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Lucie grabbed his arm eagerly. “Cecil, we solved Mom’s problem while you were away. Cornelia Guest!”
“What about her?”
“Mom wants to honor her at the summer gala for the Animal Rescue Fund of Long Island!”
“She’ll never do it.”
Lucie was confused. “But isn’t she your friend?”
“Of course she is…but I wouldn’t dare ask her.”
“Why not?” Lucie asked.
Cecil paused for a moment. “I just know she’ll say no.”
“Why?” Marian prodded.
“I hate to say this, but I think it would be too low class an affair for her.”
“Low class!” Marian looked taken aback.
Charlotte was indignant. “But Cornelia’s a huge champion of animal rights, and she grew up on Long Island!”
“Not that part of Long Island. She’s from Old Westbury, which as you well know is haute WASP country. Besides, I think she’s mostly in LA these days, busy with acting projects.”
“But our crowd would adore her. They would open up their pockets even more at the gala. Come on, Cecil, pleeeeease? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg?” Marian said with a little laugh.
“Oh, Cecil, won’t you please just ask her? What’s the harm in just asking, for Mom’s sake?” Lucie pleaded.
“Lucie, Cornelia Guest was the Debutante of the Decade in the eighties. She was BFFs with Andy Warhol, and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor were her godparents. She’s the daughter of polo legend Winston Guest and C. Z. Guest, who was the swan of all swans, and she’s the closest thing we have to royalty in this country. Trust me, we will never get her to come to your mother’s dinky fund-raiser, and I wouldn’t dream of wasting my social currency to ask her.”
Everyone was stunned speechless. After an awkward pause, Charlotte cleared her throat and offered encouragingly, “Well, let me see how I can connect the dots to Wendy Williams. I think someone on my PR team in London will know how to get to her.”
Cecil nodded. “Yes, Wendy Williams, whoever she is, will be a much better choice. Now, Lucie, please put on this 26.5-million-dollar ring I bought for you—and designed myself—and come with me to meet the princess!”
Lucie could feel her jaw grinding in rage. She forced the ring on to her finger and got up from the banquette.
“Wait—where’s the jacket Mother gave you?” Cecil asked.
“It’s draped behind Freddie’s seat.”
“Well, put it on! It’s Chanel couture, and Marie-Laure is very close to Karl. She’ll be so touched to see you in it.”
Freddie, Marian, and Charlotte watched in silence as Lucie put on her black-and-white bouclé jacket and walked slowly behind Cecil as he weaved expertly through the crowded room.
XIV
Rockefeller Center
MIDTOWN MANHATTAN
After lunch, everyone dispersed in various directions—Marian had to get back to her lab at Columbia; Charlotte was off to her dermatologist for a “mole check,” which everyone knew meant that she was getting Botox; Freddie was going to meet a friend for tea at Cha-An; and Cecil had his weekly appointment with his wealth psychologist.
Lucie, who was headed to Christie’s to look at some Hockneys coming up for auction for a client, decided to walk the ten blocks or so to Rockefeller Center since it was such a pleasant summer afternoon. Freddie, who was on his way to the East Village, decided to stroll down Fifth Avenue with his sister for a while.
They walked in perfect sync, keeping the same pace the way siblings often did, Freddie texting away at warp speed, barely looking up while expertly dodging the multitude of tourists, dogs on leashes, babies in strollers, and other sidewalk obstacles that got in his way as only a native of this island knew how, while Lucie stared straight ahead, never making eye contact with passersby.
“Ha ha—mission accomplished! Only took four texts,” Freddie proudly announced.
