Fashionably Late
Page 56
A nurse in an old-fashioned starched cap stopped her at the desk beside the nursery window. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
‘I’m here for my baby,’ Karen said.
The nurse looked at her for a moment as if she were mad. Karen reached into her schlep bag and pulled out the temporary custody papers that Mr Ching had given her. ‘I want to see my baby,’ Karen said. She handed the papers over as Mr Dagsvarr arrived. The nurse looked at him and her face softened.
‘Oh, hello, Reverend,’ she said. The two of them began to talk, but Karen turned her back on them and turned to the glass window. Inside, there were a dozen bassinets; all were full. But Karen’s eyes swept over them and, despite the two Asian babies, she knew that Lily wasn’t there.
‘Where is my baby?’ she asked.
And then she saw her. The baby was in an isolette, but the plastic of the cover was clear, and even from this distance, some twenty feet, Karen recognized the child.
‘There she is. There’s my baby,’ Karen told them.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Fashionably Late
It had taken Karen hours to clear Immigration, and that was with the invaluable help of Sally, a state representative (the husband of a good client), intervention from a US senator’s office, and, finally, a visit from Harvey Kramer himself – at a cost of who knew how many billable hours. Karen wearily wondered what kind of security risk to America a four-week-old Chinese-American female infant posed, and what the whole horrible process was like for people who didn’t have her privileges, her money and connections, those who couldn’t take catnaps in the VIP rooms at the airport. Thank God Lily slept most of the time, wrapped in a blanket that Mrs Dagsvarr had embroidered when she learned Karen was coming back for the baby, and had shyly given to Karen. It already was soiled, but it did have Lily’s name sewn neatly at the corner.
Wearily, Karen had called for a company car to pick her up. What the hell! It might be the last privilege KInc ever gave her. She couldn’t face a taxi for the last forty minutes of this round-the-world tour. The ride from JFK into Manhattan was a blur of fatigue, and Lily and Karen both dozed fitfully in the back seat.
Karen woke up on the Grand Central Parkway. For a moment she didn’t know where she was and clutched at the baby. Thank God! She hadn’t lost or dropped her. But what a responsibility the little sleeping bundle represented. Could she be a good mother? Could any woman in the nineties? Defina had tried so hard. Maybe her working had made things difficult for Tangela. But had Defina had a choice? Of course, Lisa hadn ‘t worked, and look at how her girls were turning out. Karen suddenly felt old and tired. Would she have the energy, the stamina, to be a good mother? She crossed her fingers and hoped that love and money would be enough. Then she fell asleep again.
When they pulled up to the green canopy of her West End Avenue apartment, she was jerked awake. ‘Well, Lil, for better or for worse, you’re home.’ She looked down at the little face. Lily’s eyes were closed and the baby’s black lashes, tiny and indescribably sweet, pushed against the fat of her cheek. Her fist was curled tightly against her chin, and Karen had to smile down at the child. Maybe this choice was irrational. Maybe she should not be doing it. Maybe at some time in the future she would have regrets, and maybe Lily would regret it as well. But even so, Karen would not choose to do this any other way. If it was self-indulgent, if it was the act of a desperate woman, she still felt good about it. In fact, she had never felt so good. Holding Lily to her breast, she felt more real, more complete, and more joyful than she ever had before in her life. Some things are beyond analysis, she thought. Probably all the things that create joy.
Karen got out of the car. The driver helped her with her scant luggage and the bag full of improvised baby paraphernalia. George, the doorman, late and slow as usual, only got to her side after she had managed to get the luggage and the baby into the foyer. The more things change the more they remain the same she thought, but she smiled.
She fit the key into the lock, and as she opened the door she wondered if Ernesta would still be there. It was already almost one o’clock in the afternoon, and Ernesta only worked half-days. Karen kicked the bag into the hall and walked into the living room.
‘Surprise!’ whispered twenty voices. Karen jumped, but Lily slept on. Defina, Casey, Carl, Janet, Mrs Cruz, Ernesta, Perry, Arnold, Inez, and another dozen people stood in a loose semicircle clutching pink helium-filled balloons. Karen was shocked to see Elise Elliot, carrying a big robin’s-egg-blue Tiffany box. Alongside her stood Annie Paradise, her hand on Ernesta’s arm. Even Brenda Cushman was there, and Karen couldn’t help but notice Brenda was wearing the dress Karen had designed for her.
‘Oh, my God,’ Karen whispered back. ‘What are you all doing here?’
‘You have to have a baby shower,’ Janet said.
‘Tangela was here. She’s doing okay, but had to get back to rehab. She sends her love. The rest of us have been waiting for hours,’ Defina said.
Karen smiled. She’d been a late bloomer her whole life. She’d been adopted late, she reached puberty late, she’d been late to marry, to search for her roots, and to realize the betrayal of others. Now, she was late at starting this motherhood gig. ‘Defina, do you think I’m too old to be a good mom?’
‘Honey, you’re not old, you’re just fashionably late.’
Karen looked around her and saw all her loyal friends from KInc. That wasn’t all. Against the window, the tall, dark figure of Madame Renault leaned gracefully. What was she doing here, Karen wondered. Not that she wasn’t welcome. Karen watched as Madame Renault walked forward, toward Karen and the baby. Karen blinked. Well, wouldn’t she come here now? Hadn’t Madame Renault known all about Lily? Hadn’t she known about a dark child who had to take a long journey to get here?
‘I’m completely shocked,’ was all Karen could say.
‘Haven’t ya ever had a baby shower before?’ Carl asked. He approached her and looked down at the wrapped bundle. ‘Let us see,’ he whispered. ‘Introduce me to my niece.’
‘My goddaughter,’ Defina said.
‘My granddaughter,’ Arnold added.
‘My granddaughter, too,’ someone echoed. Karen felt her stomach flip and looked up from Lily’s perfect tulip face. But it wasn’t into Belle’s eyes that she had to stare. Instead, there were the warm brown eyes of Marie Botteglia. How had they found her? Who had invited her? Karen didn’t know, but she was thrilled to see her. The tiny dark woman smiled up at Karen, just on eye level with Lily. ‘Ohhh, she’s beautiful,’ Marie whispered.
‘Let us all see,’ one of the kids from her design staff cried. Still shocked but also transported, Karen floated over to the sofa and spread out the blanket, putting Lily down and wedging her between two pillows.
‘That’s the last time that sofa is gonna be white,’ Defina said. Everyone laughed and crowded around, looking at the sleeping beauty.
‘What’s her name?’ Perry asked. He hung back a little bit from the crowd and Karen wondered what it cost him to be there. Was he thinking of Lottie? Was he still drinking? She would never again blame him if he did. She already knew that it would kill her if anything happened to this baby.
‘Have you picked a name?’ Defina asked. ‘If you don’t like “Defina,” Latosha is nice.’
‘Latosha?’ Carl asked. ‘It sounds like a French Macintosh apple. How about something more practical? Lanoleum might work.’
‘I don’t think so, Carl,’ Karen said.
‘Nothing wrong with Latosha,’ Defina huffed.
‘Her name is Lily,’ Madame Renault told them all.
Karen blinked. She looked into the woman’s dark face. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Did the woman know everything? Then Madame Renault smiled. ‘It’s on her blanket,’ she pointed out.
Perry walked over to the baby, reached down, and covered Lily’s little foot with his hand.
‘Welcome, Lily,’ he said, and tears filled Karen’s ey
es. Mrs Cruz must have seen that and came up to hug her.
‘She have no clothes, your baby. So we fixed that,’ Mrs Cruz said. And then they started bringing out the packages. Hand-smocked little cotton batiste dresses. A tiny pink taffeta party dress. A dotted Swiss nightgown with hand tatting. Little knitted booties out of the softest boucle wool. An entire hand-stitched, perfect layette! When did they have the time? How could they have known? Karen couldn’t help it then. She did begin to cry.
But that wasn’t all. From the kitchen Ernesta wheeled in a blue perambulator, the Rolls-Royce of baby carriages, sent air express from England by Bobby Pillar. The note said, ‘Dear Partner. Mazel tov. If you design a line of baby clothes, I’ll pay for her college education (all Ivy League).’ Karen cried harder.
‘There’s something else Bobby is giving us,’ Karen told them. ‘I have jobs for all of you if you want them.’ She turned to Defina. ‘And for Tangela, too.’ People cheered. Karen cried harder.
‘Now look what you made her do,’ Carl mock-pouted. Perry handed Karen a clean but paint-spotted handerchief.
‘It’s so nice of you all,’ Karen said. ‘It’s just so nice.’
Janet took the baby. ‘Will she speak Chinese or English?’ she asked, innocently.
Karen smiled. Janet was a nice girl but a space kitten. ‘She’ll probably speak with a Brooklyn accent,’ Karen told her.
And somehow it didn’t seem to matter, at least right then, that Belle wasn’t there. That Lisa and Jeffrey weren’t there. That anyone who had legally been defined as family wasn’t there, except Arnold. And to Arnold, she had no ties of blood! Karen looked around the room at the people she had been kind to, the people she had connected with, who in turn had been kind to her. This is enough, she said to herself. I’m lucky. Lily will be lucky, too. This is more than enough.
‘Best stroller?’ Defina asked.
Karen opened her mouth and was about to speak when she realized she didn’t know the answer. And she didn’t know the best diaper service, or the best play school, or the best pediatrician. For a moment her confidence deserted her. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to do this well. Defina saw her hesitate.
‘Best new mother?’ Defina asked softly. Before Karen could say anything, Defina answered the question herself. ‘Karen Kahn,’ she said, and squeezed Karen’s hand.
The buzzer rang, and Ernesta went to get the door. She came back followed by Mr Centrillo, who was lugging a huge box. ‘Mrs Kahn,’ he said. ‘Sorry I’m late, but something came up. You know how it can be.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘Anyway, I heard the good news and I wanted to bring this along to the little lady. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll do okay.’
‘Mr Centrillo …’ Karen was embarrassed. She’d been careful not to use her real name, and to pay in cash. How had he known?
‘We have television in Brooklyn, Mrs Kahn,’ he said smiling. ‘We even sometimes get Women’s Wear over there.’
After Karen blushed and apologized, she opened the boxes of diapers he had brought. She exclaimed over the bassinet, the crib, and the baby quilt. Then there was only one more box, which Carl brought out to her with a flourish. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, and Karen expected some basic for the layette. That was why she was so surprised by the gleam of satin under the tissue paper. She pulled out a quilted bed jacket, a beautiful white one with hand-carved buttons and the most perfect French lace trim at the neck and sleeves. It was a dream out of some Harlow movie, and Karen stopped sniffing and began to sob in earnest. ‘My bed jacket,’ she said. ‘You got me a bed jacket.’ Lily, now over on the sofa, woke up and began to cry too. Ernesta, with the authority of years of practice, scooped the little baby into her big arms.
‘I’m her other grandma,’ she told Marie, and began to pat Lily gently. She looked over at Karen. ‘You got a bottle for her?’ she asked.
Mutely, Karen nodded. ‘In the bag,’ she managed to say, and pointed at one of the carry-ons.
‘Put on the bed jacket,’ Carl demanded. ‘America wants to know what you’re going to wear under it.’
She laughed and then slipped into it. She sat herself down on the sofa and cradled Lily while Lily sucked down almost half a bottle of formula. Everybody else ate too, and Perry held a bagel for Karen that she managed to take bites of while the baby nursed. ‘How was Minnesota?’ she asked him quietly.
‘Cold and dry,’ he said, ‘just like I was. Still am dry,’ he added and lifted a glass of bottled water to his lips to toast her.
When Lily was finished, Karen put her up to her shoulder and began to pat out the air. She forgot a rag. In a second, before Karen had had a chance to think about it, Lily spat up all over Karen’s satin-clad shoulder.
‘Oh, no!’ Karen cried. Perry laughed. Mrs Cruz shrugged. Ernesta mopped up Karen’s shoulder with a dishcloth. And Defina stood back and smiled.
‘That’s what clothes are for,’ she said.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Nancy Lee Robinson for the honor and privilege of working with her on this book. No better secretary, editorial aide, and friend exists anywhere. Plus, she laughs at my jokes and can reload the printer!
I would also like to thank Jean Merrill Balderston for her invaluable championing of the right choices and her positive and creative suggestions. Her sensitive and generous reading of all my work meant more than I could say. Thanks also to the kind readers of my previous books who sent kind messages. They were greatly appreciated. Paul Mahon was supportive, funny, and contributed some of the best chapter titles: his humor and wit are both deeply appreciated. Diana Hellinger was kind and patient enough to read draft after draft and in some magical way known only to her friends, her enthusiasm never faltered. Ruth Bekker was insightful as only she can be. Thanks also to Linda Fontaine Grady, one of the most stylish people I know, for her views into retailing and fashion. Curtis Laupheimer and Justine Kryven were wonderful, as always. Also in the ‘wonderful as always’ department is Paul Eugene Smith. I hope I never take his contribution for granted and he never gets tired of being acknowledged. And thanks to my dear friends Teri and Margaret Reed for their kindness and support as well as their contribution of the character Basil.
Lastly, I would also like to thank George Craig, Eddie Bell, David Young, Imogen Taylor, Adrian Bourne, David Singer, Nick Sayers, John Stachiewicz, Sheila Crowley, Jennifer Parr, Rosey Gardiner, Rachel Hore, John Munday, Susan Opie, and the unmatchable Karen Duffy. No author has been as lucky as I in finding such a personally delightful and professionally adept group of people.
About the Author
OLIVIA GOLDSMITH is also the author of the bestselling The First Wives Club, Flavour of the Month and Bestseller. A native New Yorker, she now lives in Florida.
Praise
Acclaim for Fashionably Late
‘Full of wisecracks, and gossip … this is a book for the beach. Olivia Goldsmith can keep you reading’
Cosmopolitan
‘Witty, energetic … a glittering New York social backdrop, plenty of namedropping, romance, some outstandingly creative characters … a book that fairly hums with excitement’
Publishers Weekly
‘Juicy good fun to read’
Newsday
‘There’s almost nothing more satisfying than a good satire of the fashion biz’
People
Praise for Olivia Goldsmith’s previous novels:
‘You gotta love it … The sophisticated author Olivia Goldsmith knows her world and her characters well.’
Cosmopolitan
‘A compulsively readable tale’
New York Daily News
‘The most fun I’ve had with a first novel’
Chicago Tribune
Also by the Author
The First Wives Club
Flavour of the Month
Bestseller
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) P
ty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com