He had made everything easy for her, and the rest fell into place too. They agreed to the small church she liked in her neighborhood. She asked Leslie to be her witness since Sam couldn’t come, and she was touched. Nigel remained firm about not inviting his brother, and asked two old school friends as his witnesses instead. And after the ceremony, the five of them were going to lunch at Savini at the Criterion, in legendary historical opulence, among the columns and beneath the gold ceiling. The elegance of the nineteenth-century setting suited him and he had suggested it. And Coco loved it. They were going to Courchevel to stay with friends the next day. Sometime in the spring or summer, they would plan a real honeymoon. But for now, all they wanted was the simplest and smallest of ceremonies, and after that they would be man and wife. It was as though Nigel was desperate to hang on to her and terrified to lose her now that he had found her. And although it was speedy, Coco was sure she was doing the right thing. She had no qualms at all. And he had given her a formal letter stating he had no assets, and twenty thousand pounds in the bank, which was nothing compared to her.
Coco went looking for a dress in the designer section of Harrods, and found a perfect white wool Chanel suit. She found a hairdresser who was going to put tiny white orchids in a chignon. She bought white satin Manolo Blahnik high-heeled pumps with rhinestone buckles, and a small bag to match. She had everything she needed. The florist was going to make a bouquet of the same white orchids she would wear in her hair, and a boutonniere for Nigel. They kept everything simple and low-key, in deference to Coco’s feelings about her parents not being there, and Nigel agreed.
* * *
—
Despite the careful planning, and the simple ceremony, their wedding day was hard for Coco. She cried from the moment she woke up, thinking of her parents and how heartbroken she was that they couldn’t share the moment with her. Nigel tried to console her and couldn’t. She spoke to Sam four or five times before the ceremony at eleven, although it was the middle of the night for him. He thought she was moving much too quickly, and it was a mistake, but it was too late for that now. She was doing it, so all Sam could do was support her. His father had had the surgery two days earlier and wasn’t well, and there was no way he could have come. But he felt terrible not to be there. He kept telling her that everything was going to be okay, but he didn’t believe it himself. She was marrying a man she barely knew, whose financial stability was nonexistent. He was a pauper compared to her and had made no attempt to hide it, to his credit.
The disparity between them worried Sam, and the short time she had known him. And what would his future be? Parties forever and an insignificant career? Or no job at all? Sam would have liked to see her marry someone more solid. But Coco was dazzled, and felt rudderless without her parents. She was looking for a secure base, and Sam couldn’t see Nigel providing it. At least he felt sure she had gotten a good prenup, thanks to Ed. Sam was surprised that Nigel had signed it. So her money was protected, as was everything she owned. In a crazy moment, he wondered if the marriage might actually work. Stranger things had happened. Sometimes people jumped into marriages hastily, and they lasted forty or fifty years. He hoped it would for her. Maybe Nigel would turn out to be the right man after all, in spite of Sam’s concerns. He hoped so. And Coco was sure of it.
“I’ll come over when my dad gets back to work,” he promised, and by the time Coco left for the church with Leslie in her car, she had run out of tears. She was quiet, thinking about her parents. She had never missed them as much as she did on that day.
“It’s going to be wonderful,” Leslie said confidently, as she walked her into the small church. When Coco saw Nigel standing at the altar, waiting for her, she smiled, and she slowly relaxed and believed it too. She was sure it was going to be perfect, because they loved each other. She could feel her parents watching over her and sharing the day with her.
Nigel beamed when she walked in. She had never looked more beautiful. The ceremony only took half an hour, and then they walked out of the church as man and wife, with their three witnesses. Nigel had bought a narrow gold band for her at Tiffany, and they had gotten one for him too.
Then the five of them went to lunch. Nigel ordered Cristal champagne, and they all had a superb lunch. Coco had paid for it, as the bride, since her father wasn’t there to do it, and Nigel couldn’t. But he had selected exquisite French wines of the finest vintages, and the menu, with caviar for the first course. When they got back to her house at five o’clock, they were both more than a little drunk. They made love and fell asleep immediately.
They were leaving for Courchevel in the morning, and she was his wife now, Coco thought as she fell asleep next to him. His wife. She loved the sound of the word. She knew that nothing could go wrong. She had a family now. She had a husband, and for the first time in eighteen months, she felt safe again. And she knew Nigel would protect her forever. He had vowed he would.
Chapter 7
Their week in Courchevel was perfect. The snow was crisp, the sun warm on their faces. The friends they stayed with, and their other guests, celebrated the newlyweds constantly. It was a fantastic vacation, and there were parties for them every night. Several of their acquaintances had houses there, and were there at the same time, so their honeymoon was a weeklong celebration with Nigel’s social circle. As soon as they got back to London, Nigel surprised Coco over breakfast with a question.
“Where are we going to move to?”
“We’re moving? Why?” She looked confused.
“We can’t live here as a married couple. It’s an adorable matchbox. We need a proper house that we can entertain in. This was suitable as a temporary place for a girl your age, here for a short time, but we need a respectable home suited to our status now.” He sounded definite about it. It had never occurred to her. She had two homes in New York. But they lived in London now. And Nigel wanted them to have a proper home.
“I don’t know. I never thought about it. I don’t even know who to call.”
“I’ll start calling some estate agents, and see what’s on the market.” He was matter-of-fact about it, as though she had agreed to the plan, which she hadn’t. She was still a little stunned when they left for work. A serious house in London was going to be a big expense and undertaking, and she assumed that he expected her to pay for it, since he had no money of his own. How did he know she could afford it? What if she couldn’t?
From then on, Nigel saw two or three houses a day, sometimes as many as six, during his lunch hour and after work. He told her not to worry about it. He would vet them first, and only bother her with the good ones. She tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, but Nigel was deep into it.
In March, six weeks after the search began, he said there were two houses that he wanted her to see. He set up the appointments for a Friday morning without asking her, and Coco called Leslie and said she would be coming in late. She was still working at Time and enjoying it, and now that she was staying in London, she saw no reason to quit. Leslie liked having her on her team.
Coco was stunned when she saw the houses. They were both large, imposing family homes, with enormous reception rooms, many bedrooms, in excellent condition, in the best neighborhoods. Both of them were worthy of a captain of industry, a financial titan, someone like her father or Ed Easton, or an aristocrat with a huge fortune. She had no idea that he’d been looking at houses that large, worth that kind of money, and she nearly gasped when the realtor told her the asking price for each of them. One of them even had a ballroom. Nigel pointed out that they could give dances. There was one she liked better than the other, the slightly smaller one. She said nothing to the realtor and she turned to Nigel when they left the last appointment, without making a commitment. At twenty-three, she couldn’t imagine owning that kind of house, married or not.
“Why do we need a house that size? Shouldn’t we wait till we have childr
en? We’re fine where we are for now, Nigel. Those houses are incredibly expensive, and we don’t need anything that big.”
“Of course we do. Do you have any idea how many dinner parties and house parties we’ve gone to in the last six months? If we’re going to have an active social life and be part of the London scene, we have to reciprocate. We need a home we can entertain in. Dinners, dances. We can’t go around like thieves, going to everyone else’s parties and giving none of our own.” But few of the houses they’d been to had been as lavish as these two. They would need a full staff to run them, and somewhere between four and six children to fill them, or a constant flow of houseguests. It was all way beyond the way she or her parents had lived. Nigel clearly had very grand ideas about their status on the London scene.
“I don’t even know if they would be a good investment,” she said in the cab to the Time building.
“I can assure you they are, or I wouldn’t have shown them to you,” he said tersely, looking insulted. “And I know you can afford them.” How could he be so sure? She wasn’t even certain of it, whatever she had.
“How do you know I can?”
“I read our contract and I knew anyway. You weren’t here on the salary Time is paying you. I know who your father was. His fortune was not exactly a secret.” What he said shocked her profoundly. He’d done research. She didn’t say it, but she was shaken. Sam had been right.
She called Ed that afternoon, when she knew he’d be in the office, and he took her call immediately. She told him about the houses, and the asking prices, and asked him if she could afford it. He still had not replaced himself as her trustee, and she had been too busy to pursue it, and forgot about it. She had bigger things to deal with.
“Yes, you can afford it, but I’m not sure that’s the point here. Do you want a house that big in London? Are you planning to stay there? Are you starting a family right away? That’s a lot of house you’re looking at, in both cases.” She had told him the square footage and the price.
“We’re not starting a family, for sure. And I don’t know if we’re going to stay here. My husband wants to. We haven’t decided yet. He likes being prominent on the London social scene. But I want to spend time in New York too.”
“Those are still two very large houses. To answer your question, yes, you can afford either one of them. But do you want to?” She didn’t. But her husband did, desperately. It was their first big difference of opinion, and a very expensive one.
“Thank you,” she said crisply, and pursued the conversation with Nigel that night when he got home.
“Of course we want to stay here,” he said immediately. “Where else would we want to live?” He acted as though the question was ridiculous.
“I’m American. Until now I’ve lived in New York. I still have two homes there, my parents’ apartment and a large beach house, and all I have here is a temporary job. Since you’re married to me, you could get a green card, and work in New York, if you wanted to.” She realized they should have discussed it before, and hadn’t.
“I don’t want to live in New York.” He looked shocked. “Why don’t you sell your parents’ apartment and the beach house to defray the cost of a house here? We’re never going to live there.” He dismissed the possibility summarily, and she felt a sudden pang of homesickness for New York. It seemed reasonable to him to live in London, but not entirely to her. She had roots in New York, memories, and homes. But her husband was English. She realized that they should have discussed it thoroughly before they married.
“I don’t want to sell my property there. I love my parents’ apartment. It’s been my home for my whole life. And the beach house too.”
“Are you telling me you can’t afford a house here? Or don’t want to?” He looked devastated and like he didn’t believe her.
“No, but I’m telling you it’s a lot of money. We don’t need a house that big. We could buy something smaller, and buy a bigger house when we have children. And I want to spend time in New York too.”
“How long do you want to wait for kids?” he asked her, worried.
“Several years. I told you that before. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m not ready for babies. I haven’t even finished college.”
“Are you ready to be married, Coco?” he asked accusingly, as though she was letting him down. It was another conversation they should have had before, but they hadn’t. “You’re sounding like a child.” He sounded disapproving as he accused her of it.
“I’m ready to be married because I love you, but I didn’t realize you wanted to buy a house, and certainly not one that size. I need to think about it.” She did not want to be pushed into it, or bullied. But she didn’t want him to be unhappy either. He was her family now.
“You’d better think fast, or someone will snap those houses up. I’ve been looking for two months, and they’re by far the best I’ve seen,” he said coldly, as though she was cheating him of his due. There was suddenly an atmosphere of tension around them in the tiny mews house, and it went on for days. He didn’t argue with her about it. He didn’t speak to her at all. They stopped making love. She had the sense that it was going to be a cold war until she gave in. The only thing that gave her some comfort was knowing that even if she bought one of them, they were both beautiful homes and probably were a good investment that they could always sell. But he was forcing her hand. And living in either of them would be a much grander lifestyle than the one she wanted, even as a married woman.
After several sleepless nights, while they barely spoke to each other, she decided to tell him to look for something smaller that would be easier to manage. She would have preferred to stay where they were for another year or two. She was waiting at the breakfast table to tell him, after another sleepless night, and he looked so miserable when he sat down that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t going to buy either house. It was the first major financial decision she’d ever had to face, and didn’t feel equal to it. They’d been married for less than two months, and he expected her to spend a fortune so they could show off to their friends.
“Coco,” he said, looking exhausted, “I’m not asking you to throw money away, or to give it to me. Both of these houses are excellent investments, and the house will be in your name,” he reminded her. She had never bought a house before and it scared her, especially with so much pressure from him.
“I don’t even know how to run a house that size. Or if I want to live here. I came here for a few months,” she said, feeling suffocated and panicked.
“And now you’re married to an Englishman, and you do live here. I can run the house for you. If there’s one thing I know, it’s big houses,” he said confidently. “The house in Sussex was ten times that size.” And now his brother had it. Nigel was trying to re-create what he had lost. It was a fresh insight into him. And he expected her to do it for him. Coco was beginning to understand that now. It was a very tall order, and a lot for him to expect of her.
“I don’t feel ready for a big house like that,” she said with tears in her eyes, and he smiled at her.
“I’ll do everything for it. We both want to have a beautiful life together. A house like that is part of it.” She was in over her head. She suddenly knew that she had run out of the energy to do battle with him. She had the money, and he had the endurance and determination to fight her on it forever until he got what he wanted. He wanted one of those two houses, or one like them, and nothing was going to stop him. She felt her resolve melting. He couldn’t force her to do it, but in a way he had. He was stronger than she was, and bigger, and older, and wanted a big house and a big life desperately. Far more than she did. It was part of his identity, the one he wanted, at her expense.
“All right,” she said with a long, tired sigh. She told him which one she preferred, the one without the ballroom, and he conceded, as though making a sacrifice fo
r her.
“I’ll call the estate agent. Coco, you won’t regret it. You’ll thank me one day, when the house is full of our children, and we’re giving the most spectacular parties in London.” She didn’t want parties or children at the moment, so it didn’t sound like good news to her, and it was a huge amount of money, which he didn’t mind at all.
They signed the papers a week later, which gave her plenty of time for buyer’s remorse, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. She felt pushed to the wall. They were going to take possession of the house sixty days later in May. In April, he gave her a list of all the things he wanted to do in the house, built-ins and marble fixtures, chandeliers, and changes he wanted to make. He had been interviewing contractors. She almost choked when she saw their estimates.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ll oversee everything. They say they can have us in by August.”
“Why don’t we just move straight to the poorhouse? Do we need to have all that done to it? The house looked perfect to me.”
“Trust me. It will be even better when we’re finished. You’re going to love it.” She didn’t love it. She loved him. And then he hit her with another bomb. “We’ll need furniture too of course.” She hadn’t even thought of that for a house that size. It was a daunting prospect, and would be an expensive one. They were going to be hemorrhaging money for the next five months. She remembered a remodel her mother had done of the city apartment, and her father’s complaints about how expensive it was. Now she understood. She had only known Nigel for seven months, and had no idea how expensive his tastes were. He had very grandiose ideas. But as soon as she agreed to buy the house, he became warm and loving again, and wanted to make love to her all the time. The floodgates had opened and he couldn’t get enough of her. The cold war was over, but it had cost her dearly. He never doubted for a moment that she could afford it. He had done his homework well.
All That Glitters Page 10