“What did they say?” Kitty asked.
“Were they hot?” Lydia probed.
“Girls, focus!” their mother said, recovering. Then she turned back to her husband. “Tell me everything.”
Mr. Bennet’s frown returned. “It’s a bakery, Joanne. They came in, bought some muffins, and got some coffee. Then they asked where they could grab a drink tonight and Lizzy told them to go to Donato Lodge.”
Mrs. Bennet’s mouth fell open in horror as she turned to her second oldest daughter. “You sent them to theLodge?”
Lizzy cringed. When she’d recommended the Lodge to the palm tree hater, it had almost been a joke, a small payback for a man who obviously needed to be knocked down a few pegs. She hadn’t thought her mother would offer a critique. After all, she didn’t seem to mind that her daughters spent almost every Saturday night there. Of course, that was usually in the off-season, when their town was dead and the bar was only ever half-full with locals imbibing warm beer and Tater Tots. Summer changed its DNA, when tourists clogged the dance floor, making it feel like a Disneyland version of a dive bar.
“They said they wanted someplace authentic,” Lizzy replied with a shrug.
Lydia snorted out a laugh.
“Okay, you know what? This is fine,” Mrs. Bennet said almost to herself. “Completely fine. We can work with this.”
Jane sighed, betraying a half second of exasperation, which, for a woman who spent most weekdays teaching a room full of six-year-olds, was colossal. “Mom, can we not spend another summer trying to sell—”
“Come on, ladies! It’s Lux Leggings time!”
There was a collective groan across the bakery.
The only other thing as consistent as gossip in East HamptonVillage was their mother’s dedication to a new multilevel marketing business every summer. By May, Mrs. Bennet would latch on to one that inevitably took over their entire basement for the season, and then, like clockwork, it would be abandoned by September. Last year it was Porto-Pockets, detachable pockets that could be stuck to any dress with Velcro. The year before had been the Shimmer Scrunchie, a hair accessory that featured solar-powered LED lights. Now their mother had decided the best way to succeed was by starting her own MLM from the ground up. So, after weeks of YouTube sewing tutorials and hundreds of yards of fabric strewn around the house, she was ready to bring her brainchild to market: Lux Leggings, the world’s only leggings with a built-in belt (patent pending).
Lydia frowned as her mother turned the disembodied mannequin legs so their zebra-print Lycra hips were angled toward the door. “You think this lady is going to want to buy your leggings?”
“You better hope so, or all five of you will be stuck working at the bakery until the end of time,” Mrs. Bennet quipped.
The comment lodged in Lizzy’s chest, heavy and sharp and too close to the truth. She had dreamed of leaving East Hampton since childhood, staying up past her bedtime to read countless breaking news stories about the world beyond her bedroom walls. Then, in twelfth grade, a hurricane tore through the Hamptons and she wrote about the town’s lack of preparedness for her school newspaper. The article was so explosive it was picked up byNew YorkMagazine and almost got Marv impeached. But more importantly, it gave Lizzy a purpose: she wanted to be a journalist.
Six years and countless online classes squeezed in between her shifts at the bakery later, she earned her bachelor’s from SUNY. And maybe if she had wanted to stay in the Hamptons, covering stories close to home, that would have been enough. But she didn’twant to stay here. She was going to travel the world, covering issues that mattered to millions of people. And to do that, she needed her master’s. She had spent weeks perfecting her application to Columbia’s School of Journalism before finally sending it in. It was a long shot—she hadn’t even told her family—but then, on a mundane morning in March, she received her acceptance email. For a brief, shining moment, it felt like everything was finally falling into place. Like all the hard work and monotony had counted for something. Then, two days later, before she’d even figured out how to tell her parents, she walked into the bakery to find her father on the floor of the kitchen.
The stroke had been so severe that the paramedics said if they had arrived five minutes later, he would have died. And even though Mr. Bennet was out of the hospital after two weeks, claiming he would be back to his old self in no time, his doctor said recovery could take a year, if not more. Suddenly, Lizzy’s plan to spend the summer getting ready to start school in the fall was usurped by the need to keep the family business afloat. Columbia let her defer for a semester—space permitting—but she didn’t know if it was long enough. Her sisters did what they could, but none of them knew how to run the bakery the way she did. Even now, Lizzy realized, they hadn’t all bothered to show up. “Where’s Mary?”
Lydia waved her hand indiscriminately in the air. “I think she’s still tied to that tree on the North Shore for PETA.”
“It’s a Green Justice protest,” Kitty murmured, eyes back on her phone.
“Can we focus, please?” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands, bringing the conversation back to herself. “I need you all to think big picture, m’kay? You girls show up to the Lodge tonight all wearing Lux Leggings. Annabelle comes in, sees them, and the seed will beplanted. She’ll compliment you—of course—then she’ll ask where you bought them. She’ll tell her friends, they’ll all post about them online. Orders will come flying in! Then this Annabelle woman will see everyone wearing the leggings she discovered, and she’ll want to invest! And that brother of hers? Supposedly he works in mergers and acquisitions! He literallybuyscompanies! You can bet he’ll take an interest, too. What else does he have to spend his money on? It’s like my mother always said: ‘A single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of—’?”
“Zebra-print leggings with an adjustable waistband?” Lizzy said, offering her mother an overly sweet smile.
“Well, he’s definitely not looking for a twenty-five-year-old with a mess of split ends and overalls.” Then Mrs. Bennet clicked her tongue in disappointment as she seemed to finally take in the pile of red hair on top of her daughter’s head. “Honestly, Lizzy. Did you even try that deep-conditioning mask I left in the bathroom?”
“I’m going with an organic seaweed treatment,” Lizzy said, fluffing her topknot and pretending to fix her flyaways. “You just take bits of seaweed you find floating by and grab them, which is actually really hard to do because they’re so slippery—”
Mrs. Bennet huffed and picked up her tote from where Jane had placed it. “I’m leaving. Bob! No more donuts! You have an appointment with your neurologist next week. Lizzy! I don’t want him eating any more donuts.” She didn’t wait for Lizzy’s reply, just turned to Lydia. “And I need you at home for inventory. We should narrow down the options for tonight.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “But it’s eleven a.m. OnSaturday.”
“Exactly. We have to get going,” Mrs. Bennet replied, her tote over her shoulder as she started for the door. “God, I haven’t even gone through the new bedazzled collection yet. You can help me with that, Jane.”
“Actually, I have to head to the school today and get the classroom ready for—”
“You can do that after,” their mother continued, undaunted. “Okay, I think that’s it. Now where’s Kitty? Kitty!”
Kitty looked up, brows pinched. “I’m right here.”
