Improvise

by Melanie Rachel

“Sweetheart,” Uncle Ed said carefully, as he stared at a red brick house split into apartments not too far from the Garden Parkway, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you living here.”

  There was nothing wrong with this street. There weren’t any plants, and there were a lot of parked cars, but it was fine. “It’s a lot better than most places I’ve lived the past six years, Uncle Ed,” she told him with a charming smile, “and it’s only a ten-minute drive to your place.”

  He grimaced. Actually grimaced. “You can afford a better neighborhood.” He toed a beer can that had been abandoned in the gutter.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I have a few jobs Abby has sent me, but I’d rather rent low. I don’t want to tap into my nest egg, and I can always trade up in a year if I’m earning more.” She put a hand on his arm. “You know I can take care of myself, right?”

  He was staring across the street. Elizabeth followed his gaze to a group of young people standing around, alternately talking to each other and casting suspicious looks at them. Elizabeth noted them, analyzed their body language, and didn’t see a threat.

  “Abby,” he said in a low voice, “that’s another conversation we need to have.”

  “About Abby?” she asked, a bit surprised. “Why?”

  “An issue for another time,” he told her, then sighed. “Look, I’d be a fool to doubt your ability to defend yourself, Lizbet,” he said, “but I’d rather you didn’t have to.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Anything I can afford, even here in Bloomfield, is going to look like a dump next to your house. This neighborhood isn’t dangerous, Uncle Ed. I’ve checked the crime stats. It’s just blue-collar.”

  Uncle Ed was quiet for a moment, still assessing. Then he shook his head. “No, honey,” he said flatly. “I’d be up at night worrying. And if I’m up, your aunt is up, and if she doesn’t get her rest . . .”

  Elizabeth sighed, frustrated. “I should have just rented a place and then showed you. A black hole is not going to open up and swallow the Gardiner household if I am not living in a crazy-expensive neighborhood.”

  His expectations were far too high. He’d bought his house in a real-estate downturn for next to nothing when he was still in the service and had friends who’d helped him fix it up even when he was stationed in Maryland. When he’d finally retired from the Marines, he’d taken over the plumbing business. His financial situation was very different from hers.

  “We could help you out just to get started . . .” Uncle Ed began, but she cut him off.

  “Absolutely not,” she informed him. “You didn’t use any of my money—I won’t take yours.” She put her hands on her hips and stared hard at her uncle.

  He held up his hands, palms out. “There’s no need to stop looking. We can compromise, right? You can go for a little less square footage in a better area for a small increase in rent, right?”

  He really wasn’t going to budge. Elizabeth knew she’d never rent a place he didn’t approve of, but it didn’t mean she liked it. “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “I suppose. I just want to start putting money away, Uncle Ed.”

  Uncle Ed smiled. He knew he had won. “I know, and that’s commendable,” he replied, “but you have to temper that desire with practical concerns.” His face relaxed in the manner of a man given a reprieve even as she frowned at him. “Think about inviting Jane over for dinner. Would you want her walking to her car after dark?”

  Don’t roll your eyes. “Uncle Ed, she works in Newark.”

  “In the hospital, which is attached to a garage,” he retorted, “and she has someone walk her out after dark.”

  “I could walk her out,” Elizabeth muttered, but she followed Uncle Ed back to the truck.

  Her uncle said nothing.

  It’s a lost cause. Move on. “Do you think Great-grandpa would have liked your new truck?” Elizabeth joked as she pulled herself into the cab. “Pretty much all I remember about him was that he didn’t like to spend money.”

  “I think you’ve inherited some of his miserly traits,” Uncle Ed responded with a grin. “And once the money was spent, he’d have loved it.” He stuck his key into the ignition, but before turning it to start the truck, he gave her a warm look. “You’ve come so far, Lizbet,” he said. “There’s no limit for you now.”

  Elizabeth was embarrassed but grateful. She had come a long way. Uncle Ed’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  It had been hell at Longbourn that last year. Elizabeth was afraid to call her uncle, afraid her mother would make good on her threat to hand her and her sisters over to the county. Fanny Bennet had threatened to file charges against the Gardiners, claiming that Uncle Ed had abused the girls and Aunt Maddy had helped him hide it. Fanny loved Uncle Ed but had never liked Aunt Maddy. Elizabeth often wondered, now that she was an adult, whether Fanny would have followed through on her threat. She’d been pretty convincing to a sixteen-year-old girl, but her mother had been so erratic at the end there was just no way to know.

  In the end, her uncle and aunt had come to their rescue when they heard of Fanny’s passing. Aunt Maddy had remained with the Bennet girls so they could finish out their school year, despite having two small boys of her own and being pregnant with Moira. Uncle Ed had driven up every weekend.

  It had displaced her, but Elizabeth had seen how much better they could care for her sisters.

  She’d do anything for them.

  “Elizabeth?” she heard Uncle Ed ask, then, “Earth to Elizabeth!”

  She looked up at him. “Lost in thought for a second,” she said, abashed.

  He held up his phone. “I’ve been texting your aunt. She has an apartment for us to look at on the other side of the Parkway. It’s a nicer neighborhood with some trees.”

  “How much?” Elizabeth asked, feeling skeptical. He told her it was smaller but only about fifty dollars more a month than the one they’d just seen. “Okay,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “I trust you.”

  Major Richard Fitzwilliam had a problem. Taking a page from his cousin Will’s book, he had located a yellow legal pad, drawn a line down the middle, and titled the first column “Stay” and the second “Leave.” The problem was that there were a dozen reasons to stay but only five to leave, including Georgiana and Will.

  “Maybe they should be two different reasons,” he said softly, scratching out Will’s name and moving it to the line below.

  He tossed his pen down and stood, walking to the kitchen and opening his refrigerator. There wasn’t much inside. His pantry held some canned soup, and he thought perhaps he could make a sandwich. Once he’d assembled his dinner, he sat down with his phone. He couldn’t text Will or Oscar about this, and he’d never discuss it with Georgiana, but he could ask Bennet what she thought. She’d just gone through her own separation, and he could count on her to be logical.

  Bennet.

  There was a short wait before his phone buzzed. Hey. Apartment hunting.

  He grinned. Castle? Show me the moat.

  He waited for the next text and found himself looking at a brown-shingle two-story house with four mailboxes on the porch and then the interior of an apartment with a nice kitchen but not much else. It looked small. I thought Jersey had more space.

  He could almost hear her indignation. Do you know how much 850 sf goes for this close to NYC?

  Honestly? No. Why didn’t he know that?

  Her reply was quick. You rich kids. What am I going to do with you?

  Dunno. He tapped his pencil on the legal pad.

  There was a pause, and then another text. What’s up?

  Trying to make my list.

  This was followed by a line of question marks from Bennet.

  Stay in or separate.

  This time, her text came back immediately. Hang on.

  His phone rang, and he grinned as he accepted the call. “Hey, Bennet.”

  “Hey,” she said. “So what’s the hang-up?”

  “I’m trying to b
e logical about this.”

  “Tell me.” In the background, Richard heard a low voice asking Bennet something. He heard her tell someone, “It’ll have to wait,” and then she was back with him. “Go,” she said.

  “I’ve got lots of reasons to stay,” he said, scratching the stubble on his jawline. He hadn’t bothered to shave today, knowing he wasn’t likely to go outside. “And not so many to leave.”

  “So why are you calling me?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

  “I didn’t. You called me,” he protested, grinning. Bennet was unintentionally hilarious.

  “Oh right, I did. Okay, what are your reasons to stay?” she asked, not stopping to laugh at herself as she normally did.

  “Despite the general, the work is easy, there are great benefits, room for career advancement, the travel . . .” He read off his list before she stopped him.

  “Okay, I get the idea. What’s on the other side?”

  “Well, challenge. There’s no challenge anymore. More importantly, family. Will, Georgiana, Oscar, even my dad though he’d probably be just as happy for me to stay put.”

  There was a soft humph on the other end of the line. “I think you already know what you want to do, Richard,” Bennet said.

  “I don’t. That’s why I texted you.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re not emotionally involved, so you won’t steer me wrong.”

  She did laugh at that. “Wow, no pressure,” she said with a snort. “Look, it’s not the quantity of reasons you’ve got listed there that count. You know that, right?”

  Richard felt a smile begin to tug at his lips. “I wasn’t thinking about it quite like that.”

  “Yes, you were. If you were going just on the number of reasons, you wouldn’t have texted me. You’d have already decided to sign the extension. You want me to talk you into leaving.” She paused. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why is that?” asked Richard, amused now.

  She sighed. He could just see her rubbing her forehead. “Because you’ve already made up your mind to leave.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Mind telling me what decision my mind has made?”

  “Don’t waste my time, Richard,” she said with a put-upon sigh. “You want to come home. Your family is here, and there’s not one thing on your list of reasons to stay that you can’t get in a job stateside. I’m told you even own part of a successful, innovative company in Manhattan. Plenty of challenge there.”

  Richard chuckled. “I’m not sure where you got that information,” he teased.

  “Bring me some Nehaus when you come back,” she told him. “That’s my fee for life advice.”

  He rolled his eyes. “All right, I suppose you’ve earned some chocolate. Georgiana likes it, too. Though maybe I should wait to be sure it’s the right decision.”

  “It’s not simple, I won’t say that,” she said, her voice lowered as though she was afraid of being overheard, “but totally, completely worth it.” Another brief pause, and then she admitted, “I don’t fit in, exactly, and I don’t know that I ever will. But it’s really great to be here.” He heard nothing but her breathing for a few seconds, and then, she added, “Surprisingly great.”

  Chapter Ten

  Elizabeth was fast asleep when she felt the sofa bed frame rattle beneath her. She flew up to her feet and into a defensive position before she even opened her eyes. When she did, she realized Lydia and Kit were standing very close to her. Kit took a step back, but Lydia wasn’t daunted.

  “Moving day!” her youngest sister cried cheerfully and with volume. Elizabeth sat down on the bed heavily and then laid back again, her arms flung wide and her feet still on the floor.

  There was another jolt, harder this time. “Go away, Lydia,” she said with a groan. “I’m sleeping.” Or she would be, when her heart stopped trying to escape her chest.

  She didn’t hear Lydia leaving. Instead, she heard her youngest sister say, “It’s awesome being on the other side of this.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Kit said primly, “I’m always up on time.”

  Lydia snorted. “Liar.” Another jolt. “Get up! Geez, Lizzy, I thought you were a Marine! Uncle Ed is always up at five!”

  Elizabeth grabbed her pillow and placed it over her face. “I’m a night-shift Marine,” she replied flatly. After a moment, she lifted the pillow and stared tiredly up into her tormentor’s face. It was covered with pancake foundation and dark eyeliner slathered on thickly. “Whoa, Lydia, that’s a whole lot of monster makeup for”—she fumbled for her phone—“six in the morning.” Lydia frowned, and Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t have that much to move. Why can’t we do this later?”

  “Unlike you, we all have things to do,” Kit replied. “C’mon, Lizzy, Lydia and I want to meet the cute Marines Uncle Ed drafted to help out.”

  “He doesn’t know any young Marines,” she grumbled, sitting up and trying to run a hand through her rumpled hair, “but it explains why you two are awake.”

  “He knows you,” Kit pointed out. “He met them through someone at the VFW.” Kit twisted her blonde hair back and pinned it up off her neck. It was casually elegant, like Kit herself. “Denny and Saunderson. Please, Lizzy, get up. I need a date for prom. I have the perfect dress planned.”

  “Prom is nine months away.” Elizabeth stretched and then yawned widely.

  “But all the best guys are taken in the fall. How amazing would it be to already have a date when school starts?” Kit’s expression turned dreamy. “A Marine would be just . . .”

  “Deployed?” Elizabeth finished Kit’s statement, opening her mouth in a yawn before resting her head in her hands. “If they’re active duty, Kit, they have no idea where they’ll be in May. And they’re too old for you. Better hold off on that.”

  “Belay that order!” crowed Lydia gaily, her ponytail swishing back and forth.

  “That’s Navy, Lydia,” Elizabeth said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Or, no, I guess it could be Marines. Coast Guard, too,” she added. Her brain wasn’t kicking into gear. “Ships are involved.”

  Kit stuck out her tongue at her younger sister, then turned to Elizabeth. “They’re not that much older than I am, Lizzy.”

  “Are you up?” Lydia demanded, ignoring Kit.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said, forcing herself to her feet. She folded the bed into the sofa and shuffled towards the bathroom. She turned back. “Kit, would you make sure they leave me some coffee?” Lots of coffee.

  “Okay,” Kit said, dodging around her, Lydia in her wake. Elizabeth watched them both bounce up the steps.

  Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth appeared upstairs, teeth brushed, face washed, hair brushed out and pinned up. The coffeepot was empty. Sighing, she reached into the cupboard and, with her back to the rest of the kitchen, called out, “Does anyone else want coffee?”

  “I’ll take a cup,” came a low voice from the doorway. Elizabeth jumped a bit before looking up into the handsome face of Will Darcy. He was in jeans and a gray t-shirt, appearing very much at home in the Gardiners’ kitchen. She blinked. He’d worn a jacket the night he’d taken her to coffee, but now it was very clear that the man worked out. Regularly.

  “Hello,” she said after a pause. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Maddy asked if I could help,” he said, tilting his head, appraising her with a soft smile. Great, he’s probably one of those early risers. She stared at him. He looks really good in that t-shirt.

  He grinned and then walked up to her. “Sorry,” he said, “your hair’s just a bit . . .” He reached over to tuck a lock behind her ear. His hand was warm, and she froze for a moment when his fingers brushed the side of her face. Breathe, Bennet. She pushed herself into action.

  “Thanks,” she said, grabbing a coffee filter and starting to count out scoops. “Do you like it strong?”

  Aunt Maddy had put out the word to the neighbors that she had a niece furnishing her first apartment, and everyone, it seemed, had some
thing they were only too happy to donate. Everything was already piled up in the corner of the Gardiners’ garage. Elizabeth suspected that her uncle was paying his recruits to help her move, but he wouldn’t admit it. Uncle Ed bluntly pointed out that she was still suffering migraines from the concussion and wore a brace on her knee when she ran and worked out. He didn’t want her hauling furniture and boxes up a flight of stairs. Her impulse was to argue, but it was Uncle Ed.

  She salvaged some of her pride by carrying her computer equipment up to the new apartment herself and storing it in the second bedroom. She gave in on just about everything else. It made her uncomfortable to watch other people working while she stood aside.

  “See?” her uncle said, joining her in the kitchen. “It’s not so bad. Pretend you’re an officer.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are so full of it, Uncle Ed,” she told him fondly. “You just miss ordering people around now that Aunt Maddy’s in charge.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Happy wife, happy life.”

  “I suppose it’s nice, for once,” Elizabeth ventured, “to have other people do the heavy lifting.” She glanced over at the door. After all, it gives me the best view of . . . that, she thought as she watched Will enter her apartment with a rolled-up carpet tossed over his shoulder. Earlier, she’d followed him up the stairs as he held up the back end of her new mattress. Then he’d hefted the kitchen table over his head and set it in place before returning with all the chairs. In one trip. She opened boxes and began putting things away, trying not to be too obvious in her admiration, lest Uncle Ed call her out. It wasn’t easy.

  Will Darcy had a lot of experience with women checking him out. Most of them were happy to have him catch them at it. The woman would smile seductively or bat her eyelashes or something else equally ridiculous and expect him to fall at her feet. So he’d become well-versed in ignoring the glances, the hair tosses, the tinny giggles, that weird thing women did when they tilted their heads and exposed their necks. It might have been flattering, in a way, except that he knew from experience that they were attracted less to him and more to his wallet. He had early on become a very careful man. He’d had little choice.