by Kwan, Kevin
As she bobbed along quietly, she began to hear the splish-splash of an approaching swimmer. “Lucie! Lucie in the sky with diamonds!” a voice said, and she turned to see Auden Beebe bobbing along next to her. “Or should I say, Lucie afloat in the ocean blue. You are quite the little mermaid!”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you seemed to glide over the water in record time. Took me twice as long just to catch up,” Auden said, catching his breath as he hung on to a buoy.
“I swam varsity at Brearley.”
“Obviously! I’ve never seen anyone execute the trudgen more perfectly.”
“Thanks. I take it you were on a swim team too?”
“Until I dropped out, yes. Are you on your college team now?”
“No. It’s not really the sort of thing one does at Brown.”
“Ah yes. I recently heard someone call it ‘an excellent school for people who want to read a lot and have feelings.’”
“Haven’t heard that one,” Lucie said, rolling her eyes.
“So … what does one do at Brown?”
“Well, mostly I read a lot and have feelings.”
“Ha!”
“Sorry, hope that didn’t come across as rude.”
“Lucie, don’t ever apologize for a perfect comeback. Besides, I’m in the business of having feelings, remember? I remember how excited you were last year to start college. So tell me, what was the thing you loved the most in your first year?”
“Hmm … probably my painting class.”
“What sort of things did you paint?”
“Mostly abstract stuff. I’ve been painting on unprimed canvases, and I love the feel of that.”
“Do you know the work of Morris Louis? He did his best work on unprimed canvases.”
“Of course! I love his veil paintings. I did a few earlier this summer inspired by him, and also by Helen Frankenthaler’s work.”
“That sounds marvelous. I’d love to see them sometime.”
“I have a few photos on my phone, but you can always see the real thing when you’re out in East Hampton next.”
“Let’s do both. Have you been around to any of the art galleries in Capri yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m hoping to.”
“Isabel’s got us all on quite a schedule with all the fetes, hasn’t she?”
“I’m loving it. The only thing I really want to do that’s not on the schedule is go swimming in the Blue Grotto.”
“That one’s going to be tricky. They don’t allow swimming in there anymore, but what they do now is row you into the grotto in a little boat.”
“Well, if I’m in a little boat, can’t I just jump in for a few minutes?”
“Spoken like a true rebel.”
“Have you been to the grotto?”
“Yes, many years ago.”
“And was it as spectacular as everyone says it is?”
“It was incredible. You really ought to go, especially since you are a mermaid. Also, make sure you don’t miss Villa San Michele.”
“That’s Axel Munthe’s house, isn’t it? I hear the art is amazing.”
“It’s more antiquities than paintings, but I think you’ll love it. The house and gardens are so beautifully situated, I’m sure it will inspire you. So, tell me, why did you choose Brown instead of going to RISD?fn2 I mean, it’s literally across the street in Providence.”
“Oh, you know, I’m trying to balance things out by being a biology major.fn3 I don’t think my mom would be too happy if I had just gone straight to art school.”
“Has she told you that?”
“Not in so many words, but I know she’d want me to do something more practical.”
“I think the most impractical thing one can do is not follow your passions.”
Lucie considered his words as she lay floating, looking up at the cloudless sky. After a few moments, she turned to Auden. “I think I’ve left the others long enough.”
“See you back on dry land,” Auden murmured, his eyes closed as he treaded water meditatively.
Lucie arrived back at the shore just as the girls were getting up for lunch. She quickly toweled herself off, put on her clothes, and joined the girls upstairs at the restaurant, where they were seated at a long table on the outdoor deck overlooking the bay.
“You were out there with Auden for quite a while. I’m so jealous!” Isabel declared.
“Why?” Lucie wondered.
“Don’t you think he’s amazing? Every time I talk to him, I feel like I’ve had a decade’s worth of therapy.”
“He’s an interesting guy,” Lucie volunteered.
“He never gives anyone that much one-on-one time. Do you know how much he charges for his private coaching sessions?”
“Well, we weren’t having a session. We were talking about swimming.”
“Yeah, you sure swam out far! Let’s hope you’ve built up an appetite!” Isabel said, as a battalion of waiters arrived right on cue with the food.
Before long, the table was laid out family style with the most delectable array of dishes. There was insalata caprese—the island’s namesake salad of sliced buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, and sweet basil—deep-fried zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta, sesame-crusted tuna over a bed of arugula and cherry tomatoes, fresh langoustines, risotto with squid and shrimp, gnocchi with radicchio and caciocavallo cheese, linguini with clams, and what turned out to be Lucie’s favorite—spaghetti with pistachio pesto, clams, lemon, and basil.
“Oh my God! I think I’m going into a pasta-induced coma!” Isabel sighed, finally surrendering her fork.
“I’ve eaten at some great restaurants, but this is one of the best Italian meals I’ve ever had in my life!” declared Daniella.
“Does the food taste better because we’re sitting here surrounded by this incredible view, or is the food really that good?” Isabel wondered.
“I think it’s definitely both. Atmosphere is everything. I mean, look at the water! And the rocks! And up there is my dream house,” Sophie said, pointing up at the beautiful white-columned villa perched high on the edge of the cliff.
“Isn’t it spectacular? I’ve been eyeing it all morning,” Daniella said.
“I wonder how prices are here compared with Sydney. You can’t get anything on the water anymore for less than ten million,” Sophie said casually.
“I bet it’s pricier than Sydney. Capri is one of the most expensive property markets in the world because they stopped allowing people to build anything new on the whole island back in the sixties. There’s so little inventory, you basically have to wait for someone to die,” Daniella replied.
“Daniella, you’re such a property goddess! I bet the first thing you did when you got here was head straight to the property agent!” Isabel teased.
“No, the first place I headed to was Il Laboratorio, the boutique. Then I went to the property agent!”
“How do you even get up to that villa? I don’t think there’s a road anywhere near it,” Talitha wondered.
“Can you imagine the view from up there?” Daniella said.
“Ladies, stop looking up there. You’re missing quite a view down here. Delicious dude alert!” Amelia suddenly declared. All the heads at the table swiveled to where she was pointing.
Lucie’s eyes widened. Walking toward the water’s edge was George Zao, wearing nothing but a white Speedo.
“Stop it! That’s my cousin George!” Isabel shrieked.
“OMG! That slice of chiseled heaven is your cousin?” Amelia gasped.
Isabel gave Amelia a look of disbelief. “Second cousin, actually. You think he’s cute?”
“Um, yeah! He’s a total snack! You could cut diamonds on that jawline. And check out that six-pack on him.”
“More like twelve-pack!” Talitha gawked.
“You know, for so long he was just this scrawny kid, I hadn’t really noticed his transformation. What can I say, he’s got great genes,” Isabel deadpan
ned, flicking her hair for effect.
The girls watched as George climbed up to a high rock, stretched out his arms, and executed a perfect dive into the sea.
Amelia clapped her hands. “I’ll give that ten points!”
Isabel turned to Lucie. “I think you and George are at the same hotel. Have you met him yet?”
“Um, we’ve crossed paths,” Lucie said, feeling her face flush. She hadn’t told Isabel about switching rooms with the Zaos yet, and now she didn’t think she was ever going to.
“He’s maybe a year ahead of you, I think. Goes to Berkeley,” Isabel continued.
“Does he? He doesn’t say much,” Lucie said, feeling a mix of emotions begin to well up inside.
“He’s very quiet, isn’t he? He’s always been that way,” Isabel said, watching her cousin as he swam back to shore. He padded over to the outdoor showers directly opposite from where they were sitting on the terrace and began rinsing himself off.
Amelia stared brazenly at him. “Yes, definitely a ten!”
“I’d give him a nine, minus one point for the Speedo. I’m not a huge fan of them—you can practically tell his religion, even from up here,” Daniella commented.
“Speedos are disgusting! They remind me of my fat uncles or Don Johnson on Miami Vice,”fn4 Talitha chimed in.
Sophie giggled. “In Australia, all the lifeguards on the beach wear them. We call them budgie smugglers.”
“More like a falcon smuggler in his case,” Amelia said.
Lucie stole a quick glance at George and then looked away. She felt so embarrassed for him, and at the same time she felt something else, something unexpected that took her by surprise. Anger. What in the world possessed him to wear that ghastly Speedo? Why would he want to put himself on display like that? To open his body up to assessment, to ridicule? And then to show off to the whole world with that attention-seeking dive. Obviously, he thought he was God’s gift! Why was she even surprised that George Zao was just like his crazy mother?
CHAPTER SIX
Da Costanzo Sandal Shop
Capri, Italy
Olivia insisted on taking Charlotte and Lucie shopping for sandals when they had mentioned it the previous evening, but at the appointed time after lunch, only Lucie appeared in the hotel lobby.
“It’s just going to be me,” Lucie said as she got out of the elevator.
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”
“She can’t even get out of bed. I’ve never in my life seen Charlotte hungover until today.”
“Should we even be going out when she’s like this?”
“Yes, she urged me to go. She said she just wants to sleep.”
“Poor Charlotte! Now I feel awful. I should have stopped her,” Olivia said with a little laugh.
“How much did she have to drink last night?” Lucie asked. She had been seated at Isabel’s table during dinner at Le Grottelle, a restaurant set partially inside a cave at one end and on a hillside terrace with sea views at the other, so she had no idea what Charlotte and Olivia had been up to at their end of the party.
“Oh, I can’t remember. You know when wine is that good, it just tastes like candy and you lose track of how many you’ve had.”
“I only had a few sips.”
“A few sips? Lucie, they served two Château Lafites and a Haut-Brion last night! It was brought in specially from the De Vecchi cellars. Don’t tell me you only had a few sips!”
“Well, I don’t have much of a tolerance. Unfortunately I inherited the Asian flush gene from my mom,” Lucie joked.
“I see,” Olivia murmured, not understanding what Lucie meant and thinking that Charlotte had been right when she said last night that Lucie was “a good kid.” Her own college years in Paris had been quite a different story.
The two of them walked out of the hotel and Lucie, by habit, started veering left toward Via Ignazio Cerio.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Olivia asked.
“Aren’t we heading to Via Camerelle?” Lucie asked, referring to Capri’s most famous shopping street.
“Hell no! You can’t walk through town before five, are you crazy? We’ll be trampled to death by tourists! Locals and those of us in the know avoid town at all costs between the hours of ten and five, when all the hydrofoils from Sorrento and Naples arrive and spit out thousands of day-trippers.”
“Really?”
“Lucie, trust me, don’t even think of being seen in town until after five, when the last boat has left for the day. That’s when the island becomes magic again and all the bright young things come out from hiding and head to the piazzetta for drinks.”
“I had no idea,” Lucie said, amused by Olivia’s insistence.
“Well, learn from me, kiddo. I’ve been coming to Capri every summer for years.”
“But aren’t we going to miss all the sandal shops if we avoid town?”
“Not at all. Because there is only one sandal shop you need to go to, and I’m going to take you there via the back route, where we can avoid the huddled masses and their snot-nosed, sticky-fingered enfants.” Olivia expertly guided Lucie through a maze of back lanes snaking behind the hotels. The quiet little streets seemed a world away from the rest of Capri, even though they were only a few blocks away from the main square.
They found themselves in the heart of a neighborhood where the walls rose up high on both sides, making Lucie feel as if she were deep within a remote medieval hill town. The patina of glitz so ubiquitous throughout the rest of Capri had vanished. Here, the white walls were gray with dirt and the windows didn’t gleam. There wasn’t a single luxury hotel or designer boutique anywhere in sight, but instead they passed a tailor, a little grocery stall with crates of fresh produce stacked outside, and a trio of boys playing soccer along a wall.
Lucie found the rustic modesty rather charming and beautiful in its own way. “How did I miss this whole neighborhood?”
“You think the locals all shop at Prada? This is the real ’hood, where the shops cater to people who actually have to live here year-round. Look at that old tailor working away in there … isn’t he absolutely adorable? And these little tykes trying to kill each other over a ball. Christ, this one’s going to break his neck!” Olivia observed, carefully sidestepping a laughing boy as he slammed his body full force against the wall trying to defend the ball.
As they walked by a hair salon with faded posters of models in the window that, judging by the hairstyles, hadn’t been changed since the mid-1980s, Olivia continued her monologue: “The true beauty of this island is in its people and all these authentic areas off the beaten path. Think of all the tourists who only come to Capri for one day and rush around trying to see everything on the tourist map but miss all this. Or the ones who arrive at Marina Grande, take a boat out to see the Blue Grotto, and don’t even realize that the town of Capri is actually on top of the mountain and not part of the harbor below. I think they should actually ban day-trippers and require all visitors to spend at least three nights on the island. There should also be a fashion assessment before they can get off the boat—no tacky tourists. Now stop!”
Lucie stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly alarmed.
“Take a deep breath!” Olivia ordered.
Lucie relaxed and inhaled deeply.
“Tell me, what do you smell?”
“I don’t really smell … anything,” Lucie lied politely. The odor of cat piss was so strong, it made her eyes water.
“You’re smelling the real Capri here. La vera Italia!” Olivia announced, before marching on. Turning down an impossibly narrow lane, they descended a flight of stone steps and found themselves in front of a tiny, unpretentious shop that looked like it had been carved into the rock face of the hill centuries ago.
“This is Da Costanzo, my favorite sandal maker.”
Lucie stepped into the shop and felt like she had been transported into Aladdin’s cave. Thousands of leather cords, buckles, and gemstones in eve
ry color imaginable hung along the walls of the shop, and arrayed all over the floor and on shelves were the most stylish sandals Lucie had ever seen.
“Buongiorno, Antonio! Buongiorno, Alvina! Come stai? This is my friend Lucie from New York. Tell her what she absolutely needs to have this season.” Turning to Lucie, Olivia said, “Now, Antonio’s been making all these sandals by hand for decades. His father, Costanzo, who was the original sandal maker, touched the feet of Jackie Kennedy, Sophia Loren, and Clark Gable. Imagine that!”
“Oh, wow,” Lucie said. She tried to picture one of those legendary icons standing in the same little space she was in, but all she could think of was poor Costanzo having to handle thousands upon thousands of sweaty, stinky feet every day.
“Everyone is wanting the rose-gold leather this year,” Antonio said, reaching over from the stool where he sat making the sandals every day and handing Lucie a sandal with two simple cords of shiny leather crisscrossing the big toe and wrapping around the ankle.
“Try it on. Feel how soft the leather is,” Antonio’s wife, Alvina, said with a warm smile. Lucie slipped a pair on and was amazed by how comfortable they were.
“So chic! So sexy! So minimalist! It’s the Donald Judd of sandals! You could wear this to the beach and head straight to cocktails!” Olivia pronounced. “Antonio, I want one, please. But could you do me a pair on the black leather sole?”
“Of course,” Antonio replied.
Olivia suddenly caught sight of a man in a white linen jacket with a waxed mustache on the other side of the street holding a big golf umbrella over an elderly woman swathed in a bejeweled headscarf. A few paces behind them walked two security guards in dark suits and sunglasses.
“Oh, it’s Mordecai! I have to have a word with him about tomorrow’s excursion!” Olivia dashed out of the shop before Lucie could say anything.
Lucie took her time leisurely trying on different styles, chatting about New York with Alvina, and getting her foot measured by Antonio. In the end, she chose two pairs of sandals for herself: one in the rose gold, but done in a dramatic gladiator style with the leather cords wrapping all the way up her calves, and a classic T-strap in pale pink suede accessorized with two matching suede tassels. Antonio would custom-make them to fit her feet perfectly and have them delivered to the hotel. She also bought tan leather flip-flops for her brother, Freddie, and a faux-leopard-print pair for her mother.
