Polly didn’t even pick up on the weirdness. “Well I just hope that they used extra virgin olive oil on their skin. Because there will be some ladies licking it off by the end of the evening.”
What era are we in? thought Julia. She glanced back at the models, who were literally doing a better job at standing still and averting their eyes than the guards at Buckingham Palace. “How did Lell conceive of the idea?”
“It was Marcus. He booked every black male model in the city. The top guys are all here. So chic.”
“Who’s Marcus?”
“Marcus Harrington? He’s the party planner, you know, all the biggest events in the world. He’s from Norway. He won’t talk to you for like less than half a mill. I think he’s dated like half of these models.”
“Wow.”
“Oh, there’s the birthday boy!” said Polly, steering Julia toward Will.
Julia recognized him, too. He was very handsome, like a movie star, and he clearly knew it. She watched how he tilted his head back when he laughed at something his friend said, flashing his perfect white teeth. He was all ease and effortlessness, and totally relaxed in his role as man of the hour. In fact, Julia would bet that he liked to be the center of attention.
“Happy Birthday, Willoughby!” shouted Polly, leaning in to kiss him.
“Thanks, Poll,” said Will, returning the kiss. He then turned to look at the woman accompanying Polly and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the girl from the wedding, the one standing in the corner who had fixed Lell’s dress.
“Will, have you met your wife’s deputy–slash–new best friend yet?” Polly asked, then added, “Muse is probably a better word.”
Will stared straight at Julia. She was gorgeous, with buttery blond hair and crystal blue eyes. He was riveted. “No, I haven’t,” he barely managed, and stuck out his hand to shake hers. “Willoughby Banks.”
Although Julia wanted to remain cool, she blushed when she reached for his hand. “Julia Pearce.”
Just as Julia and Will were clasping each other’s hands, a waiter carrying a large tray tripped and knocked into Julia, pushing her straight into Will. Luckily, the very reflexes that made Will an ace on the squash court assisted him here, so he was able to adeptly catch Julia in his arms and break her fall without so much as disturbing her dress or coif.
After the waiter profusely apologized, Will kept Julia in his arms a little longer.
“That waiter should watch himself!” snapped Polly.
“Are you okay?” asked Will, concerned.
“Totally,” said Julia, straightening up. “Just a little embarrassed.” Mortified, more like it. She smoothed her gown and pushed a piece of loose hair behind her ear.
“Don’t be. I adore catching damsels in distress.”
“Oh, well, um, I don’t adore being a damsel in distress. But thank you. You saved me from splattering all over the dance floor. And with this jungle theme going on, it might have been hours before they found me in the bush.”
Will laughed. “Don’t worry. I’d notice if you went missing.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Julia, smiling at Will.
And although it was just a flash—a flicker really, Polly saw it too. Something in Will and Julia’s eyes betrayed them. Something you can’t fight. Chemistry.
“Well, Will, you’ll be seeing a lot of Julia from now on. We simply can’t get enough of her,” said Polly, egging them on.
“Really? That’s great,” said Will.
“She’s the next big thing, already has millions of suitors lining up.”
Despite being a married man, Will felt a pang of jealousy, and, almost, competitiveness. Who was this girl? How come I didn’t know about her earlier?
“Oh, please,” said Julia, embarrassed.
“It’s true. Tongues hang when you pass. I mean, hellooo saliva carpet? Don’t you agree, Will?” asked Polly. She knew Willoughby Banks well, and one thing she knew was that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks; he loved the ladies. Even when he was supposedly with someone, his head always turned for any beauty waltzing by. Until one day that looker was Lell and then gal-pal went the way of the woolly mammoth.
“If Polly says it’s true, then it’s true,” he said, his eyes subtly studying Julia’s body.
Julia didn’t know how to respond. It was weird, but she was fully in the middle of an accidental flirt-fest with her boss’s husband.
Susan and Dennis Wong approached and pulled a reluctant Will away for salutations. Polly and Julia stood in silence for a moment. Polly could tell that Julia had that flushed look that a girl gets when she’s been making out in the backseat of a car with a guy sporting two-day-old Don Johnson growth. Red and prickly, and guilty. Somehow guilty. Polly watched with glee as Will, now with his back to them, concentrated hard on what the Wongs were saying. But she could already tell that he was mentally curled up naked with Julia. How delicious! Miss Perfect Lell’s husband, not two weeks off his honeymoon, already has the hots for someone else. Here was the winter scandal that Polly had been looking for.
chapter 15
“Shut up. No. You lie.”
Lewis and Douglas were agog.
“She booked every black model in New York City from Ford to be her torchières? I am gagging.” Douglas was horrified. “That is vile.”
“What possessed her to do such a thing? I always think of Lell Pelham as the pinnacle of taste,” added Lewis, confused. “I mean, she’s on the Vanity Fair best-dressed list again.”
“Oh please. She’s an heiress! She can afford to dress impeccably. Plus, she borrows. The blackamoors must have been a Marcus Harrington lightbulb,” said Douglas.
“They were,” confirmed Julia in her boss’s defense. “He was friends with some of them, which makes it even weirder. Anyway, you guys, I have to go, late for work!” Julia gathered her coat as the guys wrapped up breakfast.
“Yeah, the chick’s been getting to work at like seven-thirty these days!”
“Well I have a big day—lunch avec the New York Times—I have to get prepared.”
“Go girl, have fun,” said Lewis, kissing her forehead.
“See you later, cutie,” added Douglas as she closed the door.
She was running through the details of Lell’s party over and over in her head. She had never seen anything like it. But besides all the opulence, there was something nagging at her. Something that excited her. And against everything in her bones, she knew what it was. There had been weird energy she experienced with Will. She couldn’t deny it, and she could tell Polly sensed it as well. And she was totally flattered, against her better judgment. It was probably the absence of someone else alluring. But his gaze throughout the course of the night—a sideways glance during dinner, or the way he seemed constantly aware of her coordinates on the dance floor, or the way he said good night with a look that lingered a nanosecond too long—penetrated her.
She felt herself walking faster and faster down the street. Having a flirtation in one’s life adds a spring to the step, even if it’s a forbidden fruit you know you’ll never sample. The jolt of a stolen smile, the flickering buzz that makes you feel like a woman. Not in the cheesy Shania Twain way, but in the fierce, sexy, pheromones-blazing way. Julia would never go for another gal’s husband. Ever. She was way too morally centered and detested predatory girls who pounced on taken guys—there were enough dudes to go around after all, and she could never stomach being a home wrecker. Plus, she was smart and knew damn well that what goes around comes around—if they are capable of flirting with you, then they’d do it with someone else later when you’re the one holding their hand. But she decided to allow her head to go wild just for this morning. That’s all, and then she’d forget it, she promised herself.
On her subway ride she remembered how Doug said some guys make more money in two minutes at the altar than in fifty years at the office—could Will really have married for the money? Maybe the limelight? Who knew?
His bride,
Lell, was at the office when Julia arrived, and the two gathered the new collection for Cathy Horyn, who was coming to scope out the new goods for a profile on the jewelry house. This time, Julia took Lell at her word, and decided not to be a meek cow.
“What do you think of this bracelet?” asked Lell.
“Something my grandmother would wear,” said Julia.
Lell paused, shocked at first. Julia could tell Lell had liked it and feared that it was based on her designs. But what could she do? Lell told her to give her opinions. Had she gone to far? Finally Lell broke the ice.
“You’re right. It is a little grandmotherish.”
“No offense.”
“None taken. It’s business. What about this one?”
“Rockin’ robin. Seriously cool and totally perfect for lunch at La Goulue or Chateau Marmont.”
“Good.”
They worked their way through the entire collection with Julia giving her opinions and Lell discarding her rejects. Julia had never had more fun at work.
At noon, the veteran reporter entered and Julia and Lell walked her through the pieces. Following Lell’s lead, Julia explained in expert detail why the chosen pieces were important and how successful they would be, and she saw that both Lell and Cathy were impressed.
At lunch at the Four Seasons afterward, Julia excused herself to hit the ladies’ room.
“She’s adorable,” said Ms. Horyn. “Is she new?”
“Yes. She’s terrific. We’re quite pleased.”
“Now, Pearce, is that . . . the one and only glassblowers in Vermont?”
“The heiress, yes. And she’s so natural about it. Never brings it up.”
“Hmmm . . . where has she been hiding?”
“Downtown. Oh, here she comes!”
“Hey, Julia, do you want to come play bridge with Nina Griscom tonight?” asked Lell. “We’re doing a last-minute thing. I’m thinking we should start a club.”
“Oh, um . . . well I actually volunteer today. After work, of course, just at this after-school program.”
“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” said Cathy.
“Really,” said Lell, who then remained silent. Julia was unsure if the really was a bad or good really.
Just then, the check was delivered and Lell slapped down the corporate platinum card without even looking at the grand total.
When the girls returned to Pelham’s, Lell’s window-facing desk chair had a familiar mop of brown hair atop the back.
“There you are,” said Willoughby, who saw the pair approaching in the mirror. “I decided to drop by.”
His gaze struck Julia, who chose to look away rather than wither. Willoughby looked at Lell with a big smile, then subtly scoped Julia out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Julia.”
“Hi,” said Julia, shyly.
“Oh, sweetie, hi. What a treat,” Lell said, sounding only half psyched for the midday rendezvous.
“Hey, babe. I decided to stop by ’cause I just had lunch with Binny Jones and he gave me the info on the ski château in Gstaad. I want to get on that, babe, before it’s all booked up.”
“Right. I forgot you wanted to go skiing.”
“The whole gang’s going. But Binny said the house he rented was the best and we better act fast.”
“I can’t do it right now,” said Lell with irritation. Her face looked tight and annoyed, but as soon as she remembered Julia was standing right next to her she changed her tone. “But darling, later. Right now I’m heading back out, I’m swamped.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize—”
“I have a fitting for Balmain couture this afternoon. I absolutely need something to wear for the FAF event next week—”
“Which one’s that again?” he looked at Julia with a bold smile. “I can’t keep all these things straight.”
“Fight Anal Fissures.”
“Right—”
Julia broke a smile, shared with Will, while Lell, dead serious, wore on. “Mr. de la Renta is on his way to the Lowell so I really should go right now. Julia can hang out with you—”
With that, Lell gathered her things and walked to the door.
“Oh, and Will, I invited Julia to Polly’s in Southampton.”
“We’re going to Polly’s?”
“Yes, in two weeks.”
“What for?”
“To gather, regroup.”
“Right. Our Big Chill get-together.”
“Minus the dead body,” said Julia with a grin.
“Yeah, let’s hope,” added Will.
Lell didn’t get it. “See you later.” Lell disappeared in a flurry of shahtoosh and tweed, and left in the debris of her glorious exit was her husband. And the woman he could not stop thinking about.
“Should be a fun weekend,” Will said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I’m so psyched to be included. Thank you so much.”
“Me? Naw, it’s the Mecoxes’ place. Lell and Poll have been doing it for years. It’s pretty mellow and cozy this time of year.”
“Oh, right. Must be nice.” Julia wasn’t exactly a Long Island fan, but when the boss asks . . .
“I can’t stand the Hamptons myself. I prefer the city. I get a little—”
“Stir crazy?” Julia ventured.
“You know the feeling?” he said, unseaming her with his now openly penetrating gaze.
“When you grow up on a vineyard surrounded by miles of grapes, you definitely get the twitch.” Just thinking back on the endless afternoons of being housebound made her shudder. From her first trip to New York at age ten, she remembered looking out the rear window of the cab, watching the dizzying collage of lights and people and glass buildings. And now that she lived in the pulsing heart of the action, there was no going back—even on the worst days, she preferred chaos to crickets. “That country mouse thing was so yawn. I guess I’m a city rat now,” she laughed.
“Girl after my own heart. Lell digs the country—well, not the real country, as in, dirt on your boots, but the country house country. But I hate it. I need the motion and noise, I guess.”
“It’s weird, when I moved here, I couldn’t sleep at first—the sirens, the voices from my walk-up, the haze of all the electricity . . .” she trailed off as he nodded.
“But now you can’t live without it.”
“Right! And when I go home—”
“The crickets keep you up.”
“Yes.”
“Noisy little fuckers. Worse than fire trucks.”
“Yup.”
Their shared stare filled the silence so that the air was thick with the wattage of their locked eyes.
Julia caught herself abruptly. What the hell was she doing? She could have kept paddling off into the water of his sloshing blue eyes, but she had to jump ship before the undertow caught her. It was time to get out before she was dragged out beyond her control. Fast.
“Well, I should be headed back to work, it was great seeing you.”
Now frazzled, she gathered her things to go back to her office, but even as her face was down as she reached for her handbag, the slight but blooming blush on her cheeks did not elude Will. “See you,” was all she could offer as she walked through the door.
Will turned back to the vista of Central Park spread out before him. His pulse quickened as he reexamined the trees and rooftops in front of him. The surge he felt after moments with Julia made the taxicabs look yellower. The oxidized roofs looked greener. And the fact that Julia Pearce would be with him for a whole weekend made his blood feel redder than ever.
chapter 16
It was a particularly packed lunch hour at the perpetually bustling La Goulue on Madison. Crossed legs with Jimmy Choo knee-high boots lined the sidewalk in outdoor chairs on the unusually warm winter day, as ladies inhaled the intermingled scents of Chanel and the exhaust from the M4 bus. The air was hot; the groundhog hadn’t seen his shadow weeks earlier, and on this sun-kissed day it seemed spring had definitely sprung. Poll
y was the first one there, dabbing dew from her brow and anxiously looking at her Cartier watch wondering where everyone was. This was why she usually chose to be late; she detested waiting alone. Plus she had no magazine to whip out, no voice mails to listen to (the Verizon box was empty, she’d checked moments ago). She just had to sit alone and sip her water with lemon wedge. Polly had the kind of face, though pretty, that always looked like she had just sucked on a lemon wedge. Her sour stance scared many from the second they met her.
“So sorry I’m late, Poll!” Hope rushed over nervously, chucking her mom-ish giant bag that could fit two diaper sizes, A+D ointment, squeaky toys, and sippy cups, along with her sunglasses, keys, cell, and wallet. “I have been so crazed. Ugh, trying to get everything settled for the weekend. I just hate leaving the boys.”
“Well you have to do it. Henny and I take vacations all the time. It’s very important.”
“I know, I know. It’s just . . . I miss them so much! I almost feel like I can’t have fun without them.”
Polly didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know what that felt like. While she loved Quint, she didn’t have the connection Hope had with her sons. There wasn’t that pull.
“Ah, finally,” Polly said, looking over her friend.
Lell, outfitted to perfection in a Michael Kors coffee-suede belted shirtdress, Malo cashmere cardigan, Louboutin heels, and custom-tinted $500 sunglasses from Robert Marc, sat down next to Hope. Behind her was Julia, who smiled to greet the girls and followed Lell in putting her handbag on the chair and sunglasses on her head.
“Hi, how are you guys?” Julia asked.
“Just grand,” Polly answered, studying her.
“Bonjour, Gustave. Une grande bouteille d’Evian et de Badoit, s’il vous plaît,” Lell ordered in a perfect French accent.
“Tout de suite, Mademoiselle Pelham.”
Polly hated that her friend was constantly treated with kid gloves. Whenever they lunched together Polly noticed the extra dessert, compliments of the chef, or the well-dressed women who whispered and subtly pointed Lell out to one another. She was A list. Decorators, designers, PR flacks, everyone was practically falling over themselves to stop by and say hello, scope her threads, or even just catch a glimpse of her.
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