Adapt

by Melanie Rachel

  Will chuckled softly into his brew and took a long drink. Elizabeth could charm hummingbirds into learning to swim. “How’d Elizabeth get her to do it?”

  “I don’t know.” Richard sat heavily and stared mournfully at the video. “She’s collaborating with the enemy. Clearly been planning this. My first volley was too easy.”

  He hit the volume, and Will’s hand jerked when the general yelled, “Fitzwilliam! Get up, you lazy drag-ass!” Fortunately, he’d already drained half the coffee and nothing spilled.

  “Three in the morning, Will,” Richard groaned, laying his head on the table. “I had no idea where I was. I had no idea where she was. God, what a nightmare.”

  “Do you think Hollywood is calling, major?” the voice continued, growing even louder. “A month from now none of those fancy politicians will remember your name. But I’ll remember.” Her voice dropped, grew seductive. “I’ll remember you as the best-looking drag-ass in my company.” Then the moment was over. “Get up!”

  Will cocked his head before asking, “Okay, that’s disturbing. Best-looking?”

  “No,” Richard said definitively, waving one hand aimlessly above his bowed head. “Not going to talk about it.” He hit the power button on his laptop. “She told the general to say that. She’s traumatized me. And I was nice to her yesterday.”

  Will grinned. “I think she set this up pretty much right after the chicken soup thing.”

  Richard lifted his head. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” Will thought he had some nerve looking so aggrieved. “That’s not right, Will.”

  “No,” Will responded, shaking his head. “I had no details, and I am not in this. If you two want to battle it out, go to it. I’m neutral.”

  “Coward,” mumbled his cousin.

  “Who’s a coward?” asked a very perky Georgiana, bouncing up the stairs. Both men looked at her as though she was an alien. “Hey, don’t blame me for being fabulous no matter when I wake up,” she said with a strange giggle. She wandered over to the coffee-maker. As she reached for a mug, she whispered to Will, “I’m actually so tired, I’m punch-drunk. Don’t tell Richard.”

  “At least you can sleep on the plane,” Will mumbled. “I have to go to work.”

  “Sorry, old man,” she replied chirpily, adding cream and sugar to her mug. She sniffed appreciatively. “So good.”

  In a normal tone of voice, Will said, “I’ll miss you, G. I’m glad you’re coming back next week. We’ll catch a play or something. Let me know what you want to do.”

  “Cool.” She pointed at the laptop. “Who’s that?”

  “A parting gift from Elizabeth to Richard,” Will grinned, and then remembered, “Oh hey, G, Elizabeth is going to be out near you. She has an interview in Marin Tuesday morning.”

  “She’s not moving, is she?” Georgiana asked, sounding concerned. Will couldn’t tell whether she was worried that Elizabeth would be across the country from him or that she would be too close to Stanford.

  “No,” he replied, “it’s just a consulting thing. Mostly online.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” She bit her bottom lip. “I know you really like her, Will. I’d hate to see her so far away.”

  “Me too,” he agreed easily. “She didn’t say, but I’m guessing she’ll stop by or at least call to see if you want to go to dinner or something. I texted her your number. She’ll probably text you with hers.”

  Georgiana smiled. “Good.”

  Richard lifted his head. “That’s quite a change from, what, four days ago?”

  “Almost six.” Georgiana tossed her hair over her shoulder. “And it is. But I like her. She’s funny, and she keeps you both in line,” she joked.

  Will kissed the top of his sister’s head. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, G,” he said fondly. “It’s important to me that you two get along.”

  Georgiana’s face creased again, this time with something Will thought was insecurity. “It is?” she asked.

  Surprised, he put more emphasis on his words than might have been wise. “Yes, G. Elizabeth’s important to me, but so are you. And you always will be.” He couldn’t help but feel a bit incredulous that she’d doubt it. “You know that, right?”

  “Well,” she said warily, “I haven’t exactly been the nicest person to you lately.”

  Richard made a noise from his position at the table, his head still pillowed on his arms, something between choking and snorting.

  Will smiled, relieved. He set his mug down and took his sister’s face gently between his hands. “This might be giving you too much power, but I’ll trust you not to abuse it.” He waited until she lifted her eyes to meet his. “You’re stuck with me. No matter what.”

  “You two are giving me cavities,” Richard moaned, his voice muffled.

  “Shut up, Richard,” Will and Georgiana said simultaneously.

  As though he hadn’t heard them, Richard stood, walked over to Georgiana, and kissed her once on the top of the head. “See you in a week, squirt.”

  “Bye,” Georgiana said, and gave him a little nudge with her hip. “It’s great to have you home.”

  “It’s good to be here,” Richard replied sleepily. As Will moved his mug to the sink, he heard Richard snap his fingers. He turned to watch a self-satisfied smile spread across his cousin’s face. “Got it,” he said simply. He turned to collect his computer and strolled out of the kitchen.

  Georgiana hooked a thumb in the general direction of the staircase. “What’s he up to now?”

  Will shook his head. “Neutral.” He glanced at his watch again. “It’s time to go, G.”

  The weather was remarkably mild for November, Elizabeth thought, as she stepped out of the airport and lifted her face to the sun. She made her way through the maze to the rental counter across the street, sending Will a quick text as she walked. Soon she was on a shuttle bus to pick up her car. As she drove out onto the freeway in a sleek Mustang convertible, she ignored the signs for the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead, she turned south, towards the sign for the 280 freeway and Palo Alto.

  The southbound traffic was beginning to get heavy, and she was relieved she’d escaped the airport in time to miss the worst of the rush. When she exited the freeway thirty minutes later, she had to patiently wend her way through the glut of departing tech workers in the professional corridor near the university. Finally, she swung the car into a visitor’s spot relatively close to Georgiana’s dorm and sent her a text message. It’s E. I’m on campus.

  The reply was nearly instant. That was fast.

  Yep, Elizabeth typed. Stalking you.

  Funny. Hungry? G had a good sense of humor. Elizabeth was pretty sure they’d be friends if she just kept at it.

  Starving, she replied. She waited for about thirty seconds, and then Georgiana asked where she was.

  Elizabeth gave her location, offering a few landmarks, and about twenty minutes later, Georgiana appeared. She was wearing dark brown knee boots and a long, slim skirt with a deep red blouse, a suede jacket clutched in one hand. Her hair was pulled casually back and secured in a large, tortoise-shell clip. Elizabeth smiled. She looks like she just stepped out a magazine article on well-dressed co-eds. Kit would approve.

  “Nice car,” Georgiana said approvingly as she slid into the passenger seat and pulled the shoulder belt down. “I didn’t have you pegged as a convertible girl.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I saw it on the lot, and I couldn’t resist. I just paid for the upgrade.” I always wanted one of these.

  “The only thing that would be better would be if it was red,” Georgiana said, leaning back.

  “Too flashy,” grinned Elizabeth. “I like black.” She wheeled them out of the parking spot and asked for directions.

  “I’d say let’s go down the coast,” Georgiana replied, “but the traffic is awful this time of day, and I’m going to meet up with Juraj later.” She smiled shyly. “He picked me up from the airport and was so sweet. He brought me
flowers.” She glanced over at Elizabeth. “I thought you’d like to meet him.”

  Elizabeth caught the hopeful optimism in the girl’s expression. She smiled, but it was a dark sort of pleasure she was feeling. “I would, Georgiana,” she said, trying to sound pleased.

  “Let’s just go to California Avenue, then,” Georgiana replied happily. She squirmed in the leather seat. “We could’ve walked, but you can only park here for an hour.” She tossed her hair back. “You have to come back to see me before you leave so we can take this car out on the road.”

  “Is Juraj meeting you for dinner or after?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Dinner and drinks.” Georgiana bit down on her bottom lip. “I said I’d treat him before he had to leave for Europe.”

  Elizabeth grunted. “He lets you drink? Don’t you have to be twenty-one?”

  Georgiana stayed silent.

  “Never mind,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit to a little underage drinking myself.” Georgiana’s face relaxed. “But,” she warned, “you have a lot more at stake if you get caught than I did. Nobody was waiting to take my picture and put it in the tabloids.” She stopped at a red light. “And it doesn’t exactly improve my opinion of your boyfriend.”

  “Juraj says it’s foolish not to allow us to drink until we’re twenty-one. It just encourages teens to drink secretly and be reckless. It’s much different in Europe,” Georgiana said as though it was a well-rehearsed argument.

  “But you aren’t in Europe, Georgiana,” Elizabeth replied.

  “You know,” Georgiana replied, changing the subject, “You can call me G. Just not

  Georgie. I hate that.”

  Elizabeth nodded and let it go. College students everywhere drank on occasion. At least G was having an after-dinner drink at a nice restaurant, not slugging down beers at a kegger.

  California Avenue was only a few minutes from campus. In no time at all, they’d found a place to park and were strolling the length of the shopping district, Georgiana popping into various stores to show Elizabeth her favorite places. There was a grocery store with a big kosher section that Georgiana said made her feel like she was in New York. Then she needed to pick up a pair of heels she’d left at the cobbler for repair before heading home for the holiday. Georgiana then proceeded to drag her through three different jewelry stores before pulling her into a French restaurant called Le Fruitier.

  “I’m not so sure about French food, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said reluctantly, allowing the girl to drag her to the hostess’s station.

  “Do you trust me?” Georgiana asked seriously. “It’s hard to get a reservation for this place, Elizabeth, and I really don’t want to give it up.”

  Elizabeth grimaced, thinking of heavy cream sauces and expensive wine. “All right.”

  They followed the hostess to a table and sat down. It was early for dinner, so they were the only ones in the place. Elizabeth picked up her menu and moved to the chair on Georgiana’s left, opposite a large hanging mirror in which she could see the entrance.

  “You know,” Georgiana said off-handedly, opening her own menu, “Richard does that too.”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked, already studying the menu.

  “He won’t sit where he can’t see the door.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Habit.” It had been one of her nightmares in the months following the attack. The terrorists all filing into the restaurant, the last one turning his head just a fraction of an inch farther to the right, seeing the booth behind the door, his eyes finding Elizabeth’s, raising his gun . . .

  “Hey,” Georgiana said. She was waving a hand in front of Elizabeth’s face. “Earth to Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth grimaced and closed her menu without reading it. “Sorry. I haven’t a clue what any of this food is. I was in Paris for one weekend, and I ate more Indian than anything else.”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Georgiana replied with a toss of her manicured hand. “Do you like fish?” She ordered for the two of them and added a third meal after receiving a text.

  Elizabeth was feeling oddly relaxed. “When do I get to meet this mystery man?” she asked.

  “Oh, he was held up in seminar,” Georgiana said, checking the time. “He should be here in a few minutes—he asked me to order for him. He’s been looking forward to tonight.” She shrugged, her expression a bit anxious. “I didn’t tell him you were joining us, so I guess he’ll be surprised to meet you.”

  She was right—Georgiana had been listening. To her, to Richard, and to her brother.

  By all means, Elizabeth thought. Let’s surprise him. “I’m going to go wash my hands,” she told Georgiana. “I’ll be right back.”

  She took her phone out of her pocket when she reached the bathroom—there was an incredible zoom on the camera that Georgiana had said she’d want. Elizabeth hadn’t believed it then, but she was happy for it now. She selected Abby’s number and sent a text. Need an ID. Photo coming through soon. Are you available?

  A few seconds later, she had her response. Playing spy games, Dutch?

  Abby’s brain always went to worst-case scenarios. Of course, Abby might think only such a situation would cause her to text for help—she wasn’t far off. Garden-variety crook, but need the ID.

  You know I owe you. Send it on.

  She left Abby’s number open and opened the bathroom’s door just a crack. A bleached- blond man just shy of six feet tall with a goatee, black-framed glasses, and dark skinny jeans was making his way to the table.

  “Ewww, G,” she whispered as she took several shots. “No man wears pants that tight outside of a period film.” Will in a period costume briefly intruded on her thoughts, but she forced herself back to the present. She ducked back into the bathroom to send off the pictures.

  Received, was the message from Abby. Give me an hour.

  An hour. Enough time for dinner, she thought. She really was hungry.

  “Juraj,” Georgiana said sweetly, “This is my friend, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth smiled, watching the man’s face register surprise and irritation before he could contain it. “Hello, Juraj. It’s nice to meet you. G has told me a lot about you.”

  His responding smile was all that was genial. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Elizabeth,” he said, rising from the table and holding out his hand. “Georgiana’s not told me anything about you.”

  “You’re probably just more interesting than I am,” she told him with a small laugh, and sat down. “So, how did you two meet?”

  “Yes, Juraj, tell her,” Georgiana said with a smirk.

  “Well, we met on campus at the Axe and Palm,” Juraj explained, reaching out to take one of Georgiana’s hands. “It was crowded, and I tripped . . .”

  “And spilled an entire orange juice smoothie on me.” Georgiana laughed. “I was sticky all through my sociology class. Very suave move.”

  Juraj smiled. “And I suggested we go out so I could make it up to her.”

  “He escorted me to class and then waited outside for me to finish so I wouldn’t feel like a giant idiot when I had to walk across campus back to the dorm.” Georgiana’s smile was not as bright as Juraj’s.

  Elizabeth winked at the girl. “Orange juice, huh? It’s just like in Notting Hill,” she said cheerfully. “Where Hugh Grant spills orange juice on Julia Roberts, right?”

  Georgiana’s eyebrows pinched together, and Juraj shook his head, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. “I’ve never seen it. Is it good?”

  Elizabeth shrugged and eyed him. “I thought the ensemble actors were better than the leads, but that’s just me.” She gave him what she hoped was a convincingly innocent look and reached for her water.

  They chatted amiably until the food arrived. Although Juraj didn’t have much to add to the conversation, he followed it closely and agreed with Georgiana about everything. Every so often, he offered her a compliment. Elizabeth found the flattery a little too florid, and
Georgiana seemed to be embarrassed by it. Perhaps she was noticing how hard Juraj was pressing, now that she’d had some time away from him.

  The food was amazing, though the portions were a bit small. Elizabeth noticed no prices on the menu. I would never voluntarily go to eat somewhere that doesn’t tell me what I’m spending. Georgiana picked over her food. She glanced over at Juraj a few times with a curious expression on her face, something between concern and pique.

  “So,” he asked at last, as they were finishing their meals, “you never said how you know Georgie, Elizabeth.”

  Georgiana winced, and Elizabeth glanced over at her, one eyebrow arched at the nickname.

  “I met Georgiana through her brother,” Elizabeth remarked casually. “And I met Will through his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam. We were in the Marine Corps together.” She held his gaze steadily.

  He blinked first. “I’ve really been anticipating this meal,” Juraj said at last. “It’s difficult to get a reservation here.”

  “Georgiana said that,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Was it a problem to have a third chair added?”

  “Oh, it was no problem,” G hurried to assure her. “The reservation was for four, but my friends couldn’t make it,” she explained. “They canceled over the weekend.”

  Elizabeth popped a piece of asparagus into her mouth. When she swallowed, she asked, “Did they say why?”

  “No,” Georgiana began, but Juraj interrupted her.

  “I asked them not to come,” he admitted, appearing reluctant to confess. “I had a very particular question to ask Georgie tonight and thought this place would be a perfect backdrop.” Georgiana’s eyes widened, and Juraj leaned in close to her. In a deep, seductive voice, he said, “It’s all right, Georgie, I know you didn’t know. I wanted this to be a surprise for you. I suppose I should have given you a hint.” He glanced up at Elizabeth. “I don’t suppose you could give us a moment, Elizabeth?”

  Her phone buzzed. Perfect timing. “Just a minute,” Elizabeth said, reaching for her phone. It was Abby’s text. Juraj scowled at her flippant dismissal. She smiled.