by Sara Marks
As she grew more sympathetic to Wil, her anger shifted to Caroline. Caroline seemed to be at the center of all this. Caroline had gotten to know Jane. They had often spent days together working on class projects or hanging out. Lizbeth’s assumptions about Wil had gone through the filter of Caroline. Lizbeth couldn’t recall seeing Caroline since Halloween and wondered if she and Jane had spoken. Wil assumed they had, but Lizbeth wasn’t sure.
Lizbeth ran through all these thoughts on the flight back to school, replaying past events over in her head. Wil Darcy was no longer the entitled, judgmental, proud man she had insisted he was. Suddenly he was an orphan in charge of everyone and everything with minimal help. He was trying to protect his only sister and his loyal friends from a world that judged them based on their money rather than on who they were. What lengths would and had she gone to do the same? Lizbeth mistrusted people and withheld information. For the first time since Halloween she was glad Jorge had given up on her before possibly stealing her identity. Other than Jane and Charlotte, none of her sorority sisters had any idea of the life she went home to on vacations.
Now, lying in her bed trying to nap, Lizbeth decided she couldn’t worry about Caroline, Jorge, or Wil. What Wil’s letter confirmed was that Mrs. C was a problem. Marie was right to want to report their housemother to the national office. It was impacting the reputation of the sorority on campus. The heart of the problem was a lax attitude to how the sorority was represented outside of the house and how that would impact recruiting new members. Lizbeth wasn’t worried about them academically anymore. The problem was that she had focused entirely on academics, assuming that Jane, Lydia, and Marie would take care of other issues. Clearly, she needed to be more involved.
Lizbeth got out of bed, opened a notebook, and mapped out her plan for improving their reputation. The first step was cutting down on the parties in and out of the house. Unless it involved a huge financial commitment, she would insist that Lydia cancel the remaining parties for the semester. Lizbeth looked over the calendar and decided there would only be one more event for the semester: a fundraiser for Toys for Tots. By the time Jane got back to the house, Lizbeth had destroyed Lydia’s calendar for the spring semester and felt she had regained some control over the situation.
“Lizbeth, you can’t stop Lydia from doing what she wants. I admit, her staying at the sorority house with Mrs. C. on Thanksgiving worries me, but if her parents are okay with her trip to Mexico, then who are we to judge?” Jane said when Lizbeth mentioned her conversation with Lydia.
The two sorority sisters were sitting alone in the study room before an officers’ meeting that night. Lizbeth was expecting Lydia to storm off or have a tantrum when she heard Lizbeth’s cancellation of her events. Lizbeth knew, if she expected Jane to help with Lydia, she needed to share her knowledge about how outsiders were judging them.
“I feel like this is a recipe for disaster. What money does she have? Who are the friends she is going with?” Lizbeth said.
“She is doing what most girls our age do.”
“It doesn’t make it right and these situations usually end up in rape or alcohol poisoning.”
“You’re worrying about possibilities that are more likely to not happen. Lydia is an adult and she has to learn how to make good decisions. That might mean she gets into a little trouble first.”
“What about Mrs. C? She seems to be encouraging Lydia’s poor choices. I heard her say something to Lydia about meeting another rich college boy in Mexico. The woman is totally inappropriate and her actions are crossing the line. People aren’t saying positive things about us.”
“Wil Darcy’s not saying positive things about us,” Jane said.
Lizbeth had told Jane some of what had happened over Thanksgiving. She had left out some of the contents of the letter. Although Caroline had brushed her off before the holiday started, Jane still reached out again while at home. Lizbeth wasn’t surprised that Caroline hadn’t responded to any of Jane’s messages and calls.
“Wil’s right! People may not be saying it to our faces, but since when does a housemother show up at a private party outside of the house? We have a valid complaint to send to the national office, and we know Marie agrees.”
“I’m not saying he’s wrong, I’m just trying to make sure you aren’t merely being reactive to Wil. There isn’t anything we can do about what’s already happened. We need to focus on her actions moving forward. We should talk to her about what’s expected from her. If she doesn’t adjust her behavior then we can report her. We have to give her a chance.”
“There is something else I need to tell you,” Lizbeth said and then told Jane the content of the letter related to her and Charlie.
When Lizbeth was done Jane sat there, staring at her hands and thinking.
“This explains everything,” Jane eventually said.
“You’re not reacting the way I expected.”
“Caroline is looking out for her brother. You would do the same. She’s not being malicious.”
“Are you sure?”
“To be honest, I don’t know, but I want to assume the best. I was very conservative with the relationship. It has made it easier to get over it.”
“You’re over Charlie?”
“Of course.”
Lizbeth didn’t believe Jane. Jane would suffer in silence rather than let others worry about her. Lizbeth just couldn’t get over what Caroline had done and was surprised that Jane could forgive that. Leaving Jane in the dark, after going out of her way to become her friend, was something Lizbeth felt very hard to justify and forgive.
Lizbeth dominated the officer meeting. She explained their expectations for their housemother to Mrs. C. Marie kept her mouth shut for most of the meeting, but Lydia was ready to defend Mrs. C at every turn.
“After this semester, we realized that it would be helpful if we explained what we need from a housemother. We know everyone approaches it differently and the national office is very vague with your duties,” Lizbeth said.
“All they told me was that I was expected to manage the house and be a good role model for you. I think I’ve done both very well,” Mrs. C said.
“I think we all agree you have done an amazing job running the house. We appreciate all the work you do to make sure things get fixed quickly. Most of the time, when we hear your reports at officer meetings, we didn’t realize something was broken. The house staff has wonderful things to say about you,” Jane said.
“That’s because she’s awesome,” Lydia said. “She’s doing what good moms do.”
“Right,” Lizbeth said. “That brings me to our concerns. While we appreciate your exuberance, we feel it would be best if you focused more on running the house. You are under no obligation to feed us from your own food. Our meals are paid for, and it is best if we eat with the rest of our sisters rather than have all our dinners in your rooms. Also, we would like you to limit your social interactions with us to what happens in the house. We are trying to learn how to take care of ourselves, and having a mother-type hanging around outside of the house shines a very specific type of light on the sorority that I, at the very least, am afraid will hurt our image and ability to recruit future members.”
Mrs. C looked to each of the other sorority sisters at the table. She was clearly agitated.
“Is this about Halloween? I was invited to that party,” she said.
“I invited her to that party. It was my party,” Lydia said.
“No,” Jane said to Lydia. “It was Charlie’s, Caroline’s and Wil’s party. It’s their home, not our house.”
“Regardless, it’s one thing for an invite to be made and another for it to be accepted,” Lizbeth said trying to keep the conversation on track.
“What Lizbeth means,” Jane said to Mrs. C, “is that we understand you want to get to know us, but in the future, if you are invited to
a party outside of the house by a member of the sorority, please decline the invite. However good the intentions of the inviter or you, it hurts us more than helps us. Think of yourself as the house manager, not mother.”
Mrs. C pouted and said nothing.
“That being said, I’m making changes to our calendar for the rest of this semester and the spring semester. We need to cut back on the parties. I don’t want us to get back on academic probation, and we need to do some serious repairs to our reputation on campus,” Lizbeth said.
“What kind of changes?” Lydia said.
Lizbeth shared her new calendar and explained what had been cut and why. She let her fellow board members go over the changes and waited for comments. Lydia looked at their housemother and the two of them shared a small nod.
“Well,” Lydia said. “I think you made your point. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.”
The meeting broke up without incident. Lizbeth felt let-down and only Marie seemed pleased with the outcome. Lizbeth went back to her room and, before opening a research paper she had to finish, created a document on a shared drive. She labeled it “Mrs. C” and shared it with Jane and Marie. Right now, these two were the only sisters she had any inclination to trust to see things clearly.
***
Lizbeth was thrilled to be home with her family for the holidays. The last few weeks of the semester had been stressful, with exams to study for and papers to write. Lizbeth had put her head down and gotten through it all. She didn’t see Wil, Charlie, or Caroline, between Thanksgiving and the end of the semester. She assumed Wil was making a point of avoiding her, even in class. She was barely aware of Jane and her growing depression. Lizbeth didn’t have time to fully support her friends, but hoped the break would clear everyone’s head. The one thing she did do was invite Lydia to New York again, but Lydia rejected the idea. When Lizbeth left for the break, a few sorority sisters were still studying for exams. Mrs. C and Lydia were left in charge of making sure the house was closed up for the break.
After a few days in Boston, her father turned responsibility for the restaurant over to his protégé and sous chef, Ryan. The family made their way to New York City and the brownstone they owned on the Upper East Side. Lizbeth had declined to tell most of her friends about her life beyond the sorority. Most had no idea that she had been born in New York City and had spent the first 10 years of her life there while her father established himself as a chef. Her father, Jack, was both a famous chef and the son of a famous chef. He was supposed to inherit the empire, but burned out. They had luckily been able to live on her mother’s income after that happened. Her mother, Layla, wrote bestselling mysteries under a pseudonym. When Jack’s burnout turned into a paralyzing depression, Layla moved the family to Boston. For a year, Jack refocused himself. He took care of the kids while Layla worked on her books. Eventually he decided to buy a small bistro by their Back Bay brownstone and it became “Jack’s”. This restaurant had attracted plenty of attention over the past 10 years and people were now pushing Jack to follow in his father’s footsteps. Jack refused, content to stay small.
Jack and Layla had not sold the New York City townhouse when they moved to Boston. They kept everything there as it was. These days they just spent winter breaks there, but the plan was to let one of the kids take it over someday. None of their three children had given it much thought. It was still a family home and felt that way. The kitchen had recently been remodeled as Layla’s holiday gift to Jack. There was usually a fire going in the den, where Lizbeth, Josh, and Becca liked to hang out to read or nap. Their bedrooms, while still holding the furniture they had as children, reflected more of their adult selves. Lizbeth’s room was full of books and book-related art. Josh’s room was full of Star Wars action figures and models. Becca’s room was covered in glow-in-the-dark stars and pictures of friends. The family spent most of their time together in the kitchen.
“This Wil Darcy fellow,” Jack said as he made dinner for them their first night in the city.
It was three days before Christmas. Layla and Jack, coming from mixed religious backgrounds, had mixed all the holidays together in their home. The kids got presents, but there was never a tree for Christmas or candles for Chanukah or anything else. Christmas Eve usually found them out at her grandfather Abe’s restaurant. This was not a family that did anything in a traditional way. Jack’s father scoffed at it, but Layla’s family had embraced the nonconformity.
“Where did that come from?” Lizbeth said.
She hadn’t told her family anything about Wil other than his name.
“Well, you refused to tell us about him so we went looking,” Layla informed her oldest child.
Lizbeth and Layla were helping Jack prepare dinner for the family. Lizbeth was chopping onions and taking her time to make sure her cuts were consistent. Layla was doing little more than watching Jack cook.
“Katherine de Bourgh’s nephew is at school with you, and you don’t think that’s important?” Jack said.
“What’s the big deal about her?” Becca asked.
Becca, the youngest of Jack and Layla’s children, was still in high school. Unlike her siblings, Becca looked like neither parent. Becca had long, straight, strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. She was tall and lean. Layla and Lizbeth looked very similar. Josh, the middle child and only boy, looked like Jack with straight dirty blond hair and blue eyes.
“Katherine de Bourgh is the one who won’t stop pushing me to build an empire to compete with your grandfather,” Jack explained.
Lizbeth watched Layla roll her eyes.
“Charlotte mentioned something about Katherine liking your restaurant. Does she know about your connection to the Gardner house?”
“No,” Jack said. “I want to keep it that way. She’d only get more aggressive and harass people who have no say in the matter. She has gone to my father to persuade him to intervene.”
“That seems counterproductive,” Lizbeth said.
“She’s getting desperate,” Jack said.
“What did you learn about Wil Darcy that you want to share with me?” Lizbeth asked her mother.
“Oh, nothing much,” Layla said. “We thought we might get you to share something about him. When someone comes to the door looking for you and quickly leaves, we have to wonder about what we missed.”
“I wonder too,” Becca said. “Three men were in love with Lizbeth this semester.”
Lizbeth had told her sister about Colin, Jorge, and most of what had happened that fall.
“Three men?” Jack said. “How have I not met any of them?”
“Well, you sort of met Wil and I didn’t know he was in love with me. I’m not in love with him. I told you about Colin Collins.”
“Not that he was in love with you,” Layla said.
“Well, he proposed, but I don’t actually think he was in love with me.”
“He proposed?” Jack said.
“Obviously, I said no.”
“Didn’t he marry Charlotte?” Layla asked.
“My point exactly, but somehow they make a good match.”
“Who was the third?”
“His name is Jorge. He wasn’t what he seemed and it didn’t work out.”
***
The next night they went to a holiday party. Katherine de Bourgh had gotten them invited, in yet another attempt to entice Jack. She promised that a number of prominent investors would be present and looking for new opportunities.
“She’s not going to be there. That’s one of the reasons I accepted,” Jack said.
“Why does she want you to go?” Josh asked.
“To meet other potential investors. I’m not going to talk about food at the party. I’m going to talk about your mother’s latest bestseller and see if we can get people to read some of her literature.”
Layla and J
ack had met in Paris even though both were American. Jack had been sent there to cook with some of the best chefs and Layla to study at the Sorbonne. They had spent time at the same cafe, but didn’t meet one another until Layla started eating at the restaurant where Jack worked. Now Layla was internationally recognized for her mystery novels, but her true passion was more academic. She wanted to reshape literature written by women. Not only did she write semi-biographical novels under her own name, about the experiences of a woman (a la Erica Jong), but she wrote nonfiction, academic books about perceptions of women novelists. She was very well-respected for her non-mystery work, but it was not as lucrative as mystery novels. She could churn out a best-selling and formulaic mystery novel without thinking. She put effort into her real passion and Jack loved to shine a light on his brilliant wife.
The party was in a penthouse apartment only a few blocks from their house. They could easily have walked over, but instead they took a car. Since all three women were wearing new high-heeled shoes, the less walking on icy sidewalks, the better. Lizbeth had found an amazing black, sleeveless dress on a clearance rack. It looked fantastic on her. This was the extent of Lizbeth’s excitement for the party. She suspected she and her two siblings would be the youngest people there.
“We’re going to play a game,” Becca said on the elevator ride up to the party. “Each of us must find something interesting about the apartment. Lizbeth, a measly library does not count. Nor, Josh, does the food or kitchen. I want mermaid statues in the bathroom, rooftop sex rooms, or, if you’re desperate, famous socialites puking over the balcony.”
“Becca!” Layla said as the elevator door opened right into the apartment.
To say the apartment was big would be insufficient. There were at least two floors, and probably something on the rooftop. The space was large and open with a grand staircase leading up to the second floor. Lizbeth could see the walls of windows, many leading out to the balcony that overlooked the city. The main room was devoid of furniture other than high-end folding chairs. It was full of people with food and drinks in hand. Waitresses walked around the room with trays of food. Lizbeth saw a buffet against a far wall and a bartender serving drinks. Two walls were just floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. She could see a few people chatting out on a balcony outside. Inside the decor was primarily white and metal.
