Pride, Prejudice, and Push-Up Bras

by Mary Strand

  ~ Stephanie

  As I finished, I frowned. No matter where Charlie had his company, he wasn’t any more a New Yorker than I was. Yeah, Alex had a reason to stay in New York; his dad lived in Connecticut. And Stephanie could be pretentious anywhere she went. For all I cared, Alex and Stephanie could stay in New York.

  Until death do them part.

  Jane finally spoke, almost under her breath. “Stephanie says she’d love to see me, but I wonder how?”

  I shrugged. “You could visit Uncle Ed and Aunt Molly.”

  Uncle Ed was Mom’s brother. He and Aunt Molly had lived and worked in New York City for several years, although they moved to New Jersey once they had kids. Uncle Ed was a hot-shot advertising exec, which made him a lot more hip than Mom, and Aunt Molly was absolutely cool. We hadn’t seen them in ages, and I was half tempted to go with Jane.

  Jane kept rereading the email. I almost reached out and hit the delete key to end her agony.

  “She keeps mentioning a certain someone.”

  “And I keep reminding you that Stephanie has issues.” I wouldn’t put it past her to flat-out lie to make Jane think Charlie wasn’t interested—for her own twisted reasons, whatever they were—but it didn’t explain why Charlie hadn’t called. “Didn’t you call Charlie? Or email him? I gave you that info last weekend.”

  Jane slumped down in the chair. “I got busy?”

  Or terrified. I shook my head, figuring I had to take matters into my own bold hands, but for now I let it drop. So I was a bit startled when, late that night, after everyone else went to bed, Jane brought it up again.

  “Stephanie and Charlie are staying at Alex’s house.”

  I looked up from my Sudoku book, which I was studying way more avidly than chemistry. “Um-hmm.”

  “Thank God I’m over him.”

  I tossed my Sudoku book aside and looked hard at Jane.

  “Really, Liz. I’m moving on.” Blushing, she looked down at her feet. “It’s not like he ever promised anything. Or—or took it too far.”

  Yes, he had, and Pollyanna and I both knew it.

  She continued, her voice faltering. “I admit, I thought it was a two-way thing, but we’ve all had our unrequited crushes, haven’t we?”

  Jane never has, but I nodded. “You’re really too sweet, you know. I almost think Charlie doesn’t deserve you.”

  Jane shrugged. “He’s in New York with Alex and Stephanie and...and a certain someone, and that’s okay. Really. He’s obviously not interested in me.”

  “It’s not obvious, but it’s weird.” I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. “I may as well give up all hope. First Charlie, then Rachel. Everyone is going crazy.”

  Jane shook her head. “Rachel isn’t as crazy as you think. You’re friends, but she’s not like you. I think she’s secretly always wanted to hook up with someone, but guys don’t even look at her. It’s always amazed me.”

  “Knowing how guys operate, I can’t say it amazes me.”

  “But it’s so unfair.”

  “Which is my point.” It was getting late, and I didn’t want to spend all night discussing Rachel. I felt bad enough already. “Rachel doesn’t even like Bill. How can she move to Fargo, for God’s sake, for someone she’s not madly in love with?”

  “Like I said, Rachel isn’t you.”

  “Or you. Despite Charlie.”

  “He’s twenty-one. Way too young to get serious. Charlie was just flirting with me, which is fine.”

  “No, it’s not. He hurt you.”

  “I refuse to be hurt by this, Liz. Can’t you understand?”

  It was taking everything Jane had to hang onto her dignity, and I knew I should drop the subject. Soon. “I’m not saying Charlie’s a jerk. But he was an idiot to pay attention to Stephanie and Alex.”

  “They don’t have anything to do with this.”

  “You don’t know Stephanie. Or Alex, either.” I shook my head. “Stephanie probably wants Charlie to date a hot young actress or a Hilton or Kardashian. You know, someone who can get her into all the parties and clubs and whatever. Someone who can introduce her to eligible guys, especially since I don’t think her play for Alex seems to be working out.”

  “All evidence to the contrary. She’s staying at his house in Connecticut.”

  “For Thanksgiving. Alex doesn’t have time for Stephanie. And they’d be lousy together.”

  “Liz!”

  “Oops.” I grinned. “Didn’t mean to share that theory.”

  “Is this the bony-assed theory or the push-up bra theory?”

  I blinked. “You’ve been paying attention?”

  She smiled and shook her finger at me. “More than anyone should, I have to admit. You’re shameless.”

  “Anything for you.” I hesitated, but if we were ever going to talk about an apartment, it was now. “Uh, speaking of which, Dad said he might be willing to help us get an apartment, and next semester—”

  “Here? The two of us?”

  Well, Rachel wasn’t exactly available. Besides, Dad’s offer was clear: no Jane, no help. “Actually, I was thinking more like Minneapolis. Near one of the lakes would be good.”

  “I just don’t know...”

  I tried to keep breathing, which wasn’t easy when it felt like she’d just sucked all the air out of the room. “About getting an apartment? Or about the lakes?”

  She sighed. “About anything.”

  “But you don’t want to live at home, right? You’re not even thinking about New York, are you?”

  Jane stared at me blankly.

  I shook my head. “Hey, even if Charlie is in the picture, you need a place to stay. And you don’t want to live your life around some guy, do you?”

  “I-I thought Charlie was different.”

  Yeah. All the other guys she’d dated were different, too. For the first month or two.

  She sniffled, which tends to drive me crazy, but the hollow look in her eye went right to my gut. “But if Charlie were actually interested in me, he’d come back, and Stephanie and Alex couldn’t stop him.”

  I hated to say it, but she was right. If Charlie’s feelings for Jane were anything resembling love, it was a feeble love at best. Maybe she did need to forget him.

  Watching her, I realized I wanted one thing even more than an apartment. I wanted the Jane I’d always known back. With her brain—and heart—intact.

  Chapter 11

  “Poor Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately.”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Two

  I saw less and less of Rachel, no Justin at all, and obviously no Charlie or his posse. But life was hectic. Finals started in mid-December, and Christmas followed. In the midst of all the studying and shopping and eggnogging, Uncle Ed and Aunt Molly arrived for a long weekend, leaving their kids home in New Jersey with their nanny.

  Aunt Molly had worked for Cosmopolitan, then Vogue, and now Vanity Fair, and was still hard at it, even with three young kids. My kind of role model. Plus, Aunt Molly is younger than Mom, and she knows the score. She quickly picked up on the whole Charlie situation, which probably wasn’t too hard, since Mom was so delighted and Jane so tragic.

  As soon as she could swing it, she pulled me upstairs to chat. “These things do happen, you know.”

  I stopped her with a touch on her arm. “Yeah, but it’s still weird. I mean, he acted all madly in love with her, then left town without saying anything.”

  Aunt Molly looked thoughtful. “Unfortunately, he sounds like a lot of young men. Even if he was in love, it probably isn’t the sort of love that ends with a white dress and silly little napkins that say ‘Charlie and Jane’ on them.”

  I held up a faltering finger to object.

  Aunt Molly glanced out the window. “Tell me. Do you think she’d like to come and stay with us? She could fly out the day after Christmas and stay until New Year’s. The change of sce
nery might be good for her.”

  I knew who’d love to fly out to New York for a week, but no one had invited me. “She’d love it. I mean, who wouldn’t? I know I would. If I were asked.”

  Hint, hint.

  Aunt Molly looked at me pointedly but obviously didn’t see the disappointment on my face. “I’m not trying to hook Jane up with Charlie while she’s staying with us. With the kids, we’re not in the city as much. Well, except for work.”

  “And theater and lunches and parties.”

  “Fine.” Aunt Molly grinned. “We are in town, and Jane would be, too. Still, the chance of running into Charlie is slim. Unless he wants to see her.”

  I shrugged, totally unsure of the answer to that one. I’d found Charlie’s work phone and email, and Alex’s address and phone in Connecticut. But what was the point? Jane hadn’t bothered to call or write to Charlie. “The trick will be getting to Charlie without letting his sister know.”

  Aunt Molly frowned. “They’re not friends? If Jane emailed Charlie’s sister to say when she’ll be in New York, I would think it’d be easy enough for them to get together.”

  “You don’t know Stephanie. I wouldn’t put it past her to delete Jane’s emails without reading them.”

  Aunt Molly gave me a soft jab with her elbow. “Then you’d better call or write Charlie yourself, hadn’t you? Or are you leaving it all up to Jane?”

  We both laughed as we trotted down the stairs. I wished Aunt Molly lived a lot closer to Minnesota. Or that I lived a lot closer to New York or even New Jersey.

  But not in Connecticut.

  Christmas came and went, sending Rachel to Fargo and Jane to New York, and leaving me in Woodbury, Minnesota, having a pity party for myself.

  Rachel emailed me constantly, thanks to the iPhone her dad gave her for Christmas. Despite all her protests, I doubted that Rachel’s new life was too great—I mean, we’re talking Fargo and Wild Bill—but I missed her.

  I missed Jane, too, but she’d only be gone a week. On Tuesday, her news wasn’t so hot.

  From:jane.b@mail4u.net

  To:lizzzz@mail4u.net

  You won’t believe it. I ran into Stephanie, alone, in the lingerie section at Bloomingdale’s. How embarrassing! She said she was glad to see me but asked why I hadn’t emailed. I had! When I told her, she said it must’ve bounced. Weird??? I gave her my cell phone number and hope she calls soon. She knows I leave on Sunday.

  Shaking my head, I wished Jane would just call Charlie. She had his work number, and by now I definitely had Stephanie’s number. Jane would see Charlie only if she ran into him, and it wouldn’t happen in the lingerie section of Bloomingdale’s. Of course, Stephanie hadn’t given Jane her cell-phone number, not to mention Charlie’s.

  It would’ve made it too easy for Jane to find them.

  Until I picked up Jane at the Minneapolis airport late on Sunday afternoon—New Year’s Day—I didn’t hear another word about Stephanie or Charlie or, say, anyone named Alex.

  She ran into my arms in the baggage-claim section.

  “Oh, Liz. You were so right about Stephanie.”

  Seeing the hurt on Jane’s face, I stifled my natural urge to gloat. “I’m sorry, sweetie. But don’t beat yourself up about her. She’s not worth it.”

  Jane shook her head. “She never called all week. Then, today, a half hour before we left for the airport, she emailed me. Emailed. Can you believe it?”

  I figured that was a rhetorical question.

  “She apologized for not calling me all week. She lost my phone number and didn’t email me until it was too late to get together. I don’t get it, Liz. Why was she so nice to me when they were living in Woodbury?”

  I shrugged. “Face it. You were the brightest star she saw shining around here.”

  “But she wasn’t half as nice to you.”

  So Jane had noticed. “I was competition for Alex.”

  “Alex?” Jane laughed. “She has to be kidding.”

  “Hey!” Her words stung, even though I’d rather drop dead than kiss—I mean, date—Alex. “She’s sunk her claws pretty deep into Alex. The poor guy can barely go to the bathroom without her tagging along.”

  Jane laughed again, softly, but then visibly sagged. “Charlie knew I was in town. I-I mean, of course he did. And he never called or emailed me or, you know, tried to get together. He must be seeing a lot of...that person. The ‘certain someone’ that Stephanie mentioned.”

  I held up a hand. “Why didn’t you call Charlie? Or email him? Or show up on his doorstep and ask him out?”

  She just turned bright red and stared at her feet.

  Time for Plan B. If Jane didn’t have the guts to call Charlie, I’d do it for her. But I didn’t want to micromanage Jane’s love life, or lack thereof, in the middle of the crowded baggage-claim area at the airport. I grabbed her suitcase off the carousel and steered her toward the parking ramp.

  I tried to sound casual. “You know, I could call Charlie.”

  Jane stopped so fast that someone ran into the back of her. “And say what? ‘Jane misses you?’ Please, Liz, let it drop. He’s obviously not interested.”

  “You don’t know that. And I’d be discreet.”

  Jane lifted one eyebrow. “I appreciate the offer, but no. I gave it a lot of thought on the flight home, and the truth is that—” She hesitated. “I’m over Charlie. Totally.”

  Her face didn’t look like it agreed, but what could I do? If she didn’t want help with Charlie, or if she wanted to be over Charlie, I had to respect it. Besides, if she’d really lost interest, my plan for an apartment might be back on track—but I wasn’t holding my breath. Instead, I changed the subject. “Did you have fun in New York? Was it otherwise okay?”

  Distracted, Jane stared out the darkened windows of the skyway as we walked between the terminal and the parking ramp. “Otherwise?”

  “Yeah. Other than Charlie. And Stephanie.” I shrugged. So much for changing the subject.

  “I suppose.”

  She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t feel like dragging it out of her. Only Jane could go to New York City at Christmas and have a blah time. Picturing the lights and decorations and stores and plays and the sheer hugeness of it all, I shook my head. What a waste. No guy was worth it.

  Not even Charlie, the idiot.

  Jane sighed. “You haven’t mentioned Justin, and I’ve been too preoccupied with my own problems to ask. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Really. No need to discuss Justin.” I pulled Jane’s suitcase along a little faster, hoping to end the conversation before it even started.

  “How is he, anyway? Are you going out?”

  “In a word? No.”

  Jane hustled along beside me. I was practically trotting now, and the suitcase had already clunked on its side twice.

  “That’s it? No? Haven’t you seen him?”

  I ground my Olympic pace to a halt, but only because we’d reached the elevator. “Oh, I saw him, all right. The circus troupe held a New Year’s Eve party after their show last night, and Justin hung all over Tiffany Hale. Bitch.”

  Jane frowned. “I thought he liked you.”

  “He likes a lot of girls.” I tried not to think about just how many, or if Justin had gone further in a closet with any of them than I’d been willing to go. “And Tiffany has money. Her dad died of a heart attack at Thanksgiving and left a small stash of dough to his second wife and a huge chunk to Tiffany. He probably paid for those D cups she’s been sporting since last summer.”

  “I wouldn’t want to lose Dad for all the money in the world.” Jane paused, looking thoughtful, and then turned to me. “She’s not a bitch, you know.”

  “Yeah.” I stepped into the elevator, my spine ramrod straight. “I know.”

  That was the thing. As much as I would’ve liked to, I didn’t hate Tiffany. I didn’t even hate Justin. Seeing them, I’d felt a twinge of embarrassment. I dealt with it, but I cared. Not in the fainting, can’t
-live-without-him mode that Jane had been living in for the last month, but it made me realize that I’d been a little too hung up on Justin.

  The thing is, part of why I’d liked Justin was that he seemed so uncomplicated—unlike, for instance, Alex. Justin wasn’t a guy I might actually get serious about. I mean, I have plans. I’ve always been so focused on school and my future career, I hadn’t even considered the possibility that a guy like Justin might throw me for a loop. I didn’t like the feeling.

  I didn’t like it at all.

  During the next couple of weeks, as the temps in Minnesota dropped to subarctic, I left the house only if my life depended on it—in other words, for school and takeout pizza. Unfortunately, the bitter cold meant no one else was leaving the house, either, which could get ugly if you have a sister like Lydia. Or even, say, Mary.

  Basically, I was going nuts.

  So when Mom said we were completely out of milk, juice, Diet Coke, and Lucky Charms—in other words, the basics of my existence—I grabbed my cell phone and the keys to the Jeep and drove to Kowalski’s.

  On the way there, I tried calling Rachel. No answer. After all her chirpy emails and calls the first week she’d been gone, I hadn’t heard anything from her. Was she too busy with school—or Wild Bill?—or was she blowing me off the way she had for most of November? She’d never explained, shutting me down every time I asked, and it was starting to piss me off.

  And when it got this cold in January, it wasn’t hard to get pissed off.

  I pulled into the half-empty parking lot at Kowalski’s, pulled my hat down to my eyes and my scarf up over my nose, and hustled inside as fast as I could in clunky boots. After taking a moment to unbundle myself, I pulled Mom’s shopping list out of my pocket, grabbed a cart, and got down to business.

  Twenty minutes later, I pushed the cart into the checkout lane—and hauled up short. Rachel’s mom, Doreen Langdon, was behind the counter.

  She looked as horrified as I felt.

  “Mrs. Langdon?” My eyebrows rose an instant before I pulled a blank look over my face, but she knew what I was thinking. I mean, Rachel’s mom didn’t work. She hadn’t ever worked. She didn’t need to, thanks to Norm Langdon’s brilliant inventions, and they lived in a ritzy condo to prove it. But now she was a cashier at a grocery store?