by Kevin Kwan
* Not to be confused with the accessories closet intern or the beauty closet intern.
XV
Tea & Sympathy
WEST VILLAGE
“Why did you want to meet here? If you wanted afternoon tea, we could have met up someplace more glam like the St. Regis or the Mandarin.”
“I like this place, Cecil. I love their scones, and this room reminds me of those little country cafés my dad used to take me to the year we lived in England. Plus, it’s near your house.”
“Oh.”
A waitress with a Cockney accent approached their corner table by the window to take their order.
“I’ll have the cream tea with the Assam, please. And could I get an extra side of clotted cream for my scones?”
“Of course. What will you have, sir?”
“Nothing, I’m not hungry.”
“House rules, sir, you have to order something if you want to stay here.”
“I’ll have a macchiato.”
“Sorry, sir, we have coffee or thirty-seven types of tea.”
“For fuck’s sake. I’ll have a Darjeeling tea. And the sticky toffee pudding.”
“You didn’t have to be rude to her, Cecil. She’s only doing her job.”
“Was I being rude? I thought she was being so condescending. Why are you laughing?”
“Never mind, Cecil.”
“Look at that woman outside. Do you think she let her roots grow out like that on purpose? Or is she just too cheap to get her color done properly?”
“Maybe she likes it like that, Cecil.”
“How could anyone possibly like their hair like that? I’d be ashamed to leave the house. Why are you handing me your ring?”
“I’m returning it to you, Cecil.”
“Ahhh! You don’t like it, do you? Mother was right. She had a feeling it might be too avant-garde for you.”
“I think it’s a very original design, Cecil, but I just can’t wear it.”
“You have such slender, delicate fingers. I’ll admit, the cabochon emerald might not be the most flattering look for them. But the stone is so special. Why don’t we turn this emerald into a necklace, and I’ll get you something more classic for your engagement ring. Admit it, you’ve always wanted a diamond from Tiffany, haven’t you? You’ve been brainwashed by decades of Audrey Hepburn propaganda.”
“Cecil, I’m returning the ring to you be…because I…I can’t marry you.”
“Oh please, we can go to Tiffany if you really want. Although maybe we should go to Paris and I can get Joel to design something more classic for you.”
“Cecil, listen to me. I cannot marry you.”
“You’re not joking?”
“No, Cecil.”
The waitress returned with a bowl of sticky toffee pudding with warm custard oozing over it, a plate of freshly baked scones, two small ramekins of clotted cream, and one small ramekin with house-made jam. She also put down two unmatched teacups, a teapot in the shape of a double-decker bus, and another teapot with a photo of Prince William and Kate Middleton printed on the side.
“Excuse me, would you happen to have a teacup with a slightly thinner rim? Maybe that floral one up there on the end?” Lucie asked.
“Um, sure.”
The waitress retrieved another teacup from the shelf and swapped it out with Cecil’s teacup.
“Thank you for requesting this teacup, Lucie. You’re so thoughtful, which makes me all the more confused. Why are you breaking off our engagement?”
“I’m sorry, Cecil. I…I just realized that we’re really not suited to each other, and I think we won’t be happy together in the long run.”
“Not suited? Are you crazy? We’re so perfectly suited. Everyone says so. Even Town & Country—they want to do a cover story on our wedding!”
“If you really knew me, you’d know that’s the last thing I’d ever want.”
“Okay, we don’t have to do Town & Country if you don’t want to, but we at least have to do the Vows section of the Times.”
“See? You’re not even listening to me.”
“But I adore you! You’re the most precious thing in the whole world to me.”
“That’s what I mean, Cecil. You see me as a thing, a possession. Like your yacht, or one of your Rothkos.”
“That’s not true. You are more than a thing to me. So much more. You’re the light of my life. You’re the only person who truly understands me, Lucie.”
“But you don’t understand me.”
“How can you say that? After all we’ve been through these last five years? I understand and appreciate you like no one else does.”
“If you truly did, Cecil, you wouldn’t always be trying to change me—how I live, how I wear my hair, how I dress.”
“I thought you loved fashion.”
“I do love fashion. But my style is completely different from your mom’s. I don’t have any interest in wearing couture, and I really don’t care for the sort of statement jewelry your mom loves.”
“Listen, you don’t ever have to wear anything you don’t want to. I’ll get you the smallest diamond in the world if that makes you happy. Is three carats small enough for you? And I won’t care if you never make the International Best Dressed List. I just didn’t want you to feel left out, since Mother and I are both in the Best Dressed Hall of Fame.”
“Here’s the other thing, Cecil. You are so close to your mother, and I have no issue with that. I think it’s one of the most redeeming qualities about you, actually. But have you ever considered how close I am to my family? And that when you hurt them, you’re also hurting me?”
“How have I ever hurt your family? They’ve hurt you, those nasty snobs.”
“I’m not talking about the Churchills and the Barclays. I’m talking about my immediate family. Mom and Freddie.”
“How have I hurt them?”
“Cecil, you wouldn’t even make a phone call to your friend today, when my mother practically got on her hands and knees and begged you to. That really hurt her.”
“Lucie, I didn’t want your mother to be disappointed. I knew Cornelia would never say yes. I was sparing her the humiliation.”
“But she did, Cecil. She said yes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Freddie contacted her. Freddie got her to say yes.”
“I don’t believe it! How the hell did he manage that?”
“All he did was ask nicely. Don’t believe me, but she’s coming to the gala.”
“That brother of yours! I wonder what lies he must have told her…”
“He didn’t lie, Cecil. Freddie never lies. I was right there when it happened. He simply sent her a text and she said yes. Here’s the other thing, Cecil—you’ve never really liked Freddie, and you’ve never cared much for my mom either. Don’t try to argue with me, I know how you feel. I know you’ve tried your best to get along with them over the years, but I can see that it doesn’t make you happy. And I really do want you to be happy, Cecil. My family is always going to be an essential part of my life. We’ve always been so close, and that will never change. I don’t want to spend New Year’s in Saint Barth’s or summers on your yacht in Saint-Tropez. I want to be with my family in East Hampton during the summer and in the city during the holidays. I want to go to All Souls Church on Christmas Eve and celebrate Chinese New Year at Congee Village like we always do. You can’t stand Chinese food, Cecil. Don’t pretend you do.”
“I like that appetizer…crab rangoon.”
“That’s not real Chinese food, Cecil. My point is we actually have so little in common when you really break it down. And I know you think it’s wrong of me to say this now, but I know you’ll be miserable being married to me in the long run. You deserve someone who actually has an Instagram accou
nt with more than eight posts. You deserve someone who loves sitting in the front row at the haute couture shows in Paris, who loves wearing huge emeralds while sunbathing on your super yacht. Someone who likes tying you up in the gondola in your town house and reenacting the wrestling scene from Death in Venice. I know there’s someone out there who’s perfect for you, who will love you for exactly who you are, Cecil.”
“But I thought…I thought that person…was you.”
“For a while, I thought I was that person too, but I’ve come to realize that I’m not.”
The waitress approached the table with a pot of boiling-hot water.
“Would you like me to freshen up your teas? Are you all right, sir? Do you need some tissues?”
“No. I mean, yes, thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Cecil. Truly.”
“Can we stay friends?”
“Of course we can. I want to stay friends. I really do care for you. That’s why I’m doing this today, as difficult as it is for me to see you so hurt right now. But I just know you’ll be thanking me down the line. I know you’ll find your perfect soul mate, your twin flame, a lot sooner than you might think.”
“You seem so different suddenly, like a new woman.”
“A new woman?”
“I can’t quite explain it. It’s like your whole energy has changed, your voice has been transformed. There’s a new clarity, a fiery quality to it. Like someone who’s been transfigured.”
“What do you mean? I hope you don’t think I’m in love with someone else.”
“I didn’t mean that at all.”
“Or maybe you think I’m cheating on you or something…”
“That never crossed my mind.”
“But you said I seem transfigured, like you’re implying that I’ve been swept up by some new passion.”
“Lucie, relax, I wasn’t implying anything.”
XVI
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir
CENTRAL PARK
Lucie thought a morning run around the reservoir would help clear her head, but it didn’t. She managed to sleep about four hours the night before, which was a victory compared with the previous days, but her head still felt like it was in a fog and she could not shake off this sensation deep within her bones that she couldn’t quite put into words. What was it? Anxiety? Dread? Guilt? Regret? None of those feelings quite described how she truly felt.
After twice running around the track that encircled the reservoir and showcased spectacular views of the Manhattan skyline, Lucie cooled off by jogging along the path behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. As she passed a group of Tibetan monks in gold-and-maroon robes gathering by the grove of cherry blossom trees, she noticed someone waving at her. Squinting a bit to get her vision in focus, she realized it was Auden, dressed in light gray robes that set off his piercing blue eyes.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to stop you,” Auden said.
“It’s okay. I’m just cooling down from my run,” Lucie said, bending forward with her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve just been showing this delegation around the park, before our breakfast with the Dalai Lama.”
“You’re going to meet the Dalai Lama?”
“Yes. We always meet up when he’s in town.”
“Oh,” Lucie said, a little awed.
“Which reminds me, I got the most amusing email from Paloma Ortiz last night. You know the sisters are going to be in town next week?”
“Oh, really?”
Auden fished his phone out from his knitted hemp satchel. “Indeed they are! Paloma writes:
Mercedes and I have been luxuriating in Spain for the past two months. After Cissinghurst fell through, we were fortunate enough to rent the most wonderful villa in Tossa de Mar, on the Costa Brava, where we had a constant invasion of children and grandchildren. A big villa by the sea with the temptations of Barcelona nearby made for the perfect grandchild trap! So while it was not as relaxing as we would have liked, it was great fun nonetheless. Next week, we fly from Barcelona to New York, where we will be stocking up on provisions for our expedition to Mongolia! Yes, Mercedes and I are checking off a bucket-list dream of visiting Mongolia, where we intend to spend time with the eagle hunters, known as the burkitshi, and the reindeer people, also known as the Dukha. It is a four-day trek on horseback to the summer herding grounds of the Dukha, and I pray our old bones will be able to manage so much time in the saddle. (I’m told if all else fails we can charter a few helicopters and Cessnas to help.) We will be in Mongolia for three weeks, and if all goes well, we intend to fly from Ulaanbaatar to Urumqi in China, where our plan is to buy a big, comfortable Land Rover and drive along the Silk Route, journeying to such fabled cities as Tashkent, Samarkand, and Bukhara, following in the footsteps of Marco Polo.
“Can you believe it? The sisters are going to do Mongolia on horseback, and then they are going to attempt driving four thousand miles along the Silk Road, across five countries! I really think they might make it all the way to Venice just like Marco Polo did!” Auden laughed.
“How fabulous! I hope I have as much of an adventurous spirit when I’m their age.” Lucie smiled.
“I trust you will, especially now that you’ve shaken things up.”
Lucie gave Auden a wary look. “What do you mean by that?”
Auden paused, realizing that he had perhaps said too much. “I hope I haven’t overstepped, but Freddie did tell me the news…about you and Cecil.”
“Did he tell you at your gong bath last night?” Lucie asked, rather annoyed.
“No, I ran into him at Serendipity. He was sharing this humongous banana split with a very pretty redhead.”
“So he was high on sugar and gossiping with everyone.”
“No, he told me in the strictest of confidence because he’s a bit worried about you. He feels you’ve been going through a great deal lately.”
“Really? Freddie said that?”
“Lucie, any ending of a relationship—no matter how right the decision might feel—is still extremely soul-wounding.”
Lucie bristled. “My soul feels fine. Never better, actually.”
“Fantastic! All the same, I would be glad to gift you a breath work and guided meditation session any time you want, Lucie. Just say the word. Your breath is an incredibly powerful healing tool, and moving the breath through your body is an amazing way to open up your chakras, clear blocks, and resolve any inner conflicts that you have.”
“Thank you so much, Auden, but I can tell you this is the first time in my life where I’ve truly felt like I am absolutely free of inner conflict. Breaking up with Cecil cleared up all the conflict in my life.”
Auden smiled. “It makes me so happy to hear that. And now you can start afresh with George!”
Lucie glared at Auden. “George? What does George have to do with any of this?”
“I’m sorry, I thought that you ended things with Cecil because—”
Lucie cut him off before he could finish. “Well, you thought wrong.”
Saying goodbye hastily, Lucie jogged off. What would possess Auden Beebe to think that she had any interest in George? She ran in a fury down to the Seventy-Ninth Street exit and headed straight back to the apartment, eager to scold Freddie. Entering the stately lobby of 999 Fifth Avenue, she barely nodded at the doormen and stewed in front of the slow elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly.
The left elevator door opened, and out stepped a woman with a perfect blond blowout accompanying a stylish Asian lady.
“Hi, Lucie!” the lady smiled warmly.
“Hello?” Lucie replied politely, not quite placing her.
“It’s me, Rosemary!”
Lucie’s eyes widened. Rosemary was unrecognizable. Her usual gigantic Elizabeth
Taylor perm*1 was pulled into a discreet low bun, and she was impeccably dressed in a cream Carolina Herrera suit, a single strand of pearls, and barely a hint of makeup.
“Ha ha! You didn’t recognize me, did you?”
“I didn’t. You look…transformed, Mrs. Zao.”
“This is Dolly, my broker. We just came from the co-op board interview.”
“Interview?” Lucie was confused.
“Yes! Don’t you know? I put an offer on apartment 9A!”
A chill ran up Lucie’s spine. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.
“Ahem, knock on wood, Mrs. Zao,” Dolly said, as she rapped her knuckles against the wooden marquetry of the elevator door.
“Yes, yes, knock on wood. I just have to pass the co-op board interview, and they have to read all my letters of recommendation, but I think it went very well, didn’t it? Dolly advised me exactly how to dress and what to say.”
“They loved her. Especially your board president, Ms. Ferrer, who has notoriously high standards.”
“Really? Ms. Ferrer liked her?” Lucie said, getting even more alarmed.
“Yes! She told me how much she admired my father’s writings.”
“Your father?”
“Yes, he was a poet.”
“Come on, Mrs. Zao! She’s being so modest. Her father was one of the most revered poets in China. They teach a class on his works at Yale,” Dolly bragged to Lucie.
“Oooh, I just can’t wait for all of us to be neighbors!” Rosemary squealed, giving Lucie a little hug as she breezed along with her agent out of the lobby.
Lucie took the elevator up alone, feeling shell-shocked. When the elevator doors opened, the first person she saw was Charlotte, who was in the foyer misting the orchids with a plastic spritzer bottle.