Eligible (6 page)

The Lucases lived in Indian Hill, a suburb fifteen miles from downtown and home to the sort of Cincinnatians who enjoyed owning horses or at least purebred dogs who could roam on multi-acre properties. The Lucases’ house was a vast brick colonial with a balcony over the front door and a slate roof. In the kitchen, various Bennets embraced various Lucases, Jane passed off her sponge cake, and Liz walked to the window to survey the dozen or so guests already chatting on the flagstone patio in the backyard. “Jane, come see your future husband,” she called merrily.

Jane joined her. “I take it Chip Bingley is the tall, dark, and handsome one?”

Charlotte Lucas said, “No, Chip is the guy in the seersucker shorts. The tall, dark, and handsome one is his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, who joined the stroke center at the University of Cincinnati last year as a neurosurgeon. The rumor is he’s also single, but he’s kind of standoffish. He and Chip went to medical school together.” Charlotte turned to Jane. “Did you really never watch
Eligible
when Chip was on?”

“She’s never watched any of
Eligible,
” Liz said. “She’s like a unicorn.”

“Oh, Chip’s season was fantastic,” Charlotte said. “There was an actual physical fight involving ripped-out hair extensions.”

Mary, who had caught up to her mother’s car on the drive out, said, “I find
Eligible
degrading to women.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” Liz glanced at Charlotte. “Did you say Chip’s friend’s name is Fitzwilliam, and if so, did he just sail over on the
Mayflower
?”

“He goes by his last name.” Charlotte grinned. “Though I’m not sure Darcy is much better.”

In recent years, Charlotte and Liz hadn’t spent time together beyond Christmas parties or lunches scheduled during Liz’s trips home from New York, but they still took immense pleasure in each other’s company. Indeed, it had been one of the highlights of Liz’s longer-term return to Cincinnati to resume her friendship with Charlotte in a genuine fashion, as adults, and to find that her enjoyment of the woman was no less than it had been of the girl. They only half-jokingly speculated about whether they were the last two single people from their high school class, though Liz wondered if Charlotte suffered from this distinction more acutely—Charlotte lived in Cincinnati, where her mother could nag her at closer proximity; she didn’t have the buffer of an older sister who was, ostensibly, even more overdue to marry; she did wish to have children; and she didn’t have a secret boyfriend.

“Chip is shorter than he looks on TV, right?” Charlotte said. “But definitely cute. And that guy in the V-neck, Keith, is another new emergency doctor”—the man in question was black, the only non-white person at the party—“and the woman in the striped dress is an intern. The man next to her is her husband, and that toddler is theirs.” In addition to these guests were an attractive blond woman Liz didn’t recognize and two older couples Liz had previously met at the Lucases’ New Year’s Day open house; the men in both couples also worked as doctors at Christ Hospital.

“Is Keith single, too?” Liz asked. “Because if he is, Jane, there’s basically a man buffet for you to pick from.”

“I might remind you,” Mr. Bennet said as he blithely fixed himself a gin and tonic at the nearby wet bar, “that you’re not observing those gentlemen from behind a two-way mirror.” Mr. Bennet held up his hand, and Dr. Lucas waved back.

“I doubt they read lips,” Liz said.

Jane turned to Charlotte. “Is the blond woman a doctor?”

“That’s Caroline Bingley, Chip’s sister. She lives in L.A., but she’s helping him get settled here.”

“Chip
is
handsome,” Jane said, and Liz and Charlotte exchanged an amused look.

“Then let’s go out and I’ll introduce you,” Charlotte said.

AFTER THE FLURRY
of greetings, Liz found herself talking to Keith, who was congenial and, she quickly discovered, engaged to a woman finishing her medical residency in San Diego. By the time the chicken breasts had been grilled, and the potato salad, coleslaw, and rolls set out, Liz and Keith had covered the topics of San Diego’s climate, Cincinnati’s climate, and Cincinnati’s famous chili, which Keith had not yet sampled. As Liz and Keith moved on to Keith’s interest in golf, Liz was gratified to observe that Jane appeared to be deep in conversation with Chip Bingley; that conversation continued as Jane and Chip procured food and took seats side by side on a mortared stone retaining wall, soon joined by Chip’s sister Caroline.

When Liz had prepared her own plate of food, she walked to the four-person patio table where Fitzwilliam Darcy was sitting with the husband of the intern and one of the older doctors. The older doctor and the husband were discussing how the Reds were faring this season, and, addressing Fitzwilliam Darcy (or, Liz reminded herself, just Darcy), Liz pointed to the empty chair. “Is this seat taken?”

“It is,” Darcy said. He didn’t temper his rebuff with any apology, and Liz assumed he must have misheard her; he must have thought she’d asked if the seat was free.

She said, “It
is
taken?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, and he remained unapologetic. “It is.”

In spite of Charlotte’s warning about Darcy seeming standoffish, Liz was so disconcerted that she was tempted to say,
Forgive me for imagining I was worthy of sharing your table.
So he had gone to Harvard Medical School; so he was a neurosurgeon—neither fact gave him carte blanche to be rude. Before moving away, she smiled in a manner she hoped he understood was fake.

Spying Kitty and Lydia nearby, Liz walked to them and perched on the cushioned ottoman by Kitty’s knees. Her younger sisters were debating the ideal time to arrive at their next gathering, which apparently would be hosted by the owner of their CrossFit gym. Lydia pointed toward the roll on Liz’s plate. “Don’t carbs make you feel sluggish?”

“Everything in moderation,” Liz said. There were many reasons she found her sisters’ enthusiasm for CrossFit and the Paleo Diet irritating, including that Liz herself had been familiar with both long before they had, having written an article about CrossFit back in 2007. Another source of irritation was that her sisters looked fantastic; they had always been attractive, but since taking up CrossFit, they were practically glowing with energy and strength.

When Liz’s phone vibrated in her pocket, she was almost finished eating and even more insulted by Darcy’s snub than she’d been at first, because the chair beside him had remained empty all this time. She took the opportunity to go inside, wash the barbecue sauce from her hands at the kitchen sink, and check the message.

Southampton biggest clusterfuck of all time,
read the text from Jasper, and she typed back,
Hang in there. When fireworks?

God knows but none will b as bright as u,
Jasper texted.

A reference to my sparkling personality or sequined nipple pasties?
Liz typed.

Yowza,
Jasper replied.

Standing just inside the back door, looking down at her phone, Liz gradually became aware of a conversation occurring on the screen door’s other side; after focusing for a few seconds, she realized the speakers were Chip Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy.

“—much better than I expected,” Chip was saying. “When I told people I was moving to Cincinnati, I was practically getting condolences, but it’s not bad at all.”

“Said like a man who’s just spent an hour talking to the only good-looking woman at the party,” Darcy replied. “Not counting your sister, of course.” Liz could hear the rattle of ice cubes, then Darcy added, “I’m sure they do their best, but Cincinnatians are painfully provincial.” Inside the kitchen, Liz smiled. It was oddly satisfying to receive confirmation of Darcy’s snobbishness.

In a friendly tone, Chip said, “In your first year here, you didn’t find any lady Buckeyes who met your exacting standards?”

“I can hardly think of anything less tempting,” Darcy said.

Chip chuckled. “Someone told me Jane’s sister Liz is single, too.”

“I suppose it would be unchivalrous to say I’m not surprised.”

Liz’s jaw dropped; abruptly, the eavesdropping had ceased to be satisfying. Who did this man think he was, and what did he have against her personally? When being introduced, they hadn’t exchanged more than ten words.

“Here’s what I’ve learned about the people in this city,” Darcy was saying. “They grade their women on a curve. If someone is described as sophisticated, it means once during college she visited Paris, and if someone is described as beautiful, it means she’s fifteen pounds overweight instead of forty. And they’re obsessed with matchmaking. They act like they’re doing you a favor by conscripting you to have coffee with the elementary school teacher from their church during the two free hours you might have in an entire week. I’ve lost count of how many of my colleagues’ wives have tried to set me up. With your having been on TV, they must be licking their chops.”

“You know what?” Chip said. “I’m making it my mission to get you a social life in Cincinnati, and don’t try to tell me that’s an oxymoron. If all you have is two hours a week, let’s make them a great two hours.” His affectionate tone was, Liz thought, no particular credit to him—not only was Chip apparently unmoved to defend her from Darcy’s aspersions, but it hadn’t even seemed to occur to the former that his friend’s words were offensive.

“Good for you if you like it here now,” Darcy said. “And I don’t mean that facetiously. But I’ll be curious what you think this time next year.”

As Chip began speaking, Liz pushed open the screen door and, in an emphatically friendly tone, said, “Hi!” She glanced from Chip’s face to Darcy’s and, making eye contact with Darcy, held his gaze for an extra beat. “I was just inside thinking what grade I’d give myself,” she said. “I realized it would be an A-plus, but I’ve heard we grade on a curve here, so I’m probably what—more like a B for the coasts? Or a B-minus? If you have a minute to figure it out, be sure to let me know.” Without waiting for either to respond, she walked past them, eager to repeat Darcy’s comments as widely and quickly as she could.

LIZ AND JANE
went for their usual run the next morning, and they had just passed Edwards Road when Jane said, “So Chip texted after we went to bed to see if I want to get dinner tomorrow night.”

“He already texted? For dinner? On a Saturday night? Jane, he’s smitten with you.”

“I don’t know,” Jane said.

“What do you not know? You guys practically had to be pried apart when we left the Lucases’.”

“He’s really nice,” Jane said. “And attractive, obviously. But the situation is so contrived—his having been on TV, Mom scheming to get us introduced. Doesn’t that make it seem ridiculous?”

“There’s not the tiniest shred of doubt in my mind that you’ll find your dream man sooner or later. If it happens to be someone Mom pushed you toward, well, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.”

“It’s made life simpler that since I started the IUI, I haven’t met anyone I’ve wanted to go out with,” Jane said. “Because what would I say on a date? ‘I like you, but by the way, once a month I get anonymous sperm shot into my uterus? Hope that won’t put a damper on things!’ ”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Liz said. “Just go out to dinner with him.”

Jane was quiet, and Liz said, “I can hear you ruminating. What?”

“I know I shouldn’t make a big deal out of one date,” Jane said slowly. “But I can’t help doing the math. What if we start dating, we go out for three months or six months or eighteen months, and
then
we break up? By that point, I’m forty or forty-one.”

“You’re not having IUI while you’re here, right?” Liz looked at Jane, who nodded.

“Starting the process again at a new clinic is too complicated,” Jane said.

“In that case, give Chip a chance while we’re in Cincinnati. Have a summer fling. You did like him.”

They were passing Corbin Drive, and Jane said softly, almost so softly Liz couldn’t hear, “That’s true. I liked him a lot.”