“Yes, Mr. Nobley?”
“Tomorrow evening, will you reserve for me the first two dances?”
“Yes, Mr. Nobley.” She could hear how her voice was full of smile.
“Miss Erstwhile, may I come back in a moment?”
She yanked him back in and shut the door. Now he was going to grab her and kiss her and call her Jane, now she’d witness the pent-up passion that explodes behind Regency doors! But . . . he just stood with his back to the door and looked at her. And smiled in his way, the way that made her stare back and wish she could breathe.
“I will not stay long and put you in danger of Mrs. Wattlesbrook,” Mr. Nobley said, “but I suddenly had to see you again. I know that seems ridiculous, but I look at you, and I feel sure of something. Things are changing, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” she said, and they were, right at that very moment.
He took her hand and looked at it, and then turned it over.
He lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm. She inhaled an audible breath and failed to suppress a shiver.
With his mouth still lingering over her palm, he said, “Tomorrow, then.” Reluctantly he let her hand go, and he left.
If only he was real! She stood and pressed her palm to her chest and breathed her pulse back into submission and thought she’d rather fancy a swoon.
To her self-portrait, Jane whispered, “This is the best therapy ever.”
Guy after boyfriend #14
Jake Zeiger, age thirty-ish
One Saturday during the waning days of the Tad era, Jane was checking the mailbox when Jake from 302 came up beside her. The nearness of their boxes meant the back of his hand touched hers as he inserted the key.
“Hey, how’s your dog?” he asked.
“Better. The vet said it was just something he ate.”
“That’s a relief, huh?” His smile was like a first kiss.
She stood there after he left, staring into the cavern of her mailbox, cold tingles passing through her body because she’d just had an Emma–loves–Mr. Knightley epiphany experience. She had just realized, “I might be secretly smitten with Jake.”
It felt like a betrayal of Tad, so she did not so much as whisper the idea to her houseplants. After it had become excruciatingly clear that she and Tad were over, Jane remembered Jake and let herself hope that tragedy mightactually be opportunity and she was meant to be with Jake all along. She walked down the hall to 302, hope bouncing in her step.
A bedheaded Jake opened the door, squinting.
“Hi, Jake! Hey, it’s a beautiful day, and I was wondering, I noticed that you’re a runner, too, and I was wondering if you’d like to go on a run through the park, with me, maybe after—”
“You woke me up for this? It’s not even ten in the morning!”
He rubbed his face and appeared to be heading back to bed as he slammed the door.
Day 12
Jane’s ball gown was bridal white. Lace and ruffles, tiny seashells beaded around bodice and hem, a low neck, and cap sleeves. She wore long gloves, her hair up with rosebuds, a string of pearls around her neck, and twenty-first-century makeup products. An older maid helped her dress and do her hair, and then stood back and said, “Oh my.”
It was very gratifying.
Jane surveyed the party from the top of the stairs, hoping to hear music before she descended. Gentlemen, most of whom she had never seen before, were in their fine black-and-white attire. Women swirled and laughed, dressed in shades from bright white to dark cream, coming and going between the drawing room and great hall, helping each other pin up their trains for the dance. It reminded Jane of the time she’d used the women’s bathroom at the Bellagio in Las Vegas, every inch of mirror jammed with brides in a hurry.
Some of the guests she recognized as servants and gardeners, dressed up for the night as local gentry. Others had that thin college undergrad look, the kind who donate plasma and volunteer for sketchy clinical studies to make a few extra bucks. Others seemed to be actors of the community-theater variety—slick and self-aware, overanimated, their outfits wafting a costume-closet scent of mothballs and cloves. But there were at least three women who had that Miss Charming jovial glint, that Miss Heartwright engaging earnestness, or that (did she dare admit it?) Miss Erstwhile bewildered hope. There were other Pembrook Parks, then. Sister estates. Some of the guests were actors, some players. Just who was real in this place, anyway?
Mr. Nobley was walking briskly through the great hall toward the drawing room, his gaze up as though trying to avoid eye contact. He looked scrumptious in his black jacket and white cravat. Even better when he saw her and stopped cold. His eyes glistened as he looked at her. His chest heaved, as if he couldn’t catch his breath.Zing.
