by Maggie Way
The crowd was engaged, and Lottie couldn’t stop smiling.
“You should read these reviews. Some are on point, saying the sermon’s pacing was slow—we all know that’s got a high probability of being true. I searched online this particular preacher, he was old.” Bill shrugged. “I can’t argue that, some are ancient, and then you’re stuck sitting in those uncomfortably hard benches. I can live with those complaints. But another called the minister a douchebag. Jeez, I haven’t been called that since high school. Said the church offered watered-down Christianity. I went to the location because I wanted to know what watered-down Christians looked like, but I found it closed. In its place was a tarot card-reading, chakra-adjusting, and future telling-business. Same thing, right? For a small fee you can be scared witless or be given the keys to the kingdom.”
By now the crowd was laughing and nodding, and she was right there with them.
Bill ended his set with, “You've been a great audience. I'll put in a word for you with my boss.”
With the help of a waiter, she skirted the tables and made her way back behind the scenes. She found him sitting in a chair, his head tucked between his knees.
“Bill?” She didn’t know the man up on that stage.
He looked up, his face flushed, and a smile broke out.
“I love the high that comes from being on stage. Hearing people laugh. I love poking fun at myself.”
“I can tell.” She stepped toward him.
“It’s cathartic.” He drew in a deep breath, slapped his hands on his knees and then stood. “And you laughed the whole time.”
She had. A genuine laughter, the kind that erupts from deep within.
“I know what your laughter sounds like. I could hear it on the stage.” His eyes never strayed, his interest solely on her. Not the applauding crowd. Not the staff rushing around them.
Lottie knew what was going to happen. She could practically taste it. Just like when she was making a cupcake, and she knew, deep in her gut what was needed. Bill was going to kiss her.
She stepped up to him. “I’ve never seen you like this. Not ever, Bill. That was wonderful!”
He cupped her face between his hands, studied her, and then lowered his head. As his lips were about to touch hers, she heard him whisper her name. She slid her arms around him and stepped as close as she could get, giving him leave to deepen the kiss. Which he did. Hoping that this would not be the last kiss they’d share, but worried that it very well could be, Lottie drank the experience in. The soft press of his lips. The hard contours of his body. The way his thumb stroked her cheek. She wanted to weep with joy. To ask him why he waited so long. But this was new ground for them, and she wasn’t sure how to tread.
Things would be different now. This would always be something they shared.
The banging of a door caused Bill to jerk back. ”Jeez, I’m sorry.” He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I forgot where we were.”
Her arms felt empty without him in them. How many years had she dreamed about this moment? And when it happened, it ended too soon. Just her luck.
“It’s all right,” she said and licked her lips.
The guy Bill had been speaking with earlier came around the corner.
“Hey.” He was boisterous in personality and clothing, his shirt a vibrant Paisley print. He extended his hand to Bill
“Larry, thanks for the slot tonight.” Bill quickly accepted the handshake.
“You’re really coming along, Bill,” Larry told him. “You’re welcome back anytime. I have a few big names coming in next month, and you can have an early slot. See if you might make some connections.”
Bill looked shocked, but she knew years of masking his expression quickly kicked in and seconds later he came off moderately pleased. “Yeah, I’d love that.”
“Great, here are the dates and times. See you then.” He handed Bill a slip of paper heavy with opportunity.
“Holy cow,” she said.
“You ain’t kidding.” He winked at her before returning his focus back to the card. He gave it a quick shake then tucked it in his pocket. “Let’s get out of here. We have to catch the train, but maybe we can get a pizza or something. You hungry?”
“Starved,” she said, but not so much for food.
“Come on, then.” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her through the back rooms and out the rear door. A waiter, a young kid likely still in his teens, was leaning against the wall, smoking.
“Have a good night,” Bill called to the kid and headed toward the busy New York streets.
“Hey, Padre,” the kid called.
When they turned, Lottie saw the young man was walking toward them. He flicked the cigarette to the ground.
Uncertain of what to expect, she stepped closer to Bill, who, thankfully, was still holding her hand.
“Yeah?” Bill asked.
“I’ve heard you here before. I like your act. Makes me laugh.” The kid shuffled awkwardly. A sleeve of tattoo’s covered both arms.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” But Bill didn’t walk away. Just stood there waiting. “What’s your name?”
“Kyle. Yeah, so I liked what you said about your dad being a real ass, oh I beg your pardon, I mean a real pain. I like how you said you didn’t let him make you the man you are.” He started nodding. “See, my pops is like that, too. Always said I’d amount to nuttin’. But I was thinking about what you said, last time you were here, and I wanted to let you know I registered for my GED. I wanted to say thanks.”
Bill dropped her hand and stepped toward the kid. He put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and said. “For what it’s worth, in case no one has said it, I’m proud of you. You’re making your own destiny. Good for you.” He then stuck out his hand and waited for the kid to take it. They shook hands, not saying anything, but Lottie knew something was passing between them. She could feel it. Like she could feel the energy come off him when he stepped off the stage.
“You need anything. You run into any bumps, you come see me.” Bill dug into his back pocket and pulled out his card. “You call and I can come to you.”
“You’d do that for me?” He took the card from Bill and stared at him, mouth agape.
“Yeah, of course I would. You’re worth it.” He clapped Kyle on the shoulder again. “I’ll be back in a month. I look forward to hearing how it’s going.”
“You got it, Padre.”
“You can call me Bill.”
He wanted to take her hand again or sling his arm over her shoulder. He could use the dangers of the city as an excuse, but Lotts was smart and she’d see right through that. He gave her a sideways glance, wondering if he needed an excuse to touch her. She’d been pretty responsive to the kiss.
Yeah. The kiss.
He wasn’t sure what happened there. One minute he was on top of the world and all he could think about was how beautiful she was while she told him how much she loved his set, and the next minute he was taking a taste of Charlotte Lucas and floating out of this world.
“Pizza sounds okay?” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll have to take it on the train. I hope you don’t mind. But the last one leaves soon.”
“Is it that late?”
Bill nodded. “So listen, about tonight.”
Lottie stopped walking, dead middle of the sidewalk and crossed her arms. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“I haven’t said anything to anyone about this. Not a soul. You are the first, and for now I’d like to keep it that way.”
She relaxed her stand, tilting her head to study him. “It’s true that you don’t want a church, isn’t it?”
He waved for her to start walking. “We need to walk and talk or else we’ll be taking an Uber or cab to Connecticut.”
They fell into and easy stride.
“But it’s true. Right?”
Bill thought about his response. “Honestly, I dunno. Most days I think there’s nothing I’d change. Then Lady Cat
herine comes in and holds this great church over my head, a huge church here in the city, and I don’t find steps that might make that happen.”
Lottie said nothing.
“But then I come here and do this, and I can’t imagine not doing it.” He stuffed his hands in his front pockets, hunching his shoulders.
“When you think of this big church here in the city, what do you think about doing here?”
“I want to reach kids like Kyle back there.”
“Which you did through comedy. Why can’t things stay the way they are? For now at least?”
Bill had a dozen responses to that question. Answers that he’d gone over a thousand times a day at least since Lady Catherine and her family had shown up. “Because as much as I enjoy teaching, it’s not going to last much longer. The elders there have specific ideas about their staff, and to keep teaching I’d have to relocate to another seminary. I don’t want to move. I love working for the Bennet sisters, but who knows how long that will last.” He pointed to her. “Don’t tell them I said that.”
“Sounds like you have some big decisions to make and changes on the horizon.”
They’d arrived at Grand Central, but Bill pulled her into a little pizza shop half a block away. “Everything in the dining area will be closed, but this little gem is always open.” There was a line reaching the door.
“I have all meat, all veggie, and pepperoni,” shouted the man behind the counter. “If you want a custom, step aside. People got trains to catch.”
Bill tossed up his hand and yelled, “Meat here.” He turned to Lottie. “I hope that’s okay. I know you like most of the stuff. You gotta get ’em while the gettin’s good or else you’re waiting for the next batch and missing your train.”
“You know this from experience?” She moved to a large fridge, touching the glass door. “Water?”
Bill nodded and paid for everything. Lottie grabbed the bottles, napkins, and some packages of chili peppers, and together they walked back to the station. They had less than ten minutes to catch their train, so they hurried through the station to their terminal.
It was right before exiting the main hall when Lottie saw it, and it stopped her dead in her tracks. “Bill. Oh My God. Look!” She was pointing to a not yet opened newsstand, and he followed the line of her finger, his eyes going wide when he saw what she was saying. He thrust the pizza at her.
“Here, take this and get to the train. I’m going to grab one and meet you there.”
“I can wait.”
“Just in case, here are my keys.” He tucked them into her front pocket and nearly got distracted by the simple touch of his hands on her hip.
“Hurry,” she whispered.
He dashed off across the hall, and she made her way to the correct track. Normally, it wouldn’t take but a moment for someone to grab a magazine. There were little to no lines this late in the night—or should she say early morning. But the vendor was setting up and getting the paper out, not yet open. He might not be so inclined to stop what he was doing and sell it.
The train was already at the track and waiting area was empty. A ticket agent was walking alongside the train.
“Come on,” she whispered more as a prayer then a command.
“Hartford?” The agent asked.
“Yeah, I have a friend coming.”
“Well, he better hurry.” He helped her step up.
Inside Lottie found a seat that could accommodate them both, but more importantly gave her access to see if he was coming. Dropping the food and drinks on the bench she lowered the window and stuck her head out. The train’s horn let out two short blasts. Bill was running down the terminal and waved when he saw her. The ticket agent shouted something, and Bill jumped on the train several cars ahead. Lottie sank back on the seat, nearly sitting on the pizza. A few minutes later Bill stood over her, winded but smiling.
“I got it. He wasn’t ready to sell it, but I threw a ten at him and told him to keep the change. He really didn’t have a choice. I’m sure glad you didn’t have to go home alone.”
“Me too. Show me the magazine. What does it say?” She reached for the tabloid.
“I didn’t get to read it yet,” Bill snarked. He put the pizza box between them then spread Mrs. Bennet’s current employer’s paper—Exposed—out before them.
The headline read: “William Darcy destroys small-town business and love.” The photo was a grainy one taken of him at the park get-together.
“That’s odd. I don’t remember a cameraman, but this was taken right after Mrs. Bennet accosted him. See, he’s still holding the cupcake wrapper.”
Bill strained to see the picture. “From the angle the camera must have been down low. I wonder if she had it in her purse?”
They shared a worried look.
“Wow, if she did, that’s impressive. She really kept her wits about her. I thought she was surprised to see him, but apparently not so much that she didn’t get this shot.”
Bill shook his head. “This isn’t going to go over well at all.” He ran his finger across the paper, showing her a line in Mrs. Bennet’s article that touted Darcy as the man who enjoyed smashing hopes and dreams and then went into length about how he was not his father’s son.
Bill knew Darcy wouldn’t care so much about the article. But more about how it came to be, considering the author was the mother of the sisters he was trying to automate—it was suspicious. But the real wound would have come with the comparison. Mrs. Bennet had found Darcy’s Achilles heel and sliced it good.
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Catherine had them all gathered in the conference room. She was standing rigid before them, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn’t said anything since she requested their presence via a three-word email Sunday afternoon. MONDAY. 8AM. MANDATORY.
Elizabeth was ever thankful to Lottie and Bill for showing her and Jane the Exposed headline and having the day to stalk the results on the web while developing a reaction plan. It gave Elizabeth the slightest bit of hope that she had an edge.
A little, teeny, tiny, edge.
Never mind that she avoided Darcy's gaze. Never mind that her mother’s article was written with the tone similar to a hate letter rather than responsible journalism.
The Bourgh harrumphed and glowered at Elizabeth, brows furrowed.
“Why ever would your mother do such a thing?” Her tone shook with bridled anger.
How does one answer that question? Why ever does her mother do any of the things she does?
“It’s her job—”
“Quiet,” Lady Catherine snapped. “Anne, tell us the fallout.”
Elizabeth cut her eyes to Jane, who was staring with such intensity at the pad of paper before her. She’d spent the weekend getting to know Darcy’s friend Chaz better. Showing him around town, going to the movies. Now he stood alongside the wall next to Darcy. His pleasant face was devoid of any emotion.
Darcy was the same. Maybe even worse, because she didn’t have a benchmark to go from. She had this rigid closed off man who possibly had been teasing her at the party in the park.
“Anne,” Lady Catherine barked.
Anne bolted upright from her seat and snatched a sheet of paper from the table as she rose. “Ah, well it’s kinda hard to get solid numbers because Jane released her videos and then a few days later this article followed, so some lag was expected. Though I’d like to point out that the videos are gaining momentum.”
“The numbers, Anne.” Lady Catherine’s tone was laced with frustration. Elizabeth wouldn’t have been surprised if she stomped her foot for added emphasis.
“Yes, the numbers. We launched the online sign-up system, which included the questionnaire, and released Jane’s video and saw an increase of over sixty percent to what was done last year—”
“In two days, you say? There were more sign-ups in two days than in the entire year?” Lady Catherine stared down her nose at Elizabeth and then Jane.
Jane smiled slightly and continued to stare at the paper.
“Automation has been a success so far,” Lady Catherine said smugly.
“Hang on.” Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “What Jane’s done is social media. It has nothing to do with automation. The questionnaire being online helps, but again, this isn’t automation. If this is what you want, then I have no problem with it. I do have a problem with the matching happening via a computer program and with little human factor. I do have a problem with people doing cursory glances at a picture and a phrase like ‘Loves dogs’, and deciding to take a chance’.”
“Well, if your mother keeps up her work it will all be irrelevant anyway.” The Bourgh slapped her hand against the table. “What happened after the article, Anne?”
Anne cleared her voice and shot Elizabeth a pained expression. “We have over fifty percent of the applicants withdrawing. We have fielded nearly a thousand emails wanting to know if we are closing our doors. Some are from those that paid the registration fee and would like to know if they will get their money back.”
Though she still felt smug over the point about automation, Elizabeth’s embarrassment superseded that. She glanced at Darcy, who was staring directly at her. They held eye contact for a second before Elizabeth glanced away. When she looked back briefly, he was still watching her.
“We can put out a statement that we’re making some system changes through the guidance of Mr. Darcy, but that we have no immediate plans of closing.” She hoped saying it would make it so.
“That’s wonderful, but what about my nephew? What shall we do about his reputation and good name your mother felt so comfortable libeling. I should sue that woman. Tear her apart—”