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When the waitress returned with their order, Midas hoisted his lowball glass. "Now, then.
Let me be the first to congratulate you"--he paused dramatically--"on being the youngest designer ever to grace a twenty-page spread in Vogue. I think Zac did it before he was twenty-five, but I don't know anyone who's done it before they were legal to drink," he added with a smirk, clinking his glass against hers.
"Oh my God! You're joking ! " Eliza cried. Did he just say twenty pages in Vogue? She knew the Eastons were in the Hamptons on Vogues dime, but that they were working on spec for the shoot--which meant that the magazine hadn't approved it yet, and there were no guarantees. Eliza had hoped for two or three pages at the most ... but twenty? That was every designer's dream.
"I'm serious as a priest." He put a hand over his heart, his eyes twinkling mischievously, looking quite a bit like his twin brother. Midas looked very much the cool auteur that day, with his five o'clock shadow, chain belt, and distressed Paper Denim jeans. "It was originally scheduled for August, but when Anna saw some of the shots, she flipped. They're running the whole thing in the September issue."
"Midas!" She leapt from her chair and threw her arms around
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his neck. Twenty pages in September Vogue, the biggest issue of the year!
He kissed the top of her head, and she felt a frisson of electricity spark between them.
"I'm sorry." She blushed, extricating herself from his lap.
"Oh, go right ahead." He laughed, pulling out her chair for her so she could sit back down. "Though in case you feel like jumping again, let me tell you the rest of the news--they want to throw you a big party at the end of the summer at Calvin Kleins beach house."
Eliza grabbed Midas's hand across the table and squeezed it tightly. "You have no idea what this means for me."
He squeezed her hand back. "You deserve it, kiddo."
"Please. You're not that much older than I am."
"I graduated from university two years ago," Midas protested. "I'm practically a dirty old man," he said cheekily. Noticing Eliza's empty glass, he waved the waitress over for another round, handing her his platinum card.
"You went to college?" Eliza asked, remembering that in England they called college "university," so in Australia it was probably the same. "I figured you went to art school."
"Nah, I'm an Oxford man." Midas took his glass from the waitress as their drinks arrived.
"Oxford, really? Not design school?" Eliza asked, totally floored. She spiked an errant onion in her martini with the little plastic sword that came with it.
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"Design's school's all well and good, but if you want to work in fashion or media, everyone went to Cambridge or Oxford. And while I'm loath to admit it, who you know is always part of making it in this business."
Huh. Eliza brought the martini glass to her lips and took a slow sip. She had heard from friends who worked in the industry that the staff at all the top magazines were Ivy bred. But she couldn't imagine going to school just to make connections. "So that's why you chose Oxford?" She had to decide pretty soon if she was going to Princeton or back to Parsons in the fall. Princeton had only allowed her to defer a year, so if she didn't enroll this fall, she'd have to reapply for admission, and who knew if she'd even get in the second time? After such a successful year at Parsons, she hadn't really been considering it. "I can't imagine committing to a school for four years just to rub shoulders with the 'right sort of people,'" she said, making little air quotes. "I think ... ," Eliza started, realizing she really meant it as the words tumbled out of her mouth, "I'd go to college to explore what's out there, to get a well-rounded education."
"Of course." Midas nodded. "It was a twenty-four-hour schmooze fest, yes, but I loved learning the Great Books. I majored in philosophy, if you can believe that." He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "But my dear, you just have to do what-ever's best for you."
Eliza set her glass down on the table. As she mused on Parsons, which would teach her everything she needed to know
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about design, her first and current love, versus Princeton, which meant exploring everything she might ever want to learn, Eliza couldn't stop herself from looking down at the ring on her finger. If she married Jeremy, she'd be committing to her other first love--the only person she'd ever really been with. What if she was closing the door on other experiences too? She played with the diamond ring, turning it around and around so that it caught the light, reflecting a thousand rainbow colors on the dark bamboo walls. Between Parsons and Jeremy, it was starting to feel like her whole life had been decided for her.
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IT'S MINIATURE GOLF, not the pga grand slam...
"GREAT SHOT!" MARA CHEERED AS DAVID SHOT THE
ball through the windmill, past the wooden cow, and into the tiny cup at the end of the felt fairway.
David took a little bow and walked over to the hole. "Your turn, man," he called to Ryan as he bent to pick up the robin's-egg blue ball, a smug grin on his face. He came to stand beside Mara and gave her a little peck on the cheek. "We've got 'em where we want 'em," he whispered in her ear. She giggled.
"Show him, baby!" Tinker cried from her post behind Ryan, swinging her golf club in the air. "Give 'em hell!"
