Chip answered, and then the screen split and Jane appeared. She lay in a bed recognizable to Liz from their room at the Hermoso Desert Lodge.
“It’s Jane,” Jane said. “I have some news. I know we broke up, but—” The shot widened to include her belly, which she patted. “I’m pregnant.” Chip’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and the show cut to a commercial.
Clearly, Jane and Chip were complicit in the charade, though Liz hesitated to call Jane and ask about it because Adelaide Bennet Bingley, born three weeks before at seven pounds, two ounces, was fussy in the early evenings, and it was presently six-thirty P.M. in Los Angeles. In additional scenes, Jane and Chip declared by phone their enduring affection for each other, and Chip embarked on a long walk on the beach, an excursion marked by either (to judge from his expression) moody contemplation or gastrointestinal distress. Liz’s phone was abuzz with texts from Lydia and Kitty, who were watching with their mother at the Grasmoor (WTF! Did u know about this? Jane wasn’t really there for reunion right?). At the next commercial break, Liz could resist no longer and texted Jane: Do u know you’re on Eligible reunion right now?
A moment later, Liz’s phone rang. “The producers wanted to introduce me during the reunion so the audience would get invested in Chip and me ending up together,” Jane said. “Are they making it convincing?
“Actually, yes.”
In the background, Liz could hear Adelaide’s bleat. Three days after her birth, Liz had journeyed to Los Angeles to meet her; she was a miraculous and tiny human whom Liz felt immediate devotion toward and was relieved not to be the mother of. Over the phone, Liz asked Jane, “How’s my niece?”
“She doesn’t want to sleep unless someone’s holding her, and maybe not even then.” Jane’s voice had gone high and singsongy; she sounded blissful. “Right, Addie?” she said. “Right, baby girl? Why would anyone want to close their eyes when there’s so much to learn about the world?”
“Here,” Liz heard Chip say. “Give her to me. And tell Liz I say hi.”
“Are you guys watching?” Liz said.
“We weren’t planning on it.” Jane laughed. “I mean, we already know what happens.”
“FRED, COME QUICK!” Mrs. Bennet had shouted when she spotted her eldest daughter onscreen. “Goodness gracious, Lydia, tell your father to come at once.”
“Dad!” Lydia shouted without rising from the sofa. “It’s an emergency.”
Mr. Bennet wandered out of his bedroom looking unconcerned.
“It’s Jane!” Mrs. Bennet pointed at the television. “Right there.”
Mrs. Bennet continued exclaiming through the commercial break and into the show’s resumption, at which point Kitty said, “Mom, I can’t hear if you’re talking.”
“I would never have left town if I’d known,” Chip was telling Jane over the phone. “Jane, I’m not the kind of man who abandons the mother of his child. I always loved you, and I always wanted to make it work.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands. “They’re saying it’s his! I knew they would, I just knew it! It makes so much more sense this way!”
“It’s bullshit, though,” Kitty said, and Lydia said, “Kitty, it’s called reality TV. It’s not called true TV.”
Neither Ham nor Shane had accompanied the sisters to the Grasmoor; after bonding amid the strangeness of Palm Springs, Shane had joined Ham’s gym and the two men had taken to going out for Korean barbecue after the Thursday night class Ham taught.
“Isn’t it funny,” Mrs. Bennet said, “that the very first episode of Eligible I’ve ever seen has my own daughter in it?”
Mr. Bennet snorted. “It’s past time to lay that canard to rest, Sally.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mom, you watch with us every week,” Kitty said.
“Well, I’ve seen bits here and there but not a whole show.” Kitty, Lydia, and Mr. Bennet exchanged glances, and Mrs. Bennet said, “I haven’t! You know me, always popping up and down.”
In fact, as usual, she had been seated for the entire episode, which was well into its second hour; she had been perusing her housewares catalogs but mostly during commercials.
“I’ve never really been a TV watcher,” Mrs. Bennet said, and whether or not anyone else believed her, it was abundantly clear that she believed herself; she spoke with confidence and pleasure. She said, “I’ve always far preferred a good book.”
“I WAS UNDER the impression that this was a terrible show,” Darcy said seven minutes into Eligible: Chip & Jane’s Road to the Altar. “But it’s literally unwatchable.”
“Not literally,” Liz said. “Your eyeballs aren’t melting.”
They were curled into each other on the couch, a blanket spread over them; it was early April and still cool in Cincinnati.
With his fingertips, Darcy pulled down the skin around the sockets of his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Liz said. “If you promise to stick with it for the next three nights, I’ll never try to get you to watch Eligible ever again.”