The prized Canaletto goes to Emerson, along with the first-edition Emersons, which is only fitting.
To Pansy she’s left the jewelry in a safe deposit box downtown. Louis hands Pansy a tiny key and a printout of passcodes and PINs.
And to Nell she’s left a necklace.
“We haven’t managed to find it yet,” Louis is saying to her. “But I’m sure it’s here somewhere. I apologize,” he says, perhaps noticing Nell sit up straighter as her lawyer brain kicks into gear. “But your grandmother—” Nell starts at the word; she was Aunt Loulou to her. “Sorry, your great-aunt was easily upset at the end and it was decided it was best not to have a bunch of strangers in the house looking for it.” It’s then that Nell’s lawyer armor fully slips on, because if he were her associate, he’d be getting a dressing-down right now. As the lawyer for the estate, he should be on this. He should have made sure someone found it, whether or not Loulou was acting cranky.
“She was pretty loony tunes at the end,” Baldwin says to Nell, and then turns to his children and says, more loudly, “She was hoarding scrap silver.”
“We did manage to clean out the basement. We had a team that was very sensitive,” Louis says directly to Nell, as if she is already in charge.
“Found a whole room filled with nothing but quart mason jars filled with rancid water, like a typhoid version of an air raid shelter,” Baldwin is saying. “And then the scrap silver, of course.” He nods his head at Louis. “Bins and bins of it. There was a shoebox with some gold Krugerrands, too. Couple of cases of Chartreuse as well.”
Nell’s picturing Ali Baba’s cave in that dirt-floor basement, but filled with gold formerly under international sanction, tarnished flatware, and liquor that tastes like a Swiss cough drop.
“The gold has been valued and included in the statements,” Louis says, trying to sound thorough. “The silver is going to be dicey.”
“She was concerned with the collapse of Western civilization, like, legitimately concerned with a coming Armageddon,” Pansy says, and Nell can’t tell if Pansy shares this belief or is just protective of her grandmother.
“Like the zombie apocalypse?” Emerson says, eyes still on his phone. “You guys couldn’t have had her in some blue chips or something?” he says to Louis, who holds up both hands in defense. Lawyers don’t handle investments, and it was Loulou’s money to do with as she liked, however ill-advised. They all know this.
“So who knows if that necklace is real,” Baldwin continues, turning to Nell. “I never saw Mother wear it. Not once.” He stops stitching when he looks up and says, “I think she said it was cursed, but that could just be more bats-in-the-belfry stuff. Seems like you got the delusional gift.”
His quick dismissal of her single legacy makes her feel like this should be expected. She didn’t really think she was here to receive anything legitimate, did she? Nothing besides some leftovers or a mix-up should be expected, even if she is executor.
She can feel Louis watching them all.
Baldwin, of course, gets the house. As the last surviving member of his generation, and Loulou’s sole heir, this is expected. Nell’s mother, who has been dead a decade now, is not mentioned. Nor is her father, which is understood. Loulou claimed he was never a true Quincy, and, as an in-law, he wasn’t. Nell had called him in Italy, and he had refused to come. “Come see me afterward,” he’d said. “You’ll need it.”
“ ‘And the residue of my estate,’” Pansy reads out loud. “ ‘Keeping in mind the provisions I have made for my son, Baldwin, and his children in subsequent bequests and gifts, both in this instrument and throughout their lifetimes, blah-blah-blah to be divided and blah-blah by my grandchildren and my grandniece Cornelia Quincy Merrihew.’ Translation?” she says, looking at Louis.
“You split the contents of the house in thirds, notwithstanding the enumerated gifts, of course. The structure itself goes to Baldwin.”
Louis passes around another stack of papers without meeting Baldwin’s eye. “The trusts, and the money therein, remain much as they were when they were established during her lifetime. You’ll see little change there.”
Louis turns to Baldwin. “And you remain executor of those.”
Emerson is scanning his copy, mumbling to himself.
“There’s a bit of money left,” Louis says, nodding toward a stack of paper in Emerson’s hands. “That’s the most recent trust statement from the financial advisors that you asked for.”
“It was intended for her to live on,” Baldwin says, a touch defensively, as Emerson flips to the last pages containing the totals.
“She went through it like spaghetti,” Emerson says under his breath.
“Son,” Baldwin says with a shake of his head.
Pansy turns to her father. “Did you know about this, too?” She rises, unfolding herself in the lanky, double-jointed way of an athlete. “About the contents?”
Baldwin only shrugs at Pansy and then turns to address Nell, though she’s not asked any of the millions of questions whirring through her mind. “If you must know, she asked me if I wanted it all. And I couldn’t lie to her. I don’t. I have everything I need, and I don’t need a bunch of Mother’s old things.” At Pansy’s look, he says, “What? I thought she should do what she wanted with it. I have to say, I never thought she’d gift it to all of you equally.” He turns to Louis and says, “But that was silly of me—”
“As it stands, I know she took a long time considering her options,” Louis interrupts, ready to move this along.
“She always did feel guilty about your mother,” Baldwin continues to Nell in the magnanimous tone of someone secure that he’s gotten everything he wanted.
Nell’s neck feels hot, and she decides to opt for the nicotine gum, even though she’d really like a cigarette, an old habit she’s been able to fend off in times of stress with the gum. What she’d really like is a few moments to step outside and breathe. Even breathing in noxious poison would be better than sitting in this atmosphere.
“She had one of the nurses call very late on a Saturday night,” Louis is saying to Emerson in response to some question about the date of the will. “If you look you’ll see we had the nurse on staff as a witness. I couldn’t come until Monday morning, so she’d even had a few days to think about it, and she was quite clear.” Here he looks Pansy in the eye. “And she was quite lucid when she requested the changes. For good measure, because I knew—” Here he clears his throat. “Because I knew she’d want it done properly, you’ll see the affidavit at the end, signed by two doctors, stating that she was in sufficient health, not in pain, and not suffering under any mental deficiency when she requested these changes.”
“One of them’s Dr. Kelly, her old bridge partner,” Emerson says, looking up from the page. “He’s almost as old as she is.”
“I think you’ll find Dr. Kelly is still a practicing member of the AMA. And the other affidavit is from his younger partner in the practice, Dr. Chin.”
Louis is then met with a barrage of questions; no one waits for him to answer before firing another. What does this mean for taxes? Who’s to take care of the day-to-day? How does this affect the generation-skipping trusts? What do we do next?
All the questions secretly ask the same thing: do you know what you’re doing?
Nell watches as the chummy rapport with Louis fades away, suspicion falling into place quickly. She reaches into her bag for another piece of gum and adds it to the wad in her cheek, feeling the nicotine hit her bloodstream.
“Can I have one of those?” Pansy asks.
“It’s nicotine gum.” Nell mumbles her confession.
“Okay,” Pansy says. “I’d like one.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m open to all experiences.”
At that, Nell hands it over. She never has been able to say no to Pansy. No one has.
Pansy raises it in toast before popping it in. “Sorry to hear about you and Paul breaking up,” she says as she chews. Meanwhile, Baldwin and Emerson drill Louis on provisions she doesn’t care about.
Nell has to think for a minute about how to respond to a kindness from Pansy. Things have been over with Paul for months, but Nell recognizes the gesture. And there are other factors to consider. There’s Pansy’s smugness, backed by her seemingly successful marriage to Brian, a management consultant who travels constantly. There are their two boys, who are enmeshed in soccer and lacrosse. And then there is her job as a holistic life coach and intuitive guide, which seems to be doing well given the elite pricing Nell had seen when she’d stalked the website yesterday.
This is all in contrast to what Nell suspects is the Quincy view of her life, as ingrained as it is retro: a spinster with no kids, a sucking black hole of a career, and a wastrel father in Italy.
“But I never liked him. No one did.” And this is classic Pansy, thinks Nell, nodding her head at the predictability, but looking like she agrees. Pansy’s digs are not traditionally the type of thing you can call her out on without looking crazy or defending an untenable position. Paranoia hits Nell in the chest at the thought of a Quincy cabal discussing the wretchedness of Paul, of her life, only now letting their opinions be known. It’s one thing to suspect, quite another to confirm.
The shimmering glamour-spell of the Quincys is fading, as it does when she’s around them long enough, reminding her that her mother did know best and a wide berth is required. She cracks her gum in response to Pansy.
“I’ve got a new chanting group for healing you might like,” Pansy continues. “You should try it while you’re here.”
Louis is packing up his much slimmer document case. Paper is strewn around the room as if he’s detonated a bomb. Nell tries to catch his eye as he moves toward the door, but he won’t look at her. She has questions, and she wants to ask them away from Pansy. She gives up any pretense of disinterest and follows him to the front hall, ditching her gum in the wrapper and stashing it in her empty glass.
“You don’t know where this thing is?” she asks his retreating back.
He turns and holds up his hands, as if to say “Search me.”
Nell doesn’t want an enemy, so she won’t challenge his handling of the inventory. “Did she have any other messages for me? As executor, maybe?”
His forehead furrows and lines crease the corners of his intelligent eyes, drawing them down and giving him a competent look, as if he can handle anything thrown his way. She suddenly wonders what he thinks of this whole business, if he finds them all ridiculous. “She was sure of what she was doing, if that’s what you’re asking.” He places both of his bags at his feet and widens his stance, bracing for an inquisition.
“I’m glad she knew what she was doing. I have no clue.”
“She didn’t really confide in me,” he says. “I mean, beyond the professional.” Nell doesn’t doubt that. Loulou confided in few people. “But you being a lawyer certainly had something to do with her choice of executor. She did mention that a few times.”
“Loulou was a Libra,” Pansy says, coming up behind them, and not even pretending she didn’t overhear. “The scales, you know.” She holds her hands up with an imaginary set of weights. “They have an acute sense of fairness.” She addresses Louis as if Nell isn’t there. “As they define it, of course.” With that, she walks out to retrieve something from her car.
“She was kind of an outcast, my mom.” Nell tries to feel normal as the intricate gears of her family are revealed to him. But she shouldn’t feel uncomfortable. In his role as estate attorney, Louis’s already had an eyeful.
“From what I can tell, your mother was very much on Loulou’s mind,” Louis says generously.
“Are you staying?” Pansy asks, coming back from the car with a saddle leather tote. When Nell doesn’t answer, she says, “Brian’s out of town and I’ve scheduled sleepovers for the boys. You really should, you know.” She breezes past as if she is Lady Bountiful distributing largesse.
After Pansy passes them, Louis trains his blue eyes on Nell, so light they’re almost gray. “Yeah,” he says, not unkindly. “Shouldn’t say it. But even the little exposure I’ve had to your family, I’ve gotta say—I’m glad I’m not you right now.” And with that, he hefts his bags and leaves.
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The Necklace
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Acknowledgments
The peerless Edith Wharton, who would be appalled at the thought of Lily Bart in Cleveland, must be acknowledged and thanked. Her books provide me continual inspiration and an ideal to strive toward.
Gratitude and appreciation go to my stellar agent, Elizabeth Kaplan, for her belief, her advocacy, and her fine reading. Thank you.
I’ve been blessed by the charming Trish Todd’s energy, enthusiasm, and keen eye. She and her team made this book better than it was. Thank you.
Humble thanks and love to Irina Reyn, who inspired this book with her own and then valiantly read multiple drafts and offered insights that made everything stronger and clearer. Thank you, friend.
Love and thanks to Sheila Kohler for her continual belief in my work, for her years of encouragement, for letting me know when it’s done, and for providing an example of how to be a woman of letters. Thank you.
I thank the following people for providing support, love, champagne, and snacks: Jen Brian, Annie Fehrenbacher, Matt Fehrenbacher, Thomas Frontini, Kristyl Fuller, Laura Gowen, Nicole Lincoln, Halley Moore, Heather Moore, Erin Mulvaney, Joyce Quayle, Sara Schiavoni Rezaee, the women of the dinner club, the BBR ladies, and the members of the MGBC book club.
I thank my parents and my families, Fehrenbachers, Bocks, and McMillans all.
Gratitude and love in abundance to Flora and Mac, who bring meaning to each day.
And I thank Sandy—husband, love, muse, and patron—who encourages me to be unbound and think big. For that and so much more I am grateful. Thank you.
Gilded Age
Claire McMillan
Reading Group Guide
Introduction
Cleveland, like many rust belt cities at the dawn of the twentieth century, was an industrial juggernaut fueled by coal, steel, and shipping on the Great Lakes. The wealth from this commerce set up a society of leading civic families. Generations later, these original family names are still Cleveland’s elite, bonded together through an unspoken code of behavior and a web of interwoven relationships. When failed iconoclast Ellie Hart returns to her hometown after divorce and scandal, she challenges this cosseted group’s priorities, morals, and expectations. In this modern retelling of Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth, feminism, friendship, and the unwritten laws of society are braided together and showcased in this beautifully descriptive, inquisitive novel about a woman trying to change her fate.
Topics & Questions for Discussion
1. In parts of this novel, there is first-person narration from an unnamed woman: a wife, friend, and mother-to-be. In other parts there is a third-person narrator. Did you prefer one style of narration to the other? Did you have any questions about the narrator that were left unanswered?
2. Do you like and trust the narrator of the novel? Is she always honest with herself and others? What do you think motivates her?
3. How much of an impact do the judgments and actions of the narrator have on how you feel about the people and events she describes? Does she like her friends?
4. Is Ellie a feminist? What are her views on marriage and being a wife? Do they sync with her actions? Did you relate to any of her sentiments?
5. Do you think every social group, every society, has “victims” and “victors”? Did society hurt Ellie, or did she hurt herself?
6. Ellie says to Selden, “Passion is fine . . . What I really want is freedom.” Is she bein
g genuine when she says this? Does she want freedom consistently through the novel? If you could give Ellie one piece of advice, what would it be?
7. What mistakes does Ellie make? Do you feel sympathetic to her situation? How does her social circle judge her?
8. Why does Ellie resist Randall Leforte’s advances and reject his proposal? Why does she find him so cringe-worthy, when in fact he is both handsome and wealthy?
9. When Selden binds Ellie’s wrist with her ribbon, and she wears it, what does it mean to him? To her? Are they bound together through anything more than sexual attraction?
10. The narrator says, when chiding herself for not calling Ellie to check in, “Funny that with a friend that old I’d need to gin myself up to call her.” What does it say about their friendship? Have you ever felt that way about a friend?
11. Do you think that the narrator’s friendship with Ellie would have persevered if Ellie hadn’t betrayed her trust?
12. What do you think could have saved Ellie?
13. If you’ve read Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth, how does this modernized version compare?
14. Consider the title, Gilded Age, now that you’ve finished the novel. Has the meaning changed in any way?
Enhance Your Book Club
1. A scene in the book describes a benefit at the Cleveland Museum of Art where select members dress up and pose as famous pieces of art. What pieces of art would you and the other members of your book club best embody? Discuss with your group.
2. Read aloud the first chapter from Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth at your book club. Compare and contrast Claire McMillan’s updated version in chapter two of Gilded Age.
A Conversation with Claire McMillan
What initially drew you to Edith Wharton’s novel The House of Mirth and inspired you to update this classic?
Gilded Age Page 26
