First Impressions

Lizzie's mother insisted on helping Jane once the table's order came out of the kitchen. Two cobb salads, no bacon (for who else?), club sandwiches (for Patrick and Jonathan) and a BTL for Mark. 

"-such an honor to meet such talented young men!" Lizzie heard Mrs. Bennet gush from the espresso bar. "I know we're in Michigan, but plenty of us follow the Redhawks more than the Red Wings up here!"

"Blackhawks, mom," Jane corrected her timidly, another blush creeping up her already pink face. "Is there anything else you need?" 

"We're perfect, thank you," Patrick grinned at her while Jonathan blatantly stared out the window. Mark dug into his fries while the two sisters locked eyes in unspoken communication and smirks. 

"Kay, let me know," Jane said softly, gently pulling Mrs. Bennet away, who waved with a "pleasure to meet you all!" before returning to the counter. 

The rest of the group's time at the cafe was uneventful. Lizzie continued to make espresso after espresso for customers but was often distracted by the nearby conversation.

"There's a beach down the street, we could go tanning," suggested Erica, poking her salad with a fork. 

"Beaches don't open before Memorial Day," Jonathan piped up for the first time. "And God knows if it's clean or not."

Lizzie huffed to herself, insulted by Jonathan's insult of her town. Did he think they were all middle-of-nowhere hicks who didn't clean up after themselves? She herself started a recycling initiative as a class project in the sixth grade, and proudly deemed the nearby shores as spotless. 

"It's too cold out anyways," said a perfectly bronzed Jessica. "I don't want to tan in forty-degree weather!" 

Lizzie glanced at the outdoor thermometer hanging on the wall. Oh, just twenty-eight degrees off and counting, she thought sarcastically to herself. They were up north, what did this girl expect of the U.P.? Sunshine and eighty-five from dawn until dusk?

"I actually really like this town," said Patrick as to quell the negative tone of his sisters. "Everyone's really nice."

"You've talked to our waitress, her mother, and the groundkeeper at Netherfield," Jonathan looked at him pointedly. "I hardly call that everyone."

They left soon enough, but not before Patrick tipped Jane a whopping 30 percent and left his number on the back of the receipt, explaining that "he needed someone to show him around town later" even with a cute winky-face. Lizzie and Jane watched the group walk down the street from the counter. Tucking a loose strand of her made-up bun behind her ear, Jane leaned her elbows on the turquoise tile and sighed, alarming Lizzie.

"You're not seriously going to pursue that, are you?" Lizzie furrowed her eyebrows skeptically. 

"Oh, no, I'm not going to call him," Jane said quickly. "I mean- he's Patrick Kane-" she said so meekly. "He's just being kind."

Lizzie frowned. While she hoped Jane wouldn't take Patrick's interest too seriously, she didn't want her eldest sister to think she wasn't good enough for him, either. 

"You're out of his league," she told Jane firmly. "He doesn't have a shot with you."

"I suppose," Jane shrugged before walking away as a couple came into the cafe.

And with that vague response, Lizzie suddenly feared the unthinkable: that Patrick's shot might actually hit the mark. 

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Mrs. Lucas came over for dinner that night. Fortunately for Lizzie, she brought her daughter Charlotte, Lizzie's oldest and closest friend. Unlike the overbearing, gossipy Mrs. Lucas, Charlotte was instead laid-back and had an indifferent attitude to most of the things that didn't affect her directly. Though, according to their mothers, the arrival of the Netherfield tenants was the "climactical rising action whose matters might as well pertain to every young woman without a ring on her left hand in Longbourn."

Or, something along those lines. 

"Roughly six million a year!" Mrs. Bennet cried as she passed the bread down the dining room table where everyone was gathered. "I googled it!" 

"Don't forget that Mr. Toews earned a $1.3 million bonus two years ago for the Conn Smythe," Mrs. Lucas added. "So he's worth more."

"I'm sorry, are we talking about art pieces or hockey players?" Mr. Bennet deadpanned while twirling his spaghetti. "I couldn't differentiate." 

"Charles, you simply can't see the importance of this situation," Mrs. Bennet widened her eyes at him imploringly. "Think of your daughters! Two of whom are not currently employed in the professions they attended school for!"

"Hey, I just graduated! And I'm going to law school!" Lizzie interjected, to which Mr. Bennet leaned over to pat her hand reassuringly. "And Jane is actively seeking a position."

"Details," Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "I am simply saying...having a supportive parter, financially that is, should be a top priority."

"And that's why I had Stephen add Mr. Kane and party to the list for this Friday's clam bake," Mrs. Lucas said pointedly to her daughter, and half-heartedly to Jane and Lizzie (because Charlotte came first, at least to her). "You're welcome, girls." 

"The way he couldn't tear his eyes off Janie this afternoon makes for such an adorable wedding toast," Mrs. Bennet bragged to her friend. "Do I hear the bells?"

Lizzie groaned. How many times had she done so that day? She'd lost count.

"Our mothers live vicariously through us," Charlotte commented to Lizzie and Jane as they sprawled around the sisters' shared bedroom. 

The Bennet House Cafe was literally a house, as well. The family owned and lived on the two floors above the restaurant.

"It's amusing, really," Charlotte continued, falling back on the bed so her mousy hair fell over the edge of the mattress.

"Your mom isn't half as bad as ours," Lizzie nudged Jane with a chuckle, changing the pitch of her voice to imitate her mother. "I just love hockey! Go Redhawks!" 

"It was a simple mistake," Jane tried to reason, but was denied when Charlotte gasped out a laugh.

"Did she really say that? That's rough," she grinned toothily.

"It didn't seem to deter Patrick though," Lizzie waggled her brows at Jane. "He saw enough of her backside to forget such indiscretions."

"Lest we forget his," Charlotte returned, and Jane frowned.

"Really, I don't think he's as terrible as they say he is," she argued. "We can't make judgement on Patrick unless we really get to know him, and from what I saw today, he's really charming."

"Just make sure Prince Charming picks you up in a carriage, not a cab," Lizzie sighed. "And tell the driver to keep the change."