Annabelle grabbed the arm lying over her sister’s eyes and pulled. “Then just lie in bed and research companies that can send Richard an anonymous box of dog shit.”
Vivienne seemed to think about it for a minute, then sighed. “Okay.” She stood slowly and, Vivienne leaning on Annabelle, they both disappeared down the hall.
“I’m going to bed, too,” Charlie said, stretching his arms up over his head. “You all set?”
Will scratched his jaw, looking over to the towering windows that revealed darkness where the ocean should be. “Yeah. Going to stay up for a while.”
Charlie bobbed his head and started toward the stairs but paused at the foot. “You think Jane is nice, right?” he asked, turning just enough to look over his shoulder at his friend.
Will nodded. “I do.”
“And gorgeous?”
“Very.”
“Her sister is really pretty, too.”
Will stared at him.
Charlie smiled. “Maybe the four of us could go out, like a double date. Wouldn’t that be great? We could get—”
Will turned and started toward the kitchen. “Good night, Charlie.”
He heard Charlie laughing to himself as he ascended thestairs, but Will ignored it, his attention on the refrigerator. He had volunteered to drive tonight, so after two sips of that warm swill they served at the bar, he’d stuck with water. Now, as he grabbed a cold beer from the shelf, the drink felt well-earned. He twisted off the cap and took a deep sip as he walked to the doors that led out to the verandah.
They slid open easily, letting in a rush of ocean air, flush with salt and brine. He walked to the edge of the verandah, where the slate stone tiles met the craggy beach grass, and closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of rolling waves breaking on the shore.
He needed this. Despite how much the Hamptons had changed over the years, how its unrefined edges had been polished and honed, nothing could take away the calm of the beach, the ocean, the wind. Even in the stillness it felt raw and untamed. He had come to rely on that feeling of peace mixed in with something unpredictable and wild. If he wouldn’t have it this summer in Montauk, then East Hampton would have to do.
An image of red hair and dark eyes flashed in his mind, of powdered sugar and a smirk, but he ignored it and took another sip of his beer. Why should he fixate on something that didn’t matter? It was a moment and it was in the past. By tomorrow, Elizabeth Bennet wouldn’t even remember him.
CHAPTER 8
“Will Darcy didnotsay that.” Jane was staring at her sister over a basket of baguettes, mouth agape.
Lizzy set a tray of zucchini muffins down on the long folding table under their small white pop-up tent at the farmers market, squinting against the morning sun. “Technically, you’re right. He texted it.”
Behind her, Kitty snorted out a laugh from the top of the ladder where she was hanging American flag decorations from the tent’s metal frame.
The East Hampton Farmers Market was a Sunday tradition, and this Memorial Day weekend was no different. The field outside the Village Hall was a flurry of activity as locals set up their wares. Bennet Bakery had one of the smaller stands—just a table lined with muffins and breads and pastries—so while they were almost done setting up at nine a.m., others were still erecting their tents and hauling their goods from the nearby parking lot. Still, the smell of cherry muffins and sourdough bread was already mixing with cotton candy and hot dogs and citronella candles.
“Maybe he was talking about someone else,” Jane said, positioning a pile of napkins near the register.
Lizzy laughed, turning around to grab another tray of muffins. “I’m not sure that makes it any better.”
“But Will is Charlie’s best friend,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Charlie wouldn’t be friends with someone who would say something like that.”
“Oh, hewouldn’t?” Lizzy paused, resting the tray against her hip so she could wag her eyebrows at Jane. “Anything else about Charlie Pierce that you care to share?”
Jane’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you sure? Because you’ve been smiling at those sticky buns for a disturbing amount of time.”
“Stop it.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
