Anna: We can also rent a cute car. Something classic?
A rental car would have made sense for the two-hour drive from Los Angeles to Palm Springs, but Anna suggesting a “cute car” further reinforced my disbelief that the trip would happen at all. From there on, I engaged in the fantasy as a sort of test—letting her dream up whatever she wanted, just to see what she would do.
Three minutes later, a link appeared: a black Porsche 356 Speedster Tribute with red leather seats.
Next up: a white 1971 Pontiac LeMans.
Anna: Haha they actually are available. Not sure you are supposed [to] drive them for long distances though.
One last link: a 1928 Ford Model A—bright blue.
Anna: Pull up with the squad hahaha.
We were going through the motions, all right. Anna approached possibilities from the top down. The grandest options always came first, affordability be damned. We were striking matches in the rain, and we both knew it.
* * *
On Wednesday of that week, a few hours before I was leaving for the airport, Anna sent me a text, from London, I presumed.
I will try to catch a flight to la later assuming im done with everything. I missed over half of that conference now, she said.
Two hours later, she wrote me again.
Not going to la unfortunately, too much to do. . . . But lets still go to doug aitkens thing in a cute car sometime this summer.
Okedoke, I replied.
I flew to LA that afternoon, as planned, and took a red-eye back home the next day. My rent was due, I was stressed, and there still was no sign of a wire transfer. My anxiety was no longer something I was able to bear on my own.
Buckling under the pressure, I confided in Nick.
“Nick, I gotta tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“For some reason, when we were in Morocco, Anna’s credit cards stopped working.”
He waited for me to continue.
“And I got stuck putting my cards down—”
“Okay . . .”
“It’s a lot of money—a lot of money,” I stammered. “I mean, she promised to reimburse me, but the wire hasn’t come through yet and it’s really stressing me out.”
“Well, that’s not good,” he said.
“Yeah, I know—I mean, I’m sure it will be fine.” I started to choke up. “It’s just a lot—and I don’t get why there’s a delay, and she’s still traveling, and—” I was full-on crying now. We sat on the couch and talked through the details. “I trust her. It’s just a lot—it’s a lot,” I said.
He got up to get me a glass of water, and I followed him into the kitchen. Turning away from the refrigerator, he saw me crying, put down the cup of ice, and held me in his arms.
“It’s only money, Rachel—it just happens to be a lot of it.”
The way he said this made me laugh. We both knew it was enough money to have real consequences for my life, but still, in this moment, it felt like the kindest thing he could have said.
My texts to Anna grew increasingly desperate. Hey lady, do you really think the wire will come through today? I need to mail my rent. Could you do quick pay for 2k so that I can send a rent check w/o it bouncing? . . . My Amex bills are also due, but they can wait until Monday.
To help resolve the issue, Anna put me in touch with Bettina, a woman based in Germany whom Anna described as a family accountant. Bettina would help with an advance on my reimbursement while Anna was still on the road. I initiated a Chase QuickPay request, as instructed. On June 1, Anna emailed Bettina about my QuickPay request, cc’ing me.
Bettina - has this been finalized? Please also follow through on the wire transfer that’s been overdue almost 2 weeks now - Rachel is a personal friend and was kind enough to extend her credit to cover my expenses.
Confirm cc’ing us both asap.
I emailed a few hours later.
Hi Bettina, Following up on Anna’s note. Can you please advise?
Thank you,
Rachel
Anna responded right away.
Bettina, it’s almost EOD in NY - make sure this goes through asap and forward the successful confirmation to everyone. You have all access to verifications for my accounts, and there are no more reasons for delays. As i mentioned many times before, this is not an invoice that can wait, it’s a personal transfer - contact whoever you need to to make this happen now. I am available on my 917 us phone any time if anything further is needed from me personally.
Thx,
AD
One and a half hours later, Bettina finally wrote back.
Anna- apologies for the delay, we submitted everything from our side and I shall be receiving the bank confirmation shortly. There are no further steps needed to complete this.
We will be in touch with all parties as soon as possible.
Kind regards,
Bettina Wagner
I went through that day and the following as if nothing were wrong.
With her wedding only two weeks away, my college roommate, Kate, came into the city for a weekend visit from Amherst, Massachusetts, where she lived. There were no bridesmaids in her wedding, but I served in an unofficial capacity—as what she called a “can’t do this without you” friend. The two of us sat for lunch in the front of Café Mogador on St. Mark’s Place, eating Moroccan food and drinking a bottle of French wine. Morocco and France: was a pattern really there or was I just seeing things? I suppressed my anxiety. Kate was like a breath of fresh air. Not in spite of my strain, but partially because of it, my time with her felt special. I dove deeper into the joy of our friendship and gave her my full attention. We mapped out the order of her wedding processional. This is a time for Kate, I thought, and I was glad. I held on to my secret. It was beginning to eat me up inside, but I hid it.
Aunt Jennie and Janine were in town soon after Kate left, visiting from D.C. and upstate New York. Janine was essentially part of our family; she and Jennie had been friends since they met during a college semester abroad in England, and I’d known her my whole life. She wore silk scarves, red lipstick, and a profusion of sterling-silver bracelets that jangled on each arm.
The three of us met for dinner on Monday night on the Lower East Side. They were eager to hear about my travels—especially Jennie, who had helped so much with planning my trip in France. I looked forward to filling them in, but at the same time, I made a mental commitment not to tell them about Anna. There was no reason to cause alarm, and I felt uncomfortable disclosing the vacation’s cost.
That was my intention, anyway.
Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last piece of duck, I casually let it fly.
“Yes, Marrakech was great, but a weird thing happened . . .”
And there it was. Next thing I knew, I was on my way. I worked overtime as I told the story to instill faith—to give some optimism with all of the dread. And then came the question . . .
“How much?” asked Janine.
I told them, and they went silent.
“Do you think there’s any chance she could be a con artist?” asked Aunt Jennie.
I laughed. “Who? Anna?” I said. “No, not a chance. Looking from the outside in, I get why you’d ask, but no—she’s just a mess. I think she’s probably distracted, but she’ll be back from London anytime now—so, I’m sure it’ll be soon.”
I swore Jennie and Janine to secrecy, adamant that no one should worry.
Anna had been in touch with me that very afternoon. She was still traveling abroad. Someone who had worked for her family for thirty years had just died, she had told me, and she needed to stop by the ceremony in Germany.
Cant wait to get back to ny back to normal, she said.
Hang in there!! , I told her.
Calm as I seemed, my brain worked in overdrive to rationalize the delay and scan for solutions. On the Tuesday after that conversation with Jennie and Janine, I woke up tired. As if completing a thought from an int
errupted dream, I started my day with a plea to Bettina for news:
Dear Bettina,
Can you please share an update? I am late in my payments as a result of this delay. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to ensure remittance of this payment in the first half of today.
Thank you,
Rachel
And then a text to Anna for good measure: Anna, I’m really anxious about money. Is everything ok? Can we ask Bettina to make sure it goes through today? My rent check will bounce and I cannot pay my outstanding bills.
Following up now, she wrote. Sorry im in a bit of stress my wallet got lost/stolen i need to get everything replaced and get on a flight. Your wire has nothing to do with it though, I will call Bettina again. Sorry for the delay.
After sending the texts, I asked Nick for a fast two-thousand-dollar loan so that I could avoid a bounced rent check, and he generously provided.
Later that same morning, I heard from Kacy. Anna’s had a rough go of it in Casablanca, she texted. In Casablanca? I thought she was in London. Kacy told me Anna had been at the Four Seasons in Casablanca for four nights with no way to pay her bill. When hotel managers came to her room demanding payment and threatening to call the police, Anna called Kacy distraught. Kacy spoke to the managers and tried to send money, but they were already out of patience and wanted Anna gone. They escorted her from the property, Kacy managed to order her a car, and Anna was on her way to the airport.
Oh shit, was my reply. I told Kacy about La Mamounia. In the end I put everything on my credit cards and am still waiting on a wire—which I need desperately at this point.
Kacy: Something’s not right here.
Me: She won’t ask her parents for money.
Me: Her accountant has been in touch with me. Allegedly everything will go through today but I don’t feel good about it.
Kacy: Why did she stay in Morocco so long!? And alone?!
Me: No idea. I thought she was going to London . . .
Me: She told me her wallet was stolen. What is this girl doing?
Anna was having a problem, that was obvious, but why? And what could be done? Kacy and I saw a friend in distress and we were natural helpers. We agreed that the best course of action was to contact Anna’s family, and yet neither of us knew how. She’s talked to me about her family, I told Kacy. It’s just hard to understand the way she speaks sometimes . . . it can be vague.
Early that afternoon, I received an email from Bettina.
Dear Rachel,
I am awaiting for bank’s wire room confirmation that I can forward you. You shall be able to track the transfer from your side using it.
Regards,
Bettina
I wrote back:
Dear Bettina,
It has been over two weeks. Do you expect to receive the wire room confirmation today?
You did say that I would have it yesterday, along with the successful remittance of payment.
I cannot afford any additional delays.
Thank you for understanding,
Rachel
Two hours later, with no further reply from Bettina, Anna began texting me about the difficult time she was having.
Anna: Literally hell of past days.
Anna: Never traveling again haha
Me: Yikes I’m so sorry sounds awful. I’m in a tough situation until this wire goes through. Is everything ok? I don’t understand what the delay is with Bettina.
Anna: Will call them again. Sorry craziest day, im still at the airport trying to catch a flight and replace all my cards.
Anna: I feel horrible for putting you into this situation.
A few hours later, I heard from Kacy.
Kacy:Did Anna wire u the money yet?
Me: No not yet.
Kacy:She wants me to buy her a ticket back in business class for $2500! Have you spoken to her yet? This is madness!
Me: I texted to be sure she was ok.
Kacy:AND?
Me: She’s embarrassed about not paying me yet so wouldn’t ask me for help right now (bc I literally can’t pay).
Me: I do think she’ll pay you back.
Me: Did you suggest she ask her parents?
Me: I don’t know what to say.
Me: I hope this is a wake up call for her.
Kacy bought the ticket, and Anna arrived to New York the following afternoon. Barely through customs and bound for the Beekman, she texted me: If you feel like stopping by after work for a bite you’re welcome.
We’d come a long way from those days. Didn’t she realize? Her nonchalance was astounding. The stress is getting to me, I told her. Let’s do tomorrow if you’re free? I was pushing off the commitment, with no real intention of following through. Ok sure. I will do Kacy tomorrow probably if you wanna join.
Was she testing me or missing our routine? Texting was all I could manage. To see her in person felt like too much. Even so, I was glad that Anna was back in New York and staying in a hotel near my office. Though her connection to my reality seemed tenuous, her physical proximity gave me reason for fresh hope that restitution was on the way.
Chapter 10
Unraveling
* * *
I continued to guard my secret closely, but as the puzzle grew more complex, I couldn’t help but share my story in as vague terms as possible with the three female colleagues who sat closest to me in the V.F. office. They were flabbergasted. I asked for their feedback as I worked to navigate my friendship gone awry. They had heard about my antics with Anna back when dinners at Le Coucou, infrared sauna visits, and early-morning training sessions had been our norm. She’d always been enigmatic—that we knew—but where this had once been fun and intriguing, it was now alarming.
With Anna back in the US, and closer to her banks and employees, I imagined it would be easier for her to get her finances in order. There had been an issue with her taxes, she told me; working on behalf of the Anna Delvey Foundation, she hadn’t realized she needed to pay them. In response to her delinquency, the IRS had frozen her accounts, but, she said, the situation had been redressed. I have a team of lawyers who confirmed everything is resolved, she said. There is no reason for the wire to be delayed.
I believed her. I imagined that she hadn’t taken the time, or didn’t have the ability, to keep in touch with her lawyers while she had been traveling. Now that she was back and had a handle on the situation, I had faith the repayment would come through, just as she told me it would.
By this point, the number for Chase Customer Service was on speed dial in my phone. I called them at least once a day hoping for an update. The money I had borrowed from Nick wouldn’t last very long. I gave up on my communication with Bettina altogether, convinced that she wasn’t getting the job done. Nick and I joked that “Bettina” was probably just Anna, replying from a fake email address. It was an amusing idea, but I didn’t imagine it was true.
American Express had begun to call with increasing regularity, asking if and when my payment would be made. I tried my best to explain: It will be any time now. Stuck in the liminal space between promise and fulfillment, I waited.
Around noon a few days later, my cell phone buzzed. It was Anna. I have a wire reference nr G0871010031505. Not sure if that helps. I spun away from my desk and sprung to my feet. Eureka! I thought. I’d been begging for so long.
Nick came to join me. I had been up late the night before in a panic, and he was worried about me. We met in Westfield World Trade Center, the underground shopping mall beneath my office building, and walked straight to my bank. We watched as a banker carefully entered the reference number, but it wasn’t in a format the system recognized.
My pulse quickened and my spirits dropped. This was not a good sign, and I knew it, but I held on to my willful optimism. Over the course of the afternoon, down but not defeated, I repeatedly asked Anna for a Federal Reference Number, instead of whatever it was she’d given me.
I really don’t understand why the wi
re transfer hasn’t happened already, I texted. I’ve been waiting for this Fed Ref # since Marrakech. Every day it’s processing. This cannot keep happening. Can you please send me the [tracking number] to show that this wire transfer is actually going through[?]
Forwarded, she at last confirmed. Sorry again for getting you into this situation, I should be more organized moving forward. I sent you a bit more than owed as a thank you and apology for the delay. I checked my email and saw that Anna had forwarded a message from someone named Ryan that included a Federal Reference Number. I logged into my Chase account every few hours that evening to see if the money had arrived.
Me: No luck with the wire yet, I’ll keep checking and will keep you posted.
Anna: Ok. It’s been debited from my account.
I woke up before five o’clock the next morning, unable to fall back asleep, my mind racing. I was queasy with a feeling of dread. I texted her back.
Me: You’ve said that before. Still nothing. I’m really losing sleep over this. So sick to my stomach. This must post to my account this morning or something is seriously wrong.
Anna: Anything I can do to help with this?
Me: Can you check the status of the wire from your end using the Fed ref #?
Anna: Not that i know of, i will call my bank again once they open.
Anna: What did they say from your side? Its not unusual for transfers to take a while, especially for higher amounts.
Me: My bank said domestic wires usually happen same day and almost always within 24hrs.
Anna: If the wire takes longer for some reason, im sending you PayPal.
Me: Thank you, anna. I’m sorry for texting in the middle of the night. Just so stressed.
Anna: No problem, I understand it’s no fun being in this situation, and I caused it, you have all reasons to be upset.
It was comforting to hear her claim responsibility for the circumstances. She validated my feelings and made me think she understood them by acknowledging I had good reason to be upset. For an hour or two, I felt lighter. But by lunchtime, my fear had resumed.
My Friend Anna Page 14