He shook his head slowly. “No.”
She wanted to tell him that whatever it was, she loved it. That it somehow sounded like the sea: the rolling waves, the crashing surf, the exhilaration, and the quiet moments, too. But that felt like an admission, like she would be giving away a part of herself with the disclosure. So she cleared her throat to fill the silence and give herself a moment to remember why she was here in the first place. “Is Charlie here?”
“No, he’s not.”
As soon as he spoke, there was the sound of footsteps upstairs.
“Then who’s that?”
“Do you think I’m lying?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Will’s eyes narrowed at her, betraying a moment of offense. “It’s my aunt. She’s putting the house back on the market.”
“What do you mean?”
“Which part wasn’t clear?” Will asked—with concern or annoyance, she never could tell.
“All of it.” She took a step toward him. “Charlie said he rented this house for the summer. Now he’s gone and you’re here. Can you blame me for being confused?”
He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, a voice called out from behind them.
“Will, sweetheart, I hope that wasn’t you playing the piano. I told you it’sornamental.”
Lizzy turned to find a woman at the top of the long staircase. She looked to be older than her mother, but by how much there was no way to tell. Her face was frozen, her skin pulled tight across her features, and her shoulder-length blond hair—which was so pale it could have easily been white—skimmed the shoulders of her cream-colored blouse. She sighed as she descended, taking each step with ease in her heels, and a tall and incredibly handsome, dark-haired man followed behind her.
“I’m telling you, George, it’s kismet! You’re out at the Montauk house with Will the same weekend we’re putting this place back on the market?” she said to him as she descended. “It’s just too perfect. And it would only be a monthlong sublet, so you don’t have to worry about a long-term commitment. I think—” The woman finally noticed Lizzy, and frowned as she took in her worn T-shirt and overalls. Then she waved a hand at her, the motion sending the gold charms on her bracelet clattering together. “You’ll have to wait outside, dear. I told the agency we didn’t want any cleaners here until five, and—”
“Birdie,” Will cut her off, his tone firm and so much colder than it had been only a few moments before. “This is my friend Elizabeth Bennet.”
Lizzy’s eyes snapped to him. There were a lot of words she assumed Will Darcy would use to describe her, but “friend” was nowhere on the list.
If he noticed her surprise, he didn’t let on, only continued with introductions. “Elizabeth, this is my aunt, Birdie Carrington. She’s helping us sublease the house.” Then he nodded to the man beside her. “And this is George Knightley.”
George smiled, taking a step forward as he held out his hand. “Elizabeth Bennet, is it?”
Lizzy shook his hand and smiled back. “Lizzy.”
His smile widened with the revelation. “Nice to meet you.”
“I didn’t realize Will had friends still out here for the summer,” Birdie said. “Are you here for the weekend or…” She let the words hang there, waiting for Lizzy to pick them up with some adequate answer.
“I live out here,” she replied. “My family owns Bennet Bakery on Main.”
“Of course. I thought the name sounded familiar.” Birdie nodded, a smug smile on her lips as if she had known all along. “I think I might have stopped in once on my way out to visit Montauk. Just lovely. Do you remember, Will?”
“No,” he answered absently. He was glaring at George, who was still smiling at Lizzy.
What the hell is going on?
“Sorry, I just came by to see if I could catch Charlie. Is he here?” she asked.
Birdie let out a little laugh. “No, he’s safe and sound in the city.”
It should have been benign, an offhand comment that would be forgotten just as soon as it was said. But Lizzy sensed the biting edge to her words.
“I didn’t realize East Hampton was so dangerous,” she said, her voice full of manufactured good humor.
