“Thanks.” Liz stood and took the box.
With a certain ostentatiousness, Mrs. Bennet said, “I have no idea who it’s from.” As her mother turned and walked away, Liz saw that the label featured the logo of and address for Sporty, with Jasper’s first and last names above the logo in entirely legible handwriting. Reaching into the box, Liz pushed aside tissue paper to reveal a piece of stationery with the Sporty letterhead on which Jasper had scrawled THINKING OF YOU! Beneath the paper were a bright red sheer teddy and thong underwear in a matching hue. The items, which presumably would have been flimsy even if well-made, were clearly cheap, which didn’t preclude them from holding a semi-ridiculous allure offset by the humiliating possibility that they had been examined by her mother. Or, thought Liz, the humiliating certainty. But if Mrs. Bennet was not going to ask Liz about the gift, Liz would not offer any explanation.
She called Jasper on her cellphone, and when he answered, she said, “My mom opened your package. She said to compliment you on your discretion and elegant taste.”
Jasper laughed. “You think she knows that opening someone else’s mail is a federal offense? Hey, word on the street is that Noah Trager is being shit-canned later this week. Don’t you think I’d make a good editor in chief of Dude?”
“Actually, you would.”
“Edward van Pallandt is co-hosting that benefit tonight for the Burmese dissident. The tickets are sold out, but I’ll bet I can get in. You think I’m jumping the gun if I go and mention my interest in Dude to van Pallandt?”
Noah Trager was the current editor in chief of Dude, a men’s magazine; Edward van Pallandt was its publisher’s creative director, a bon vivant who had, in one of the great moments of Liz’s entire life, complimented her shoes as they were riding the elevator together. (The shoes were beige suede caged booties, and, most gloriously of all, Liz had purchased them for thirty dollars at TJ Maxx in Cincinnati.) As for the Burmese dissident, Liz didn’t know who that was.
She said, “How certain is it that Noah is being fired? Who told you?”
“I’ve heard it from a couple people.”
“I think it’s fine to go to the benefit and talk to Edward van Pallandt, to remind him who you are, but I wouldn’t mention Dude specifically. That seems vulturish. Is your résumé updated?”
“I’ll send it to you, and you can take a gander. You know what you should send me? A picture of you in the lingerie.”
“With or without my mom in the background?”
Jasper chuckled. “She knows you’re an adult, Nin.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Liz propped her feet on her desk and leaned her chair back on two legs. “Who’s the Burmese dissident?” she asked. “An artist?”
“Hmm,” Jasper said. “Maybe I should learn the answer to that question before I go tonight.”
AUNT MARGO AND Cousin Willie arrived at the Tudor in time for cocktails on Tuesday; also, unprecedentedly, Chip Bingley would be joining the Bennets for dinner. “I think it’s good Aunt Margo and Willie are here, because they’ll distract Mom,” Liz said to Jane in the kitchen as she poured almonds into a bowl. “Maybe she won’t get in Chip’s face as much.”
“Shouldn’t it take the pressure off that Dad and Mom both met him at the Lucases’?” Jane said. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
“Oh, the question isn’t whether they’ll approve of him. But if he wasn’t scared off by Lydia and Kitty at Charades, then I bet you’re in the clear.” Liz folded over the top of the almond bag and clipped it shut. “By the way, I feel like Willie has hired a stylist. He looks a lot better.”
Jane smiled. “You don’t think he could have spruced up on his own?”
“Not to be uncharitable, but no. Those are extremely trendy pants he has on.” And yet—even more uncharitably—from the moment of their clumsy hug outside the airport terminal, where she’d picked up the visitors, Liz had also been sure that, wardrobe notwithstanding, Willie’s essential awkwardness remained intact. In her head, Liz thought of him as either the most confident awkward person she’d ever known or the awkwardest confident person. Of medium height, with a chubby build and puffy red hair, he continued to show a fondness for speaking at length about his professional pursuits that was tempered only slightly by his listeners’ inability to follow.
When Liz and Jane entered the living room where their sisters, parents, aunt, and cousin were gathered, Willie appeared to be in mid-monologue. “We get thirty million unique visitors per month,” he was saying, and as Liz made eye contact with her father, who was seated just a few feet from Willie, Mr. Bennet let his eyelids droop. Liz looked away. “If you want to compare that to the competition, it’s not even close,” Willie said. “Jig-Jig gets ten million, maybe twelve. Once the kinks are worked out, we’ll leave everyone else in the dust.”