by Kwan, Kevin
Contents
I: CAPRI CHAPTER ONE: ANACAPRI
CHAPTER TWO: HOTEL BERTOLUCCI
CHAPTER THREE: POOLSIDE AT THE BERTOLUCCI
CHAPTER FOUR: THE GARDENS OF AUGUSTUS
CHAPTER FIVE: DA LUIGI BEACH CLUB
CHAPTER SIX: DA COSTANZO SANDAL SHOP
CHAPTER SEVEN: ARCO NATURALE
CHAPTER EIGHT: MARINA GRANDE
CHAPTER NINE: VILLA LACHOWSKI
CHAPTER TEN: THE HIGH GARDEN AT VILLA LACHOWSKI
CHAPTER ELEVEN: HOTEL BERTOLUCCI
CHAPTER TWELVE: CERTOSA DI SAN GIACOMO
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VILLA LYSIS
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: VILLA JOVIS
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: HOTEL BERTOLUCCI
II: NEW YORK CHAPTER ONE: THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART
CHAPTER TWO: 821 FIFTH AVENUE
CHAPTER THREE: THE SEVENTEENTH FLOOR
CHAPTER FOUR: OUTLOOK AVENUE
CHAPTER FIVE: THE PREPPIE GURU LOUNGE
CHAPTER SIX: OUTLOOK AVENUE
CHAPTER SEVEN: DITCH PLAINS
CHAPTER EIGHT: SAINT LUKE’S PLACE
CHAPTER NINE: DORSET YACHT CLUB
CHAPTER TEN: CISSINGHURST
CHAPTER ELEVEN: OUTLOOK AVENUE
CHAPTER TWELVE: THREE LIVES & COMPANY
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: DOUBLES
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ROCKEFELLER CENTER
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: TEA & SYMPATHY
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: JACQUELINE KENNEDY ONASSIS RESERVOIR
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE ANIMAL RESCUE FUND SUMMER GALA
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MONTAUK HIGHWAY
CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE PREPPIE GURU LOUNGE
III: CAPRI LA GROTTA AZZURRA
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A Note About the Author
Kevin Kwan (Far Eastern Kindergarten / ACS / Clear Lake High / UHCL / Parsons School of Design) is the author of the international bestsellers Crazy Rich Asians, China Rich Girlfriend, and Rich People Problems. Crazy Rich Asians was a no. 1 New York Times bestseller and a major motion picture, and has been translated into more than thirty languages. He lives in Los Angeles and is trying to eat less pasta.
ALSO BY KEVIN KWAN
Crazy Rich Asians
China Rich Girlfriend
Rich People Problems
For Capri, the island that feeds my soul, and for New York, the city that took me in, nurtured me, and changed me forever.
From: Isabel Chiu
To: [email protected]
Subject: la dolce vita
Lucie!!!
I’m sooooo happy you’re coming to my wedding in Capri! Do you know, apart from my family, you’re the person I’ve known the longest that will be there? I can hardly believe we’ve been friends since I was 13 and you were 7—you were the only kid I ever babysat, although I would hardly consider it babysitting since you had to endure repeated viewings of Roswell and hearing me moan nonstop about my obsessions. (Remember Nikolai? Ran into him at Erewhon the other day. He’s in LA working as a location scout for Lawrence Bender, and he’s totally unrecognizable now!)
Anyway, after getting approval from my mom’s fortune teller, we’ve chosen an auspicious day in July to celebrate our nuptials, and Capri, where Dolfi spent every summer of his youth and where his family has deep roots, will be absolutely magical at that time. It’s so special to me that you’re joining us, and of course I remember your cousin Charlotte and look forward to seeing her too. I can’t wait for all of us to be on the island together and for you to meet my friends!
My calligrapher is behind schedule because she was a bit unprepared for the sheer number of guests, but the formal invitations should be done by the end of the month. Be on the lookout for yours!
xoxo,
Issie
To: Lucie Tang Churchill & Guest
999 Fifth Avenue, Apt. 12B
New York, NY 10021
Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Chiu
request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their daughter
Isabel
to
Mr. Adolfo Michelangelo De Vecchi
the son of Conte Andrea De Vecchi and Contessa Laudomia De
Vecchi
at the Villa Lysis, Capri, Italy
on Saturday, July 20, 2013
at five o’clock
and afterward at
Villa Jovis
RSVP
Isabel Chiu
875 Nimes Road
Los Angeles, CA 90077
Capri, Italy, 2013
The trail was lit by tall flickering torches, but Charlotte Barclay still felt like she could have fallen a thousand times on the pathway. She knew she had broken the cardinal rule that every seasoned magazine editor like herself always adhered to: dress sensibly, not frivolously, when traveling. Staring down at the tattered hemline of her party dress and cursing her decision to wear stilettos borrowed from Olivia Lavistock at the last minute, she felt like she had been stumbling through the woods for hours, although it had only been about fifteen minutes, and when the villa finally came into view, its Ionic columns illuminated in high relief against the dark liquid night, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Patting down her fastidious blond bob—a style that had not altered since her days at Miss Porter’s—Charlotte climbed up the uneven marble steps and entered the terrace overlooking the Bay of Naples, feeling disoriented yet again. The graceful veranda that was empty an hour ago had been transformed in the blink of an eye into yet another banquet space where a lavish midnight buffet was set up, and wedding guests lured from the ballroom were grazing like chic gazelles at the long tables laden with delectable treats.
Charlotte glanced around nervously, feeling as if every single one of those damned Italian principessas and contessas was scrutinizing her every move. How could the most exquisite wedding she’d ever witnessed have morphed so quickly into a living nightmare? She saw Auden Beebe pile a heap of lobster ravioli onto his plate, and for a moment she wanted to rush over to him for help. No, he’s the wrong person. He won’t quite understand. The Ortiz sisters were just coming up the stairs. Absolutely not them.
When she spotted Olivia perched at one of the high-top bistro tables along the wall, she could finally feel the tension in her shoulders ease. Olivia would know what to do. Olivia would be cool; she was an avant-garde filmmaker. Olivia was English, but she wasn’t like the other English here. She lived in LA and had gone to school in Paris, so she’d probably seen some shit in her time. Olivia would help her out of this unthinkable mess.
Charlotte marched up alongside her, covertly grabbing her elbow. Olivia immediately caught Charlotte’s look and misread it. “Sure, call me a hypocrite. But after watching you inhaling pasta, focaccia, biscotti, and every possible variation of gluten for the past week, what did you think would happen? This white truffle and caviar pizza is better than wild muddy sex in a Scottish dale with Sam Heughan. You ought to write about it in your magazine.”
Charlotte tried to speak but found that her throat was too parched.
“I’m talking about the pizza, not the muddy Scottish sex,” Olivia clarified, although Charlotte clearly hadn’t been listening to a word she had said. She simply leaned against Olivia, trying to catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” Olivia asked, registering the shell-shocked expression on Charlotte’s face for the first time.
“I’m okay … but Lucie … God help the girl!” Charlotte gasped, reaching for a flute of prosecco. Charlotte gulped down the drink, and then, slumping against the stone balustrade, she started to hyperventilate.
“What happened to Lucie? Should I get help?” Olivia asked.
“She doesn’t need any help, she’s fine. Actually, she’s not fine. Oh, my poor
Lucie. Everything’s ruined! Abso-fucking-lutely ruined!”
Olivia frowned, not sure what to make of this outburst. She hadn’t known Charlotte Barclay very long, but they had become thick as thieves over the past week, and Olivia would never have imagined that this unflappably poised woman in her early forties would suddenly, apparently, lose it. “Charlotte, how many glasses of champagne did you have at dinner?” Olivia delicately inquired.
Straightening up and brushing off the stray twigs caught on her Oscar de la Renta gown, Charlotte said furtively, “Olivia, can I trust you? Can I count on your help?”
“Of course you can.”
Charlotte continued. “You know I’m only at this wedding as a favor to Lucie’s family. I’m just the plus-one here, and my only job was to keep an eye on my young cousin. But I’ve failed in my duty. Utterly, epically failed. We should never have come to this wedding. We should never have come to Capri. Jesus Christ, her mother’s going to lose her shit when she finds out! And my grandmother’s going to skin me alive!”
Charlotte buried her face in her hands, and Olivia could see that she was legitimately anguished. “Find out what? And where is Lucie now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I don’t know how I’ll ever look her in the face again.”
“Charlotte, please stop being so cryptic. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happened.”
Looking her dead in the eye, Charlotte said, “You’ve got to promise you’ll never tell a soul.”
“I promise.”
“Swear on it. On your mother’s grave.”
“Mother still lives and breathes, but I’ll swear on her life.”
Charlotte exhaled. “When did you last see Lucie?”
“I’m not sure … on the dance floor with the bridal party? She was dancing with Sandro, and I thought they looked like such a lovely pair—him with those long Botticelli curls, and Lucie in that gossamer dress, dancing amid all those candles. It looked so gorgeous, I almost wanted to take a picture to remember it for a future scene.”
“Yes, they were dancing. But after the fireworks, I noticed that Lucie had disappeared. I heard that some of the young ones had gone up to Villa Jovis again, so I went up to the ruins looking for her.”
“You trekked all the way up the hill again? In my Viviers?” Olivia reflexively peered at Charlotte’s feet, wondering how obliterated her shoes were.
“This fellow in a golf cart drove me up. Anyway, when I got up there, would you believe what I found? A whole bunch of kids smoking weed in the chapel. It looked like a drug den in Tangier!”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Charlotte, please don’t tell me you are upset because Lucie was doing that. All the kids have been smoking every night behind the pool. That kid whose family owns Ecuador brought a whole trunk bursting to the brim with goodies, so I’m told.”
“Olivia! Do you really think I’m that much of a square? I went to Smith,fn1 remember? Lucie’s nineteen years old, and I couldn’t care less if she wants to get baked as a Pop-Tart. Let me finish! I went through the great hall, and then I climbed up to the watchtower, but I couldn’t find Lucie anywhere. I was wandering around those godforsaken ruins lit only by lanterns, and just when I thought I was completely lost, I found a passage leading outside to the cliff walk—that precarious path right by Tiberius’s Leap.”
“Dear God, please don’t tell me Lucie fell!”
“No, it’s nothing like that! I went out to the edge and saw some steps leading down to a little grotto, so I went down and that’s …” Charlotte paused for a moment, steeling herself. “That’s when I saw them.”
“Who is them? What were they doing?”
“Olivia, I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe my eyes,” Charlotte moaned.
“Let me guess … were they doing bumps?”
“Noooo!” Charlotte said dismissively.
“Sacrificing goats?”
“Olivia, it was … unspeakable!”
“Oh, come on, nothing is that unspeakable.”
Charlotte shook her head vehemently. “I’m so mortified. Lucie, my poor little cousin, has ruined herself. She’s absolutely ruined her life!”
Olivia wanted to shake her. “Charlotte Barclay! Tell. Me. What. You. Saw!”
Looking around again as if she had been caught committing the most cardinal sin, Charlotte leaned toward Olivia’s ear and began to whisper.
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Who? Whaaaat?! What the fuck?”
“What the fuck is right. I was so alarmed, I couldn’t help myself. I blurted out, ‘Stop it!’”
Olivia threw her head back and let out a shriek that sounded like murder.
I
* * *
CAPRI
2013
Dearest Lucie and Charlotte,
Our wedding weekend is almost here, and we thought it would be helpful to give you a quick rundown of the festivities so you can better plan your travel schedule (and your outfits!):
Tuesday, July 16
5:00 p.m.
Welcome cocktails at the Gardens of Augustus
hosted by Marchesa Marella Finzi-Contini (Dolfi’s aunt!)
Dress: Informal
Wednesday, July 17
1:30 p.m.
Lunch at Da Luigi Beach Club
hosted by Isabel Chiu
Dress: Beach chic
9:00 p.m.
Dinner at Ristorante Le Grottelle
hosted by Dolfi De Vecchi
Dress: Informal
Thursday, July 18
10:00 a.m.
Hike the historic “Passatiello” path from Anacapri to Capri
led by Auden Beebe
Dress: Walking shoes or hiking boots
9:00 p.m.
Dinner at Il Riccio
hosted by Constantine and Rebecca Chiu (my big brother & his wife!)
Dress: Cocktail
Friday, July 19
11:00 a.m.
Excursion to Villa Lachowski in Positano
led by Mordecai von Ephrussí
Dress: Informal
7:30 p.m.
Sunset music recital and banquet at the monastery of Certosa di San Giacomo
hosted by the Conte and Contessa De Vecchi
Dress: Formal
Saturday, July 20
5:00 p.m.
WEDDING CEREMONY
Villa Lysis
WEDDING RECEPTION
Villa Jovis
Dress: Formal
Sunday, July 21
2:00 p.m.
Farewell lunch onboard the super yacht Bravo Olympia
Dress: Resort chic
Please choose to arrive on the day that’s most convenient for you, and our wedding coordinator, Gillian ([email protected]), will contact you to coordinate your VIP transfers and arrival to Capri. Of course, we hope you’ll be able to make it to all the events, beginning on Tuesday. We are so honored that you’re able to take the time out of your busy life, and we can’t wait to share every special moment of our wedding week on the enchanted island with you!
xoxo,
Issie & Dolfi
CHAPTER ONE
Anacapri
Isola di Capri, Italy, 2013
The midmorning haze cleared a few miles outside of Naples, and from the helicopter, Capri suddenly appeared like a glistening rock, as if the gods had cast a giant emerald down into the middle of the sea. Lucie (92nd Street Y Nursery School / Brearley / Brown, Class of ’16) glanced down at the deep blue waters, wondering how warm it was and how soon she could jump in. She loved the feel of ocean water on her skin.
Turning to her cousin Charlotte (Rippowam / Miss Porter’s / Smith), she asked excitedly, “What’s the first thing you want to do?”
“There’s this restaurant, Michel’angelo, which has a spaghetti with fresh Campania tomatoes and burrata that’s supposed to be out of this world.”
“Yummy!”
“How about you?”
“I’d like to swim in the Blue Grotto.”
“Can you swim in it?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Hmm … isn’t it very deep?”
“I’ve swum in the Atlantic and the Caribbean. I think I can handle swimming in a little cave on an island,” Lucie said lightly. She hoped Charlotte wouldn’t be fretting over her safety throughout their trip like her mother would. Thankfully, Charlotte was already distracted by the view out her window.
“Quite stunning, isn’t it?” Charlotte remarked, marveling at the dramatic peaks of the island swathed in clouds.
“You know, Emperor Tiberius thought it was the most beautiful place in the world, so he moved the capital of the Roman Empire here in the first century A.D. Issie’s wedding is going to take place at the ruins of his palace,” Lucie said.
Charlotte smiled. “This is why I love traveling with you. I can always sit back and rest assured that you’ve done all the homework. You’re like my personal Wikipedia and Yelp all rolled into one! Remember that trip to Quebec one Christmas where you mapped out the whole itinerary based on where we’d find the best hot chocolate?”
“I was actually trying to find the best poutine for Freddie,” Lucie corrected.
“Ugh, Freddie and his poutine! I weep for your brother when he loses that teenage metabolism. Jesus, is that where we’re landing?” Charlotte pointed out the window at the helipad atop a majestic hotel with arched terraces.
“Looks like it.”
“That’s not where we’re staying, though?”
“No, we’re at the Bertolucci. I think this is the place where all the celebrities like Mariah Carey and Julia Roberts stay,” Lucie remarked.
“Then I’m glad we’re not staying here! Hotels that cater to celebrities are generally always awful. If you’re not famous, they treat you like pond scum,” Charlotte commented as the AgustaWestland AW109 made a dramatic swooping turn before landing on the rooftop of the hotel.
