by Kwan, Kevin
Lucie found herself saying, “I’m ready!”
Stretching out his arms Christ-like, George grabbed her hand, and together they plunged headlong out of the heavens and into the deep, unknown depths of the sea.
Hey now, hey now, don’t dream it’s over.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Villa Lysis
Capri, Italy
“I’m surprised you’re even alive,” Charlotte remarked when Lucie appeared at the hotel’s poolside café just as she and Olivia were finishing lunch. “How hungover are you?”
“Actually, I feel fine,” Lucie said, downplaying it by a mile.
Olivia peered at Lucie’s bloodshot eyes and chuckled.
“This is completely unlike you, Lucie! Disappearing like that without telling us and partying all night on a yacht? I had to find out where you were from Mordecai, of all people, and you know what loose lips that man has,” Charlotte chided as she took the last bite of her parmigiana di melanzane.
“Charlotte, there’s nothing scandalous for him to say. It was Issie’s bachelorette party. It was my duty to attend.”
“Well, clearly her duty did not involve thinking of your wellbeing. You are so much younger than her other friends, and I wasn’t born yesterday—I’m sure you all did not spend the night on board a super yacht playing Cards Against Humanity,” Charlotte quipped.
Olivia leaned in toward Lucie. “I heard a rumor that there were mountains of pure Colombian cocaine and Isabel’s friends hired male strippers dressed as ninjas?”
“Ninjas? There were no drugs, just fashion, and the ‘male strippers’ turned out to be Dolfi and his crew,” Lucie said, trying to sound blasé but quietly alarmed that she couldn’t recall anything about the evening past a certain point. Her roommate at Brown would come back to the room on weekends after getting completely trashed, claiming to not remember a thing, but Lucie never believed it was possible. Now she believed.
“What do you mean ‘fashion’?” Charlotte probed suspiciously.
“There were all these fun couture designer costumes waiting for us on the yacht, and we each picked an outfit. I wore a vintage bustier that had been designed for Madonna’s ‘Blond Ambition’ tour, and we all sang karaoke and ate cupcakes,” Lucie explained.
Charlotte gave her a dubious look. “Thankfully you appear to have all your limbs, or I would not know what to say to your mother! Now, Olivia and I are off to the hair salon. You clearly forgot about your one p.m. appointment.”
“Oh, shoot!” Lucie sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Well, get some food into your system and take a hot bath. You don’t have all day, you know. We have to leave for the wedding by four o’clock at the latest, and it’s already almost one thirty. God knows how long our appointments will take with these Italian stylists! If you are dressed and ready by the time we get back, I might just help you with your updo,” Charlotte said in a gentler tone as she got up from the table.
Olivia leaned over and patted her on the shoulder. “Tomato juice with a raw egg, Lucie. It will fix you right up. I’ll order you one on our way out.”
Lucie slumped into her chair and put her sunglasses on, feeling the first twinges of a headache. Several squealing German kids sprinted through the garden and did cannonballs into the pool, the sound of their splashes causing her to have a flashback to the night before. She was in the pool on the yacht … the smaller one on the top deck … and were someone’s toes getting sucked? It wasn’t hers … thank God not hers. And then suddenly she recalled seeing George last night. He was definitely on the yacht. Was he the one in the donkey costume? Yes, it was him. The hair on the nape of his neck was a little wet from being in that furry mask for so long, and she knew that because her fingers were caressing his head as they were dancing, right before she had to rush into the bathroom to throw up. Yes, that’s what happened. How mortifying. Did he see her throw up? Did she say something idiotic to him that she might regret for the rest of her life?
It was a question she was still pondering three hours later when she arrived at the gates of Villa Lysis for the event that everyone had been anticipating and speculating endlessly about—the wedding ceremony! From the lovely beach club lunch and divine dinner held in an ancient grotto to the exclusive Villa Lachowski excursion and the grand banquet in a fourteenth-century monastery, each event had been more spectacular than the last. How on earth was Isabel going to top all that?
Isabel did not disappoint.
Villa Lysis was arguably the most advantageously situated house in all of Capri. Perched on the easternmost edge of the island high up on the mountain, the secluded villa was an homage to Louis Seize and classical Greek architecture, boasting Ionic columns decorated with filaments of gold mosaic tiles and marble steps spanning the entire front facade and leading down to a circular garden of towering trees that framed a commanding view of the sea, the dramatic cliffs, and Marina Grande in the distance.
Today, it looked as though God had sprinkled millions of seeds from the heavens onto the estate, as the villa appeared to be in full bloom. Flowers burst from the ground to the rooftop, from every corner and crevice; boughs of white and pink delphiniums draped over the grand portico, while camellias and stephanotis wound up each column and millions of rose petals blanketed the terrace in front of the house, creating an ombré pattern so that the petals gradually intensified from white to blush to the most intense magenta in the middle, where they formed the shape of a blooming lotus flower. On this decadent carpet of flowers were hundreds of gold Hepplewhite chairs meticulously arranged into a spiral pattern, ending in the very center at the lotus.
“It’s like a giant mandala made out of rose petals! Can you imagine how many flowers it must have taken to cover this whole garden? Are there any roses left on the planet anymore, or did they all sacrifice themselves for this?” Olivia said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“It’s just beyond! The flowers alone must have cost Isabel’s family several million,” Charlotte surmised.
“The Chius own the biggest plastics manufacturer in Taiwan—I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Olivia quipped.
“I’m kicking myself for not thinking to cover this wedding for Amuse Bouche. I wonder who has the scoop. Is someone from Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar here? Or Town & Country or maybe even Elle Decor?” Charlotte wondered, thinking like a competitive magazine editor as she observed the army of black-clad videographers piloting the UFO-like drones that circled over the villa, capturing every moment of the event from different vantage points.
“Isabel is much too private to have any media covering her big day. Didn’t you see in the orientation letter that they requested no one post any pictures on social media?” Lucie reminded her cousin.
Rosemary Zao suddenly appeared next to them in a gold lamé ball gown with immense ruffled sleeves and said, “Lucie, let’s take a selfie and I’ll put it on WeChat!”
“Um … Mrs. Zao, I’d be happy to take a picture with you, but I don’t think we’re supposed to post anything,” Lucie replied.
“Nonsense! I just won’t tag our location, and no one will know we’re at Isabel’s wedding. You look so pretty in that dress. Lanvin, right?” Rosemary asked, admiring Lucie’s deep scarlet gown, which had a tea-length skirt of translucent pleated panels that created the most beautiful rippling effect as she moved.
“Um, no, it’s Morgane Le Fay.”
“Huuuuh? I’ve never heard of that designer. Is he French?”
“No, she’s Argentinean but based in New York—her real name is Liliana Casabal, and she’s got a great boutique in SoHo.”
“You know all the coolest designers. If I had a daughter, I’d want her to dress just like you!” Rosemary praised.
Charlotte, who looked rather regal in her buttercup point d’esprit lace Oscar de la Renta gown and a four-strand pearl choker borrowed from her mother, gave Rosemary a mischievous look. “And who designed your dress? Alexis Carrington?”
Rosemary l
et out a loud gasp and slapped Charlotte on the arm excitedly. “Hiyah, how did you know? This is vintage Nolan Miller! I bought it at a charity auction and they said that Joan Collins actually wore the dress on Dynasty! I think it was the episode when Blake tried to choke her to death.”fn1
“The famous choking gown! That is just too fabulous for words. You win the grand prize for most original outfit, Mrs. Zao!” Olivia remarked.
“No, no, you should win the prize too,” Rosemary said rather unconvincingly as she tried to decipher Olivia’s asymmetrical, deconstructed black Comme des Garçons dress that looked like it had been savaged by pinking shears. After Rosemary had made all of them pose for what seemed like ten dozen pictures, Lucie asked as casually as possible, “Where’s George?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? He’s one of the groomsmen. Dolfi asked him to step in at the last minute because his friend Colby, the one from Dallas, had to go to the hospital when he broke his cock.”
“His whaaat?” Charlotte eyes widened, not sure she had heard right.
“You know, his cock. His pee-pee, his birdie. Yes, apparently Colby took too much Viagra at the party on the boat last night and his cock got so swollen it got trapped in a donkey costume with some girl? I don’t really know the whole story, but apparently they had to fly him to the hospital in Naples to drain the blood from his cock.”fn2
Lucie held her hand to her mouth, looking like she was shocked but actually trying to stop herself from having a laughing fit. She knew if she looked at Charlotte she would totally lose it.
“I do hope the boy doesn’t have a hard time recovering,” Olivia said with an absolute straight face.
“Who’s recovering? Is Isabel okay?” Mercedes Ortiz asked, suddenly appearing alongside the foursome with her sister.
“Isabel’s fine,” Rosemary assured her. “It’s this schoolmate of Dolfi’s from Texas who had to get his big co—”
“My goodness, you ladies look incredible!” Charlotte loudly cut her off. For as long as she lived she did not ever again want to hear Rosemary utter the word that, if it had to be used, should only be used in reference to roosters.
“Yes, what terribly chic ball gowns!” Olivia echoed, admiring the sisters dressed in complementing shades of lilac silk festooned with intricate beading and ostrich feathers.
“Let me guess … Elie Saab?” Rosemary asked.
“Valentino!” Mercedes and Paloma said in unison, appearing offended that Rosemary would even dare mention any other couturier.
Olivia turned to Lucie covertly. “Are you ever going to tell me what really happened on that yacht?”
Before Lucie could formulate a response, she was quite literally saved by the bell. A line of groomsmen in dove-gray linen suits, led by George, came scattering out of the villa ringing antique Tibetan bells, indicating to the guests that it was time to take their seats. As Lucie observed George guiding several elderly guests, she found herself desperately trying to recall one thing: If he wasn’t the one in the donkey suit last night, was he even at the party? Or did I dream that too?
After everyone was seated around the spiral, a woman in a silvery halter-neck gown appeared at the edge of the balcony overlooking the garden. She held up a violin and began playing the first few notes of a melody as Dolfi appeared at the side of the garden with his parents. Suddenly the sounds of a full orchestra filled the air, accompanying the violinist in Ennio Morricone’s love theme from Cinema Paradiso, as the three of them began a slow, regal march toward the assembled guests, the Contessa already tearing up as she walked alongside her son, who was dashingly outfitted in a bespoke tuxedo from Battistoni. They arrived at the lotus bloom in the middle of the spiral, where Auden Beebe, striking in a midnight-blue silk jacquard sherwani, was waiting to greet them.
There was a moment of silence as the Conte and Contessa took their seats, and then the first chords of a piano could be heard coming from the terrace just below where they were all seated. A few of the guests murmured in excitement, “That’s Lang Lang on the piano!” Next, a man dressed in a linen tunic shirt and matching trousers wandered out of the glade of high trees near the piano, barefoot and holding an accordion, and together he and Lang Lang launched into the most beautiful duet of Luis Bacalov’s theme from Il Postino. Half a dozen bridesmaids standing at the top of the steps began their procession as Isabel emerged through the majestic front door on the arm of her father, and together they descended the steps and glided gracefully down the spiral aisle.
“How ingenious, Dedes! She did this so that she would pass by every single guest, and everyone can admire her dress!” Paloma Ortiz whispered to her sister.
“But what is she wearing? It looks like a potato sack!” Mercedes grumbled.
From where she was sitting, Lucie could not have disagreed more. Isabel looked absolutely exquisite in a white duchesse strapless gown with delicate pleats just below the bodice, mirrored by pleats at the back that flared dramatically into a long, billowing train. She recognized it immediately from the black-and-white magazine photo Isabel had pinned to her dressing mirror back in her childhood days at the Park Avenue apartment—it was a picture of Audrey Hepburn in the exact same dress by Givenchy, taken in 1955. She wondered if the dress was vintage or who might have re-created the gown for Isabel.
Lucie felt that Isabel had made a brilliant choice by staying so simple—she wore her hair pulled up into a high chignon, minimal makeup that showed off her natural glow from a week in the sun, and not a drop of jewelry aside from the heirloom Asscher-cut emerald engagement ring that had been Dolfi’s grandmother’s, and she clutched a simple bouquet of white peonies. Amid the grandeur of the villa, the profusion of colorful flowers, and all the guests dressed in their fanciest outfits, the bride stood out in all her unencumbered elegance.
Isabel’s preference for simplicity was also reflected in the ceremony. After Auden delivered a brief homily about twin flames being the halves of one soul, he told a moving story of how he had witnessed the flame that was Dolfi and Isabel’s growing over the last few years, “not at glamorous red carpet events or A-list parties, but in the quiet, everyday moments of partner yoga, juice fasts, and plant medicine circles.”
The couple then exchanged vows and rings, and a gospel choir emerged onto the steps of the villa and began to sing Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes,” accompanied by a band of drummers. Isabel and Dolfi held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes throughout the entire song as tears streamed silently down their faces, which in turn made most of the crowd well up. Lucie thought it was the most romantic thing she had ever witnessed.
As the singing ended, the drummers continued to play, and Auden loudly proclaimed, “I now pronounce you man and wife!” Everyone cheered as the newlyweds proceeded to dance down the aisle to the beat of the drums, joined by the rest of the bridal party. The Sultanah of Penang jumped out of her seat and joined the impromptu conga line, along with members of Dolfi’s family. The bride and groom danced all the way to an antique horsedrawn carriage waiting at the foot of the steps. Before getting in, Dolfi turned around, grinned roguishly at the crowd, and said, “Okay, wedding’s over. Let’s paaaaaarty!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Villa Jovis
Capri, Italy
“I must admit that I found it all quite moving, didn’t you?” Charlotte said to Lucie as they sat in the golf cart that was whizzing them up the mountain after the ceremony.
“It was too beautiful for words. The flowers, the music, the vows, everything!” Lucie said with a half sigh.
“Now don’t go fantasizing that you’ll have a wedding that’s anything like this—your mother would have a heart attack!”
“Don’t worry, this isn’t what I want at all. I’d much rather have a simple ceremony on the dock at Dorset,fn1 maybe arriving by water on an old Chris-Craft driven by Freddie.”
“That sounds lovely. I’ve always thought that Dorset would be the perfect place for—Holy Mother of Joanna Gaines, what
have we here?!” Charlotte gasped.
Appearing before them was a towering arch of vines and flowers made entirely of Venetian blown glass framing the approach to Villa Jovis, the great palace that Caesar Augustus had built himself on one of the highest points of Capri.
“Just when I thought things couldn’t get any crazier. This arch must be at least twenty feet tall!” Charlotte whispered to Lucie in awe as they got out of the golf cart. Standing under the fantastical arch was the bridal party, and Charlotte marveled for the hundredth time how Isabel had planned every moment so brilliantly. The sun was just beginning to set over the island, bathing the ruins in a shimmering golden light, but the bridal party went one step further—everyone under the arch, especially the bride, was cast in an iridescent glow from the reflected crystalline colors of the Venetian glass. The cousins noticed immediately that Issie had quickly added a striking blue Paraíba tourmaline-and-diamond necklace by Doris Hangartner to her wedding ensemble.
“Issie, you look so exquisite! And that was the most beautiful ceremony ever!” Lucie exclaimed as she gave both the bride and groom tight hugs.
“Wasn’t it? I can’t believe it’s really happened!” Isabel beamed with joy.
Charlotte leaned in to give Isabel a peck on the cheek. “Congratulations, both of you! Now, Isabel, you must tell me who designed your dress! Lucie swears it’s vintage Givenchy.”
“She’s partially right. The design is from his haute couture line in 1955, but I managed to lure Monsieur de Givenchy himself out of retirement just this once to re-create it for me.”
“Stop it!” The cousins squealed in unison.
“Yep, I had to go to Le Jonchetfn2 for all the fittings.”
Lucie and Charlotte shook their heads in awe, before moving down the receiving line to congratulate the newlyweds’ families. Entering the grounds of the villa afterward, they were handed delicate flutes of prosecco laced with elderflower syrup as they strolled around the palace ruins. Almost all the original decorations—including once magnificent frescos that must surely have outshone the best of Pompeii—had been lost to time and looters, but the structures still retained the impression of the majestic complex that had once stood here.
