by Maggie Way
Caroline Bingley gasped loudly. Or perhaps it was just echoed by the sisters’ collective gasps.
“Mother, please.” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Darcy is here working with our company.”
“Well, you’ll do well to watch your back, Lizzy. His father wasn’t cold in the ground when he shut the paper down and several people lost their jobs.”
Certain there was little truth in that statement, Bill wanted to defend Darcy. As much as Bill and his own father were polar opposites, Darcy and his father were cut from the same cloth, and a remark that he wasn’t filling his shoes had to cut deeply. Though one couldn’t tell if it affected Darcy at all. The only indication was his posture had straightened more, if possible.
“Looks like you’ve done well regardless.” Darcy was holding the cupcake paper in one hand, his other hand resting casually in the pocket of his dark washed jeans. His lack of reaction was not surprising to Bill, but Mrs. Bennet got ruffled up about it. She was a tabloid rumormonger, she liked getting people worked up, and not to do so was something she likely interpreted as a personal failure.
“I see that you’re doing what you do best and slowly destroying everything your father built—”
“Mother,” Elizabeth interjected, taking her mother’s arm. “Did you see Lydia was here? I bet she’s missed you. Let us take you to her now. We can get a drink on the way. I bet you’re thirsty from your travel here.” Elizabeth spun her mother around and speed-walked her across the lawn of the park.
“Still want to see the town?” Jane asked Bingley, who appeared to be torn between going with the girl who’d captured his interest and his friend who’d just taken some hits.
“I, ah—I’ll catch up with you. Soon.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Chaz,” Caroline bit out.
Jane smiled, walked a few steps backward, then turned, and followed her sister.
“I need to get some video footage. You all right, Darcy? Want me to hack into her accounts and move her money out or something?” Anne started walking away, backward. “You know I can do it?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. She’s said worse before.” He gave a wry smile. “Where can I dispose of this?” He was still holding the cupcake wrapper.
“Oh, I can take that. Sorry.” Lottie grabbed it and tossed it in the trash under the table.
“Shall we go walk the town, Caro? Maybe see if we can find you an antique or two?” Darcy held out his hand, and after she took it, he said, “We’ll catch up with you, Chaz, later.” They strolled off as if the event had never happened.
“Well,” Lottie said. “He was quite gracious just then. Mrs. Bennet's hard to keep your cool around.”
She appeared shell-shocked herself. It would seem the assault affected the others more than Darcy.
Bill contemplated Lottie. Something was different. He liked the way her hair fell with the fat braid. It made him remember times in her tree house when they’d laugh and he’d feel safe. Though the low cut of her T-shirt did not remind him of those days. When had Little Lottie Lucas filled out? Maybe a long time ago, considering he was used to seeing her with an apron on over baggy clothes.
Jeez, for a pastor and counselor he sucked at observation.
“You need help with anything?” he asked while eyeing the cupcakes. Sometimes she let him take the leftovers to his students. It helped with the course reviews he was obligated to request. These cupcakes would go over well, if he didn’t mention their names.
“I could use some help bringing a few more things from the van, but everything else is set up. I have to get the natural mosquito repellant out before the sun sets or this party will be over before someone can say hydrocortisone.”
Bill chuckled. “Steer me in the direction of the Cupcake Chariot? Or the Cupcake Machine.” He started scanning the distance for her bright robin’s eye blue van.
From behind him she chuckled, a soft floaty sound he had heard a million times but today did something to him in places that surprised him.
“Neither of those work, you know.” Her voice had a soft yet slightly husky tone that rippled through him and sent all his nerve endings on full alert.
Was he getting turned on by Lottie Lucas? He glanced at the cupcake table and wondered if she spiked them with more than liqueurs? Something magical? Not that she did that sort of thing, but what had happened today that changed everything? Yesterday he’d sat on her counter while she made scones and talked about the cliffhanger to his favorite show and not once had he thought about pushing her up against the counter and licking the frosting from her lips.
Jeez!
Now that was all he could think about. He turned to her. Not that she had frosting on her lips, but there was enough at hand that he could rectify that situation immediately.
“Bill?” She was holding out her keys.
“Ah, well, ah, they didn’t solve mysteries in the mystery machine, but that’s what they called it.” He snatched the keys and saw his hand was trembling. He tucked them in his back pockets.
“Keep trying. You’ll come across a name that works. The van is parked there.”
He followed her finger to a spot closest to the tables. Her long curvy arm was toned from all that batter-stirring and bread-kneading.
“I’m coming right behind you. I want to grab some of the empty carafes.” She smiled up at him, and for the first time ever he saw Charlotte. Sure, he always knew she was a smart, forward thinking businesswoman with a level head, but he also saw a single woman with thick chestnut hair and behind her glasses were captivating green eyes. He thought about how on hot summer days he’d catch her lounging around in boxer shorts. In a flash all those memories slammed into his mind’s eye, and he could see nothing else but her, looking dead sexy in a T-shirt and men’s underwear.
“Are you okay?” She waved a hand in front of his face.
“What? Yeah, fine. Just thinking.”
“About what? You're a million miles away.” She tilted her head to the side and waited, and he adored that about her. She always gave him her undivided attention. Even while prepping food or in the middle of rush hour, she’d stop and wait.
“Ah—”
He was bumped from behind and almost ran Lottie down, having to grab her at the top of her arms to stop his momentum.
“Sorry,” came the voice behind him.
Bill turned to find it was that bakery-owning guy.
“I want to try another. I think I have an addiction to your cupcakes, Charlotte. I look forward to meeting with you tomorrow.” He winked at her and strolled away with two cupcakes in hand.
When Bill looked back at Lotts she had a serious blush going on. “Are you interested in that guy? He comes off kinda…well, greasy, if you will. Maybe smarmy is a better word.”
“Hush, Bill.” She crossed her arms. “Why shouldn’t I be interested? He’s interested in my cupcakes and has the ability to distribute them to more people than I see here in Meryton.”
“I mean, the winking and flirting kinda interested?” He’d thought the words. Had decided to not say them only to have them roll out anyway.
She shrugged. “I’m not getting any younger, and I would like to marry. I don’t see anyone else interested, do you?” She bit her lip and avoided eye contact.
Bill didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t ready for life around him to change—a lot. It needed to happen slowly. One bit at a time.
“But I did submit a questionnaire to Lizzy’s place. So hopefully all that will change.” She crossed her fingers on both hands and paired it with a large smile. He expected her to roll her eyes, to add some snark to the comment, but she didn’t.
Jeepers! Wasn’t that moving too fast? He knew he couldn’t keep things how he wanted, not changing, forever. But couldn’t he just deal with one issue at a time? Lady Catherine, Meryton Matchmakers, his job at the seminary seemed like enough for now. Lottie in the pursuit of happiness? Actively seeking. He’d have to mull that over some more. Inst
inctively, he didn’t like it. Why, though, was another question.
He thought about some of the guys that had recently signed-up for a match. Strong military men, a burly firefighter, and even a chef. Any of those men would be stupid not to fall for Lotts. Shoot, in his sound mind he knew it required more than just seeing her to love her, or anyone for that matter, but she was the full package. She could cook, was funny, easy to be around. Yeah, for him she lacked a little faith, but at least she never made fun of his. He wondered what the odds were on her finding an agnostic match to his finding a God-loving woman? God-loving in the same manner as he was. He wasn’t really into zealots or pretenders. Just a nice, even-keeled woman, who believed in something more than herself and everything she read on the Internet. He’d bet Lottie would have an easier time. Hands down.
“Hey, Lotts, what are you doing Saturday night?” He had an idea that wouldn’t let go. He knew he should really think about this plan, but once the idea had planted, it took root and had blossomed. Besides, if he was going to share his more personal secret side with someone, why not her? She knew just about everything else about him.
“Why? I mean, you know. The usual. Whatever. It’s my Sunday off so Saturday is free for me to do whatever. I don’t care what I do as long as I sleep in.”
“I want to show you something, care to go into the city with me?” He tossed her keys from hand to hand, waiting for her to accept. Hoping she would. Scared if she did.
“New York City or Boston?”
“New York.” The cupcake he’d eaten earlier was sitting like a rock in his stomach. Was he ready for someone to know his secret? The more time it took for her to answer, the less certain he was.
“Sure. What time? We driving or taking the train?” She flipped that sexy braid over her other shoulder, and he was done for. Yeah, taking her would be okay. Because it was Lotts after all. And she was awesome.
“Both. I’ll come by around seven. Sound good?”
She nodded. “Is casual good?”
Casual what? Sex? Probably frowned about by his peers and ultimate Boss.
“What? Oh, clothes, yeah.” He started repeating Bible verses in his head, starting with John 1:1.
“Sounds interesting.” She stepped away then turned back suddenly. “Oh, be careful with the top container of cupcakes. The handle is broken so don’t use that to carry it.”
“Got it,” he said and watched her walk away, staring at her certain assets, a light sweat breaking out across his forehead.
Bill idled outside Lottie’s place, overwhelmed by the weight of his misgivings. Was he doing the right thing? He couldn’t undo it.
After helping her unload the van yesterday, he’d avoided her to his best abilities. Which was hard since he was used to seeking her out and sharing random observations with her. But his mind had been filled with a thousand different scenarios and questions, and he’d used distance while he sought perspective. He hadn’t found it. He’d even walked by the café the following day and watched her through the big front window as she chatted with the New Yorker dude. It left him more confused by the conflict of emotions he experienced.
Now, he was about to let her in on a secret he’d not shared with a soul. Okay, that wasn’t an accurate statement. He’d shared, but with a thousand unknown souls. People he knew odds of seeing again were slim. But letting Lotts in would be like blending his two worlds, and he wasn’t sure they mixed.
He turned the key and cut the ignition. One thing Bill Collins wasn’t was a coward. Nor was he a welcher on his plans. He’d let his father be the Collins known for that. Besides, the party in the park had been a huge success with a larger number of sign-ups than they anticipated. Usually one was a good number, but they had five come in person to start the process. Jane’s videos were getting endless hits, and the cessation of the free registration promotion had only caused a slight decrease. Both his and Lottie’s forms were in the system, churning through the program Anne had installed and coming up with Lord only knows what sort of information. Bill knew if Lottie matched with someone, he would have to meet with her as the company’s counselor. He wondered if he might bring in someone else for that particular duty.
Following a deep breath, he slid from the car, and before he started down the path to the door, he said a short prayer. Hey, it was who he was.
Lottie swung open the door before he could knock. “It’s about to get loud in there. Lydia’s home with no date and very unhappy about it.”
“Your chariot, Madame,” he said and gave an exaggerated bow next to small a SUV. Jeez, what a stupid thing to say. And do!
“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the path. “If she sees you, she’ll figure out a way to horn in.”
He liked the way her hand felt in his, small and soft.
They drove to Hartford and caught the train in to the city. By the time they’d reached the station, Bill had slid back into the spot where he felt comfortable with her again. They laughed about the trouble Lydia liked to cause and talked about the fate of the Matchmaker business, which was anybody’s guess. She shared what New York Baker Guy had proposed—that they take another meeting—and what her limits to selling to him were.
From the train, he guided her down through lower Manhattan where they stopped in front of a comedy club.
“What I am about to show you is a secret. You can’t breathe a word to anyone.”
She looked between the club’s small sign and Bill. “Is this a trick? Like I think it’s a comedy club but inside is really some secret sect of the Lutheran Church where you’re housing the Holy Grail?”
Bill arched a brow. “That would be super cool, but no. I think you have to be married or really high up to get those church privileges. Come on in. You’ll see.”
They found a table to the side of the stage. Bill left her to get drinks and to check in with the owner. He’d been here before and being asked to come back had put him on such a high he couldn’t define it.
When he took his seat next to Lottie, he had to wipe his palms on his jeans several times as his nerves had kicked into overdrive. The act on the stage finished, and Bill leaned toward her. “Listen, I’ll be back in a minute.”
It was a white lie—maybe. He knew that from this moment on things would be different for them. She would see him in a new way, no matter what she believed. Tonight he would unearth some of his past, his hardships with his overbearing father, and turn them into fodder. She’d been there when the events had originally happened. Would she be able to see it differently? Would she laugh?
He stepped around the side of the bar behind the curtain and faced a wall, gathering his wits. He needed to push back his fear and move past it. He could thank his father for this skill, compartmentalizing equating to surviving.
He listened to the emcee and, when he heard his name, stepped out on the stage.
Chapter Thirteen
Lottie couldn’t believe her eyes. Bill? Doing stand-up comedy? She expected someone to jump out and tell her it was a prank. He’d always been a funny guy but never expressed a desire to be a comedian.
He shuffled to the microphone, his smile broad and genuine, and it immediately drew the crowd in.
“Evening. I appreciate you all being here tonight. It’s good to stand in front of a crowd knowing they’re here of their own volition. During my day job, when I get before a crowd, what usually drives the masses together is their fear of hellfire and damnation. I’ll admit that I sometimes use it to my benefit. We preachers have to have some tools in our chest. Right?”
A few people chuckled.
“And standing up here in front of a tough crowd gives me practice for Judgment Day. That’s going to be a tough crowd for sure, all dead and angry.”
Some more chuckles.
“But the truth is, because I’ve taken an oath to tell the truth no matter what, I don’t have a church. I mean, I go to a church, but I don’t stand in front of one and thump on my Bible. Nah, I
’m not interested in that. Who can compete with social media? Shoot, even I want to check my Facebook page during most sermons. You know God’s on there.” He pointed to people in the crowd. “Next time you're on, check. He has a page. Hand to God, that’s the truth.” Bill put his hand up.
The laughter grew.
“Have to be careful about social media during church hours. I figured if He catches me on my phone during work hours He might write me up. Or worse, smite me. Unless I’m tweeting a flattering quote about him. He might overlook that.” He pulled up his bangs and showed a jagged scar running down his forehead and stopped short of his brow. “See that? I got that for saying the Lord’s name in vain while standing in a church. So you can see why I don’t want a church.” A lady gasped, and he singled her out. “Not by God. My dad did that. But claimed the Spirit moved him to do it.”
He walked to the other side of the stage. “Have you seen they’re giving churches reviews now? Yeah, true story. Imagine reading something awful about yourself online. I’m not sure I’d have nice thoughts or words for a person who leaves a bad review.” He waved to a woman in the crowd who’d laughed. “Isn’t that playing with fire? Aren’t those people scared? Imagine Judgment Day. God calls you up and asks you to confess your sins. Are you gonna remember the catty review you left? I wouldn’t, I’d be more worried about the big things. You know, I might have dreamed of someone’s unexpected demise—by unknown causes of course. But what are you gonna do? You’re standing before God, and he flips open His big books. Wait, I bet God is an Apple guy. He’d appreciate the irony there. So He’d scroll through His tablet, find your name, and say, ‘Says here you left a bad review on one of my disciples. You like making fun of my children?’ What are you going to say? You’re damned either way. You’re only hope is to grab the iPad and run for it. And let’s face it. That’s not going to work. So you can see why I don’t want to take a church. I’d read those reviews and feel compelled to respond to ‘@realchristianman’ or whatever name they use and call him out. At the very least respond to the review with a prayer asking God to strike good into their hearts. Which is minister-euphemism for heart attack. Hey, we aren’t perfect.”