Lydia’s eyes widened dramatically, and Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. She had assumed Lydia already had a driver’s permit—this was so much worse. “From now until you can pay for all the damages you’ve caused, you’ll be coming to work with me every day after school and all day on Saturdays. School holidays will be spent at work, including the summer. School, homework, work. That’s your life now.”
“Plumbing?” Lydia began to wail but cut it off immediately when Ed lifted a single eyebrow. “But won’t insurance pay for the damages?”
“Are you kidding me?” exclaimed Elizabeth. She frowned. “Sorry, Uncle Ed.”
“No, that’s all right, Lizbet,” he replied smoothly, and waved his hand. “Explain the reality to her.”
Elizabeth fought to control her annoyance. Once she’d largely succeeded, she told her sister, “Lyddie, the only way insurance will pay a dime is if I press charges against you.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “But that’s not fair!”
“It’s completely fair,” Elizabeth replied, exasperated. “As far as they’re concerned, if I don’t press charges, it means I allowed an unlicensed driver to take my truck and am responsible for her wrecking it. Since that means I broke the law, my insurance won’t cover anything.”
Ed rubbed a fist along the side of his jaw and continued addressing Lydia. “You’ll have to pay the value of the motorcycle you totaled, and we have no idea if the truck even can be repaired. Whatever the sum, it’ll be taken out of your trust fund so the debts can be paid immediately. Then you’ll have to work for me at minimum wage until you repay the trust. You can start in the stockroom.”
“But that’s my college money!” Lydia replied, shocked. “You never let us touch it!”
“That’s right,” Ed told her, his voice icy, “and you may have to get a job to finish school or spend the first two years at a community college, because this is going to impact what you have to spend.”
Elizabeth could see that her uncle’s temper was growing short. She opened her mouth to tell Lydia her punishment was more than reasonable, but Will spoke first. His voice was even and sympathetic. Thank God someone’s remaining calm, she thought. Will probably has a better chance getting through to her than we do right now.
“Lydia,” Will said quietly, “if someone took your phone and destroyed it, you’d expect them to pay for it, right?”
The bottom lip was puffed out again. “Right.”
“Your sister worked really hard to buy that truck,” he continued calmly. “And it cost a lot more than your phone. You broke the truck, and you broke the motorcycle. That means you should pay for them.”
Lydia’s face fell. “Okay,” she sighed, shoulders slumping. She turned to her sister. “I’m really sorry about your eye, Elizabeth,” she said quietly. Elizabeth thought her sister’s expression was as close to shame as Lydia ever came. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Uncle Ed needs to train you up,” she said with a yawn. “Imagine what you could do on purpose.”
Lydia rubbed a finger behind her ear and one side of her mouth tilted up slightly.
“Not a bad idea, Lizbet,” Uncle Ed agreed. “Now get out. Will’s not the only one who has work in the morning. And Lydia, you are going to school in three hours. No games when your aunt wakes you up. You can claim bubonic plague and I’d tell you to walk it off. Got it?”
“Got it, Uncle Ed,” Lydia said, and was gone in a flash.
Elizabeth and Will stood up, and she felt her uncle’s eyes on her. “What?” she asked.
“Really, Lizbet?” he clucked, feigning disappointment. “You let Lydia do that to you? The girl who’s never lifted anything heavier than an iPhone?”
She threw him a sour look. “Don’t let her fool you,” she said snidely. “That girl’s a ringer.”
Ed laughed out loud and waved them out of the house.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was a remarkably simple thing to drive through Manhattan so early in the morning. The city was never completely quiet, but there were no long back-ups at signal lights and very few pedestrians to slow them down. As they approached Will’s apartment, Elizabeth turned her head to watch him complete what had been almost ten hours on the road after a long day at work. He appeared as rested and sharp as normal. His suit coat was hanging in the back seat, and he’d pulled a sweater on over his shirt and tie. Still impeccable, she thought wryly, comparing his spotless attire to her disheveled appearance. Only the fact that he’d turned off the heater and let the car grow cold gave him away. She examined his face more carefully. There was a slight furrow in his forehead that revealed how hard he was concentrating. She pulled out her phone to send an email, and he didn’t even ask her who she could possibly be writing at this hour. Another sign, she thought as she finished and pressed send.
She was relieved when they arrived at Central Park West and Will deftly swung the car into the garage.
“You know,” he told her as he shut the driver’s door and they headed inside, “no matter what you do, you seem to wind up here. Maybe you should just move in.”
Subtle, Will, she thought with a silent laugh, but a sudden swell of tenderness prevented her from teasing him. She knew he’d followed her tonight because he loved her and he didn’t want her to have to deal with her family alone. She felt that way about him, of course, but to have that feeling returned was . . . everything.
She didn’t want to be alone, either.
He was exhausted. He had to be. Yet what he was thinking about was how he could get her to move in so they wouldn’t have to be apart all week or make special plans to meet. How could she say no to that? So, instead of resisting like she normally did, she just agreed. “All right, Will. We can talk about it when I get back from West Virginia.”
Will held out his hand to her and she took it. “Really?” he asked, in a tone so quietly pleased that Elizabeth wanted to cave in entirely.
“When I get back, we’ll talk,” she repeated, more to convince herself than him. “I’ll have to get someone to take over my lease. But there doesn’t seem to be much sense paying rent when I’m almost never there.”
“No,” he concurred, squeezing her hand. “It doesn’t make sense at all.”
“Whoa,” Charles Bingley said, stopping short and blinking at her as he walked into the Gardiners’ front hall. “What happened to you?”
Elizabeth frowned. As Will had predicted, the skin below her eye had turned dark red and purplish-blue overnight. Spectacular, he’d warned. As Will was leaving the house he’d told her, in no uncertain terms, to have Dr. Garcia order an X-ray, “just to be safe.” She’d tried to argue, but he’d refused to engage. He’d simply called Jane, they’d ganged up on her, and then he’d called Garcia’s office. The doctor’s receptionist had scheduled her in at the end of the day, so she had to get back to the city.
She was still irritated about it. Will was playing dirty, getting her sister on the line and then scheduling the appointment for her. He knew she wouldn’t cancel after they’d agreed to stay late to see her and she’d never be a no-show. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, let alone Garcia, whom she really liked. If there was an appointment, she’d be there. And Will knew it. He’s getting to know me entirely too well.
There was some other business to get through first, though.
“Fight club,” she replied impertinently. Charles tossed her a skeptical glance, and she shrugged. “It’s a long story, and you’re about to hear it. C’mon in.” She led him to her uncle’s study, reflecting that it had been getting a lot of use lately.
The Gardiners and Lydia stood inside. Both Gardiners welcomed Charles, and Maddy offered him a drink. Charles shook his head and sat down. Lydia was staring at her feet.
Lydia darted a nervous glance at Elizabeth, who tapped one finger below her chin, signaling Lydia that she should raise her head and look Charles in the eye. Lydia’s lips pressed together tightly, but she squared her shoulders a
nd lifted her face.
Uncle Ed had stopped talking and was looking at Elizabeth expectantly. “Charles,” she said slowly, “I wanted to thank you for the use of your motorcycle yesterday. It was very generous and much appreciated.”
Charles frowned and nodded as though he’d confirmed something. “I told you not to crash it,” he said in a humorous but resigned tone.
“I didn’t,” Elizabeth said.
“I did,” Lydia interrupted breathlessly. “I backed Lizzy’s truck over it, Mr. Bingley, and I’m really, really sorry.” She took a breath. “I wrecked Lizzy’s truck, too.”
Charles laced his fingers together, his forehead creased. Elizabeth had thought he would be more visibly upset. Uncle Ed had made it clear Lydia would deserve it, but he’d obviously made sure that both he and Aunt Maddy were there, probably to make sure things remained civil. Charles didn’t seem surprised. He must have suspected something had happened when he’d gotten the call from Uncle Ed asking him to come over.
Elizabeth was grateful. For all her façade of brash self-confidence, Lydia was still very much an insecure teenager. Elizabeth knew she couldn’t protect her little sister from the consequences of her extraordinarily poor choices, that she shouldn’t protect her in any case. But it was difficult not to hope for the best.
Charles met Lydia’s gaze. “Was anyone hurt?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Lydia responded. Her eyes shifted over to her sister. “Except Lizzy.”
His lips quirked up at the corners and he tossed an amused glance at Elizabeth. “So, no fight club?” His expression pinched as something seemed to occur to him, his tone suddenly concerned. “You weren’t on the bike when it was hit, were you?”
Elizabeth shook her head and he relaxed. Same question Will asked, she thought, storing that away for analysis. She glanced over at her aunt and uncle. Aunt Maddy was relieved, and even Uncle Ed appeared to grudgingly approve.
Maddy turned to Lydia. “Go on,” she directed.
“I fully accept the responsibility for my actions,” Lydia said quietly, and launched into her apology. It sounded as though she’d written and memorized the speech, but it wasn’t being delivered by rote. Whatever Lydia did, she did with her whole heart. She’d gone off the deep end the day before, but now she was throwing herself into trying to make things right with almost the same fervor. She arrived at the end of her speech. “I will pay for you to purchase a comparable motorcycle, so I’ll need to know how much it cost.”
Charles uncrossed his legs and crossed them again. He seemed to be evaluating the situation before deciding what to say next. “I am guessing, then,” he said finally, “that this is not something you can claim on insurance.”
Lydia shook her head. “No. Lizzy was kind enough not to press charges, and I hope you won’t either. That means the insurance won’t cover it.” She worried the cuff of her sweater. “But I have some money of my own, and I will pay you back out of that.” She glanced nervously over at her uncle. “Then I have to go work for Uncle Ed until I pay myself back.”
Charles tilted his head a bit as he turned to the Gardiners. “It may take a while,” he said with some reluctance, as though he felt sorry for her. “It was kind of an expensive bike.” He tapped his fingers on his knee. “It was a few years old, though. I can look up the Blue Book value.”
“I have to pay for Lizzy’s truck, too,” Lydia said, her voice a little stronger. “I know I’ll be working a long time to pay it all back, but at least you’ll be able to buy a replacement.”
Elizabeth watched Charles evaluate her sister. “You can replace the monetary value, Lydia,” he said gently, “but there was some sentimental value wrapped up in that bike, too. That won’t be able to be replaced.” He appeared unsure about whether to continue, but Uncle Ed nodded at him. “I bought it as a project, and I worked on it for almost a year with a friend of mine who’s not with us anymore.”
Lydia’s face flushed tomato red. “I’m so sorry,” she said, stumbling over the words.
Charles waved a hand as if to brush her statement away. “He’d have been the first one to tell me ‘it’s just a bike,’ so don’t worry about that. I’ll always have those memories. But it seems you’re learning a lesson here, and that ought to be part of it. Sometimes, there are things that can’t be set right, so you need to think things through before you act.” He turned his gaze to Elizabeth. “If you don’t, you can lose things more important than a motorcycle.”
Lydia sucked in a ragged breath, and his attention returned to her. “You’re fortunate you’re learning this now, Lydia,” he told her almost wistfully. “It took me a lot longer.”
Uncle Ed uncrossed his arms and held out a hand to Charles. “You’ll send us the amount tonight or tomorrow?”
Charles rose and shook Ed’s hand firmly. “Yes.” He thanked them both, shaking Maddy’s hand and moving to leave.
“Well,” Aunt Maddy said with a sigh as the front door closed, “that went better than we had any right to expect.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, still surprised and very thankful. “It did.”
Uncle Ed dismissed Elizabeth and Aunt Maddy soon after Charles departed so that he could speak to Lydia about her new work responsibilities. Elizabeth didn’t want to head back until she’d had a chance to speak to Lydia. She knew there were things she needed to say. That they both needed to say. But Lydia never came. When she heard Uncle Ed’s low tones and Aunt Maddy replying, Elizabeth thought Lydia might have gone up to her room. She stood to go check and glanced out the slider in the family room as she passed.
Lydia, wrapped in a coat, scarf, and gloves, was sitting in the far back corner of the yard. She’d pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head down on them.
Slowly, so as not to draw attention, Elizabeth slipped out to the entryway to gather her coat and gloves. She jammed a ski cap into one of her pockets and exited through the front door, shutting it quietly so no one would hear her leave. Once outside, she made her way into the backyard through the side fence. Lydia looked up as Elizabeth zipped up her coat, yanked the ski cap over her head and ears, and took a seat on the ground beside her.
They sat in silence for a time. Elizabeth thought perhaps it was best to wait Lydia out. She wasn’t sure exactly what was bothering her sister, because there were a lot of issues to choose from. Finally, she caught Lydia peering surreptitiously over at her and thought it was as good an opening as she was likely to receive.
“You and I,” she began evenly, “are the most alike of all of us girls, I think.” Elizabeth nodded when Lydia’s eyebrows drew together. She clarified. “We both have the Gardiner temper. Uncle Ed has it, too, but he’s incredibly good at controlling it.” She intentionally avoided making eye contact with her sister. It would be easier for them both if they could just speak. “We get angry, Lydia, in a different way than Kit or Mary. And Jane,” she said, shaking her head dolefully, “has a tough time getting angry at all and a tougher time staying that way. It takes a direct affront to her sense of justice for her to even become mildly upset.” Elizabeth picked up a twig from the ground and rolled it through her fingers as she spoke. “I don’t hold a grudge much, but I do rush to anger.” She leaned over to give her sister a nudge. “Like you.”
Lydia sat for a moment longer before looking away. “What do you do?” she asked plaintively.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth countered.
“When it all builds up inside and you feel like you’ll die if you don’t do something about it.”
Elizabeth nearly smiled at the melodramatic expression, but she knew very well it could feel that way. “I run. Or work out. Physical exertion helps me.”
Lydia grimaced. “I don’t like to run.”
Elizabeth squelched a smile rather unsuccessfully. “I know. But you could take a walk. Or—you sing. Pour it out in your music.”
Lydia considered the suggestion. “I could do that.”
“It doesn’t much
matter how you do it,” Elizabeth told her. “The important thing is to find a constructive outlet. Otherwise, bad things can happen.”
“Like wrecking your truck?” Lydia asked in a small voice.
Elizabeth sighed. “I can’t say I’m happy about that, Lyddie. That was the first vehicle I’ve ever owned, and I only had it about a month. But I’ve done worse. I’m just glad nobody was hurt, including you.”
Lydia put her head back down. When she spoke, her voice was muffled. “What could you possibly have done that was worse?”
Elizabeth rubbed the back of her head. “Well, maybe just different. Can I trust you not to talk about this with anyone else?”
Lydia turned her head towards Elizabeth. “Yes,” she said somberly, her eyes wide. “I can keep your secret.”
“Lyddie,” she started, “how do you think I felt when Tom left?”
“Angry,” was the prompt response.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Terrified. He left and our mother blackmailed me, told me she’d take you three away and you’d be separated, tossed into foster homes with strangers.” Especially after what had happened with Mary and Collins, I couldn’t even consider it. “I was scared to death she’d do it.”
“I remember a little,” Lydia agreed, “I remember you telling us we all had to be on our very best behavior, and then I got in trouble at school.”
“It was completely unfair to ask you to be good all the time,” Elizabeth said with a sigh, “but I didn’t know what else to do.”
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