Stephanie isn’t wrong about that. DC men– the transplants, anyway– come to the town wanting to fix the world and quite possibly rule it; in the meantime, they bask in the reflected glory of the congressman or senator or worthy cause they work for. They all wear suits, and it’s hard to be ugly in a suit. But they’re all basically the same: they’re not interested in anyone who can’t help them get ahead in some way.
Lexi reluctantly has to admit that there is one man who doesn’t quite fit that mould. Arrogant and annoying: yes. But notquitethe same as the rest of them. His life isn’t built around politics. It’s built, like hers, around books.
It’s just a shame that he’s her competitor, and not a potential suitor.
A competitor who needs to be stopped, distracted, thrown off his game.
It is suddenly very clear what the plan is. Lexi will make Sam fall in love with her. She’ll turn to her maybe-relative Jane Austen for inspiration. There’s no risk of her falling in love with him, because she’ll keep her head screwed on and remember that despite his good looks, he is first and foremost an enemy that must be vanquished. And thanks to the distraction, he will be.
Independent Bookstore Day
Lexi Austen’s plan to woo Sam Dickens:
Drop a handkerchief in front of him
Take a turn about the park
Give a piano recital (learn to play first??)
Take him out dancing
Push him into a lake
Chapter Seven
Erin and John have been pretty serious for a while now, so Lexi should probably have expected this. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all, and men, she has found in her shambolic dating life, are often not very imaginative. But Lexi was wrapped up in her own lightbulb moment– her newfound plan to woo Sam, for the good of her bookshop– and it didn’t occur to her to think that tonight could be anything other than an average if overpriced and over-pink date for Erin and John.
But when she hears Erin’s excited voice from outside the front door as she fumbles for her keys, she knows.
Erin has her back to the door when Lexi walks in, and she tries to creep up the steps without her noticing. She wants to give Erin privacy for this phone call; she also wants time to process, to rearrange her features into excitement and sort through her feelings until she can mostly just be happy for Erin. It’s what Erin deserves; it’s what friendship is; and Lexi knows that unselfish celebration is what Erin would do for her.
But it’s hard, because this is also the end of an era. Erin will move out, and Lexi will have to trawl the internet for a new flatmate. She’ll be confronted with the fact that she’s in her thirties and still flat-sharing with randoms. That everyone else around her is growing up, getting married, moving on, but despite her very responsible and slightly stressful job, Lexi is stuck in a post-student state. And also that somehow she is failing to do that most basic of things: to find someone to share her life with. Yes, as established, DC dating sucks, but somehow other people manage to succeed at it.
Lexi tiptoes to the staircase, but it’s too late: Erin’s noticed her. Lexi does her best to match her brightest grin; her facial muscles feel like they’re responding, but she can’t be totally sure. Lexi wiggles her own ring finger at Erin with widened, inquisitive eyes, and Erin, still speaking nods and shows off her own finger, dazzling with a brand-new ring, diamond with sapphires. Lexi tries, unsuccessfully, to stop her heart from dropping.
‘Listen, Mom,’ Erin says, finally managing to get a word in edgeways. ‘I’ll call you back later, okay?’
Erin throws her phone onto the sofa and runs over to hug Lexi. Lexi squeezes her tight.
‘Finally!’ she says into her hair. ‘It’s about time.’
It’s actually only been six months, so this is a bit of a running joke. But Erin and John are both really serious about their Christian faith, and when you’re saving yourself for marriage, and you’ve been waiting more than thirty years, you do things fast.
‘Tell me everything,’ Lexi says, and Erin does.
The proposal at sunset on the wide marble steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the delightful surprise of it all, the tentative plans they’re making for the wedding.
‘And of course, you’ll be my maid of honour, right?’
‘Of course.’ Lexi nods with all the enthusiasm she can muster, her auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders. ‘I’d never forgive you otherwise.’
‘I know I’m supposed to plan some fancy way to ask you, and maybe I’ll do that later and you can act surprised?’
‘Of course!’
Six years into living here, Lexi still hasn’t got used to the pageantry of American wedding prep: professional headshots to announce an engagement, wedding showers and bachelorette parties, and the rituals of asking friends to be bridesmaids with all kinds of creative and elaborate plans, from a succession of postersLove-Actually-style, to a gift with a card inside, to (shudder) hollowed-out books containing a piece of jewellery and a letter. It’s probably the Brit in her, but spontaneous, understated but heartfelt questions are more her thing.
She’s just thrilled to be asked, thrilled about the friendship it represents, and thrilled to have an Important Job on the day so that she won’t feel like a spare part.
