by Sara Marks
“I will also accept stolen Nazi art,” Becca whispered in Lizbeth’s ear.
There was a great deal of art in the large front room. Everywhere people chatted amongst themselves. Someone came and took their coats. Another person came over to Jack and Layla and started talking to them.
“Kids,” Layla said, turning to her children, “you’re on your own. Don’t get drunk, don’t steal anything, don’t cook anything, and don’t get lost in the library.”
Layla knew her children well. Each of them grabbed a glass of wine and went on their own way to play Becca’s game. Lizbeth walked through various rooms. Other than some great art, there wasn’t anything of interest for her to tell Becca about. She did enjoy looking at the art, but without Charlotte, she didn’t know anyone but the masters. She eventually put her wineglass down and made her way upstairs. There were people talking on the landing and on the stairs, so it didn’t seem out of bounds. Some of the doors were open. She saw someone come out of a bathroom. She peeked in the door and saw no marble mermaid statue.
She walked into the poorly lit room next to it. It smelled of furniture polish and something familiar. She realized, as her eyes adjusted to the light, that she was in a library. It wasn’t a for-show library either. This was wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, bookshelves full of books. The books were a mix of beautiful leather bound books, worn paperbacks, spiral bound books, and folios of loose documents. A sofa faced a large window that looked out over the city. The view was breathtaking and made her remember what she loved about New York City.
Lizbeth was more interested in the books than the view. She made her way over to a shelf and pulled one out. It was about the navy during the Napoleonic era. The whole shelf was full of similar books. She didn’t care about her mother’s instructions; this was her dream room. Her grandparents’ library in Gardner had been built and filled with books over generations. It was her favorite room in their house. Her mother had built a library in both their homes. She put the book back, and pulled out another one. accidentally snagging another. It fell to the floor with a loud thump.
“Fuck,” she said under her breath and bent down to pick it up.
“Lizbeth?”
She stood up and turned to the sound of the voice. There, next to the sofa, was Wil Darcy.
“You certainly have a thing for wandering into my bedrooms,” Wil said softly.
“Wil?”
Lizbeth stood there facing Wil Darcy for the first time since he had shown up at her grandparents’ house a month ago. He had on some of a black tux—the jacket and bow tie were missing.
“I’m sorry,” Lizbeth said and rushed out of the room.
“Lizbeth, wait!” Wil said, following her.
She got as far as the top of the stairs before she felt Wil grab her hand and pull her back. For a moment, she thought he was going to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. For a moment, she wanted him to. She looked at him. He had his jacket in his other hand. He let go of her to put it on.
“My family was invited by your aunt,” Lizbeth said.
“Your family is here?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t expect to see you. Nobody told me.”
“I’m sorry. If I had known--”
“If you had known what?” Becca said as she walked up the stairs.
Lizbeth blinked rapidly, collecting her thoughts.
“Becca, you remember Wil Darcy. This is his home and party,” Lizbeth said, hoping Becca would keep her mouth shut and get them out of there.
There was a young woman following Becca up the stairs. She was pretty, with long straight black hair and the same green eyes as Wil.
“You found one Darcy and I found the other! I think it’s a tie, unless Josh found a unicorn.”
“Wil, you left your room!” Ginny Darcy said to her older brother.
Ginny looked both shocked and thrilled to see her brother.
“Lizbeth came in,” Wil said.
“Lizbeth? Wait, your sister is Wil’s Lizbeth,” Ginny said to Becca.
“And your brother is Lizbeth’s Wil!”
“We don’t belong to each other!” Lizbeth said.
Ginny looked as though she had found a treasure. Lizbeth could only imagine what Wil had said about her.
“You have to tell me everything about what my brother is like at school. He is very vague. Does he do keg stands? Please tell me you’ve seen him do a keg stand.”
“I wish I could,” Lizbeth said, warming up quickly to yet another member of Wil’s family. “That would have made his scowl look more like a smile.”
“He scowls at school too?” Ginny said with a sigh.
“I don’t scowl,” Wil said.
Ginny ignored her brother, who, Lizbeth noticed, was wearing said scowl. Ginny took Lizbeth’s hand and began leading her downstairs.
“Ginny, please stop for a moment,” Wil said from behind them.
Wil followed Lizbeth and Becca followed Wil.
“You know, he didn’t always scowl,” Ginny said, leading the group into a large eat-in kitchen.
The kitchen was large with white cabinets, Carrara marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances. It was full of catering staff and supplies. Ginny sat down at an empty table and pulled out a photo album from a nearby bookcase. She gestured for Lizbeth to sit down in the chair next to her and opened the album. It was full of pictures of Wil and Ginny as children. Wil was adorable with chubby cheeks, prominent front teeth, and a huge smile. He looked so happy. Lizbeth wanted to ask what had happened, but she suspected she knew. Lizbeth sat there for about a minute flipping through the photo album before looking back at Wil. The look on Wil’s face was a mix of panic and anxiety. Lizbeth felt her own anxiety rise and she didn’t like it. She needed to get away from Wil, so she got up from the table and walked back into the main room.
“I’m sorry,” Wil said, following her out.
Lizbeth kept taking deep breaths.
“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier. I was just... you were sleeping in the library?” Lizbeth eventually said, without turning back to look at Wil.
“My father made it my bedroom when I was a kid.”
“I didn’t see a bed,” Lizbeth said.
She grabbed a new glass of wine as she walked. Wil continued to follow her.
“It looks like a sofa from the back. I was just surprised to see you. This was the last place I expected to see you.”
“Well, I’ll stay out of your way. It is your party after all,” Lizbeth said.
She needed fresh air. She walked to the door that opened to an empty balcony with some chairs. She closed it behind her, hoping Wil hadn’t followed her. The cold December air was refreshing. She took a sip of the wine, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Running into Wil had been unexpected. Lizbeth was so deep in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the balcony door open. She felt someone’s jacket fall over her shoulders. She knew the smell as soon as she inhaled it, and silently berated herself for not recognizing it in his bedroom.
“You are going to freeze out here.”
Lizbeth turned and looked up into Wil’s green eyes.
“I wouldn’t have come to the party if I had known you were the host,” Lizbeth said.
“I understand, but I am glad you did not know.”
Lizbeth felt herself blush and looked away. The pair stood in silence, looking out at the city for a few minutes.
“How was the end of your semester?” Wil eventually said.
“Oh, very good. Yours?”
“Very good as well. How long are you in the city?”
“Through New Year’s.”
“That will be a fun vacation.”
“Yes, I want to go see some exhibits at the Met while I’m here.”
“I enjoy going to th
e Met.”
Lizbeth saw, from the corner of her eye, the balcony door open and her mother step out.
“Lizbeth, we’re going to go. Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you found someone to talk to,” Layla said.
“Mom, this is Wil Darcy.”
“I know. It’s nice to meet you, Wil. I’m sorry I didn’t get to formally meet you when you stopped by my parent’s house at Thanksgiving.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Wil said walking over to Layla, taking her hand, and kissing it. “My mother was a huge fan of your work. She and my aunts often discussed how women authors were under-represented in literature, at least beyond romantic stories. I had no idea you were Lizbeth’s mother until Thanksgiving.”
“I’m not surprised,” Layla said with a laugh.
Lizbeth took off Wil’s jacket and handed it back to him. He took it from her and draped it over his arm. They walked inside together and to the front door. Jack had their jackets ready for them. Wil took Lizbeth’s and helped her put it on. She noticed that Ginny and Becca had their heads together over their phones. Lizbeth was quickly distracted by the feeling of Wil’s hands on her shoulders as he helped her with her jacket.
“Ginny,” Layla said, “it was very nice to meet you.”
Lizbeth realized her father was waiting for an introduction to Wil as well, even if it was on their way out the door.
“Wil, this is my father, Jack,” she said.
“It is wonderful to meet you. My aunt raves about your restaurant. I remember going to the one here as a child,” Wil said.
Jack smiled as he shook Wil’s hand.
“You met Becca and this is our brother Josh,” Lizbeth said.
Wil shook hands with Josh.
“Well, even though Lizbeth waited until we are leaving to introduce us, it was wonderful to meet you too, Wil,” Jack said.
Lizbeth followed her family out the door and looked back. For a moment, she thought she saw Wil smell his jacket.
***
Lizbeth’s family spent the morning of Christmas Eve ice skating at Bryant Park. It was busy in the city as people got in their last-minute shopping. When they arrived, Lizbeth saw Wil and Ginny already there and putting on their skates.
“Don’t be mad,” Becca said to her sister before running off to catch up with Ginny.
Josh quickly found some girls to flirt with. Lizbeth sat down next to Wil and put on her own skates. He managed a small smile that expressed more tolerance for a child than joy in seeing her.
“I suspected Ginny was going to do something like this,” Wil said. “Her sudden desire to go ice skating seemed odd.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I strongly suspected, but she didn’t tell me. She and your sister seemed to be in cahoots from the moment they met.”
“Becca excels at being in cahoots,” Lizbeth said with a laugh.
“I can’t say I didn’t want to see you, though.”
Lizbeth was taken aback. She’d assumed that Wil was still angry about what had happened at Thanksgiving. She’d assumed, after everything she had said and done, he had quickly gotten over her. She didn’t understand why he seemed happy to see her.
“You don’t have to play along with our sisters,” Lizbeth said.
“Oh,” Wil said, looking disappointed.
Lizbeth got up and stood on the ice. It took her a moment to realize that her comment had come off harsher than she had intended. Wil hung back for a moment before joining her on the ice. He was a good skater and clearly trained to play hockey. Becca and Ginny were in the middle of the ice and entertaining each other. Her parents were skating hand in hand, looking very much in love. Lizbeth wanted something like their relationship, more than anything. She didn’t want to be Charlotte, who married because she felt she had no better option. She didn’t want to be Mrs. C, who was thinking of future comfort. She wanted to be married to a man she loved and who was her equal. She wanted a man who understood that she was his equal and behaved that way. She wanted to look at him, after nearly thirty years of being in love, and still feel the same way she had when they first met.
“Does anyone on campus know who your parents are?” Wil asked skating up next to her.
“A few people, but generally no.”
“Why not?”
“Who they are isn’t important, but people will make a big deal about it.”
“You would rather let people misjudge you because they don’t really know you?”
“People should judge me for me. I’m not any different when they’re around.”
“Yes, you are --you are very different.”
“Context versus personality. I’m still me, but in a different context.”
Wil fell behind and Lizbeth regretted what she had said. She couldn’t stop being so combative. Three months of being critical of him, even though she understood him better, made it difficult to react any other way. Worse, she was the one with the problem, not Wil. He had tried being friendly, even at Thanksgiving, but she kept rejecting him. She turned around on the ice to see him close behind her.
“I’m sorry,” Lizbeth said. “I seem to have a hard time being kind.”
“Apology accepted.”
January
Wil and Ginny had spent almost every day with Lizbeth and her family since the holiday party. This included an evening at Jack’s father’s restaurant, “Abe’s”, on New Year’s Eve. Abe was working the line that night, so his family enjoyed the meal back at the chef’s table.
“I don’t understand,” Layla said to Lizbeth, after they parted from the Darcy children. “What is it that you don’t like about Wil? I can sense some social anxiety, but I don’t see why you think he’s so unpleasant.”
“Lizbeth, you ordered the same meal! It’s like he’s an introverted version of you,” Becca said.
The entire family had been amused as Wil and Lizbeth had ordered the exact same item throughout the dinner, including the sides and dessert. During dinner, Lizbeth and Wil, after realizing they were both Matisse fans, decided to see the special exhibit of his work at the Met.
Lizbeth was having a hard time putting her feelings (past and present) into words. Wil was being better company this week than he had ever been in Georgia. She wondered if he was tolerating her because Ginny seemed to enjoy having a family around her. Wil seemed inclined to give his sister anything she wanted to keep her happy.
That was how Lizbeth ended up on the steps
outside the museum. It was a sunny, cold day. There hadn’t been any big snow storms yet, so the ground was dry. She was excited to be wearing sneakers. She was there early and feeling nervous that Wil wouldn’t show up. Trying to look casual while waiting, she pulled out her Kindle and read one of the many books stored on it.
“Hi,” Wil said.
He was suddenly standing right in front of her. He had a relaxed smile on his face and seemed happy to see her. Lizbeth couldn’t help but return the smile. Wil had smiled quite a bit since she had apologized at the ice skating rink. She had not seen him scowl once since the party.
Today he was wearing his heavy black pea coat with jeans and black Chucks. Lizbeth was beginning to find his sneakers and coat comforting. Wil helped her to her feet and they walked up to the museum together. Wil took their coats to the coat room, while she got their tickets. Once his coat was off, she could see he was wearing a thin navy sweater with silver ribbing on the cuffs. Lizbeth noticed all the spots where the sweater clung to his body. She could see the broadness of his shoulders and chest. They said little as they walked to the Matisse exhibit. They stopped at the entrance, and were handed clipboards with heavy sketching paper pencils attached, in exchange for their tickets.
“This is a special inspiration exhibit,” the docent said. “Matisse liked to repaint and rethink his art. You will see a number of variat
ions of the same painting in the exhibit. The curators would like you to feel free to draw your own revision or interpretation of anything you see. If you leave the artwork, it may be put up at the exit. When you walk out you are welcome to look at what others have done. Just make sure to return the clipboards and pencils before you leave the museum.”
They began walking through the rooms looking at the paintings. There were, as the docent explained, different versions of paintings. This was a quality of Matisse that amazed Lizbeth. She especially enjoyed how he played with styles and colors.
“I look at his works and think I’m looking through the eyes of a child,” Wil said, standing next to her. “It’s the heavy use of primary colors, maybe. I like the older stuff--when he cut paper and pasted it on different paper.”
“Why?”
“I think because it’s very innocent and simplified. He doesn’t really hide things in the shadows,” Wil said.
“I like that he gives almost everything a second chance,” Lizbeth said.
She turned to look at Wil, but saw no reaction to this.
The more they walked around the museum, the more Lizbeth realized they liked a lot of the same pieces and artists for very similar reasons. They didn’t draw while in the Matisse exhibit, but Lizbeth would periodically sit and doodle while listening to tour guides who led groups through the space. Her paper was quickly filled with little triangle butterflies and poorly drawn horses.
“Suddenly I expect you to love unicorns and rainbows,” Wil said, sitting next to her on a bench and looking over her shoulder.