Waiting for Mr. Darcy

by Chamein Canton

  “I’d like to be at your house this morning.” George rubbed his stomach.

  She smiled. “I tell you what. If they turn out the way I want them to, I’ll have Harry here bring you a couple.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Suddenly Nathaniel appeared and rushed by them without a word.

  “Long night, I guess.” George shrugged.

  “There’s nothing surprising about that,” Alicia said dryly.

  A few minutes later Nathaniel emerged from the coffee aisle with a pound of Kona and the largest cup of brewed coffee he could get.

  “Forgive my earlier rudeness. Good morning, all.”

  “Good morning, Nate.” Harrison pushed the shopping cart to the side.

  “Hey, Harry.”

  “Good morning, Dr. Becker,” George said as he continued to stock a shelf.

  “Hey, George. How’s the family?”

  “They’re doing well, thank you. My wife’s allergies are under control, thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. How’s Allan? Is he ready for college this fall?”

  “He’s ready. Theresa and I, on the other hand, not so much. They grow up fast.”

  Nathaniel was George’s family doctor and had been good friends with him since the birth of his son seventeen years ago.

  “They certainly do.” He turned to Alicia. “And a special good morning to you, Ms. Archer. You look lovely.”

  She looked down at her black slacks and denim blouse. What the hell is he talking about? “Good morning, Mr. Becker.”

  Nathaniel looked at the clock. “Scarsdale’s own domestic doyenne is out and about already. Where do you find the energy?”

  “Clean living.”

  “I tried that. It almost killed me.”

  “That figures.”

  “Clean living is nice and all, but it’s boring. What you need is something else to help you expend your excess energy.”

  Alicia chuckled. “What excess energy? All I do is focus on what I have to do and that’s it.”

  “Do we need anything else, Alicia?” Harrison asked.

  She looked through the shopping cart. “I think we’re done.”

  George walked over to the register. “I’ll take you over here, Harry.”

  Alicia, Harrison and Nathaniel followed George to the register.

  Nathaniel stared at Alicia. “I just realized what’s different about you. You’re wearing your hair down.”

  Instead of her usual updo, Alicia had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

  “It’s a ponytail, Nathaniel,” she replied dryly. “I didn’t have the patience to deal with all those bobby pins this morning. I’ll pin it up when I start baking.”

  “Is that the main reason you always have your hair up?” He was curious.

  “It’s one of the reasons.”

  ”And here I thought it was because you’re uptight.”

  Harrison and George looked uncomfortable.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he backtracked.

  “What did you mean?” Alicia folded her arms.

  “Nothing bad, I promise you.”

  Harrison knew from Alicia’s stance she was about to let Nathaniel have it with both barrels, so he jumped in. “It looks like we’re all done, Alicia. We can head back and get started on those muffins.”

  “Good.”

  Harrison looked relieved as he picked up the tote bag they’d brought.

  “You have a great day, George. I’ll see about sending you a couple of muffins.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Archer.”

  “Have a good day, Mr. Becker.”

  “Same to you, Ms. Archer,” he called after her as he put the coffee down on the conveyor belt.

  “Have a good one, Nate,” Harrison called out.

  George rang up his order. “Is that all, Dr. Becker?”

  “No.” He watched Alicia walk by the window. “I need a bowl and a spoon.”

  “Excuse me?” George was perplexed.

  “For Ms. Archer.” He grinned.

  George smiled. “I’m afraid we can’t help you there.”

  “It’s barely seven in the a.m. and she looks amazing.” He continued to stare.

  “I’m no medical professional but I’d say you’ve got it bad, Dr. Becker.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know.”

  * * *

  In pursuit of blueberry muffin perfection Alicia worked her muffin technique for two hours. Finally, she and Harrison sat at the kitchen table with coffee and muffins. More specifically, Harrison actually ate his muffin while Alicia dissected hers.

  “What’s wrong, Alicia?”

  “Are they moist enough to you?”

  “Yes. They’re delicious.”

  “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  “No. I’ve been with you a long time, Alicia. You know I would tell you if I thought there was something wrong.”

  “Okay.” She took a bite. “A little bit of almond extract went a long way here. I think it balances the vanilla and orange extract flavors out nicely.”

  “You’re right.” He sipped his coffee. “Would you like to me to take a few to George? Lord knows, we have plenty to spare.” He looked at the counter.

  “I over-baked again.” She paused. “I think we have nearly two dozen muffins. Go ahead and box up a dozen for George. He has a teenage son, so I’m sure they won’t go to waste.”

  “Good idea.” He got up. “Why don’t you send a couple over to Nate?”

  Alicia nearly choked on her coffee. “Why?”

  “It would be the neighborly thing to do.”

  “If he were a nice neighbor, he wouldn’t have called me uptight in the store this morning.”

  Harrison knew it was a lost cause to continue. “Have you heard from Lauren or Gabby today?”

  “Lauren had a hot date so I don’t expect to hear from her for a little while. As for Gabby, it’s Sunday, which means tea with Bunny, and then she has a date tonight, too.”

  “It’s nice that things are moving along for them.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “Things could be happening for you, too, if you would slow down and let them.”

  “Please don’t start about the dating thing again, Harrison. I’m happy with my life, and that’s the end of it. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” She made a dash for her office before Harrison could say another word.

  “That woman can’t get out of her own way.” He shook his head. “I know what I’ll do.” Harrison boxed the muffins for George and then walked over to the pantry. I know she has baskets in here somewhere. He scanned the party. “Ah, here they are.” Alicia kept an assortment of baskets and accoutrements on hand. Harrison grabbed a basket and a couple of jars of strawberry preserves. He thought for a moment. “I’ve seen her do this a thousand times. Let’s see if I picked anything up.” He lined the bottom with a fresh white linen cloth and then placed the muffins in the center, flanked by the preserves. It was pretty as a picture. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.” After admiring his work he walked over to Nathaniel’s place.

  Harrison rang the doorbell.

  “Hey, Harry, what brings you by?”

  “Hi, Nate.” He handed him the basket. “Alicia asked me to bring you these muffins to go with the coffee you bought at Mrs. Green’s earlier.”

  Nathaniel’s face lit up as he lifted the cloth. “Ooh, blueberry muffins baked by her little hands. I’m touched. Please tell her thank you.”

  “I will.”

  “Would you like to come in and join me for some coffee and one of these heavenly treats?”

  “I’ll have to take a raincheck. I need to run some errands, but you enjoy.” He started to turn away.

  “Okay. I’ll see you around, Harry.”

  “Okay, Nate.”

  Nathaniel still had a grin on his face when he closed the door.

  He looked like a k
id on Christmas morning who just found a big, bright, shiny red bike. There is something between these two and I know it. Now all I have to do is get the lady of the manor to come around. Harrison walked back home.

  * * *

  While Sunday afternoon meant work for Alicia, it was usually high tea with Bunny at four p.m. sharp for Gabby. However, she’d told her mother she had an early dinner engagement with a patron in order to move tea time to one p.m. It hadn’t raised any questions.

  Dressed in a simple royal blue sheath dress, Gabby watched as Rosie set a vase of tea roses on the table.

  “Thank you, Rosie. The living room looks great.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  “Are the scones and tea sandwiches ready?”

  “Yes.” Rosie straightened her apron out.

  “Sorry about wearing your uniform on Sundays. My mother is very old school.”

  “That’s okay, Ms. Blanchard, I understand.” Rosie continued fussing with the table.

  Gabby’s style of running a household was more relaxed. Her mother, on the other hand, was a full-time socialite and had a formal staff of maids, butlers and cooks to manage the house. She ran a tight ship. As a child, Gabby had heard the staff refer to her as General Patton in black pumps, an apt description that still applied.

  Gabby looked at her watch. “My mother will be here shortly. I’m going to make a call.”

  “Okay.”

  Gabby dialed as she walked onto the terrace.

  “Hello?” Lauren whispered.

  “Lauren?”

  “Hi, Gabby. Can you hold a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” Lauren looked over at a sleeping Randy and slid out of bed. “Just one more minute,” she whispered.

  “Okay.” Gabby’s interest was piqued.

  Lauren put her robe on and went into the living room. “Thanks. How’s it going, Gabby?”

  “Fine. Are you all right? It sounds like you have a sore throat or something.”

  “I’m okay. I had to keep my voice down.”

  “I see. You have company.”

  “Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Not at all. It’s not high tea with Bunny, but it’s a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Oh, my God. Is it four o’clock already?” She rubbed her eyes.

  “No. I’m having tea with Mom a little earlier today because I have my own plans for later.”

  Lauren sat on the sofa. “Plans you don’t want Bunny to know about. I’m intrigued.”

  “I’m sure you are, but first I want to hear about Randy Rivera.”

  “Alicia has a big mouth.”

  “Honestly, she didn’t tell me much. She actually said I should call and have you fill me in.”

  “What’s to tell?”

  “I would say there’s a lot to tell, considering how it all got started with that ass Ken.”

  Lauren’s face fell. “Don’t say that name to me.”

  “I’m sorry, but he is a jackass.”

  “You won’t get an argument with me about that. Although if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have met Randy, had too much to drink and wound up in bed with him.”

  “Jesus, Lauren, that’s hardly the romantic tryst we talk about.”

  “I know, but last night was.” She grinned.

  “Oh, you got a chance for a do-over.”

  “And what a do-over it was,” she announced.

  “I’m happy for you, Lauren, but that was a little too much information.”

  “Speaking of information, what’s happening with you?”

  “I’m going out with an investment banker/artist. His name is Nigel Clark.”

  “He’s an investment banker and an artist? That’s not a combination you hear every day.”

  “I know.” She sighed dreamily. “He’s talented and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”

  “Yeah, that’s nice and all, but what does he look like?”

  Gabby closed her eyes. “He’s tall with a chocolate brown complexion, he has dark brown eyes and he’s very fit.”

  “Fit like a weight lifter or fit like Lance Armstrong?”

  “Like Lance Armstrong, only a little meatier.”

  “He sounds much better than those hair club refugees your mom tries to fix you up with.”

  “Alicia said the same thing.”

  “She’s right.”

  “He is definitely head and shoulders above them. I’m sure she has at least one candidate in mind for me today.” She sighed. “Jane said it best: ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’ God knows my mother certainly believes that.”

  “It seems she believes a woman in possession of a good fortune must be in want and need of a husband, too. So it looks like you’re getting it from both sides.”

  “Aren’t I lucky?” Gabby said sarcastically.

  “I know.” Lauren walked to her kitchen. “Have you talked to Alicia today?”

  “No. You know she’s probably working at home.”

  “I would say something but it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” She got a glass from her cabinet and went over to the counter.

  “We’re all guilty of that.”

  Lauren picked up her Blackberry. “I think she got roped into a charity luncheon on Monday.” She looked through her schedule. “I don’t have anything Tuesday afternoon. Maybe I’ll go up.”

  “Me, too. I think the Austen Aristocrats are overdue for a meeting.” The doorbell rang. “I’d better go, Bunny’s here.”

  “Tell Bunny I said hello, and you, my friend, have a good time tonight.”

  “I will, and I definitely will.” Gabby hung up and then took a minute to check her reflection before greeting her mother.

  Reed thin, coiffed and perfectly attired in a black dress with pearls, Bunny looked good for her seventy-six years. Though her step had slowed, she still managed to wear three-inch pumps.

  “You look well, Mother.” Gabby kissed her cheek and helped her to the sofa.

  “Thank you.” She looked her daughter over. “So do you, dear.”

  Gabby took a seat as well. “How’s Daddy?”

  Her father, Richard Blanchard, had had a stroke two years earlier and it had left him frail and unable to travel too much. In Gabby’s eyes, though, he was still the superman she loved.

  “Your father is doing well. He’s been asking for you.”

  “My schedule has been crazy, but I will be there soon to see him.”

  “Good.” Bunny sipped her tea. “We just got a postcard from Lizzie in Milan. She seems to be having a good time.”

  Gabby nibbled a sandwich. “’She’s having a great time, and they’re in Venice now.”

  “Venice already?”

  “That’s the beauty of the computer, Mother. I can keep up with her in real time. In fact, she emailed me last night with some pictures. She and her friends are having a blast in Europe.”

  Bunny shook her head. “I’m all for her enjoying herself, but I don’t understand why she’s coming back to work in the inner city schools when there are plenty of fine private schools that would love to have her.”

  “It’s her choice, Mother. She wants to contribute something to the lives of underprivileged children.”

  “She did have an interview with Hudson Hills Prep School, and they were going to take her until she handed them her reading list.”

  Gabby tried to hide her pride.

  “I know you’re smiling about it, but they didn’t think it was funny when she read passages from Why Should White Boys Have All the Fun, Forced into Glory and the Souls of Black Folks during her demonstration class.”

  “She said the kids liked it.”

  Bunny pursed her lips. “You encouraged her.”

  “She speaks her mind, Mother, and she always has. I can’t stop that.”

  “Then why doesn
’t she work in one of the suburban schools on Long Island or in Westchester?”

  “We’ve been around this before, Mother. It’s her life.”

  Bunny dipped her scone into the tea. “Fine, I guess her mind is made up.” She nibbled her scone. “How’s Ian doing?”

  “He’s good. He and Emily have been splitting their time between his condo in the city and a place in the Hamptons this summer.”

  “Now Emily Scofield, there’s a girl from a good family.”

  Here we go again. Gabby tried not to roll her eyes. “Ian isn’t with her because of her family. She’s a lovely girl.”

  “Yes, she is nice.” She sipped her tea again. “You know who I just ran into at the country club?”

  Here it comes. Gabby braced herself. “Who?”

  “Terrence Talbot. He was there meeting a client for golf.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “He’s single.”

  “Terrence is a nice man and all but no thanks, Mother.”

  “So he’s divorced. You’re divorced, too.”

  “I’ve been divorced once. Terrence, on the other hand, has as many ex-wives as there are days in the week.”

  “Dear, you’re forty-six years old. You can’t be too picky.”

  “No, Mother, that’s exactly why I can be picky. I’m too old to put up with just anything, no matter how great the pedigree is.”

  “Fine. Contrary to popular belief, I hadn’t planned a wedding.”

  “Thank you, Mother. Can we change the subject?”

  “Certainly. How is Alicia’s little show doing?”

  Gabby nodded her head. “It’s not a little show, Mother. Alicia’s show is nationally syndicated and she has a successful magazine to boot. I’d say she’s doing very well.”

  “That’s nice,” she said almost dismissively. “How about Lauren?”

  “She’s good.”

  “Is she still married to that ex-football player?”

  “They’re getting divorced.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Isn’t this her third marriage?”

  “Yes,” Gabby said reluctantly.

  “So I guess being divorced more than once isn’t all bad.”

  “No, Mother, for some people it isn’t. Lauren is a romantic, that’s all.”

  “Then why can’t Terrance be a romantic?”

  “Because a man who’s been married six times has something to prove.”