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Eva shook her head. “Sometimes I think you have too many rules and ideas in your head about how the world should work. Why don’t you just try doing whatever makes you happy?”
“That sounds way too practical. Besides, look at Georgiana. She thought Wickham would make her happy, and he ended up breaking her heart.”
Still, I tried to follow her advice. I had manuscripts to read, after all, and jobs to apply to on long, complicated online forms. I had companies to research, cold calls to make, parents to appease. I had friends and coworkers and really awesome bagels. I didn’t think about Ryan at all, really, except in those last few moments before I fell asleep, and that hardly counted.
At least, I told myself it didn’t until the phone call I received Thursday afternoon.
I was toiling up my stairs after work when my phone rang, and I was a little surprised to find Abe on the other end. “Ryan reamed me out about letting you pay for dinner last time.” He sounded like a sad puppy. He perked up immediately afterward. “So I already ordered everything! And it’s being catered, too.”
“Huh?” I was too breathless to comprehend. In three more steps I landed on my floor, and started to
search for my keys. We were playing an endless keep-away-game, and they were winning. “What are you talking about?”
“For tomorrow. Oh, and we invited a few more people. But I don’t know if people are going to dress up again. I wouldn’t count on it.”
I stopped searching for my keys, and just stared at my wall. “You want to have another Shabbat dinner?”
“Yup.”
“Where?”
“Ryan’s.” The “duh” was implied.
“And he agreed to this?”
“Of course.” Abe sounded baffled. “He suggested it.”
I was blown away.
I finished the call and entered the apartment to find Eva scrubbing dishes and singing at the top of her lungs. “Jane’s Ballad.” All sad about stupid Mr. Bingley. She stopped when I came in. “Aloha! How went the temping?”
“Um.” I looked up from my cell, still somewhat confused. “Fine. Tedious. Ryan Carter wants to have dinner with me on Friday. And like a dozen other people. But still.” I collapsed onto the sofa and kicked off my shoes.
Eva frowned. “But aren’t you in a fight?”
“Yes. I don’t know. Is this a really bad idea? Apparently he suggested it.”
Eva’s grin broadened and her dark eyes twinkled. She peeled off the rubber dish gloves and dropped down next to me on the sagging cushions. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“But what if he’s a Wickham?”
She shrugged. “Maybe you’re a Lydia.”
I shuddered. “Don’t say such things.” Lydia might have caught Wickham in the end, but she was still vain and flippant and unlikeable. “I want to be Elizabeth.”
Eva gave me a look.
“Fine.” My head dropped against the back of the couch. “I’m a Jane. I’m a Jane, okay?” The staid older sister.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a Jane.”
“That’s what the Elizabeths always say,” I muttered darkly.
She laughed. “The Elizabeths also don’t have steady jobs or practicality.”
“Practicality! Next you’ll call me a Charlotte.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. You’re in publishing, right? Which is definitely not practical. As long as one of your temping gigs doesn’t turn into some real officey-job, you’re safe.”
