by Anita Hughes
“Now I see why you didn’t come to Italy,” Aidan barked before she could say hello. “So you could dance with that schoolboy dressed like a monkey.”
“What are you talking about?” Cassie put her fork down.
“I logged on to Fenton’s Facebook page. I saw the photos from the opening. A dozen pictures of you and that faggot in red suspenders dancing cheek-to-cheek.”
“Since when do you use Facebook?” Cassie spluttered, a piece of waffle stuck in her throat.
“I’m not a Neanderthal, though I’m not a child like your skinny architect. What’s going on, Cassie?”
“Nothing is going on.” Cassie paced around the kitchen. “Tony Bennett sang and we had one dance, half a dance actually because Alexis needed me. Then I left. After I collided with a waiter and got cake and frosting everywhere. I was a stunning success.”
“There’s an idiotic picture of the two of you in someone’s kitchen; half a dozen photos of you eating together. I’m not putting up with this, Cassie. If this is your way of retaliating for my indiscretion, it’s immature.”
“James is a friend.” Cassie’s throat closed up. Her eyes filled with tears. “I would never do that; I don’t want to do that. I can’t wait for you to come home.”
“I would like to believe you,” Aidan said tightly.
“Of course you can believe me,” Cassie replied frantically. She looked out the window as if Aidan would walk up the path any moment.
“I leave for Athens tomorrow. I’ll call you when I get there. I love you, Cassie.” He hung up the phone.
Cassie opened the computer on the kitchen table. She clicked on Fenton’s Facebook page and searched the photos of the opening. There were a dozen photos of her dancing with James, his hand curved around her back. There were pictures of them sipping champagne. She clicked through the album and found the photo Alexis took on her iPhone in Miles’s kitchen.
Cassie shut the laptop and groaned. “Alexis, what have you done?”
* * *
After Cassie had hung up with Aidan she tried to finish her waffles but they tasted like cardboard. She considered going into Fenton’s but black spots danced before her eyes. She poured herself another glass of cranberry juice and took it into the entertainment room. She flipped through Alexis’s movie catalog, selected Dear John, and collapsed into a bucket seat. Cassie was watching The Notebook when Alexis finally arrived home.
“What is this, a Nicholas Sparks marathon?” Alexis flicked on the light and saw the DVD covers on the projector. Her hair was a beautiful ash blond and her nails were ruby red. Her skin glowed and her cheeks were soft and smooth as a baby.
“Where have you been? Your phone’s off and you’re wearing last night’s clothes,” Cassie demanded.
Alexis hiked up her pink evening gown and sunk down next to Cassie. “Carter’s welcome home turned into a fly-by. He met Rupert Murdoch’s son on the plane. He convinced Carter to fly to Australia to check out a new venture: a fuel source involving sheep manure.” Alexis slipped off her gold sandals. “We spent the night at the airport Hilton.”
“You have that glassy-eyed ‘I’ve been screwing all night’ look.” Cassie frowned.
“We didn’t leave the bed for twelve hours.” Alexis stretched her legs in front of her. “I don’t know if absence makes the heart grow fonder but it certainly makes the penis harder.”
“I don’t want to hear.” Cassie put her hands over her ears.
“Honestly, it was a fuck marathon. I’m so dehydrated I could swim in a pool of Gatorade. I realized why I put up with Carter’s absences and his mid-twentieth century husbanding.” Alexis yawned. “He is David Beckham in the bedroom.”
“How do you know what David Beckham is like in bed?”
“With those pecs and the way he can kick a ball, how could he not be good?” Alexis shrugged. “I haven’t closed my eyes in twenty-four hours. We made love until the car took him to the gate.”
“How long will Carter be gone this time?” Cassie rubbed her eyes. She had watched three movies, only getting up to make popcorn and find a box of tissues. Her back hurt and her eyes watered from staring at the screen.
“I don’t know. They drive to the outback and stay on some farmstead. Carter says the men eat emu meat and drink Foster’s all night. But you know what is great?” Alexis inspected her frosted pink toenails. “For the first time I don’t mind Carter being away. I’ll miss him terribly, but I’m excited to go to work. Thanks to you, I have a life.”
“You have a life, but mine is over,” Cassie groaned. “Aidan saw the photos of the opening on Facebook and he’s livid.”
“Since when does Aidan look at Facebook?”
“That’s not really the point. Did you post photos of me dancing and drinking champagne with James?” Cassie demanded.
“I’m sorry, I uploaded them from my phone while I was getting my highlights done.” Alexis fished her phone out of her purse and scrolled through her photos.
“Did you look at them before you posted them? They’re practically the ‘James and Cassie’ show, except there is no ‘James and Cassie.’ Aidan was furious.”
“James is engaged, it’s all perfectly harmless.” Alexis flicked through photos. “I love the one of the two of you holding Miles’s cake. You should wear red more often, it suits you.”
“Emily showed up at the opening,” Cassie said slowly. “She’s moving to Atlanta without James. They broke up.”
“Maybe not so harmless.” Alexis raised her eyebrows. “He does have that ‘love-struck teenager’ look when he’s with you, and you make a lovely couple on the dance floor.”
“This isn’t funny,” Cassie fumed. “I’ve been sitting here all day, trying to figure out how to calm Aidan down.”
“You had one slow dance. Aidan’s the one who went full throttle.”
“I’m not going to talk about Molly Payne anymore,” Cassie said quietly. “You were right, I’m either in the marriage or out of the marriage. I want to be in the marriage.” Cassie scooped up popcorn kernels and put them in the glass bowl. “If Aidan and I are going to move forward, we have to trust each other. Which means I have to forget Molly Payne existed.”
“Can you do that?” Alexis raised her eyebrow.
“It’s like being a little bit pregnant,” Cassie replied. “My marriage has no chance if I almost trust him. I just hope Aidan believes me. He thought James is the reason I skipped the conference.”
“James is a sweetheart. I loved the red suspenders. I’m going to get a pair for Carter.”
“Aidan is going to be home in ten days. I want to move back in with him.”
“What about Fenton’s?” Alexis asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn.
“I have to show Aidan I can do both.” Cassie sighed, picking up a wad of tissues and tossing them in the garbage.
“How often do you and Aidan have sex?” Alexis brushed popcorn kernels from her lap.
Cassie blushed. “None of your business.”
“Fuck Aidan every night and make sure he always has clean underwear in his sock drawer. He won’t mind if you become a CIA agent.”
“You sound as sexist as Carter.” Cassie giggled.
“I like to think of men as jungle animals. Sex is the tranquilizing gun.” Alexis scooped up another handful of popcorn. “I have an idea! Pick Aidan up from the airport and spend a night at the Ritz or the Four Seasons. A bottle of champagne, a dozen oysters, and he’ll be putty. It worked for us. Do you want to see the photos Carter took?”
“That is a good idea.” Cassie jumped out of the chair. “No Isabel ruining our first night together.”
“No laundry, no dishes, just bubble bath and massage oil. We can go to that sex shop in the Haight this week,” Alexis replied.
“I don’t need a sex shop.” Cassie shook her head.
“We’re not in our twenties. Why do you think they invented sex shops?” Alexis stood up and stretched her arms. “I’m sore, I need to
get in the Jacuzzi. But first, let’s see if there’s a pint of Häagen-Dazs in the freezer.”
* * *
“Carter bought me a present.” Alexis scooped caramel crème brûlée ice cream into two bowls.
“If it’s a lace teddy I don’t want to see it,” Cassie groaned.
“It’s not underwear, but I almost came when he gave it to me.” Alexis walked into the mudroom and returned with an oval hatbox.
“He bought you a hat?”
“Open it.”
Cassie took off the lid and peeled off layers of tissue paper. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. She stepped back from the table and stared at Alexis.
“Thirty-five centimeters, saltwater crocodile skin, platinum hardware. Look at the stamp on the zipper.” Alexis’s eyes sparkled.
“Your own Birkin.” Cassie breathed. “I can’t believe it.”
“I started crying like a baby, I ruined Damien’s makeup. Carter had to pour me a Scotch and hold me until I stopped shaking.” Alexis took the Birkin out of the box.
“I’ve only seen them in Us magazine. I read Victoria Beckham has a hundred Birkins,” Cassie murmured.
“She has great taste in bags and men.” Alexis handed the bag to Cassie. “Touch it.”
Cassie handled the Birkin as if it were an ancient artifact. She snapped open the platinum clasp and ran her fingers over the goatskin lining. She turned it over and admired the mottled crocodile skin.
“And this is the clochette,” Alexis explained, “where one keeps the key. Carter bought it in Paris; he ordered it four years ago. Do you know what that means?”
“A Birkin is harder to get than a seat on the space shuttle?” Cassie held it against her thigh.
“I was the one always chasing Carter. I visited him at Stanford every free weekend. I rented an apartment in Cow Hollow on his block. I thought if I backed off, he’d hook up with some Asian dynamo: one of those sexual gymnasts with a mind like Mark Zuckerberg. But he loved me enough four years ago to order a Birkin. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.” Alexis wiped her eyes.
“You have a body like one of Charlie’s Angels. Cameron Diaz wishes she had your thighs,” Cassie protested. “And you have an amazing mind! You’ve brought Fenton’s into the twenty-first century.”
“Even now I think he travels so much because I’m not enough,” Alexis admitted. “Sometimes I want a husband I can curl up in bed with and talk about boring things: who’s winning American Idol, who got voted off The Bachelor.”
“I can’t see Carter watching The Bachelor.” Cassie giggled.
“Exactly!” Alexis put the bag in the middle of the table. “I realize I have to accept Carter for who he is: a globe-trotting maverick who is trying to save the planet and make a billion dollars at the same time.”
“Carter loves you more than the planet.” Cassie nodded.
“I’m beginning to believe it.” Alexis stroked the bag lovingly. “I’m going to take it upstairs and look at it all day.”
“You’re going to fill it with your stuff and parade it around Fenton’s.” Cassie ate a spoonful of ice cream.
“You think I should use it? I thought I might display it on the mantel, like an Oscar.”
“Of course you’re going to use it. Every customer at Fenton’s will want one. We’ll open a mini Hermès boutique, it’ll be a gold mine.”
“I guess you’re right.” Alexis fiddled with the platinum lock. “But I’m going to order another one, and keep it in the downstairs bathroom like Catherine Zeta-Jones does with her Oscar.”
15.
When Cassie arrived at Fenton’s the next morning, James was hunched over a stack of papers.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come in yesterday.” Cassie hopped onto a stool. “I drank too much champagne at the opening.”
“I think everyone did.” James grinned. “Security found a few iPhones and several orphaned stilettos.”
“I caused quite a path of destruction.” Cassie grimaced, smoothing her skirt. She had dressed carefully for her first day on the floor. She wore a pink cotton dress with a wide leather belt. She had a diamond clip in her hair and leather sandals on her feet. “I’m going upstairs to apologize to my mother.”
“I’d hold off.” James flipped through his notes. “We have bigger problems.”
“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked.
“Look around, what do you see?”
Cassie spun around on the stool. Women milled in the aisles sampling brightly colored vegetables. Employees passed out bite-sized cheesecakes and cups of steaming espresso. The tables next to the bookshelf were almost full; Cassie heard women exclaiming over jars of marmalade and pots of organic honey.
“It looks like we’re really busy. Do we need more help? Is everyone getting their lunch breaks?” Cassie frowned.
“It looks like we’re busy.” James took off his glasses. “Customers are sampling, but they’re not buying. Do you know how much revenue we made yesterday?”
“How much?” Cassie flinched.
“Two hundred and twenty-seven dollars!” James rubbed his eyes. “We were open for eight hours and rung up two hundred and twenty-seven dollars and ninety-three cents. Do you know what our overhead is?”
“It was the first day, people don’t know about us yet.” Cassie shrugged nervously.
“That’s what I thought, so I’ve been sitting here all morning. The floor has been full since the minute we opened. People know about the emporium, but they’re walking around like it’s a garden party.”
“Do you think I picked the wrong suppliers?” Cassie asked, fiddling with her hair clip.
“I sampled everything.” James shook his head. “It all tastes delicious.”
Cassie rested her elbows on the table. In the weeks before the opening, she never doubted the emporium would be a success. Fenton’s had been the sought-after shopping destination in San Francisco for decades.
“I thought about rearranging the counters, putting the desserts in the front of the store, but women are entering in droves.” James continued glumly. “They’re just leaving empty-handed.”
Cassie and James sat silently side by side. James wore a blue button-down shirt and tan slacks. His hair was slicked to one side and he smelt like peppermint soap. He scribbled notes on a yellow pad and rapped his pen on the table.
“I’m going to perform an intervention.” Cassie hopped off the stool and strode across the marble floor. She approached a woman wearing an orange Givenchy dress. She carried a straw clutch and wore orange sling-back sandals.
“Have you tried the endive salad?” Cassie asked, grabbing a white porcelain plate from the counter. “It’s made with a raspberry vinaigrette.”
“This is delicious.” The woman blotted her lips with a napkin. “I’m holding a little dinner Friday night. I’d love to serve an endive raspberry salad, maybe paired with a fruity Chardonnay.”
“Our endive melts in your mouth, and we have fresh baskets of raspberries.” Cassie led her to the produce aisle. “You’ll love our heirloom tomatoes.” Cassie laid leeks, tomatoes, and red peppers on the counter.
“It looks wonderful.” The woman eyed the array of vegetables. “I need to nip up to the third floor. I have a silk scarf on hold, and I promised I’d pick it up by noon.”
“Shall I ring this up?” Cassie asked.
“Why don’t you wait, I might grab a few things for dessert.”
“I’ll select some of my favorites.” Cassie beamed. “It’ll be waiting at the register.”
* * *
Cassie walked triumphantly over to James. “I just convinced a customer to purchase ingredients for a whole dinner party. She had to run upstairs but she’s coming back to ring everything up.”
“Congratulations.” James rubbed his temples. “I’m sick of staring at numbers. I’m going to grab a burger and fries. Care to join me?”
“You’re addicted to McDonald’s.” Cassie grinned. “Bring me back
a chocolate shake.”
Cassie picked out a cherry pie and a pint of cinnamon-flavored ice cream. She selected a Hess Estate Chardonnay and added a lemon pound cake. James returned clutching a McDonald’s bag and a chocolate shake.
“How much did she spend?” James asked, swallowing a handful of French fries.
“She hasn’t come back.” Cassie sighed, sipping the shake unhappily. “Should I go upstairs and find her?”
“You can’t stalk the customers.” James slumped on the stool. “This is what I mean. They love our merchandise, they’re just not buying anything.”
* * *
Cassie waited all afternoon for the customer to return. The cinnamon ice cream sat at the register, slowly melting. At closing time, Cassie reluctantly put the wine and pound cake back on the shelf. She said good night to James and drove home, trying to squelch the sick feeling in her stomach.
She walked into Alexis’s kitchen and picked at the Caesar salad Pia had prepared. She wished she could discuss the emporium with Alexis but she was holed up with Princess Giselle. The Black and White Ball was in two weeks and Alexis had been overseeing late-night dress fittings.
Cassie poured herself a glass of lemonade and buttered a sourdough dinner roll. She remembered her mother’s stories of Fenton’s fairy-tale success; it had become a San Francisco institution the moment it opened its doors. She thought about the women from Alexis’s book clubs who rushed in to buy the latest lipsticks and designer bags. She pushed her plate away and put her head in her hands. She had to figure out what was wrong and find a way to fix it.
* * *
On Thursday evening, Andre Blick held a cooking demonstration and women flocked to watch him prepare fondue. Even Alexis pulled herself away from Princess Giselle to see Andre blend chocolate and cream.
“I’ll buy two of whatever he’s selling.” Alexis stood at the back of the crowd next to Cassie. “He’s James Franco with a touch of Andrew Garfield. You should bottle him.”
“Fingers crossed that’s how the other women feel.” Cassie scanned the crowd. A dozen hands shot up when Andre asked for a volunteer to test the fondue. He passed out samples and the women oohed and aahed like teenagers at a rock concert.
