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Is that what you plan to do with the photo I sent of myself?
Lucy
Now I’m considering sending you a selfie with my middle finger on display.
Henry
Vulgar American.
I love it.
Lucy
*eye roll emoji* Enjoy your evening with Miss Morland and her adventures atthe Abbey.
Henry
Thank you. I certainly plan to.
Opening the book, I resume where I left off just as Miss Morland is cast out of the Abbey in the middle of the night.
Eighteen
LUCY
This is goingto be a long day, luckily the London Airport isn’t as crowded as I expect it will be when I land back in New York. I decided not to check a bag and only bring a carry-on because I left plenty of clothes at my mother’s house before I moved. An announcement comes overhead that my flight will start boarding soon. I pull out my phone to text Mom to let her know—she will be worried and I don’t want her arriving too soon to pick me up. As I am looking at my phone, messages start flooding in from the group chat. Hannah shared my flight information with them. As I move to put my phone in airplane mode, I get one more text notification.
Henry
Safe travels, Lucy. I look forward to hearing from you once you’ve landed safely in the land of traitors.
I smile at his joke—he’s always sure not to come across as overly concerned.
Lucy
I’ll let you know when I arrive in the land of the free, away from your oppressive monarchy.
Thanks to a cocktail I had before the flight, I wake up just a couple hours before we land in Syracuse. I typically do well with shorter flights, but flying internationally gives me too much time to think about everything that can go wrong. Good thing I have my e-reader to distract me during the remaining hours in the air.
Before I know it, I’m at my mom’s place being smothered with puppy kisses from her two rottweilers. I’d love to have a pet of my own, but with traveling back and forth multiple times throughout the year, I’d have to find someone to look after them. So for now, I’ll enjoy snuggling with these two during my visits.
Mom is busy, as always, so I take the opportunity to put my things down in my childhood bedroom. My eyes land on the top shelf of my bookcase, the one that has been dedicated to all things Jane Austen for as long as I can remember. The center space displays my favorite copy ofPride and Prejudice. Maybe I should bring that back home with me. It would be nice to start filling my apartment with more of my favorite possessions.
When I return downstairs, Mom is pulling out piles of her reusable shopping bags for us to use tomorrow. We plan to do our Christmas shopping while I’m in this week, and I’ll leave everything here so I don’t have to worryabout traveling with it in December or shipping internationally.
“Thanks for letting me store all my gifts here for a month, Mom,” I say as I start loading the bags into the largest one for easy transport. “I’ll try to get most of the wrapping completed while I’m here too.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Standing and moving to the refrigerator, she pulls a single piece of paper off the notepad and studies it. “Care to join me? I’m running over to the grocery store to get the last few things we are missing for Thursday’s dinner.”
We stopped doing the traditional Thanksgiving dinner years ago when our family size went down to myself, my mom, and my grandmother. Since then, my mother has hosted more of an after-dinner party for our extended relatives and family friends. We make a smaller “dinner” for the three of us to have around lunchtime and then prepare for our guests. We set up folding tables around the house and in the basement, bringing out every board game and deck of cards we own. My mom and I split the duties of cooking the constant stream of appetizers starting at 7:00 p.m. to give us both a chance to play.
“Sure. I’ll grab my coat.” As I head upstairs to grab my phone from the charger, I notice a few texts from Ellie with plans for Wednesday night, a couple of messages in the group chat, and one from Henry.
An odd sensation comes over me, and I catch myself missing him, considering what this week would be like if he were here. That’s dumb, there’s no paparazzi here, and no need for him to be here. But what if he were…
What would he think of my mom and her excessively affectionate, very large dogs?
What would he think of our nontraditional Thanksgiving after-party? Would he enjoy the packed house and my loud friends and family getting far too competitive over a game of Monopoly or a card game, arguing who had their card down first? Maybe he would enjoy the games—he certainly is competitive enough to fit in with this crowd.
