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“Of course,” she said, getting up from the table. The two of them went into the cavernous oak-paneled living room, which was dominated by three huge Tiffany glass chandeliers and Venetian revival furniture. Cecil and Lucie sat down together on the Knole sofa and, clearing his throat, Cecil began:
“Darling, I have to explain about this morning. When my family first moved from Midland to Houston, we were invited to lunch at the local country club by these business associates of my dad’s. This couple was trying to do Dad a favor and get us into one of Houston’s most exclusive clubs. We got all dressed up—my father put on a new suit he had bought at Barneys New York in the Galleria, my mother bought a dress from the Yves Saint Laurent boutique at the Pavillion and took me shopping for my outfit at Neiman’s. I was seven and thought I looked supercool in a new striped dress shirt and dress pants from some Italian brand I couldn’t pronounce.* We got to the country club and my mother immediately realized that everything about our outfits was wrong. Everything. My father’s suit looked too shiny, her Yves Saint Laurent cocktail dress was too flashy for Sunday brunch, and, worst of all, I wasn’t wearing a jacket and tie, which was required. I was seven years old, for fuck’s sake. Who knew that all the men, no matter what age, were required to wear a jacket and tie? The coat check man at the club tried to be helpful and lent me a jacket and tie. I was very small for my age, and even the kid’s-size jacket was so large it looked like an overcoat on me. And the tie was this horrendous pickle-green thing from the seventies that smelled of mothballs. But I had no choice, I was forced to wear it, and I felt so humiliated. I remember all the other boys in their smart navy Brooks Brothers jackets and chinos staring at me like I was some freak.”
“Oh, Cecil…,” Lucie began, feeling guilty.
“We weren’t accepted into the club, of course, and I realize now it had little to do with how we dressed. At the end of the day, our money was just too new, my dad hadn’t gone to the same schools as all the other fellows, and my mother looked a little too exotic for their tastes.”
Lucie gave him a confused look. “Too exotic? But your mother looks like Robin Wright.”
“You didn’t know my mother before she changed her hair and had all her work done. She looked like Salma Hayek. She was very pretty, but it didn’t matter to those people. My mother swore that day that she would make it her mission to become one of the best dressed women in the world, and by God, did she ever.”
Lucie nodded. “Your mom is the chicest lady I know.”
“I know it sounds silly, but this morning at Dorset triggered me, and it brought me back to that moment when I was seven. I felt like a complete outsider back then, and I felt like one again today. It made me realize that no matter how much money you have, no matter what you’ve accomplished, these people will just find new ways to make you feel excluded.”
“Cecil, I understand, really I do. You’ve seen firsthand that among my father’s family, I don’t really feel like I belong. They’ll never truly see me as one of them.”
“I know, Lucie. That’s why we’re meant for each other. You are a thousand times more beautiful than anyone in that family of yours, and you know what? They’re just jealous. I could see it in all their eyes at our engagement party. You and I, we’re a threat to them. I thank God every day for my little bit of Latin and royal French-Cajun blood. We are marvelously photogenic, we have exquisite style and taste, we’re famous to only the right people, and we live fabulous lives they will never begin to understand. Still, that doesn’t excuse my behavior this morning. I was a complete ass. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course, Cecil,” Lucie said, as she embraced him on the sofa. “I’m sorry I made you go through all that. We should have left, really.”
Cecil reached into his pocket and took out a velvet box. Oh God, not another ring, Lucie couldn’t help thinking.
“Here’s a little present for you. I saw it on Newtown Lane and just couldn’t resist.”
Lucie opened the box and in it was a strange-looking key fob. “What’s this?”
“Come outside with me,” Cecil said.
They walked to the front door of the house, and parked in the circular driveway was a brand-new platinum-white Aston Martin DB11 Volante convertible with a big pink-and-silver bow on its hood.
“Your MINI Cooper’s almost ten years old now. It’s high time you were driving something newer, safer, and befitting your status,” Cecil commented.
“Oh, Cecil, you shouldn’t have!” Lucie sighed, wondering how she would get over the embarrassment of driving such a flashy car.
At this point, everyone had come outside to see what the commotion was, and Cecil proudly showed off his new gift to Lucie.
Freddie whistled. “That’s a nice set of wheels. The two of you should get into fights more often.”
“My goodness” was all Marian could say.
“You’re very blessed, Lucie,” Auden said, checking out the instrument panel of the car.
“I know,” Lucie replied, trying to sound grateful.
George remained silent, but Rosemary hugged Lucie excitedly. “Lucky girl! Cecil, how much did you pay for this?”
“Er…it was a little over 225k.”
“Wah, so cheap! In Hong Kong, this car would cost at least half a mil.”
“Well, you should get one then, Mrs. Zao,” Cecil remarked.
“I just might. But how can I drive such a car to garage sales? I won’t be able to get any bargains if they see me pull up in this thing!” Rosemary said.
“We really should go back in before the Peking duck gets cold,” Marian warned.
“Oh, shit!” Freddie exclaimed, as he rushed back into the dining room ahead of the others.
