“I understand.”
Darcy was a man who didn’t blather; he shot straight, in Mary’s opinion, and if he said he understood, it meant he had given whatwas about to transpire some thought. It was a gift that Lizzie had stayed behind to help after Pa’s fall because it had given Mary a chance to tell Lizzie everything—when she could observe for herself Mary’s experience caregiving for their parents. Lizzie must have imparted every detail to Darcy, because he took time to come into Manhattan to help her.
Mary could see Mr. Collins’s shadow as he walked outside the glass bricks of the conference room wall. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was Take Your Son to Work Day; the shadow was half the size of what it should have been for a grown man.
“Cousins!” Mr. Collins pushed the conference room door open. His face fell when he saw Darcy. He was counting on dealing with the Bennet sisters, not their formidable brother-in-law. Mary, in her wisdom, knew how the world worked, at least when it came to banking, finances, and real estate. Her father had handled the family finances, and it was his family that owned 10 Jane Street. She also knew that the agreement between the brothers was fluid. Mary understood it was the moment to try to scare her wee cousin.
If Collins ever found out that it had been Charlotte’s idea to bring Darcy into the mix around the discussion of the deed of 10 Jane Street, he would have been furious. The truth was, Mary couldn’t handle this alone. She was worn down from taking care of her parents, and getting her father settled in rehab. He was coming home for good that week, and she had spent the time making a bedroom in the back parlor for him. Mary Bennet was no longer shy about asking for help.
Collins shuffled some files around. He opened one and removed papers, handing them over to Darcy. Darcy pulled hisreading glasses from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He put them on his nose and read.
“This is the original deed?” Darcy asked.
“Amended, but yes, the original is part of it.”
“When were the amendments done?”
“Every few years. My cousin came in when he needed help,” Collins explained.
Mary’s face flushed with shame at the idea of her father coming to Collins for help. The burden of financial worry was one she shared with all of her sisters, excluding, perhaps, Lydia, who moved through the world without a thought about money and seemed to land on her feet no matter her circumstances.
“It is co-owned, Mr. Collins,” Darcy said.
“Through our fathers, who were brothers.” Collins shrugged. “I allowed some borrowing against my cousin’s half,” he explained.
“I see that.”
“I recommend we sell the building to settle the debt and split the sale as described in the deed.”
“May I see?”
Darcy handed Mary the document. She scanned it—she knew the numbers and the freight on the deed in terms of loans because copies of these documents were in the stack on her father’s desk.
“William,” Mary addressed Collins without affect. “The building, the lot, have increased in value. We have taken care of the building—my father for the last forty-three years. We have lived there. In New York City, there’s a law that says in cases of joint ownership, sale will be determined by the tenant owner.”
“If the co-owner wants his money, he can force a sale,” Collins said without emotion.
“I understand. But we are living there—my father, my mother, and me.”
“I suppose we can leave the sale open until the death of one or both of your parents,” Collins said.
“I don’t want to move them.” Mary smiled. “Ever.”
“Could you possibly wait to force a sale until such a time?” Darcy asked.
“I suppose,” Mr. Collins said.
“Thank you.” Mary looked around the fancy conference room, with its mahogany table, leather chairs, and expensive map collection on the walls. Mr. Collins had done well with his inheritance. If only her father had done the same.
AN UNLIKELY TURN OF EVENTS
Mary Bennet looked forward to her classes at HB Studios because she was becoming a better writer. Of course, since she had a meet-cute with Joe Tarantello, she also looked forward to seeing him and continuing their conversation. But he hadn’t returned to class. Three classes came and went, long enough for Mary to conclude he had a girlfriend elsewhere—or that the theater just didn’t work out for him. But Mary arrived early for her classes at HB Studios, just in case Joe showed up.
Mary Bennet had so much on her mind she wasn’t even sad. She let it go. What could she do, anyway? Mary leaned against the front of the building on Bank Street. Up the block, students from the acting class checked their phones and smoked. They were clustered around the giant oak tree that grew toward the sky at a tilt.
Mary’s play was soon to go into the casting process, and she was on the lookout for five women to play her fictional sisters andherself. She squinted at the group and wondered if any of them would audition.
“How are you, Mary?” Donna DeMatteo joined her. She wore a beige cashmere coat thrown over black slacks and a white blouse. A necklace of jade and pearl hung loose to her waist.
