by Kim Izzo
“You’ve heard of Penwick?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course, it’s one of the oldest estates in England, and one of the few that still belong to the original family,” he said. “Right, Griff?”
“Yes, the Penwicks have been there for centuries,” he said firmly.
“I’m surprised I haven’t read about it,” I said. “I read tons of British fashion magazines, including the travel sections.”
“It’s not a trendy place,” Griff explained. “It’s hardly ever in the press.”
“Your clients would appreciate that,” Scott confirmed. Clearly, Penwick was even grander than I assumed.
Griff changed the subject and Scott continued to describe the events on the field to me. During halftime as I headed to the bar to get more champagne, I dropped my handbag on the ground beside all those potted pine trees. It didn’t just drop, mind you, it flew, upside down and open it went, scattering its contents everywhere. Lipsticks, odd change, hair bands, even my wallet lost its grip and lay spread-eagled in one of the pots. As I kneeled down to pick up my things I overheard Griff and Scott on the other side of the trees. Their conversation seemed to be wrapping up, but I heard this bit:
“So please don’t say anything,” Griff said. My ears pricked up immediately. “I prefer certain aspects of my life to remain private.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Scott said warmly. “Besides, it’s not obvious with you. Some men you can tell a mile away, but you’re very subtle.”
“It’s important to me.”
Scott patted Griff’s shoulder and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t out you.”
My eyes widened. I was dumbfounded. Secret? Out him? Those words meant only one thing where I came from. Griff was gay. At first I felt foolish not to have guessed earlier. After all, I worked with so many gay men in fashion and let’s face it, he had a fey quality about him. But what was worse, I was disappointed, which was even more foolish. Then I remembered his repeated attempts to ask me out. Was that a ploy to avoid detection? But why? Or like the dozens of gay men in New York, did he just want to be my gay best friend? I had to tell Fawn.
“I don’t believe it,” she said afterward. “Though I suppose it’s hard to tell with Englishmen. They almost always seem gay; they’re so effeminate.”
“I don’t understand why he kept trying to get me to go out with him,” I remarked, feeling the wave of disappointment again.
I sat completely perplexed throughout the rest of the polo. How could I not see he was gay? I also tried not to notice Scott and Tatiana groping each other. Fawn seemed content to drink champagne, oblivious to everything around her.
I watched Vlad hoot and holler when the game was in play. At least something got him excited. Maybe I should give him another chance. He was handsome and rich and technically that’s all that mattered.
“I’m going to try talking to Vlad again,” I whispered to Fawn.
“After that cow episode, he should be proposing!” She laughed. I cleared my throat.
“So Vlad, what is it you love about polo?”
“Shush! I’m watching game!” he snapped.
I looked at Fawn as she stifled a laugh.
“Are all rich men mean like Vlad?” I remarked to her quietly.
“Successful men usually are,” Fawn said. “You have to be ruthless to make that kind of money.”
“Good show!” Griff shouted and clapped when one of the teams scored. I rolled my eyes. The fact that he was gay seemed obvious now. And he sure wasn’t ruthless.
“Unless you inherit it,” Fawn added.
When the polo game was over the tent cleared out fast. Scott and Tatiana disappeared without a word, which left me crestfallen. So much for making progress. Griff explained that he had to go to the stables. Vlad, however, was still hovering nearby, talking on his cell phone.
“You’d better say good-bye to Vlad,” Fawn said as we packed up, too. “I think he’s leaving St. Moritz.”
I took a deep breath. “Do I care?” I asked. Fawn gave me a look.
“Up to you,” she said. “But at the very least if you’re going to walk away from billions of dollars, do so politely.”
Sometimes Fawn’s southern ways irritated me. Why make a bad situation more awkward? But I did as I was told. When he saw me coming he quickly got off the phone.
“Fawn says you’re leaving?” I said and forced a smile.
“I leave tomorrow,” he said firmly.
“Tomorrow!” I gasped, trying to act disappointed, but it was no use.
“It is my wife’s birthday tomorrow,” he said without expression. “I must go now, I have to buy gift. But here is my card, call me and we can still know each other.” At that, he walked away leaving me standing there holding his card and feeling like I’d been hit by a cement truck. Wife! He had tried hard to seduce me and all the while he had a wife at home. Was no one who they seemed? Griff was gay. Vlad was married.
One thing for sure, I’d had enough of St. Moritz. It was done. My journey was over. All I had to do was fly home and write it up. I had spent almost my last dime chasing Scott and all I got for my trouble was a big fat nothing. At least the five thousand dollars for the article would help. Even Ann’s blue sofa didn’t seem so bad. My sister had e-mailed me to say her trip to Chicago had been a disappointment. No big orders, just some vague interest from some specialty food shops. We had both come up empty-handed in our quest for gold. Unlike me, she wasn’t giving up. Apparently there was another similar foodie event in Texas, called the SXSW Food Show, that she was going to in another week. Maybe if I got back in time I could make the drive with her.
I looked out onto the empty polo field. All that remained were hoofprints that would soon be covered by fresh snow, as if they’d never existed. Kind of how I felt. I lowered my head and walked slowly out of the tent.
When I got to the entrance the winning team was spraying champagne over one another. Scott was mixed up in it; he obviously knew some of the riders and was practically soaking wet, but judging by his jubilant expression there was nowhere else he’d rather be. I felt wistful as I watched him. At least he was for real. He caught my eye and smiled.
“Kate,” he shouted and waved me over. “Did you enjoy the game?”
“I did, Scott, I did,” I said, stopping for a moment. “Where are you off to next?”
“Me? London,” he said. “There’s a major art fair next week and I’m shopping for investors.”
“I’m sure you and Tatiana will have a great time,” I said graciously.
“She’s not coming with me,” Scott said and gave me what I chose to consider a knowing smile. “She’s going home to Slovenia for a bit.”
All of a sudden I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. Scott would be alone in London? No Tatiana to compete with?
“That really is too bad,” I said, feigning disappointment. In a flash, my mind was made up. I didn’t know how exactly, but there was no doubt where I was going next. Ann wouldn’t be the only sister with a Plan B. “What a coincidence! I’m going to London, too. You must tell me where the art fair is. I love art exhibits. In fact, I need some pieces for my estate.”
“Then you must come to the opening,” he said cheerfully and fished a card out of his pocket. “Call me when you land.”
“I certainly will.” I smiled. As I moved away I saw Tatiana glaring at me in the corner. She’d heard everything but I didn’t care. Two could play at this sugar daddy game.
When I told Fawn that Vlad was married she was flabbergasted. I was sitting on an armchair across from the full-length mirrored closet as she packed up to leave.
“He’s worse than that,” she said cryptically. “Look at this story in the Herald Tribune.”
The story was about Russian billionaires and where some of them got their money. There were several paparazzi-type photos and one of them was of Vlad. According to the article he was a suspected gangster, a Russian mobster to be exact, with a
penchant for arms dealing.
“Christ, no wonder he scared me!” I said, aghast. “I’m no gangster’s moll, that’s for sure.”
“I feel just awful for encouraging you to be with him,” Fawn apologized.
“It’s not your fault,” I said, feeling nauseous at how close I was to an illegal arms dealer.
As I stared at the paper a thought raced to the front of my mind. “Griff must have known who he was.”
“Why would Griff know?”
“He said Vlad wasn’t for me and was dubious,” I explained. Griff had been watching out for me, all right; maybe next time I’d listen to him.
It was our final morning at Badrutt’s Palace and Fawn was as fed up with St. Moritz as I was. Fawn had decided she needed to be where the weather was warm and the men hot, so she was off to Rome. But as much fun as Italy sounded I knew I had to go to England. While there was even the teensiest chance of Scott and I falling for each other I had to try. Ann’s blue sofa would be there in another week or another month; Scott would be alone and in my proximity for only a brief time. I thought of what Marianne would say when she learned I was still on this crusade. “I don’t know who you are anymore” were the words I imagined her saying with the signature disapproving scowl she normally reserved for staff at the magazine. I looked in the full-length mirror. The woman in the reflection looked like me. I suppose looks can be deceiving because Marianne had a point, I wasn’t acting like the old Kate. Then again, the old Kate existed in another time, before life went to hell. The new Kate had to get her life back and for the first time it felt as though everything was on track for that to happen.
“I’m going to London,” I said suddenly.
“London?” she asked. “I thought you were going home.”
Then I told her about my talk with Scott.
“You must go,” she agreed. “This is your chance. Go to that art opening. Make Scott fall in love with you.”
“I can change my plane ticket to London instead of New York,” I said.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said dismissively. “I’ll take you there in Mona.”
“That’s too generous,” I said and meant it. “It would be different if you were going there yourself.”
“That’s what money is for,” she said with a smile. “I’m taking you there and that’s that.”
An hour later our things were being packed into an airport limo. Another few minutes and we would have been off but Griff appeared, carrying an old beat-up suitcase. Cripes, he really was an atypical gay man.
“Kate,” he called to me. “I’m glad I caught up with you. I wanted to say good-bye. Going back to America?”
“No, I’m going to London,” I said.
“Really?” he said, surprised. “Are you staying with Emma and Clive?”
“Yes,” I said, even though I still hadn’t received a response from Emma to any of my texts.
He proceeded to scribble something down on a scrap of hotel stationery. “It’s my mobile number. In case we can all get together one night.”
“Thanks,” I said and scrunched it into a ball and stuffed it inside my coat pocket where it would probably wind up in a washing machine one day. “Maybe we can get together, if there’s time, but I’m going there to meet Scott,” I explained. “We’re going to an art fair.”
“Yes, I know the fair,” he said and bit his lip. “Lots of arts events next week. How about dinner one night in London?”
I sighed. “Why not, since it doesn’t really count,” I said flatly.
“I don’t follow you,” he said suspiciously.
He kept standing there waiting for an answer. I had to say something.
“Griff, I overheard your conversation with Scott yesterday at the polo,” I confessed. “And I want you to know your secret is safe with me.”
He looked at me askance but I continued. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he said cautiously. “But you were the only one I was trying to hide it from.”
“Me? Why?”
“I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” he said vaguely.
“Why would I do that?” I said defensively. Then added, “Though to be honest, I was surprised at first, but I have to admit you do have a certain air about you.”
“I do?” he said skeptically.
“But you shouldn’t hide your true self,” I continued earnestly. “Maybe it’s different in England, but where I come from there are tons of men like you.”
“Really?” he said disbelieving. “I didn’t think your country allowed it.”
“Are you kidding?” I said with a start. “We have a whole day dedicated to them. In New York we throw a parade and everything.”
Griff looked at me in shock.
“I know we started out on the wrong foot,” I continued, trying to be supportive and to avoid the word “gay.” “But I’m surprised given the kind of man you are that you don’t dress better.”
“Not that again,” he said with a roll of the eyes.
“I know, I know, sorry,” I said.
“You’re forgiven, I think,” he said reluctantly. “Are you sure you heard what I said to Scott?”
“Yes,” I nodded gravely. “I’m glad we cleared it up. See, we can be friends, probably easier now than before.”
“Kate!” Fawn shouted as she climbed into the backseat. I smiled one last time at Griff and then slid in beside Fawn and shut the door.
As Mona touched down at London Luton Airport I was overcome with emotion. I had come to rely on Fawn, and the thought of being without her made me feel very alone again. If I could still cry I would have.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said sadly.
“Hush, hush,” she said and hugged me. “I’m only a text message away. Give me the blow-by-blows and I’ll see you through it.”
“Maybe I should come to Italy with you after all,” I said hopefully, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
“Scott is here alone, go get him,” she said.
“I need some parting advice,” I pleaded. “A tip, anything.”
Fawn contemplated this for a moment and then beamed at me as though she’d just discovered electricity. “Prove you can fit into his life. Become indispensable to him. Make him realize that you’re the one thing he’s missing.”
I clenched my jaw. “How do I do that?”
Fawn shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll figure it out. Think about him and what he needs and what Tatiana couldn’t give him. It will come to you.” She smiled encouragingly. You’ll do just fine.”
I walked down the steps onto the tarmac. The air was damp and a heavy fog hung like a canopy, lending an aura of mystery to this next step in my quest. I thought of my grandmother. She hadn’t found love or fortune, just a recycled marriage filled with artificial roses. Here I was decades later, trying to fulfill my dream of a better life. I wasn’t convinced it would end any better than hers had. I sat on my suitcase near a chain-link fence and watched Mona soar away to Italy. I’m not sure how long I sat there but eventually a steward came and asked me to move. There was only one place for me to go. After making my way through customs I left the terminal and hopped into a black cab and headed to Notting Hill.
26.
Art Lover
We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.
—Mansfield Park
Now, you may have wondered what became of my friend Emma and her man, Clive. Since St. Moritz, Emma had been MIA. My texts had all gone unanswered. As the cab pulled up outside her home the mystery was partially solved by the shocking sight of a FOR SALE sign stuck on the front of it. I was even more surprised to find Clive answering the door on a Monday morning.
“Hey, Kate!” he said, happily enough. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
“I tried,” I said. “But Emma never responded to my texts.”
“Oh yes, she,
er, lost her iPhone,” he explained.
“Are you selling? Why?” I asked innocently but noticed his face clouding over.
“Things have changed a bit,” he answered flatly.
Then Emma appeared in the hallway. “Kate!” she shouted and ran into my arms. “How are you? What a great surprise.”
This was the reception I had hoped for.
Clive carried my suitcases up to the spare room and we settled down for tea. While the house looked the same and my friends seemed genuinely happy to see me, there was definitely tension in the air. Eventually when Clive left to pick up some milk, I asked Emma directly and she wasted no time filling me in.
“We’ve lost everything. Clive’s job, the money,” she said forlornly. “He’s broke, we’re broke. It was all an illusion, Kate; we were rich on paper but not where it mattered. My music doesn’t pay much, as you know. I can’t even afford my iPhone, had to give it up. I’m strictly a pay-as-you-go girl now.”
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” I said. At least now I understood why she’d disappeared so suddenly. I looked around the room at all the pristine furniture and rugs; it would be tough to give up such elegant surroundings. “Your beautiful house!”
“Is being repossessed,” she said, tearing up.
“What? I saw the for sale sign …”
She shook her head. “It didn’t sell in time. This is our last week here. Next Saturday we’re having a repossession party to say goodbye, so in a sense, your timing is perfect.”
“Should you really have a repo party?”
“Why in bloody hell not?” She grinned. “If the house was never really ours, then I don’t have to feel really and truly sad, so why not have a sendoff?”
“What are you going to do? Where will you go?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
I nodded.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my God, how wonderful!” I said and hugged her. “This is what you wanted.”
“Yes, but the timing is off, isn’t it?” she said through a forced smile. “Babies can be expensive. But we’re moving down to Dorset to live with Clive’s mum. She has a good-size house there, so there we shall go until we can afford our own place again.” For a moment Emma became grave and serious, but then a grin erupted on her face and the old Emma was back. “So tell me all about you! What on earth were you doing in St. Moritz? And what really happened with Griff?”