At the mention of games, Liz had remembered a specific round of gin rummy she and Mary had played in the eighties, when Liz had gotten a perfect hand and ginned before she drew for the first time; in spite of herself, she felt genuine sadness. But it wouldn’t have been honest to attribute the sadness entirely to the Tudor’s impending sale. It also was attached to her disappointment with Jasper, a disappointment that abruptly and retroactively colored the past: All those years growing up here, she’d unknowingly been headed toward a selfish, dishonest man.
Jane said “Om” once more and opened her eyes. “Do you want to add anything?”
Liz shook her head. “I’m okay. I’ll put your suitcase in the car while you say goodbye to everyone.”
MR. BENNET BID farewell to Jane indoors, but the female members of the family all followed her to the driveway, where Mrs. Bennet continued to offer miscellaneous advice, as if Jane were leaving for her freshman year of college. “Get a little single-serve coffeemaker so you’re not dependent on those ladies in the morning,” she called into Jane’s unrolled window. “They’re only about thirty dollars.”
“Mom, I don’t drink coffee,” Jane said, and from the driver’s side, Liz said, “We need to go so she doesn’t miss her plane.”
“I love you all,” Jane said. “And I’m only a phone call away.”
“A nice hostess gift is a cheese board,” Mrs. Bennet said. “But if you get one that’s bamboo, tell them not to put it in the dishwasher.”
“Jane won’t be their guest,” Lydia said. “She’ll be their servant.”
“Bye,” Liz called, but she hadn’t begun accelerating when, entirely audibly, Mrs. Bennet said to Kitty, “I just wish Chip hadn’t gone back to California.”
As Liz turned out of the driveway, she said to Jane, “Did you decide what you’re doing with your apartment after September first?”
“I guess if I’m not going back, I should end my lease, but the idea of moving—well, I shouldn’t complain after you and Ham cleaned out the entire basement yesterday. You were heroic, Lizzy.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the storage locker. Ham did his best, but it looks like the town dump.”
“I have this fantasy of getting rid of almost everything I own and replacing it with minimalist baby gear. Just a car seat, some onesies, and some cloth diapers.”
“Is there any such thing as minimalist baby gear?” Liz asked as she made a left onto Torrence Parkway. “In other news, I think maybe I’m finished with Jasper.”
“What happened?”
“Besides me finally seeing what’s been in front of my face all along?” Liz tried to smile, and without warning, tears came to her eyes.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane said. “I’m sorry.”
“He was awful at dinner,” Liz said. “Don’t you think?”
Sympathetically, gently, Jane said, “He was just being himself.”
THE GRASMOOR, WHICH was located on Madison Road—Liz passed it on her jogs—consisted of two handsome, three-story, cream-colored brick buildings with green awnings. The unit Liz and her parents viewed, which was for sale for $239,000, had three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, two terraces, and a view of the fountain in the courtyard. For the duration of the tour, which was conducted by Shane, Mrs. Bennet wept, a fact that seemed to cause greater consternation for Shane than for Liz or her father.
“Seriously,” Liz said as the tour concluded, “getting this much space for this amount of money is incredible.”
“My dear,” Mr. Bennet said, “your coastal affectations are in imminent danger of becoming tedious.”
“For comparison, I’d love to show you a unit down the street,” Shane said, and Mrs. Bennet said, “I don’t have the energy.”
Liz said, “Mom, let’s keep going a little longer.”
“You have absolutely no idea what this is like for me,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Losing a house can be like losing a member of the family,” Shane said. “Am I right, Mrs. Bennet?”
She looked at him vaguely—Liz had decided against mentioning Shane’s race in advance of his meeting her mother, saying only that he’d been a Seven Hills classmate—then, as if Shane hadn’t spoken, Mrs. Bennet turned back to Liz. “I’m sure you can’t understand now,” Mrs. Bennet said. “But someday you’ll learn what it’s like to be treated with utter callousness by your own children.”