I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(3)

But a blind date with a heartbroken man? A charity ball? That was where I drew the line. “Vera, I don’t think—”

“Remember,” Vera said, lifting her hands to stave off my refusal, “I won’t accept an answer right this moment. Think on it, dear.”

Mom let go of my back and began scooping salad onto plates. The old-woman brigade retreated, their conversation turning to a superb café Vera had discovered during her trip. And mercy, the pain au chocolat!

My head spun. I mindlessly forked chopped chicken and salad leaves and shoved them into my mouth. Was no one going to address the enormous elephant sitting on the other side of Mom’s dining room table?

I, Charlie Lucas, was not blind-date material. I was hardly first-date material—my endless weekends spent alone at home proved that. I couldn’t agree to Vera’s scheme because me showing up would likely be worse than her grandson going entirely alone.

He didn’t need a Charlotte Lucas by his side at the charity ball. What he needed was an Elizabeth Bennet.

I drew in a sharp breath, causing the old-woman brigade to pause in their conversation. “I’ve got it. I’ll call Beth.”

Mom immediately shook her head, spearing another bite of salad.

“Your friend with the black hair?” Vera asked, dipping her chin in skepticism. “The tall one?”

“Yes. She’s perfect. She’s single right now, and she loves this sort of thing.” I shoved another bite into my mouth, warming to the idea the more I thought about it.

Vera frowned. “I don’t want a strange woman to sit at the table with my grandson, Charlie. I want him to sit at the table with you.”

“But Beth would be so much better at helping your grandson avoid his girlfriend, and I’m sure she already has a half-dozen dresses to choose from.”

“Wonderful, then perhaps you might borrow one of them.”

“No, that’s not what I—”

Vera stood sharply, spry for an old woman. Spearing me with a withering look, she said, “I did not invite Beth; I invited you. You may accept or deny the invitation, but it is nontransferable.” Her attention shifted to Mom, and I had to focus to regain some of my composure. “Thank you for lunch, dear. I’ll see you soon.”

Mom got up to walk Vera to the door, and a hollow formed in my stomach, filling with lead the longer I imagined Vera’s disappointed face. I sucked in a slow breath, blowing it out through my teeth as the front door shut and Mom returned to the kitchen, displeasure on her brow.

“You know, Vera just asked for one thing. The least you could do is give it some thought.” Her voice lowered, chin dipping in a serious manner as though she was about to drop a huge piece of information. “For all you know, this could be the last time she ever asks you for help.”

Ugh. Really? Guilt-tripping me?

“Don’t be morbid, Mom,” I said, stacking the dirty plates and carrying them to the sink. “She texted me last night about helping her in her garden next week, so even if I went on this date, it wouldn’t be the last time I helped her. I just don’t think I’m the right person for this job.”

“With the ball this weekend, I don’t think Vera has time to find someone else. The tickets are prepaid, so it won’t cost you a dime.” She sighed, a strand of her wavy bob falling away from her ear. Her compassionate gaze was more guilt-inducing than a blatant guilt trip any day. I knew she meant well. “You don’t want to make her grandson go alone when his ex will be there with her new boyfriend. That’s just sad.”

Then why hadn’t Vera accepted my offer to call Beth?

“I have a lot going on right now,” I lied.

Mom lifted her eyebrows. “Oh? Are you utilizing that degree we paid for?”

Low blow, Mom. What did she expect me to do, just quit my super-secure bank job to follow a dream that would probably never earn out its basic costs? She’d raised me to be more practical than that.

I could see immediate regret in her blue eyes. I knew she wanted what was best for me.

“Charlie—”

“It’s fine. Can we please not talk about that now?” The last thing I wanted to do was engage in an argument about why I’d wasted so much time on my degree and why I still hadn’t utilized it.

My phone beeped, and I slid it from my back pocket. It was a text from Beth.

Beth: Froyo in twenty? I’m almost on break, and I need a fix.

I glanced up and caught Mom’s eye. “I have to go.”

She pressed her lips together, sighing softly through her nose, and I fled the room, taking the stairs up to my secluded annex two at a time. I reached for my purse lying on the coffee table and slung it over my shoulder. Then I slid my feet into my Birkenstocks, grabbing my Diet Coke to chug the remaining watered-down dregs.

I paused to text Beth back, but the TV caught my eye, and I stilled, phone dangling precariously from limp fingers as my gaze fixed firmly on the screen. Charlotte Lucas was watching me, and she was resolute and determined. She was about to head off to marry Mr. Collins and have her own household to run, and she was fine with her situation because she was sensible.

But nothing about my current situation was sensible.

I certainly didn’t have to go on a blind date with a stranger just because my elderly neighbor asked me to.