Okay,” she said slowly, “then why do you two share the house on the upper west side?”
“My parents bought it together. My mother had her own money; it’s her half that belongs to Jacqueline now.”
Liz looked confused. “Did your Harper grandparents not have a place in the city?”
“They did, but my father sold it. It was smaller and in an outdated building. My grandparents spent most of their time in England and were really only here for the summers, which were of course spent at the beach house, and sporadically throughout the year for shopping and business trips.”
Liz nodded. “Did your father not leave anything to your sister?”
“Of course. She has a sizeable trust fund which will keep her extremely comfortable her entire life. She has an honorary seat on the board at Taggston that she just came into when she turned twenty-five and she owns a decent percent of the Taggston stock, and even more of HarperCo which was our father’s start-up. And of course she got her share of the family jewels and a townhouse in London from my mother. The house we stayed in was the Harper home.”
“Wow. I’ll stop thinking she got gipped, then.”
He chuckled. “I do wonder what she wants to talk about in regards to the apartment in town.”
“Do you think she wants to make changes or renovate it or something?”
“I don’t know. She can’t touch anything without my written permission. For that matter, I can’t touch anything without hers.”
“Then let’s hope she wants to take some pictures back with her and it will all be simple.”
He smiled. “I hope so, but with Jacqueline, things are rarely simple.”
**
The morning of the hooding ceremony, Liz’s sisters arrived.
The moment they walked in the door, Tiffany was chattering nonstop. She told them about the things they’d seen on the way to the apartment, the people they sat near on the plane, all the places she wanted to see while she was there and what she wanted to buy. Liz finally clamped a hand over her mouth and laughingly asked if her sister wanted anything to drink or eat. Tiffany laughed and followed Liz to the kitchen, Heather trailing quietly behind.
Jacqueline had opted to stay in the Covington townhouse uptown instead of staying with Liz and William. She said she didn’t want to intrude on Liz’s time with her sisters and that her aunt wanted her to check on the place for her, which Liz found to be a flimsy reason but didn’t comment on.
Tiffany and Heather would stay with them in her room and her parents and grandmother would stay with Jen and Andrew. Liz hated to admit it, but she was relieved. She and Will were in a good place and she thought their behavior was pretty relationship-y, but if her parents stayed in her room, she was afraid one of them would find something out of place and blow the whole thing up.
She moved almost all of her clothing into Harper’s closet in anticipation of her sisters’ arrival, but she was still nervous that some sort of incriminating clue would be left behind. Thankfully, she kept most of her personal stuff—books, music, random mementos—in her den and only used the bedroom for sleeping and housing clothing so that if anyone stopped by unexpectedly, she could just say she used the guest room for closet space and wouldn’t have to worry about being accused of having a separate bedroom from her husband. Of course, since they’d begun sleeping togeth
er in December, she spent roughly half her nights in his room anyway.
The ceremony was long and drawn out, as most matriculation ceremonies are. Liz was hooded by her advisor, and by the skin of her teeth, she graduated with a 4.0, leaving her with the highest rank in her program. She was cheered on by her classmates and family and she would later declare it the proudest moment of her life so far.
Jenny had planned a lovely party afterward at one of Liz’s favorite restaurants, on Harper’s tab of course, and everyone headed there following the ceremony. The private room was a raucous and cheerful place, with even Jacqueline lightening up and joining in the celebration.
Her parents and sisters had brought her gifts, ranging from the funny—a T-shirt from Tiffany reading “I’m so much smarter than you,” to the sentimental—her grandmother Barrett gave her the family pearls, the ones her grandmother had given her on her wedding day. Liz cried and laughed at herself for being so emotional. Her parents took dozens of pictures, Loretta declaring she needed plenty to show her friends and all the customers that came into the shop. Liz rolled her eyes halfheartedly and posed and smiled until her face ached.
By the time she said goodnight to her sisters and climbed into bed with Will, she was exhausted.
“Do you have the stamina for one more gift?” he asked.
“What? You got me a present?”
“Of course I did.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I’ve got the energy for one more. Hand it over.”
She playfully held out her hands and wiggled her fingers. Harper handed her a blue bag with tissue paper sticking out the top of it. She reached in happily and pulled out a snorkel mask.
She looked at it in confusion before saying, “Thanks. I don’t have one of these.”
He laughed and told her to look further into the bag. She pulled out an envelope with her name written on it in Will’s handwriting. Inside were at least a dozen slips of paper.
She took the first one out and read, “One full body massage.” She looked back up at him. “Did you make these?”
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