Waiting for Mr. Darcy by Chamein Canton Page A

information, what’s happening with you?”
    â€œI’m going out with an investment banker/artist. His name is Nigel Clark.”
    â€œHe’s an investment banker and an artist? That’s not a combination you hear every day.”
    â€œI know.” She sighed dreamily. “He’s talented and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”
    â€œYeah, that’s nice and all, but what does he look like?”
    Gabby closed her eyes. “He’s tall with a chocolate brown complexion, he has dark brown eyes and he’s very fit.”
    â€œFit like a weight lifter or fit like Lance Armstrong?”
    â€œLike Lance Armstrong, only a little meatier.”
    â€œHe sounds much better than those hair club refugees your mom tries to fix you up with.”
    â€œAlicia said the same thing.”
    â€œShe’s right.”
    â€œHe is definitely head and shoulders above them. I’m sure she has at least one candidate in mind for me today.” She sighed. “Jane said it best: ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’ God knows my mother certainly believes that.”
    â€œIt seems she believes a woman in possession of a good fortune must be in want and need of a husband, too. So it looks like you’re getting it from both sides.”
    â€œAren’t I lucky?” Gabby said sarcastically.
    â€œI know.” Lauren walked to her kitchen. “Have you talked to Alicia today?”
    â€œNo. You know she’s probably working at home.”
    â€œI would say something but it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” She got a glass from her cabinet and went over to the counter.
    â€œWe’re all guilty of that.”
    Lauren picked up her Blackberry. “I think she got roped into a charity luncheon on Monday.” She looked through her schedule. “I don’t have anything Tuesday afternoon. Maybe I’ll go up.”
    â€œMe, too. I think the Austen Aristocrats are overdue for a meeting.” The doorbell rang. “I’d better go, Bunny’s here.”
    â€œTell Bunny I said hello, and you, my friend, have a good time tonight.”
    â€œI will, and I definitely will.” Gabby hung up and then took a minute to check her reflection before greeting her mother.
    Reed thin, coiffed and perfectly attired in a black dress with pearls, Bunny looked good for her seventy-six years. Though her step had slowed, she still managed to wear three-inch pumps.
    â€œYou look well, Mother.” Gabby kissed her cheek and helped her to the sofa.
    â€œThank you.” She looked her daughter over. “So do you, dear.”
    Gabby took a seat as well. “How’s Daddy?”
    Her father, Richard Blanchard, had had a stroke two years earlier and it had left him frail and unable to travel too much. In Gabby’s eyes, though, he was still the superman she loved.
    â€œYour father is doing well. He’s been asking for you.”
    â€œMy schedule has been crazy, but I will be there soon to see him.”
    â€œGood.” Bunny sipped her tea. “We just got a postcard from Lizzie in Milan. She seems to be having a good time.”
    Gabby nibbled a sandwich. “’She’s having a great time, and they’re in Venice now.”
    â€œVenice already?”
    â€œThat’s the beauty of the computer, Mother. I can keep up with her in real time. In fact, she emailed me last night with some pictures. She and her friends are having a blast in Europe.”
    Bunny shook her head. “I’m all for her enjoying herself, but I don’t understand why she’s coming back to work in the inner city schools when there are plenty of fine private schools that would love to have her.”
    â€œIt’s her choice, Mother. She wants to contribute something to the lives of underprivileged