“That’s bonkers,” Liz said.
“He’s not pressuring me to do it,” Jane said. “He said the choice is mine, and if we have to wait until March or April to be together, it’s fine. But, Lizzy, by March I’ll have a newborn. I’ll be in a different place emotionally, and so will Chip. I want us to become parents together. There’s no guarantee that if we try to pick up later where we left off tonight, it’ll work.”
After a few seconds, Liz said, “I wish I didn’t agree with you. Here’s what I don’t get, though—why can’t you just move out to L.A., rent an apartment, and see him really discreetly?”
“I asked that, too, and he said he thinks the producers won’t allow it. He thinks they’re okay with us being together if it’s sort of under their control, or if they’re benefiting from it, but otherwise, they’ll say it’s too great a risk. Chip gets recognized much more in L.A. than in other places.”
“Jesus,” Liz said. “And I thought Mom tried to boss us around.” Both sisters were quiet, and Liz added, “Just the idea of you, the sweet yogini, having your wedding nationally televised—it’s very weird.”
“I know,” Jane said. “I used to have such specific opinions about what my wedding would be like. Remember that game we’d play where we’d pick out our bridesmaids? But that was a long time ago. I’m forty, and I’m about to have a kid. I don’t care about the ceremony. I’d rather just be married to Chip and get on with our lives.” Jane glanced at Liz. “Maybe I’ve lost my mind.”
“Well, I agree that you’d be ratings gold,” Liz said. “I’d tune in to see Chip Bingley marry a beautiful pregnant lady. But do you realize what you’d be opening yourself up to? You’d be on the cover of celebrity gossip magazines.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Jane. Without a doubt. You’d have to sign a contract just like Chip, and one of the things it would require you to do is talk to the media. Plus, tons of trashy websites that you hadn’t talked to would say whatever they want about you guys. Did Chip mention compensation?”
“Like money?”
Liz nodded.
“Vaguely,” Jane said. “At this point, it’s still not definite that Eligible wants to do a wedding special with us. The next step is for Chip and me both to sit down with his agent and that producer.”
“Has the producer seen a picture of you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I bet Chip showed her one. Trust me, Jane, they’ll want to do it.”
“The only way I’ll agree to it is if all of you are there,” Jane said. “Mom and Dad, obviously, and you and Mary and Kitty and Lydia and now Ham. Do you think they’ll go on TV for my wedding?”
Liz laughed. “Some of them.”
“Will you?”
“Sure,” Liz said. “For you.”
“Does this all seem crazy?”
“Yes,” Liz said. “But I think you and Chip genuinely love each other.” She patted her sister’s arm. “I’m glad he wised up.”
ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, A maelstrom of activity was swirling. The following evening, while it was still afternoon in Los Angeles, Liz, Jane, and Chip participated via speakerphone from Liz’s apartment in a conversation with both Chip’s agent, whose name was David Scanlon, and the Eligible producer with whom Chip had discussed Jane, whose name was Anne Lee. It was decided that two days hence, when Chip flew back to Los Angeles, Jane also would journey west, on a different flight. In the meantime, Jane would begin filling out the many forms meant to facilitate her background check.
“Why do they need to do a background check on me if we already know each other?” Jane asked Chip when the call had concluded.
Chip and Liz answered at the same time. “They’re being thorough,” Chip said as Liz said, “Because they don’t want Chip’s family to sue them if you turn out to be a psychopath who kills him on your wedding night.”
Jane and Chip were seated on the couch, holding hands, and Jane looked at him. “I’ve never even met your parents,” she said. “I hope they’re not mad at me.”
“How could anyone be mad at you?” Chip said, and he kissed her.
But given that Chip’s parents were also the parents of Caroline, Liz thought, who knew what they’d be like? Even if they were genial in the extreme, watching their son marry a pregnant woman they’d never met, on national television, could not be a cherished dream. Then again, since that same son had chosen to appear on two separate seasons of Eligible, perhaps his parents would understand how much worse than Jane they might have fared with a daughter-in-law.
As for Caroline herself, spending time in her presence at the wedding filled Liz with a dread exacerbated by the assumption that Darcy would be Caroline’s date. For no one other than Jane would Liz have subjected herself to such circumstances.
IN THE MORNING, Chip and Jane rented a car and drove together to Rhinebeck, where they would stay the night before Jane collected her belongings and bid farewell to Amanda and Prisha.
The following day, Amanda called Liz and said, “This is really what Jane wants? To get married on TV to the guy who dumped her the minute he found out she was pregnant?”
Even under normal circumstances, Liz found Amanda a bit intimidating—if Liz hadn’t suspected Amanda would scoff at the idea, she’d have loved to write about her as a Woman Who Dared—and Liz tried not to sound meek or defensive as she said, “I certainly didn’t try to talk Jane into it. And if you’re upset about her quitting her job, you should talk to her, not me.”
“We can find another yoga instructor. But I’ve always thought Chip Bingley was a total phony.”
“Had you met him before yesterday?”
“No, but I swear those were crocodile tears he cried in his season finale.” Quickly, Amanda added, “I don’t watch the show, but Prisha does. Liz, if Chip leaves Jane again, I’ll do him bodily harm.”
“I’ll do it for you,” Liz replied.
“Prisha wants to talk to you,” Amanda said. There was a lull as the phone was passed, then Prisha’s excited voice. “Do we get to come to the wedding?” she asked.
WHAT THE PRODUCERS envisioned, Jane explained to Liz over the phone from California, was a three-day event at a resort in Palm Springs. The first night would be separate, simultaneous bachelor and bachelorette parties. The second night would be the rehearsal dinner. The third afternoon would be the wedding. Jane and Chip would be permitted to invite twenty guests total, all of whom would stay at the resort and all of whose travel expenses would be covered. The couple would receive a payment of $200,000, which Chip insisted should be Jane’s and which Jane insisted should be equally divided among her family members after Chip’s agent—now their shared agent—kept his 10 percent.
“You don’t have to pay me to come to your wedding,” Liz said. She’d been washing dishes when Jane called, and she turned off the faucet. “It would give me more peace of mind if you opened a secret bank account and put the money there. Are you and Chip signing a prenup?”
“We haven’t talked about it,” Jane said. “But if we didn’t trust each other, we wouldn’t be getting married.”
Said like a woman blinded by love, Liz thought, but not signing a prenuptial agreement could only be to her sister’s advantage.
“They want everything to happen two weeks from now,” Jane was saying. “From a Wednesday to a Friday, because that’s when they can rent out the whole resort. Do you think that’ll work for people?”
“Kitty probably has the most rigid schedule of any of us now that she’s in school,” Liz said. “But I bet she can miss a few days.”
“One of the things the agent negotiated is that the hair and makeup artists will help all of us get ready, not just me,” Jane said. “So maybe Kitty can even learn from them.”
“And if she doesn’t, that’s fine, too,” Liz said. “Jane, your wedding can be at least a little bit about you.”
“I haven’t told you the reason the producers want to do it so soon.” Jane sounded wry. ?
??The quote from Anne Lee is ‘Because you’re not getting any smaller, Jane, and the fantasy that American women have of marrying Chip Bingley doesn’t include looking like a whale.’ ”
“Wow,” Liz said. “Tactful.”
“No, she said it in a funny way,” Jane said. “I wasn’t offended. The producers are really cool and smart. They remind me of you and your magazine friends.”
“They’re not your friends. Their goal is to make entertaining TV.”
“I know.” Jane seemed untroubled. “Although they’re giving us free rings, too. Did I tell you that?”
“I’m sure some jewelry maker is doing it as part of an advertising deal.” But Liz could hear the cynicism in her tone, and, more gently, she added, “What do they look like?”
Jane laughed. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I HAVE SOMETHING to tell you all,” Jane said into the speakerphone. “Actually, a few things.”
It was Thanksgiving Day, and Jane was back in New York. She and Liz were expected in two hours, along with a dish of marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes, at the Park Slope house of Liz’s editor, Talia. In Cincinnati, the Bennets would celebrate the holiday, as they often did, at the Lucases’. It had been after much prodding from Liz as well as Jane that their family members had assembled in advance of the Thanksgiving meal in Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s living room at the Grasmoor.
Jane hesitated, and Mr. Bennet said, “Do go on.”
Jane and Liz made eye contact, and Jane bit her lip and furrowed her brows. Liz nodded.
“I’m pregnant,” Jane said. There were then several family members exclaiming—it was difficult for Liz to determine if their exclamations were supportive or oppositional—and Jane said, “Wait, there’s more. The way I got pregnant is using an anonymous sperm donor. The baby is due in late February.”
In a high, emotional tone, Mrs. Bennet said, “Jane, I didn’t have the slightest idea you—”
“No,” Jane said. “There’s even more. I’m marrying Chip Bingley, and I know it might sound odd, but we’ve decided to let our wedding be filmed for an Eligible special. Even though the special won’t air until April, it’s supposed to happen very soon—this December eleventh to thirteenth in Palm Springs. The thing I want most in the world is for all of you to be there. Okay, now I’m finished.”
There was a cacophony of voices, and at last, Liz said, “It’s really hard to understand you guys unless you speak one at a time.”
“I thought Chip was back in Los Angeles, and you were living with those ladies in the country,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“He is,” Jane said. “And I have been, although I’m moving to L.A. But Chip came here to visit.”
“I wonder if they can film you just from the neck up,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Or they can do what they did when that curly-haired gal on the sitcom got pregnant, and you can carry a grocery bag in front of you.”
“My pregnancy won’t be a secret,” Jane said. “They’ll definitely show it.”
“Can they tell people the baby is Chip’s?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“Aren’t you guys excited to be grandparents?” Liz said. “And aunts?”
“Jane, now that you mention it, your tits did get kind of huge before you left Cincinnati,” Lydia said.
“There’s no way I’m going on Eligible,” Mary said. “And why would you want to marry Chip? He has no backbone.”
“Mary, men get confused,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Chip comes from a lovely family, and he’ll make a devoted husband.”
Deploying a strategy she and Liz had discussed in advance, Jane said, “Mary, I was hoping you’d read a poem during the ceremony.”
“No,” Mary said.
“Jane, congratulations,” Ham said. “This is fantastic news.” Until he’d spoken, Liz hadn’t been certain he was present.
“As long as we’re making announcements,” Kitty said, “then I have one, too. I’m dating Shane now, so he should come with me.”
Simultaneously, Mr. Bennet said, “The realtor?” and Mrs. Bennet said, “The black man?”
“We’re expanding your horizons,” Kitty replied. “Welcome to the twenty-first century.”
“Then I also have an announcement,” Lydia said, and her voice sounded more tentative than usual. “Mary, I still don’t like you, but I shouldn’t have tried to force you out of the closet. Your gayness is your business.”
Snippily, Mary said, “I’m not gay.”
“She bowls,” Kitty said. “That’s what she does.”
In a shaky voice, Mrs. Bennet said, “Now what on earth is bowls?”
“As in bowling balls,” Kitty said. “The sport.”
“How do you know?” Mary asked, and Kitty said, “Mary, I’m your roommate now.”
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “Anyone else with a confession?” he said. “Lizzy?”
“Not today,” Liz said.
Mrs. Bennet said, “Jane, we’ll need to invite the Lucases and Hickmans and Nesbits to your wedding. Oh, and the Hoffs. They’d all be very hurt otherwise.”
“They’re only letting us invite twenty people,” Jane said.
“Everyone will know it was just immediate family, Mom,” Liz said. “The proof will be on TV.”
“You’ll all need to sign nondisclosure agreements, and the producers are very serious about them,” Jane said. “That means you can’t talk about the wedding before it airs. Especially not on social media, Kitty and Lydia. But something fun is that there’ll be wardrobe and makeup people to help us look great. Isn’t that neat?”
“Tell them my look is contemporary but classic,” Mrs. Bennet said. “And I don’t care for navy blue.”
“I’m not wearing makeup,” Mary said. “The texture of foundation disgusts me.”
“Dad, what do you think?” Jane asked. “You’ve been quiet.”
Before Mr. Bennet could reply, Mrs. Bennet said, “Why don’t they come here and film at Knox Church? Knox does an elegant service.”
“I think it’s easier for them to shoot in California,” Jane said. “Dad?”
“You’re forty years old, Jane. If you want to make a spectacle of yourself, I can hardly stop you.”
“Fred, Chip is a Harvard-educated doctor whose family started Bingley Manufacturing,” Mrs. Bennet said. “He’s very distinguished.”
“Is that really what you think, Dad?” Jane sounded distraught.
“Jane, let them get used to the idea,” Liz said. “You can’t expect them all to be jumping for joy right away.”
“You do realize we can hear you, right?” Mary said.
“Tell them the last thing,” Liz said to Jane, and Mr. Bennet said, “To top what’s come so far, it had better have to do with alien abduction or bestiality.”
“You’ll each get paid about thirty thousand dollars,” Jane said. “Sorry, Ham, not you. But the rest of you.”
“Ha,” Kitty said. “Do you still not like the texture of foundation, Mary?”
“In that case,” Mr. Bennet said, “this sounds like an excellent opportunity for our entire family.”
TWELVE DAYS LATER, on the plane to Phoenix, where they’d board a second plane for Palm Springs—for both flights Liz was disappointed but unsurprised to find they were flying coach—Jane said, “In all the hubbub, I haven’t even formally asked, but I’ve been assuming you’ll be my maid of honor. Will you?”
“Of course,” Liz said.
“Just so you know, Darcy will be Chip’s best man. You’re okay with that, right? You and Darcy seemed very civil at the restaurant.”
That Darcy would attend the wedding was a likelihood to which Liz had reconciled herself; after all, as Chip’s friend and Caroline’s beau, he was doubly connected to the Bingleys. She had considered the possibility that what she presumed was his disdain for reality television, combined with his inflexible schedule, would result in his absence, but she’d recognized that such a conclusion was probably wishful thinking. However, that he wo
uld be the best man was not an eventuality she’d entertained.
“Chip feels indebted to Darcy,” Jane continued. “We wouldn’t be getting married if not for him making that dinner happen.”
“Or maybe if not for him you wouldn’t have broken up in the first place,” Liz said.
“But I still would have been pregnant.” A look of worry crossed Jane’s pretty features. “Lizzy, the media stuff will blow over quickly, don’t you think? When people appear in tabloids all the time, aren’t they in cahoots with the reporters?”
“Kind of,” Liz said. “But with the baby born by the time your wedding airs, I’m sure there’ll be a bounty for pictures of the Eligible offspring.”
Jane shuddered.
“Does Chip expect that Caroline will be your manager now, too?” Liz asked. “Do they want you to shill for, like, a diaper company?”