Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet (9781476763248) (25 page)

“I just want you to be able to experience the things you wouldn't be able to experience in other cities!” she protested, still sweet as ever.

“Sure,” I said. “Can't wait for you to come back home and start pushing people off the sidewalks because they aren't moving fast enough.”

She shoved me with her shoulder and shook her head. It's
strange that no matter how old we get or what happens, Jane and I always fall into the same big sister, little sister routine. It's nice in that “some things never change” kind of way, which is good when things keep changing around you.

“You're checking your phone a lot today. Waiting on something?” she asked.

I was confused for about half a second until I looked down and realized my phone was, in fact, in my hand. I guess I'd been taking it out subconsciously throughout the day, waiting to see if Mary would text me back.

Nothing yet.

“Just habit,” I said.

Actually, no one had texted or called except for Lizzie, who scolded me for not letting her know I got to Jane's safely. Usually when I left town, I'd get a call (or twelve) from Mom making sure I was okay, but nothing so far. I shot Mom a text saying as much anyway, and wondered if this meant my parents now trusted me, or if they were really this ready to have the house to themselves.

“Speaking of phones . . .” Jane stood up, looking at the screen on hers. “This is work, I have to take it.”

Before I even got a chance to nod, she had taken off down the path we'd used to get here, answering politely with a “This is Jane Bennet.”

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and continued munching on my pretzel and let myself marvel a little. This really was a beautiful park, even if it was a little hot in the summer and a little crowded on the weekend. I turned my attention toward the water, watching the ripples from the slight breeze pass through it. The spot we'd found was a bit off the trail, and this was probably the first quiet moment I'd had all day. God only knows I'm not usually much for quiet, but maybe that's because it's all I'm used to being around in the suburbs. In a bustling city, it's kind of nice.

Naturally, as I was thinking about how peaceful it was, I heard
the sound of sneakers scratching across grass nearby and turned just in time to see some guy in a gray shirt and black skinny jeans plop down in the grass a few feet away and open up what looked to be a giant sketchbook. My eyes darted between the water and this new arrival as he started to draw, trying not to be too awkward about it, but wondering why exactly he was sitting so uncomfortably nearby.

I thought back to something Jane had told me earlier, when we'd been listening to a middle-aged man warble out some song while hitting a cup against the pavement. It hadn't been good, but it had been attention-grabbing enough to make us stand there for a minute and watch.

“If you stop, you should put something in,” she had said after dropping a dollar into the coin-filled mug the “singer” had set out next to him.

I checked the ground around this younger guy, but I didn't see any mug. He had, however, taken off his hat and laid it on the grass.

Hats were for money, too, right? I'm pretty sure I saw that on
Law & Order
.

I stared at him for a minute, considering my options.

“If you want money, I don't have any,” I finally said.

The guy kept drawing for a few seconds and then looked up suddenly, as if he'd heard me on a delay.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you one of those people who does like art and stuff for everyone to watch and then we're supposed to give you money?”

“Me? No.” The amusement was perfectly clear in his expression, as he went right back to sketching.

I frowned. I didn't necessarily want to keep talking to him, but it felt super awkward sitting this close and
not
talking. Was this how people in New York always did things? A city so crowded that sitting down next to people and not acknowledging their existence was the norm?

But the park wasn't crowded, and he had still sat down here.

And he didn't seem to be hitting on me, either, so . . .

“Is it like some weird performance-art thing, then? Sitting really close to strangers and seeing how they react?”

His smile continued, though he didn't look up at me this time. “I've been drawing that bridge all afternoon. Got up to stretch my legs, came back, and you were sitting there. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Trying to get done before the sun sets is all.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling a little silly. That made sense. “No, it's okay.”

He didn't say anything else, so I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone to try to entertain myself.

Only to have it immediately die.

Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. I have got to get one of those battery packs Jane has.

Twisting in my seat, I looked around for Jane, finally spotting her pacing up and down the path nearby. She threw me a quick wave but immediately continued what looked to be a really intense conversation.

So, no, not on her way back to rescue me from awkwardness and boredom.

I slumped back down onto the bench and found my eyes wandering toward the non–street artist's sketchpad.

“I think you're drawing upside down,” I called over to him.

“I could be, I guess,” he agreed. “It's the reflection, see?” He took his pencil off the paper and pointed the eraser end at the water, where I could see a wobbly image of the bridge reflected back upside down.

“Are you doing a landscape thing?”

“Nah. Just the bridge.”

“And its reflection?”

“Just the reflection.”

“Why would you only draw the reflection?”

He opened his mouth but snapped it back shut again, looking me over. “You ask a lotta questions.”

“You don't give very good answers,” I fired back, frowning.

“If I spent all my time talking, wouldn't get much done, huh?”

“Hey, sorry about that.” I looked up and saw Jane walking toward me, phone actually not glued to the side of her face. “There was a . . . fabric situation.”

“Sounds dire,” I said, trying not to let my vague annoyance shine through too much.

Jane looked over to the weird drawing guy, who was, of course, already right back to drawing. But she must have noticed we'd been kind of mid-conversation when she got back, because, being Jane, she ducked her head down in an attempt to catch his attention.

“Hi! I'm Jane, Lydia's sister.”

He glanced up ever so briefly. “Hello.”

“What was your name?”

Oh, Jane. I stood abruptly and linked her arm in mine. “He doesn't like questions.”

“Okay?” Jane squeaked out as I pulled her along with me. “It was so good to meet you!”

“Same to you, Jane,” I heard him call out from pretty far behind us. Looks like I've already picked up the city dweller's fast-walking habit.

“Lydia, that wasn't nice,” she scolded as we slowed down to a slightly more casual pace.

I shrugged. “I wanted to spend more time with my sister. Is work stuff done?”

She shot me a look, and I immediately felt bad for the slight guilt trip.

“I'm sorry I keep getting pulled in for that,” she said, sighing. “I want to have today with you, but—”

“Sometimes life happens. It's all right. You're stuck with me for a whole week, anyway. So . . . where to next?”

“Well . . . Bing wants to take us to dinner in about two hours—”

“He does?” I squealed. “Ooh, is it someplace fancy? I've always
wanted to go to a classy restaurant in the city. Can it be just like the movies?”

“Slow down,” Jane said, grinning. “I think you'll like it. That's all I'm going to say because it was supposed to be a surprise, but I don't want you stuffing down any more pretzels before we get there.”

“No more pretzels,” I said. “Promise.”

“Good.” She tilted her head up toward the sky, past the trees. “It looks like the sun is going to be setting by the time we make our way back out of the park. . . . Wanna just walk around a bit before we go meet Bing?”

Oh, goody, more walking.

But my mind was already drifting away to expensive bottles of wine and filet mignon—pronounced by a waiter who sounded like he'd come out of the womb speaking French, obvs—as Jane led me down a new path and onto a bridge.

The same bridge, I realized, we'd been looking at from the park bench. I squinted in that direction and saw a faint person-outline in gray and black sitting where we'd left him. I briefly wondered if he'd catch me and Jane walking across in the reflection, and if we'd end up part of his weird backwards drawing.

Dinner with Bing was super fancy and expensive, just as I'd hoped. And he insisted on paying for everything, just as I'd hoped. And he and Jane were adorable all freaking night, just as I'd hoped.

Except I'd also hoped my phone wouldn't be dead so I could sneakily take photos of them being all googly-eyed and send them to everyone in our family.

It was refreshing to see two decent people in love and actually getting along with each other. Bing and Jane were a perfect match. Just like Darcy and Lizzie, in their own weird way.

And me and Kitty.

Not that I don't enjoy being single. I really,
really
do. No more relationships for a while. I need to figure out my own stuff first, and obviously what happened with Cody told me I am not ready for that yet.

Whatever, I'm good alone.

And I told Bing as much when he tried to horn in on my dessert.

“Are you going to eat all that cheesecake, or—”

“Bing, it's my first trip to New York. I am having this slice of New York cheesecake. By myself.” Bing blinked, shocked by the shutdown. But I'd become protective of my sweets since the congrats-cake fiasco.

Jane had stepped away to take yet another phone call. It's obvious she loves her job and is a godsend to her employers, but still, it would be nice to go three minutes without her phone ringing.

But as Jane walked back to the table, I could see there were tears in her eyes.

“What is it?” I asked. “What's wrong?”

For a second and a half I thought something devastating had happened, like Bing had broken up with her again, leaving her heart in a puddle on the floor dusted with snickerdoodle crumbs. But then I remembered that first, Bing would never in a million years do that again if he wanted to avoid death-by-Bennet-sister, and B, Bing was next to me while Jane took the phone call.

“Cecilia broke her ankle!” Jane said, as she plopped back down into her seat.

“Oh no,” Bing said, putting his hand over Jane's, and handing her his napkin to wipe her eyes.

“That sucks,” I said. “Who's Cecilia?”

“She's a coworker,” Jane replied, sniffling. “And she was
supposed to go to Miami this week for me, but now there's no backup. I have to put together a gift basket for her. She likes
Doctor Who
—do you think I can get a TARDIS at this hour?”

“Explanation, please? About Miami, not
Doctor Who
.”

It turns out Jane was supposed to go to Miami this week for a fashion exhibition. But since I called last-minute and said I was coming, she convinced the office to send her coworker Cecilia in her place. But Cecilia broke her ankle this afternoon while rock climbing at Chelsea Piers, so good-bye, Miami.

“Since it's so last-minute, they don't have a choice. They have to send me.” Jane was saying. “My flight out is tonight . . . I'm so sorry, Lydia, all I wanted to do was spend this week with you. . . .”

“Jane, it's okay,” I said, trying to be all casual about it. “I completely get it.”

“Do you?” she said, biting her lip. “It is only three days.”

“Know what? Those three days you were going to spend at work most of the time, anyway. Basically, we're missing out on three evenings of Netflix after you get home from the office so beat you don't want to do anything.”

Jane sniffled through her smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Well,” Bing said, signaling the waiter, “if your flight's tonight, we'd better get you packed and to the airport.”

*  *  *

“I could make you a list of things to see on your own,” Jane said, as she was throwing clothes into a suitcase. Although, Jane's version of “throwing clothes” involves folding everything neatly into their own perfectly fitting compartments. “I'll do it on the plane and send it once I land.”

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds great.” In reality, I was a little more waffly.

There are lots of things I want to see, but I don't really want to do it by myself. Not that I'm afraid of getting lost in the big, bad city—please, Lydia Bennet adapts quickly and flawlessly. It's just more fun
to experience things with other people. Namely, Jane. The actual sights still haven't been as great as I'd hoped. The great part was seeing them with my big sister.

But I wasn't about to let Jane know that. She already felt guilty enough.

“Or, if you want company, I'm sure Bing would be happy to take you to the center with him. The kids he works with are really lovely. And Allison and Shea will still be here.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Don't worry. I'll find something to do tomorrow. And a lot of it is probably going to be sleeping, because I'm beat. Touristing is exhausting.”

“Your feet are not going to be happy in the morning. It took a couple of weeks before I got used to it,” Jane said, with an apologetic smile. Then, as she clicked her suitcase shut, her smile turned serious.

“I don't mean to be a spoilsport, but . . .” She took a deep breath and fixed me with her best “concerned big sister eyes.” And if you know Jane, you know they're good ones. “I'm sorry to be leaving, because I was hoping we'd talk about everything that's happened this summer.”