“We’ll see, Jane. I’m all legs, and they prefer to go akimbo. I have some neuropathy in my feet. When you can’t feel your feet, good luck feeling the ground underneath them.”
“There are more bones in the feet than in any other limb,” Mary said.
“And all of mine ache,” Mr. Bennet admitted. “Ladies, I want you to go home now. Mary will prepare dinner. Now go on. All of you. Home to Jane Street. I need my rest.”
THE UNEXPECTED REUNION
Lizzie settled her mother in her bed.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I took a Klonopin,” Mrs. Bennet admitted. “My nerves should settle now.”
Before Lizzie could turn out the light, her mother was snoring. Lizzie went out into the hallway and down the steps. She stopped in the front parlor and took a look around before going through the pocket doors to the back parlor. This had been her favorite room in the old house. Books from floor to ceiling. Afternoon sun, she remembered. And the kitchen close by, to make a quick cup of tea to accompany her reading.
Lizzie turned on the small lamp on the side table before going through the door into the kitchen. Mary had set the table with a cloth and a candle. The soup bowls, Italian from Deruta, were stacked next to the Crock-Pot. The black-and-white marble floor was polished. The walnut table with the additional leaves was stretched to accommodate ten. Mary had not made it smaller since last Christmas because she liked to spread herscenes out on the table and look at them in small piles. She moved the action around on the table just as she hoped to do on the stage.
“Smells wonderful in here,” Lizzie said.
Mary removed a loaf of bread from the oven. She placed a crock of butter next to it. “Let it cool,” she said to her sisters.
“I can’t believe you bake your own bread,” Jane marveled. “Where do you find the time?”
“I found the old breadmaking machine in the basement,” Mary said. “And wouldn’t you know, our parents consume a lot of bread.”
“You take such good care of them,” Kitty said.
“Thank you, Kit. I made up all the beds. I’m sorry if your mattresses are on the lumpy side, but they’re on my list to replace when we get some extra funds coming in,” Mary said pleasantly.
“We can help put a fund together,” Jane offered.
“You do enough. All of you. It takes five daughters to take care of two parents, evidently,” Mary explained.
“Lydia says she’ll be here by morning.” Jane looked down at her phone.
“We’ll have to take an official reunion photo once she arrives.” Lizzie smiled.
“We’ll go out on the stoop,” Jane agreed.
“Better lighting out there,” Mary joked.
The girls helped Mary serve the stew. Jane uncorked a bottle of wine and poured the burgundy Orvieto into glasses.
Jane raised her glass as Mary sat down and joined them at the table. “To Mary. Our brilliant artist. Our playwright. Our sister. God knows she can tell a story.”
“And God knows she’s got plenty to choose from,” Lizzie added.
“Congratulations on your prize!” Kitty said as the girls clinked their glasses for good luck.
“It’s not a big deal,” Mary said.
“Oh really? We think it is! You’ve been taking classes at HB Studios since we can remember.”
“I enjoy the classes. Winning the prize is extra.”
“We’ll all come to the premiere,” Jane promised.
“Pa will be better by then,” Lizzie said. “But we should think about the future.”
