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“They were these rather proper but very charming sisters, Paloma and Mercedes. And they weren’t the strange ones,” Lucie said, suddenly getting a faraway look in her face.
“Don’t Filipinos like to dance? I doubt the honorable ambassador would approve of these party animals.”
“They’re in their seventies, Cecil. And they come from one of the oldest and most revered families in the Philippines.”
“Well then, don’t let me stop you from fulfilling Harry Stuyvesant Fish’s social wet dreams. In the meantime, can’t I please call in a helicopter and let’s head straight to Daniel?”
“I would love nothing more than to leave this miserable party, but I don’t think there’s enough landing room among these azaleas, and we need to make at least one more round and rescue your mother! Besides, I really think my great-aunt Cushing has taken a fancy to you.”
“I swear I saw Great-Aunt Cushing squirrel some of those mini quiches from William Poll into that big wicker tote bag of hers. I think she’s begun stocking up for winter.”
“Oh dear. She’s always the first to attack the leftovers after dinner. Last year, I heard she brought a huge nylon fold-out bag to the Casita Maria Fiesta Gala to take home as many of the centerpieces as she could fit.”
“Of course she did. Baby, pleeeease don’t make me go back down there. Everyone’s so wretched! Now that we’ve done this, do we need to invite any of them to the wedding? Would any of them even want to go to Abu Dhabi? The only one who’s fabulous is your grandmother. She’s absolutely magnificent, and the apartment exceeded all my expectations. Tell me, who do you think she’s going to leave the Magritte to?”
“Don’t go getting any ideas, Cecil, I can assure you it won’t be me. Cacky’s my grandmother’s favorite because she looks like a young Charlotte Rampling and lets her win at bridge.”
“Cacky was another one who was so far up my mother’s ass. She was name-dropping a mile a minute—Mandela, Macron, Marie-Josée.”
Lucie shook her head in amused disgust. “I’m glad you see Cacky for who she is. All my life, I’ve felt like I’ve had to try to live up to her goddess-like perfection.”
Cecil scrunched his face up like a bad smell had wafted past. “What would ever possess you to think that Cacky was worth competing against?”
“I’m not even sure anymore…I guess, growing up, we were like the wretched orphans, especially after Dad died and Mom got sick. I felt responsible for keeping our family together, and that meant always striving to be perfect in Granny’s eyes.”
“You are perfect exactly the way you are, baby,” Cecil said, stroking her cheek affectionately. “You were the most exquisite thing in that room tonight, and even if your grandmother has poor judgment, at least she made a marvelous toast. Anyone who can mention Han Suyin, Madame Chiang Kai-shek, and the Rothschilds in the same toast deserves a prize. Didn’t you think it was fabulous?”
“It was,” Lucie said softly. She didn’t have the heart to tell him how she truly felt. Every word of her grandmother’s toast carried a veiled insult. It was an insult to her mother, it was an insult to Cecil and Renée, and it was a dagger in her heart. To Granny, no matter how graciously she behaved, no matter what she accomplished, she would always only ever be the poor little china doll. But, thankfully, none of that mattered anymore. Commiserating with Cecil on the roof garden above her grandmother’s apartment, she was more convinced than ever that she had made the right decision in choosing him as her spouse. Yes, he had his eccentricities, but she was well prepared to handle them. Despite everything that had just happened at the party, she knew that tonight, she was sending a subtle, elegant message to everyone downstairs who had ever pitied her, judged her, or underestimated her: I’m going to be Mrs. Cecil Pike, and I don’t give a damn what you think anymore.
* Stéphane Boudin, one of the most influential interior designers of the twentieth century. As president of the Paris-based interior decorating firm Maison Jansen, he was the mastermind behind the restoration of the White House for Jacqueline Kennedy in 1961 and was also known for designing interiors for the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, C. Z. Guest, the Agnellis, and the royal families of Belgium and Iran.
IV
Outlook Avenue
EAST HAMPTON, NY
Auden moved a few paces back, scrutinizing the canvas from afar. “It’s astonishing, Lucie. Simply astonishing. Why aren’t you showing your work to gallerists and curators?”
“I don’t want to muddy the waters. People in the industry have begun to know me as a trusted adviser. I don’t want them to get confused by trying to show them my own work. It wouldn’t be appropriate,” Lucie replied, standing in the back corner of the barn that she used as her painting studio.
“So you’re content to just let these masterpieces sit here and collect dust?”
“You are much too generous, Auden. These aren’t masterpieces. I’d call them experiments. I’m happy to show these to friends and give them away, so please choose the one you want.”
“They’re all so good, I’m stumped. I’d be happy to have any of them. May I come back after lunch to contemplate these paintings a bit more?”
“Of course, I’ll leave them out. And yes, let’s get to lunch before my mother sends a search party out.”
They walked out of the barn and took the garden path that led up to the rambling Cape Cod–style house with a wraparound porch that looked out onto Sedge Island and Gardiners Bay beyond. Auden stopped for a moment on the porch and stared out at the placid waters reflecting the crisp blue sky. “You know, everyone loves the ocean view, but I’ve always thought the bay view more special. This, to me, is the best view in all of East Hampton.”
“I agree,” Lucie said with a little sigh. “I wish I could spend the whole summer here like I used to. Now I’m just another one of those grunts who tries to squeeze in forty-eight hours of detoxing from the city before having to head back again to repeat the vicious cycle.”
“Well, at least you have this piece of heaven to detox in. I find it’s one of the few houses left that retains its original charm and hasn’t been decorated to within an inch of its life.”
“My great-grandfather bought it as his little escape from the big house in Southampton, and my parents didn’t change a thing. Cecil isn’t crazy about it, though. He keeps trying to talk me into buying a house on Georgica Pond or, at the very least, redecorating this place.”
“He wants to unleash Kelly Wearstler on the place, I suppose.”
