by Maggie Way
Boy, was she a big dumb dodo.
He scanned the area again. “And you’re quite certain this area is safe?”
What was he afraid of? Meryton was basically a sleepy farm town.
She narrowed her eyes. “Quite certain. There’s nothing to worry about. I assure you that even the wild life would not find you appealing.” It went from her thoughts to her mouth in two point zero seconds. Frustration did that to her.
“I wasn’t—”
“I know, for someone like you, the country might be a foreign, unappealing place. But please do remember this is my home and I love it here. Enjoy your run.” She pushed in the ear bud while crossing over to her path. If she did see him around the lake, it would take a huge amount of discipline to not trip him.
She set out down the road, loud metal music blasting, and didn’t glance back.
They crossed paths twice, but Elizabeth treated him like she would any other runner. She queued to the right and was pleased to find he did the same. She wanted to remark upon that, how he managed to get it correct. But that was something friends did, and she and Darcy were decidedly not friends.
She cut a block off her path, anxious to get to Lottie’s before him, if that was his plan, but stopped short when she noticed the FOR SALE sign in the window of the corner building. Mrs. Gardner’s old house turned apartments with an antique store and small café was empty? When had that happened, and more importantly, how had she missed it? As puzzled as she was about the vacancy, she was more excited about it. Lottie had been talking for the last few years about getting her own place, and this was prime real estate.
Elizabeth took a photo of the sign with her phone before running to Lottie’s.
Darcy was already there, but she ignored him, instead rushing up to Lottie.
“Hey, check this out.” She showed her the phone.
Lottie, who was pouring coffee, said, “It’s a for sale sign.”
“Right. At Mrs. Gardner’s house.” Elizabeth smiled and wanted to squeal. If they were in private or the back of the café, maybe. But not at the front.
Coffee sloshed from the carafe as Lottie put it on the table with a thump. “Give me that.” She grabbed the phone and stared. “Is this for real?”
“Totally. I was as surprised as you. Where did the Gardners go?”
Lottie shook her head.
“I’ll ask Mom. She’ll know. But” —Elizabeth grimaced excitedly. Eyes going large— “you should call them today.”
Lottie’s face lit up then fell. “I can’t. With Dad fading into retirement, who would run this place? I can’t start up my own and compete.”
Elizabeth took her phone back. “I’d like to know if you’re okay with doing things his way for the rest of his life? Your dad will probably put in his will about not changing the menu or business practice.”
“True,” she said. “But this café employs my brother and sister as well, and I have to think of that.”
“Who can step up and take some responsibility. If you’re worried about competition, I doubt your bakery would affect them too much,” Elizabeth said then pointed to the coffee carafe. “Can I get a large one of those, please? Why don’t I call and see what they are asking for it. It’s not a commitment. Just me being nosy. That okay with you?”
Lottie stared at the counter, swirling the coffee in the pot briefly before answering. “Yeah, I guess there’s no harm in that.”
“Right. No harm. Just me being nosy. I’ll call you after I’ve done it.” She took the coffee cup Lottie had filled for her.
“I have that meeting with John Thorpe at one today. So call before then.”
Pointing her index finger at her friend, she said. “Deal.”
They said their goodbyes, and when Elizabeth turned to leave, she saw Darcy sitting at a table reading the paper. Should she ask about his run? Was his path sufficient? Did she really care? No, and why waste the energy on a conversation that was sure to leave her either perplexed or frustrated. Maybe both.
He was such an odd, arrogant man.
She left without a word.
Another meeting.
Elizabeth hadn’t attended this many meetings since they started the company. Why did they need to talk about the schedule? Couldn’t they see in the online time management program they used what needed to be done, who was assigned to do it, and put together the concept that the checked box meant complete?
She waited for someone to speak. Chaz Bingley was once again present, and Elizabeth found this odd.
“Pardon, and no offense, Mr. Bingley, but why are you here?” Of course she had to ask.
“He’s my lawyer.” Darcy said while shifting through papers and not bothering with eye contact.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. We have a company lawyer. Should he be present?”
Jane elbowed her in the side.
Darcy sighed. “Mr. Bingley is my lawyer for my businesses. He’s here because we have matters to attend to.”
“But none of that is Meryton business? Correct?” She sat back in the office chair and met his gaze.
He arched a brow. “Not yet, but it might, which is why he’s here.” He dismissed her as soon as the words were out, going back to shuffling papers.
He handed them to Anne. “Why don’t you explain this?”
If Elizabeth hadn’t been watching the exchange, she would have missed Anne’s hesitancy. Reluctantly, she took the papers, flipped them over, and put them on the desk.
“Ah, well,” she began. “I have this nifty program that searches for common interest and compatibility between interested parties. It’s ‘very similar’ to what the online dating companies use.” The air quotes Anne used told Elizabeth that it was ‘exactly’ like what the online companies used.
“And?” Elizabeth asked.
Anne wiped her hand across her brow. “Well, according to the program, you’re making incorrect and ultimately unsuccessful matches.”
Jane gasped, her attention on Elizabeth, eyes wide.
“I beg your pardon? And by chance, did you run all our clients or just the recent ones?”
Anne inspected the papers before her, playing with the corner on one of the pages.
“I see. And this all-knowing, see-in-the-future program of yours—it found more of my matches were poorly done than there were good ones, I assume.”
Anne nodded.
Elizabeth looked at Darcy, then Bingley, and lastly Anne. “You’re program is stupid. There is no possible way to ask people enough questions of the right sort to get a proper sample. When people sit down to fill out questionnaires, they worry about the impression the answers will give. Many exaggerate—innocently of course. Some, though, not as much. When filling out a questionnaire that offers choices, people are going to pick the one they think they’d like the best, not what they do like the best. When candidates are interviewed, much more is garnered. Body language is taken into account. Does your program do that? Can it tell if someone is lying?”
Anne shook her head. “Though there are questions built in to find inconsistencies.”
“With all due respect, Anne, regardless of what your program shows, our results speak for themselves. We have a high success rate. Higher than the online companies. How can you argue with that?”
Anne glanced at Darcy. “How about you take this one?”
What infuriated Elizabeth more was that obviously they’d previously held this conversations without her or Jane. She couldn’t help but see it as an us versus them situation. It clearly was.
Darcy leaned back against the wall, his favorite position. She wondered if he chose that as a way to appear relaxed, should she tell him it didn't work? That, frankly, he appeared pained to be in this situation.
“Let’s use Mr. Collins as an example, if I may?” He waited for Bill's permission, who nodded his agreement. “You’ve paired him with a few women, but one on your list is an obvious poor fit.”
“According to th
e computer,” Anne added.
Elizabeth knew exactly which one they were referring to. “The computer or perhaps a larger force doesn’t approve?” Lottie would never be The Bourgh’s pick for Bill. No, Lottie wasn’t pliable enough for the likes of his great surrogate mother.
“The computer. On religion, family, and even hobbies they differ. They don’t have much in common. As a comparison we ran hers, and the program shows she is more suited for someone, shall we say, with a penchant for business. A strong acumen for success.” Anne stared at the paper, not looking up once.
Elizabeth glanced at her watch and turned to Bill. Lydia had gotten her hands on him prior to filming his video and he now sported a trending combed back hairstyle that flattered him. The jagged scar down his forehead only added to his appeal, kind of a bad boy quality. She had to reset her bearings before speaking. This new Bill was a hottie, and she could see what Lottie found attractive. “They’re talking about you and Lottie. I have Lottie down as a potential match for you.”
He blinked at her in surprise.
“But they are saying you two don’t match. That you are too opposite. Their computer shows she’s better suited for someone like, say, John Thorpe. Who, funny enough, is meeting with Lottie today about her cupcakes.”
“Lottie has gone through all the steps of the profile?” Bill asked in a low voice as he rested one hand on his knee, leaned forward.
Elizabeth nodded. She’d known Bill and Lottie her entire life. Shared experiences and dreams with them, something that could never be programmed into a computer. She knew Lottie’s father could be single-minded and knew nothing about his daughter’s secret wish to own a bakery. But Bill did. How does one enter that into a program? She was also aware Bill had made poor choices as a kid, several resulting in time spent with other poor decision-makers at juvie. As a result of this, he second-guessed his every move and—Elizabeth was willing to wager—thought he wasn’t good enough for any wife, much less his dear friend Lotts.
“If you were feeling like you might need something, say a cupcake or coffee, you could take this to her for me and save me the trip.” Elizabeth slid a folded piece of paper to Bill.
“What’s this?” He picked it up and peeked inside. His jerked his eyes back to hers. “So they did move. I’m not surprised. And this price. It’s reasonable.”
“High end of reasonable.” She met his gaze knowing he was likely thinking the same as she. Lottie’s dream could come true. Here was opportunity. “Especially if she gets this deal from the sophisticated baker man Mr. Darcy and Anne think is so well suited for Lottie.”
Bill snorted, gripped the paper in his hand, and stood. “Anyone want to place an order? I think I’ll go hang out at the café and listen to what this dude has to offer. Iced coffee, Jane? Anne?” he asked backing out the door.
But he didn’t wait for anyone to place an actual order, obviously in a hurry to get to Lottie.
Elizabeth pushed back from the conference table and stood. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take the advice of your program too seriously. Human factor and all that.” She turned to her sister. “I see you have another video planned. You need any help?”
Jane shook her head. “No, they’re all doing far better than I could have ever anticipated.” She blushed becomingly and looked away from the group, her concentration on Elizabeth. “It’s grown into quite a…monster. Anne’s scheduled me for some chats and Q and As. I’m going to meet a potential match in a week or so.” Though she sounded nonchalant about the entire situation, her eyes told a different story. If Elizabeth didn’t know her sister so well, she would never guess the videos were making her uncomfortable. She needed a private moment with Jane, desperately. If she wasn’t mistaken, Jane was showing a serious interest in Darcy’s friend Bingley—er, Chaz—and he in her. Maybe they could use him as a candidate for Jane’s videos?
Elizabeth’s mind raced with options, but she had to stop herself. One fire at a time, and first she had to prove Darcy and his stupid computer wrong. If it was the last thing she did.
Darcy pushed from the wall and came to stand before her. He crossed his arms behind his back, and she thought it might be possible that a slight smile teased at his lips. Or maybe a smirk. She was going with smirk. That suited him better.
“You may be right about Bill and your friend. You do have a personal connection with them. But that does not mean you are right about the others, and according to Anne’s software, you are off by sixty percent. Her program has pulled others as better matches.” He spoke quietly so it was hard to know if he was challenging her.
She studied his face and stepped closer. “It comes as no surprise, Mr. Darcy, that a man such as you, one who seems very black-and-white, would neither be married nor understand the nuances that come with building a long-term lasting relationship. This can never be replicated by a computer program.”
He appeared to now be studying her face, and his lips did hitch upward slightly. “You may be correct about my lack of personal knowledge, but you cannot discount my experience in business, which is what this is.”
Elizabeth wanted to stomp on his insole. “This is about love and having a happy life. Why is that hard to grasp?”
“Because I’ve been tasked with handling my aunt’s business and financial issues. There is no luxury for, shall we say, fluff in my world.”
She had to grind her teeth to bite back the words.
“You will excuse me,” he said with a nod then turned and left her standing there.
She spun on Jane, ready to explode with anger.
“Lizzy, why don’t you come with me to see the videos?” Jane took her by the arms and steered her from the room.
Oh, yeah. William Darcy, jerkface extraordinaire, was going down.
Chapter Sixteen
Bill couldn’t believe the audacity of this toolbag. If the man wanted to buy a line of cupcakes from Lotts, then why was he going heavy on the flirting? Did he think she was so easily wooed? Obviously he’d read a book on hot marketing tips and was applying everything he knew toward Lottie. And calling her Charlotte made Bill want put him in a sleep hold for an extended time.
Though he’d arrive after Thorpe, Lottie had allowed him to stay and listen to the pitch. He’d been impressed at first. Wide tri-state reach, with over a hundred bakeries, a marketing budget with a carefully outlined strategy, social media blast, and a clever branding tool.
Yeah, Bill was hung up on the branding tool. The tool with a tool. He snickered, and Lottie frowned at him. Shaking his head, he hoped she couldn’t read his mind. Not that she could read minds, but she knew him really well. She’d probably interpreted his snicker correctly.
“What do you say, Charlotte? Ready to grab onto success? Let John the Thorpedo rocket you into success and fortune?” He took her hand into his, and Bill wanted to shove his proposal down his throat.
“Oh, well, I need some time to think it all over. It’s so exciting that I’m sure I haven’t processed a fraction of what you said.” She glanced at Bill, and he knew she was seeking his approval. He wasn’t sure he could give it.
He shifted uncomfortably and picked up the proposal from the counter. Not one who liked to avoid his issues, Bill admitted he was jealous. But it was a weird jealous. He knew he had something with Lotts this guy never could, and yeah, all the fawning over her was too much. Not that she didn’t deserve it, but she deserved it with sincerity not this dog-and-pony show. But what really bugged him was the opportunity he was offering her. A chance to make her dreams come true. Recognition of a high order. She would no longer be the girl with a pastry degree from The Culinary Institute of America who worked in the café established several generations ago. She would be a person who made her dreams come true. And he envied her that. Shoot, he wasn’t even sure he knew what his dreams were anymore. Dangling before him was a great church in a fabulous city. It wasn’t Meryton, but not much was. Truth be told, he was spoiled here. Life was far easier and laid
back than it could be at a big city church. And would he still do stand-up?
Bill flipped the first page of the proposal back, the words swimming before him. His mind elsewhere. Jeez, he had no business taking a wife, much less engaging in this pretense. What could he offer? Sure, he had a healthy bank account, thanks to his father’s firm rule about tithing, and several strong and good investments Lady Catherine was managing for him. But if he was out his jobs tomorrow, what would he do? He didn’t like to gather dust. As a teen he’d always had one plan in action and was developing another. Now, a grown man who was no longer dependent on a parent who withheld food, love, or basic necessities as a form of child-rearing or punishment, he could do as he pleased. Like make his own dreams come true. If only he could figure out what they were.
Bill glanced up at Lottie. She was laughing at something the Dorkpedo was saying. Bill wanted her to be happy beyond her wildest imagination. He’d even like to have a part in it. He glanced down at the proposal and the image on the paper. There was no way he could support this, and it was going to cause a riff between them.
“You call me, day or night, with any questions. Come into the city and let me take you out, show you around. We can take in a show or do a helicopter ride over the city. Have you ever done one?”
Lottie shook her head.
“They’re amazing. It’s a must-do bucket list thing. Life-changing experience.”
Bill wanted to tell the moron that “Charlotte” was afraid of heights, and she’d be too busy testing out the quality and manufacturing of a vomit bag to experience the changes of her life induced by flying over a city.
For the love of Pete.
Having his mother die when he was in elementary school was life changing. Committing a life to spread God’s word was life changing. How shallow must this man be if flying over a city in a helicopter was life changing?
“Bill?”
He turned to find Lottie and Twerpedo staring at him.