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Elizabeth nodded, and the sisters shared a hug before Elizabeth went on her way.
* * *
The following morning,Elizabeth was awakened at seven o’clock by the incessant ringing of her phone from where she’d left it on her nightstand. She glanced at the screen, but when she didn't recognize the number, she rolled over and fell back to sleep.
An hour later, her phone rang again. She noted the same number from earlier, and it suddenly dawned on her who it might be. She cleared her throat and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Miss Bennet. It's William Darcy. Did I wake you?"
"Yes.”
"I called earlier and left a message, but I thought I would try again."
"Mm-hmm. You woke me the first time, too. We beach girls like to sleep in."
An awkward silence fell, and then he spoke.
"I assume you're waiting for an explanation? Or an apology?"
"Wrong on both counts. Let's make a plan and get this over with."
"Fine. Where should we meet?"
"I live on Surfside Drive in Falmouth. After you go past the snack bar at the beach, start counting the beach houses. Mine is the fifth. Can you be here around one?"
"See you then."
She sighed and rose from bed, then poked her nose outside to check the weather.Perfect day for a run.
A short while later she was jogging toward the Shining Sea Bike Path. It was one of her favorite things about Falmouth and stretched ten miles, from North Falmouth all the way south to the tiny village of Woods Hole, where she worked. The wide, paved route wound its way behind neighborhoods, past scenic cranberry bogs, through acres of woods, and alongside the ocean. She rode her bike to work via the bike path as often as possible, weather permitting.
Forty minutes later she slowed to a walk, and made her way past the other beach houses situated on Surfside Drive. The houses were all built roughly the same way: big squares, perched on stilts to prevent flooding during storms. Hurricane Bob had wiped out a few of them years back, but the Bennets had been lucky; their house had sustained only minor damage. Although there had been an account established years ago for its upkeep, she couldn’t imagine having to rebuild if something catastrophic happened.
The house had been in her family for several generations, and she had fond memories of spending her childhood summers here with her parents and sisters. During the colder months, they lived in a small house in the center of town, which her parents sold last year when they moved to a condominium in a neighboring town.
She’d begged her father to let her live in the beach house when she’d taken the job in Woods Hole, and he’d helped her winterize it so she could live in it year-round. It was small but perfect for her, and it helped that there was no mortgage; she only had to pay utilities. It was her own little slice of paradise. Besides converting the pantry into a darkroom, the only major change she’d made was to install an outdoor shower under the deck.
She took a shower, then poured herself a cup of coffee and quickly ate a yogurt before wandering into the darkroom to make sure everything was ready. It was small, but more than adequate for her needs.
Even though she had a rewarding career that she loved, her passion was photography. Most of her free time was spent traveling the Cape, photographing the wildlife, the scenery, and the people. Occasionally she was asked to do a wedding or a family portrait, but only by people she knew; one of the brides in yesterday's wedding was the daughter of a coworker.
More than anything, she loved to develop her own film, and she was good at it; she’d mastered the process over time, and could practically do it with her eyes closed. It was old-school—very few professional photographers used film anymore—but she enjoyed the unique visual effects and the vintage feel that came from film, and delighted in watching the shapes and colors come to life on a previously blank piece of paper.
At precisely one o'clock she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and knew William Darcy had arrived. She opened the door before he had the chance to knock, and when their eyes met, her brain stuttered.
Wow.
He’d traded in his shorts and T-shirt for a pair of faded blue jeans and a button down, and there wasn’t a trace of stubble on his face.
"Hello, Elizabeth."
"Hello, William. Come in."
He entered the house and stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking awkward and uncomfortable.
She sighed, already impatient for his departure, and gestured toward the door of the darkroom. "I went ahead and developed the negatives last night, so I only have to develop the prints. I can’t have any white light, so you’ll have to leave your phone out here.” He set his phone on the coffee table. “It’s going to be pretty dark in there. Don’t try anything funny.”
