After four restless days and countless games of hangman and Pictionary and Sudoku using the whiteboard, Abby had finally given in to Elizabeth’s complaints about being hemmed in and accompanied her on a circuitous and mostly silent walk along the sandy shore a half mile from the apartment. Finally, they stopped to sit. It was a weekday, and the long stretch of beach was mostly deserted.
“It’s almost New Year’s. I want to go home, Abby,” Elizabeth said mournfully as she stared out across the water. “Please tell me we can leave soon.”
“We got word an hour ago. We’re paid off, too.” Abby sat down next to her and gave her a genuinely sympathetic look. “But I wanted to speak to you privately.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “About what?”
“I know you think you have this whole fairy tale thing going on in New Jersey,” Abby said seriously, “but I thought maybe you might want to change your mind and join us on a more permanent basis. Victor’s holding your jobs in the States. He could just keep them.”
Elizabeth shook her head stoutly. “Sorry, not interested. I need to get home.”
“I know.” Abby reached into her bag and plucked out her iPad. “But . . . here,” she said, holding it out to Elizabeth.
“What’s this?” she asked gruffly.
Abby reached over to tap the screen, and it came to life, revealing a sharp color photo of Will Darcy—and a sleekly dressed Caroline Bingley. Caroline was standing up on her toes, hands resting gently on his arm, whispering something in his ear. His hair was just a bit longer than it had been at the charity dinner, curling gently at the top of his collar. He was smiling softly. Above the photo was the headline “Cinderella Story in Ashes?”
Elizabeth stared at the screen unblinkingly. Abby took the tablet back and set it aside.
“I know I gave you a lot of grief about this,” she said solemnly, “but I was sorry to see it. Truly sorry, Dutch.”
Elizabeth laid back and crossed her arms behind her head. She had to think this through. It was out of character for Will. He didn’t even like Caroline. Not enough mouthwash in the world, he’d said, and he wasn’t a good actor. Elizabeth also didn’t think he was a man who changed his mind so completely. Not in a few weeks.
“He’s a rat bastard,” Abby replied emphatically, “but you’ve always got a home with us, and your star is definitely on the rise with the big guys.” She stood. “Look, I want you on the team. I’ve never kept that a secret. But you need us, too—there are still some threads left hanging on this Wickham business that don’t make sense. Come with us—let us help you sort things out.” She paused. “I’ll let you think about it, but we’ve gotta be out in sixty.”
After Abby was gone, Elizabeth released a bitter laugh. After waiting days for clearance to leave, they had to be out in an hour, precisely when she could have used a little more time to think. It was always like this. Long days of boredom punctuated by frustration, anger, fear, movement. Then there was the guilt that came when she couldn’t figure things out fast enough to save everyone.
She thrived on solving these kinds of puzzles, but she hadn’t been able to shut her emotions down completely this time. It had taken too long to come up with the solution. The desire to return to the life she’d begun to build back home had distracted her, slowed her down. Could she keep herself under better regulation if it meant learning more about Wickham’s employers? Would she be remiss in her responsibilities if she went home now instead? She gazed up at the light blue, cloudless sky, her arms thrown out wide, her mood dark. Is it snowing in New York? she wondered. Could I make an igloo on the terrace?
She grabbed handfuls of sand and let the grains flow through her fingers as she closed her eyes and tried to compile a mental list. Go home? Stay with Abby and lose Will? Even if the photo wasn’t real, he had plenty of options. Was he still hers to lose? Then she heard those words in her head, as she had so many times before.
Who do I want to be?
She sighed. The only one who honestly needed her was Will. Jane had Richard, her sisters had the Gardiners, Kit even had the press coverage for her dress. The Gardiners had a house full of people to take care of. Georgiana had her family. Nobody would mourn her loss if she left. And she might be able to better protect them all if she remained away, working. Maybe this is all I’m good for, in the end, she mused, and felt a tiny hole opening, growing where her heart ought to be. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking the pain out.
Who do I want to be?
She laid there, sprawled out on the beach for another thirty minutes, reviewing her choices. She stood, but as she brushed herself off, a van pulled up and stopped short. The door rolled open.
“Get in,” Abby growled. “Now.”
Elizabeth moved quickly, realizing that Abby must have had bad news. They’d lost their full hour. Abby said nothing until the van was on the road again. When she spoke, there was none of the strained urgency that had been in her voice only five minutes before.
“We have another gig already,” Abby told them, glancing at her phone. “Houston protocol.”
Bob just looked through his bag while Arch grimaced at his ticket and offered a single nod.
“Commercial flight,” Arch griped. “I hate flying coach.”
Elizabeth sympathized. Arch was far too large to fit comfortably in a coach seat. But the idea was to blend in, and first class, though they could all now afford it, would call too much attention to them. Protocol was to fly back on four separate flights and convene at a common location afterward.
Bob handed her a new passport. Amelia Pi.
“Cute,” she said sarcastically.
Bob just shrugged and gave her a smug grin. “You said you didn’t like Dutch.”
Chapter Four
Will sat at the far end of FORGE’s conference table and listened to Richard review the changes they’d planned. They evaluated several different structures and staffing configurations. One of the options was to make the organization entirely flat. Will told him Richard that kind of structure was unworkable at FORGE, and Richard agreed.
“Just being thorough,” he said.
It was a good way to stay busy.
As they brainstormed, Will pondered where to place Richard. Not that he was surprised, but Richard’s analytical skills were top-rate. He could dissect potential markets and clients with ease. And when Richard had said he had experience building a team, he wasn’t exaggerating. He had an ease with the staff that Will had never enjoyed, though he knew he had their respect. Richard skirted too close to the line between supervisor and friend for Will’s taste at times, but his training as an officer always kept him on the proper side. No, the best place for Richard, Will thought, was as a CEO. Could there be two CEOs in one company?
As soon as the idea occurred to him, Will began to warm to it. He trusted Richard implicitly. His cousin was both creative and logical, his language skills would expand their reach, and he was already an investor so he had a financial stake in how well the company performed. They’d had a surge of interest from potential clients due to the recent positive press, so there was work enough. Soon there’ll be too much work for one man. He could retain control of the legal and financial aspects of the business, including monitoring project benchmarks and overseeing Human Resources and the patent process. They could share the analysis of nascent fields and new products. Richard could oversee client recruitment and relations as well as marketing. It would give each of them plenty of work, but not so much that they’d have to spend eighty hours a week at the office. Such a division of labor might actually make their work schedule livable.
Will barely heard Richard’s detailed ideas on the other methods of organizing the company as he pondered what additional benefits might result from sharing the load. Maybe he could visit Maine a bit more. Spend more time with Elizabeth there. He tapped the screen of his phone just to look at the song sitting at the top of his Favorites playlist.
“Will, have you heard a thing
I’ve said?” Richard asked, sitting on the other end of the table. “I’m not used to being ignored. Earth to Will?”
Will stood up, grabbed a piece of paper out of the printer, and scratched out his idea. “Here,” he said glibly, walking over to his cousin and shoving the paper into Richard’s hand, “this is the one.”
Richard looked at the crumpled piece of paper and read the names. His lips parted in surprise.
“The structure will be flatter,” Will said, pointing to the diagram as though he hadn’t just given his cousin equal billing in his company. There were three horizontal lines with the two of them at the top. “But not flat.” He clapped his cousin’s arm. “You said you wanted to work with me, not for me,” he reminded Richard. “It’s time to put up or shut up.”
There was a second small taxi-van waiting for them in the business district. They all piled into the vehicle, Abby in the front seat, Elizabeth sitting behind the driver, the men behind her. Elizabeth pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned her back against the blacked-out window. She frowned when it became apparent they were all going to leave from the same airport. There must have been a credible threat.
She felt Arch and Bob peering at her from time to time, and she finally returned an exaggerated glare.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, annoyed.
“Nothing,” Arch replied, hunching back in his seat.
“You,” Bob said at the same time.
“Well, get an eyeful, gentlemen,” she told them sardonically. “It’s not like you haven’t seen pretty much all of me before.”
The van was nearing the airport when Abby suddenly turned in her seat to face Elizabeth. Her expression was blank except for the narrowed eyes, as though she’d just solved an enigma. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”
Elizabeth nodded firmly. “I have things to do.” A long list.
Abby shook her head. “And what then, Duchess?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Elizabeth said with a wan smile. “Thanks to you, I have money enough to take my time.”
Abby faced forward and tipped her head back against the seat.
“We’ll miss ya, Dutch,” grunted Arch, reaching over the seat to pat her head roughly. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “can you take my Harley to Kansas City?”
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and nodded. “Love to. Kansas City, Kansas, or Kansas City, Missouri?”
Arch grinned. “Kansas. It’s in San Diego at my sister’s house.”
Elizabeth smiled back. Her ticket was for Seattle. San Diego sounded warmer, and it was closer to Los Angeles. “Mind if I make a few stops along the way?”
“Nah,” he replied, “Take your time. Sightsee. Go to the zoo. Pick up some postcards for the billionaire.” He smiled mischievously. “Rent a room at the Dog Bark Park Inn in Idaho on the 95. Bet your boy would enjoy a room in the dog’s butt.” He laughed raucously at his own joke.
Abby snorted derisively, but Elizabeth ignored it.
Arch dug into his pocket, withdrew a thick wad of cash, and jotted down some notes on a slip of paper. “Addresses,” he said, shoving it all at her. He appeared thoughtful for a moment and then reached into another pocket and gave her more money. “This is for your ticket, if there’s a flight leaving soon.” He glanced up at the front seat. “Just leave Seattle in place, Abby?” She waved him off without turning around.
“You’ll need a helmet. Mine’s way too big for you.” He grinned. “Oh, and some leathers.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Then get a picture for me.”
Even Bob smirked at that.
Elizabeth made a face as she pocketed the money and the address. “You wish.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Abby said stonily, staring straight ahead. “You were meant to do this work. Doesn’t what we just accomplished prove that?”
Elizabeth tucked the addresses and money away and turned her gaze back to the window. “Not going back would be the mistake,” she said resolutely. “Sometimes you just have to do the hard thing.” Things.
“The hard thing would be coming with us,” Abby replied. “Saving lives. You can’t deny that you have a gift. You’ll be wasted in New Jersey.”
“There are other ways to serve,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“Is that an Uncle Ed-ism?” Abby asked, sounding disappointed but resigned.
“No. That’s all me,” was Elizabeth’s fatigued but determined reply.
Abby reached into her bag as the sign for the airport appeared on their left. She handed each of them an envelope. Elizabeth glanced at hers and put it away.
This is who I am. Elizabeth Bennet, she told herself sternly, shaking off the melancholy that came on unexpectedly when she thought about never seeing these people again. Inactive Marine, cyber-security expert with a new business, niece of Ed and Maddy Gardiner, sister to four amazing women, cousin to four little savages, survivor of De Roos. And a woman with a deep, abiding love for that donkey, Will Darcy, who will hopefully forgive me for what I’ve put him through. She noted the different airlines as they wound their way through a knot of traffic. But even if he doesn’t, if this all I ever am—well, that’s enough. She thought about everything she had and felt a stab of guilt for being ungrateful. Not just enough. It’s a lot. The van came to a stop, and all four grabbed their bags.
Once on the sidewalk outside the terminal, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and began the walk through the sliding doors to the ticket counter. She’d been dropped near baggage claim, so she deftly made her way through the crowds. To her great consternation, Bob shadowed her, just behind her and to her left. “Hey,” he said, looking straight ahead. “For a minute there, I was worried you might actually come with us.”
“Thanks,” she replied acerbically. Good to know I make an impression.
He cleared his throat. It was an irritated sound. “Abby thinks you’re still a wunderkind, but you’ve hit the wall, Pi.”
She groaned. “Stop calling me that.”
She heard a quiet laugh. “I could call you Dutch Apple Pi.”
“Bob,” she replied grimly, “I know you think I can’t, but I will kick your . . .”
“My what, Pi?” He was highly amused now, judging by the glee in the tenor of his voice. “You can’t even say the word, much less do any damage to it.”
“What do you want?” she asked impatiently, stopping suddenly to read a posted map. He turned his back to read a sign behind her but remained near her shoulder. They paused as a school group bulldozed past them noisily, and then picked up their conversation.
“What changed your mind?” he asked curiously.
“I didn’t change it.” Will would never date Caroline Bingley. The fact that I thought it possible even for a second makes it obvious that I am not firing on all pistons. I need to go home. “I just didn’t want to argue with Abby about it all the way to the airport. You know how she is.”
“Yeah.” As she turned to head off, he pulled even with her. “Wickham was into something with Barker, but I don’t think they were behind the attack on your boyfriend’s company.” He pressed something in her hand while pretending to wave at someone in the opposite direction. “Safe harbors, Pi.”
She closed her hand around a piece of paper as Bob changed directions and walked away. “Safe harbors, Bob.”
Will stood in front of the refrigerator, glancing, as always, at the beer on the bottom shelf. Richard, in a rare fit of superstition, refused to drink them until Elizabeth came home. So, every morning and every night for the past three weeks, Will found himself staring at the very tangible reminder that she wasn’t here. New Year’s Eve was soon, and there’d been no word. Where was she?
He could hear Georgiana playing the piano in the other room and closed his eyes to listen. He shut the refrigerator door without removing anything. When he opened his eyes, Richard was staring at him.
“What are you doing?” his cousin asked skeptically.
“Nothing,”
Will sighed. “What do you want?” Richard didn’t say anything, so Will moved down the hall to his office. He’d been rethinking everything about his time with Elizabeth. He’d been concerned about her headaches and nightmares before she left, but after seeing the song she’d sent Richard, his anxiety had gone into overdrive. Research, he’d decided, was a productive way to combat it. Any time he wasn’t at work or with Georgiana had been spent online reading studies, investigating medical links between migraines and military service, learning more about the classifications of headaches, migraines, and traumatic brain injuries than he’d ever wanted to know.
Elizabeth was nearly always cheerful and funny. Her realistic but stubbornly positive outlook was one of the things that drew him to her. He was ashamed he hadn’t recognized before now that the humor and wit she used to turn a devolving conversation into more benign channels was also deftly employed to avoid discussions about her health. Elizabeth wasn’t formed for unhappiness, but as formidable as she was, even she had to have a breaking point. He was reading yet another study, this one on a connection between migraines and PTSD, when Richard appeared again, lounging in the doorway.
Richard rubbed a fist along his jaw. “What’re you reading?”
“Uh . . . ” Will glanced away from the screen, still engaged in the content. “This one is about headaches after a concussion and how they manifest among combat veterans. It covers the differences between PCS and PTSD.”
“Going after that Ph.D, Will?” Richard joked. His expression sobered, and he looked away. “Got tired of reviewing the video of Spinoza and Goring, whoever they are?”
“For now,” Will replied. “It’s frustrating that the quality’s not great, but I think I’d recognize them if I saw them.”
Richard grimaced. “They’re long gone by now.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “You really love her, don’t you?”
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