ALLIE

“It’s so good to see you.”  Mrs. William Darcy forces a smile. “It’s been too long, Allie.”

“It has.” I agree out loud, but inside, I’m vehemently disagreeing. It hasn’t been long enough. “How are you?”

She studies my appearance, her beady eyes drinking in my disheveled clothing and wild-looking hair. After all, I basically swept the hospital floor with my ponytail when I fainted, and I haven’t had time to shower since this morning. Thanks to my father holding me hostage for my mother’s tea date this afternoon.

“Oh, you know,” she says eventually, dismissing me with a flick of her fingers. “I’m ever so busy. Just last week I flew to Paris for a conference, and no sooner did I return than the Russians wanted an in-person update from the research team, so...” She sighs heavily. “I jetted off to Moscow for twenty-four hours. Needless to say, my work here has been left in shambles.”

“Now, dear, don’t exaggerate.” William Darcy smiles at his wife, preening as his eyes skim over her svelte form. The sharp white suit she’s wearing probably costs more than a month’s worth of my salary. “Her work is a ravishing success. In fact, she’s receiving one of the most prestigious awards in the industry in a few weeks.”

“Congratulations,” my dad murmurs as my mother raises her eyebrows and gives her own fake smile back. “That’s incredible. William, you’re a very lucky man.”

William Darcy leans back in his chair and barks a laugh while his wife pretends not to hear. Meanwhile, I struggle not to roll my eyes. All of this—the afternoon high tea, the awards, the travel dossier—it makes no sense to me. But the posturing is as much a part of their lives as breathing. It’s as if they can’t turn it off, this parading around of accomplishments.

My father is the only exception at this table. He’s the only non-doctor, aside from me. My mother is a neurology specialist while both of Jack’s parents are researchers at the top of their respective medical fields.

“How is your work, Franklin?” William asks. “Keeping the kids in shape these days?”

My dad goes by Frank. The only people to ever call him Franklin are Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Somehow, the pair seem to think that my dad’s choice in career as a law professor at one of the state’s most esteemed universities is subpar. As if he’s an underachiever of some sort, which is laughable. I can only imagine what they think of my choice in career.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Going very well, thanks for asking.”

“What are you working on?” Mrs. Darcy presses. “Are you a part of the new legislation about equality in the workforce for women?”

My dad frowns. “No, I’m focused on teaching.”

“A mighty job,” Mr. Darcy roars, looking pleased as he slings his arm around his wife’s chair. “Somebody’s gotta teach the next wave of ambulance chasers. Isn’t that right, Franklin?”

Kathleen Darcy exhales sharply, as if my father’s answer is a personal attack on her. “It’s very important, Franklin. Women in the workforce—”

“I know it’s important, Kathy,” my dad interrupts. “I have a daughter in the workforce, after all. I want nothing more than equal rights for her.”

“Yes, but...” Kathleen glances over at me once more, her eyes flicking to a strand of hair that’s come loose beside my face. Then, in a whisper that’s loud enough for everyone to hear, she murmurs to my parents. “Can we really call Allie’s job a career? She wipes children’s noses for a living.”

“Actually, that’s not what I do—” I start, before deciding the breath isn’t worth the argument. I’ve explained what a kindergarten teacher does too many times to count, and it just doesn’t sink into the Darcy’s minds. Maybe their IQ’s are too high. “You’re right,” I say, heavy on the sarcasm. “Teaching the youth of our nation is not important.”

“Oh, Allie, of course that’s not what my wife meant,” Mr. Darcy says. “She’s just saying that as a career, there’s not much room for advancement.”

“That’s also not true,” I murmur, and then stop, reminding myself to spare the air.

My mother has a look of murder on her face, so I shut up for good. I decide that reaching for a macaron and shoving it in my mouth is a much better way to spend my next few minutes on this earth. I don’t care what the Darcy’s think of me, but my mother sure does.

“Allie’s got a lot going for her. She’s relatively young, quite attractive,” Kathleen begins. “William, can you think of any men in the club that are looking for an engagement?”

I hold up my half-eaten macaron. “Excuse me?”

“The club is an excellent place to find a husband,” William says with a beaming smile. “You’ll make some man very happy, and he’ll be able to provide for you. We have lots of families with excellent breeding at the club.”

“What are they, dogs?” I blurt out. My mother doesn’t look pleased at this, but I don’t much care. I hold my tongue around the Darcy Duo plenty for her. There’s a reason why Jack and I stay as far away from our parents as possible. “I’m not interested in, uh, breeding, or engaging in anything.”

Kathleen winks at my mother. “I thought the same thing, too, at her age. And then I met William.”

My mother diverts the conversation with a story about how she met my father. Meanwhile, I focus on mashing a finger sandwich to bits on my plate. My father watches in amusement, and it’s only when my mother shakes her head at me that I toss a napkin over it.

This is the reason that Jack and I bonded. Our mutual dislike of this lifestyle. Spending time with our parental units is always the same. The Darcys want to show off their highfalutin careers, while my mother is desperate to keep up with the Darcys.

My dad is like me. He’s a little better at keeping his mouth shut than I am, but only because he’s had years more practice. He and I tend to look at these events much like we’d watch a circus.

Enter Jack Darcy. He’s five years older than me, so I can say I’ve known him since the day I was born. We grew up together and mutually decided we wanted to be polar opposites of our parents. It became our quest, our mission, to have normal lives and fulfilling careers. It’s only the bonds of family that keep us tied to these social obligations.

By the time my mother has wrapped up her story, I’ve worked myself into a bit of a grumpy mood. I’m feeling disgruntled about everything: not only does everyone think I have a dud of a career, but they think I need a husband to fix things. The kicker is that while I love my career, I wouldn’t mind a relationship—and I’m failing at that, too.

“You know, getting married isn’t everything,” I say, as my mother finishes her story. “I’m happy with my career. I’m happy being single.”

“Nobody said you weren’t happy,” William soothes, ever the peacemaker. “We just want what’s best for you, Allie. We’ve known you since the day you were born. We’re like family.”

“We’d do the same for our own son,” Kathleen says with a nod. “We want what’s best for the both of you. After all, the two of you are like siblings.”

I wrinkle my nose, thinking it feels odd to hear Jack’s mom talk about us being as close as brother and sister. At least, it’s odd after the thoughts I was having about Jack and his very dazzling abdomen this morning. “Sorry.”

“We can ask around at the club.” William looks over my head to my father, as if he’s arranging a business deal. “What do you say, Franklin?”

“I think Allie is capable of finding someone for herself,” my father says with a sardonic smile. “If she so chooses.”

“If she chooses?” My mother glares pointedly at me. “Of course she’ll choose someone. She can’t live the rest of her life on a teacher’s salary!”

“Dad’s a teacher!” I say, balling my napkin into my hands. “I mean, a really ritzy sort of teacher, but still. I do just fine for myself. I like my life.”

“Honey, you live in a one-bedroom apartment with yellow walls.”

“So what, mom? I’m happy there.”

“If Allie’s happy, I vote we let her live her life and stay happy. Isn’t that what parents want for their children?” my father asks with a wink in my direction. “How is Jack doing, by the way? Just as handsome as always?”

Yep, I respond automatically in my mind. Just as handsome as always, not that anyone in this room cares about my opinion. I opt to sit back and get my fill of finger sandwiches. The Darcy family is paying, and it’s my small way of rebelling.

“Jack is doing well,” Mrs. Darcy says. “I have a feeling doors will be opening for him in the research field soon.”

“Research?” I blurt out. “But he likes the hospital work.” I tried to stay out of this, but defending Jack comes naturally to me. We’ve always had each other’s backs. “He got into medicine to save lives, not work in a lab.” At my mother’s horrified look, I quickly add, “His words, not mine.”

“That’s our boy,” William says with a good-natured grimace. “Stubborn. Just like his old man, I suppose. No matter; he’ll find a wife soon, and she’ll whip him into shape, just like Kathleen did for me. As a matter of fact, we have the perfect date selected for him.”

“What are you talking about?” I mumble around a mouthful of sandwich. “A date for what?”

“Well, as I mentioned, my wife is receiving an award, and we expect Jack to come to the gala in support of her. Of course, he’ll need an appropriate companion for such an evening.”

“Naturally,” I drawl, and my father bows his head to hide a smile.

Underneath the table, I see my mother’s foot snake out and stomp on my father’s toe. All may look perfect on the outside at Casa Jenkins, but underneath the surface, we’re a mess. If the Darcy’s only knew the truth, they might not invite us to their precious club any longer.

“And who is this woman?” I follow up, once I’ve swallowed my food. “Does Jack know about her?”

“He will,” Mr. Darcy says. “In fact, I think both of you know her. Sandra Swank?”

“You’re setting Jack up with Sandra?” I gawk at the pair of them. Sandra Swank was a fancy pants witch who’d asked Jack to prom. “Why? It didn’t work last time you did that. Sandra spent the whole night making out with Billy Friedman.”

“They were children last time and didn’t know any better,” Kathleen says. “Sandra made a mistake. This isn’t prom, this is part of an adult engagement.”

“You are throwing engagement around a hell of a lot,” I say, and earn a dagger-filled glare from my mother. “Have you really not considered letting us live our own lives?” I look around, mystified. “Jack is a doctor for crying out loud. He’s got his shit figured out. He doesn’t need you setting up his life.”

“It’s more like we’re helping along the courting process,” Kathleen says, her voice quiet and sharp. The tone it takes on when she’s getting her way no matter what anyone says next. “He’s old enough to find a wife.”

“I know. I’m helping him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m helping him,” I say. “I thought of setting him up with a woman at the hospital, so I’ve been coaching him on how to have a great date.”

Nobody at the table looks amused, including my father.

“What?!” I spread my arms. “It’s good for him. And the woman’s name is Caroline, and she’s a nurse.”

“A nurse?” Kathleen scrunches up her face. “But our Jack needs someone who challenges him. Mentally.”

My stomach is roiling at their response, and I don’t even know Caroline. All I know is that she seems incredibly sweet and intelligent. I also know that if this is their opinion of nurses, their opinion of me must be even lower.

“He’ll go with Sandra,” William says, putting an end to the matter. “She comes from excellent parents and is on track to complete her residency this fall. They can marry next spring and then have children the year after.”

“I’ve gotta leave,” I say. “I have a, uh, thing.”

“A thing?” My mother says, watching as I kick my chair back. “What sort of thing?”

“A kickball thing.”

“Since when have you taken up sports?” William asks. “I’ve always seen you as the bookworm type. Didn’t have an athletic bone in your body when you were younger.”

“Gee whiz, thank you,” I say, taking two sandwiches for the road. Their opinion of me can’t get any lower anyway, so I might as well take the free food. After all, I am on a teacher’s salary, as they’ve so kindly pointed out. “I’ll let Jack know you say hello. Good luck with your... uh, engagement talk.”

“Oh, dear, one second.” Kathleen holds a finger up. “You mentioned dogs earlier, and I had a favor to ask you.”

A sense of dread creeps in as I say, “Yes?”

“Our sitter is out of town the week after the gala. Would you mind substituting for our poodle nanny?”

“Dog sitting?” It’s not the idea of dog sitting that’s offensive to me. I happen to love dogs quite a bit, even the Darcy poodles. It’s the fact that they think of me in the same breath as their dogs, but not their son. Charming.

“The poodles, well, they know you. Of course we’ll pay. Let us know how much you need to make ends meet.”

“I’m making ends meet already,” I say. “But I’ll do it. Just email me the details or whatever.”

“Great. I’ll contact you to set up time for an orientation beforehand.”

“Orientation?” I wince. “What sort of orientation?”

“The poodles require impeccable care,” Kathleen says with a tilt of her nose. “Our groomer is in Paris, our trainer in Germany, and our normal poodle-nanny is British. They are the highest quality of dogs.”

“Of course they are,” I mutter. “I don’t know if I can—”

“I’ll leave a check for five grand on the counter,” William says. “Will that suffice for a week?”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be there.”

Trying to sound chipper, I pop a pink macaron into my mouth and flounce away from the table. My car’s still impounded, but the club is close enough to my parents’ house to walk.

As I stroll outside, the beautiful summer day warming my bare shoulders, I turn over the teatime conversation in my mind. There’s not much of it that makes me happy, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have sold out for five grand to be a poodle nanny.

Then, I remember I have an impounded car, a one-bedroom apartment with a broken couch, and student debt that needs paying. Also, when that impounded car comes back, I should get the battery, brakes, and transmission replaced.

Basically, I need the money. There’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t do for five grand besides break the law or sell my body. In the end, I decide that watching a pair of finicky poodles is the least of my problems.

Also among my problems is now the worry about Sandra Swank. I should probably tell Jack that his parents are planning on parading him around the club like a show poodle.

I only wish the thought didn’t squish my heart so much that it hurt. When the day comes, it’ll be hard to give my time with Jack up to someone—anyone—else. But it would be hardest of all to see him married to a woman he didn’t love.

With renewed vigor, I decide to ramp Romance Academy up to the next level. Jack needs to fall in love before the gala. I might not want to see him married, but he can’t marry Sandra Swank.