“So how do you know these people?” said Oscar, plopping down on the ottoman.
Her plans for tête-à-tête with her secret flirt foiled, Julia tried not to be cross with her unwitting foiler. “Oh, I work for Lell, and she introduced me to everyone.”
“Oh, right. Right.”
He stared at Julia, as if unsure of what to say next.
“How do you know them?” she asked in response.
“Um, Henny’s mom is my godmother. We’re old family friends. We call each other cousins, but we’re not really related.”
“That’s neat. Did you grow up together?”
“Yeah, but more recently I lived in Northern California for years.”
“No way, I’m from California,” said Julia, excited.
“Yes, you are,” said Will, bursting into the conversation. He came and sat on the arm of Julia’s chair. “But you made the right decision and moved east.”
Oscar was annoyed. He’d met Will several times through the years and he’d always seemed like such an idiot to him. But, for some reason, the girls loved him. His act was so transparent to Oscar. He was such a player, and he just lucked out and hit his jackpot with Lell Pelham. He was sure she would one day regret it. Irritated by the interruption, Oscar got up abruptly and walked back over to the bar to get another drink. Will raised his eyebrows at Julia as if to say “What’s with him?” and Julia smiled.
Polly finally had to get up herself and go check on the cheese and crackers (that fucking Rosario!) but not before surveying the room. She was thrilled. In one corner sat Lell and Alastair, talking about nothing important but sinking deeper and deeper into each other’s eyes; it was just like old times. It helped that Polly had whispered to Alastair that Lell was miserable in her marriage. She wasn’t sure that was true, but she had been miserable her first year of marriage, so why shouldn’t Lell be? Alastair, the international womanizer, made a living out of defibrillating pretty young brides into hopeless romantics who harbored pulse-pounding crushes on him. Rich brides, that is, so he was more than game for the challenge. His trick: tapping into their fears that their marriages had flatlined their desirability to other men. And in another corner Julia and Will were chatting away. She had the vibe that Julia had Middle America morals. She might be tough to seduce, but Polly didn’t doubt Will’s metal-melding magnetism. This was fun, thought Polly. And after a few more drinks at dinner, who knew what would happen on this tempestuous night in the country?
chapter 20
Hope felt hopelessly adrift. After dinner, as most of the houseguests went to play Scrabble in the Mecoxes’ parlor, Charlie excused himself, saying that he felt tired after a long week of work and adding that, aside from Oscar Curtis, he was probably the only one there who really busted his ass during the week. Hope understood but was disappointed. He was right, of course, but she wished he would stay up and hang out for at least a little while. He couldn’t. With her husband tucked off to bed, her kids with their nanny in the city for the first time in ages, Hope found herself with the now double-edged luxury of something she so often desired: time alone. And silence.
In the city, there was always someone around her or something making noise: the whir of the fax machine spitting out papers for Charlie, the piercing ring of the phone that sounded not unlike an Amazonian endangered bird (she had to change that darn ring), or the squeak of one of her sons’ toys she’d step on around the house. Yet here she was, feeling somehow unnerved with only the mollifying mix of crashing waves and flickering fire. What was her issue?
She decided to bundle up and hit the beach with her thoughts. She snuck out the back of the kitchen and hopped down the steps to watch the black beating ocean stir up its waves and cough them out onto the shore. She’d have a nice, quiet walk. Thank goodness she was among friends and could disappear, instead of at her bitchy sister-in-law’s house on Lily Pond Lane where every second was scheduled, army-style. She always felt beholden to Charlie’s sister Diana—who’d married a Rockenwagner—and meandered through their huge halls like she needed a visa to be there. They always lorded their wealth over Charlie, which added even more pressure than he already felt, and Hope hated being their “guest” and not feeling free.
Here at Polly and Henny’s she was at least able to do what she wanted without straying from some fixed grid of events. Henny was sort of a schmuck, though. Hope couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that bothered her, but there was something assaholic about how he was quizzing Charlie about work at dinner. Like he was tabulating his salary or something. Sorry, we’re not all trust-funded. Hope guiltily exhaled the mean thoughts, calming herself with the crashing waves. Her mind had been like a dry sandy tide, carrying her feet farther away until before she knew it, the mansion she’d strayed from was only an orange glow in the distance over her shoulder and she turned to make her way back.
Charlie sat up when Hope walked in. Though she’d tried to tiptoe, the energy she exuded was vibrant enough to ring louder than a siren for a five-alarm fire.
“What’s going on?” he asked, alarmed.
“Holy moly,” she said, crawling into bed in her sweats with her spouse. “Charlie, you’re gonna die,” she said in an urgent whisper.
“Why?” he said with curiosity. “Hope, you are freezing!” He ran his arms quickly over her to warm her up.
“Never mind that, I’m wigging out.”
“What happened?”
“Okay. I just went on a walk,” she relayed breathlessly.
“Alone?” asked Charlie, concerned.
“Yes, I didn’t expect to go far, but then I just kept walking and walking.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Come on, we’re in Southampton, for God’s sake. Anyway, as I was walking back, I saw this pair, like in silhouette. Making out.”
“Uh-oh,” groaned Charlie.
“Wait. So I go ‘Hey! Who is that?’ and they quickly break the liplock.”
Charlie put his head back on the pillow. “Okay, I can’t wait to hear what happened next,” he said, teasing.
“And so I walk up until the tiny sliver of moonlight makes them visible and it was Lell and Alastair!”
“No way,” said Charlie with disbelief.
“I swear. It was Lell and Alastair.”
“What a slut. She’s married, for chrissakes.”
“She always had a thing for Alastair.”
“Really? I don’t see them together at all.”
“What are you talking about? They used to hook up on and off for years, and every time she had a breakup, they’d reunite.”
“But she didn’t have a breakup, she got married. Are you sure they were making out?”
“Full-on tonsil hockey.”
“But it was dark.”
“I know what I saw.”
“Wow,” said Charlie, rubbing his eyes.
“They played mellow when they saw me, but I clearly interrupted something. And then I said hi, and, just isn’t the ocean pretty, blah blah blah, and we walked back. It was so awkward.”
“Where was Will?”
“I don’t know. They said everyone else was still playing Scrabble.”
“Is Lell crazy? Why the hell would she cheat on Will?” asked Charlie. He never really held Lell in high regard.
“Lell is just weird that way. I don’t know . . . but I always had sort of the suspicion that she was never really that into Will. Everyone just sort of said, ‘Oh this is the right guy for you’ and she went for it.”
“But Will is a great guy.”
“He is, but he isn’t her type. He’s nothing like all of her previous boyfriends. She always went for those skinny blond types who look like they’ve been shooting heroin.”
“Then why the hell did she marry him?”
“I think she felt she had no choice. Once her mother met him, he was the anointed one. There was no backing out.”
“That’s stupid. But whatever, I’m exhausted, t
he last thing I care about is what’s going on between Lell and her lovers. Let’s go to bed.”
“I can’t believe you can go to bed when you just heard what I told you! I’m freaking!”
“Then please do an internal freak,” said Charlie, fluffing up his pillow. “I’m beat.”
Charlie put his head back down and closed his eyes. He wasn’t really into gossip. Hope got undressed and ready for bed. She couldn’t believe Lell would have the guts to be cheating on her brand-spanking-new husband so flagrantly. He was a hundred feet away! But that was something that always struck her about Lell, she had sort of a sense of entitlement, as if she was saying to everyone, ‘Why shouldn’t I have my fun? I deserve it.’ The rules somehow didn’t apply to her. If Lell wasn’t happy with Will, Lell was the type to do what she had to do to make herself happy. She’d been raised that way. She was more than a little spoiled. And she also got bored easily, which was never a good combination.
Hope pulled up the comforter and got in bed next to Charlie, who had already fallen back to sleep. She could never cheat, no matter what. That just wasn’t in her mind-set. Although, that said, one side of her was secretly jealous of Lell. Lell was the type who would marry and divorce and have affairs and make it all look so glamorous like Pamela Harriman or Slim Keith. People would write biographies about her and her jet-setty life, anecdotally recalling the men she discarded along the way—dashing Europeans with well-cut suits and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths—and it would all seem so harmless and chic. She was such an icon in the making that the path of destruction that she left in her wake wouldn’t resonate.
Hope thought about what it would be like if she were to cheat. Pathetic. She was hardly old, but somehow having two kids made her feel over the hill. She turned to look at Charlie, who had his back to her. Thank God for him. He was such a cutie. She turned and cuddled him, pulling her knees up and tucking them into his. She drifted off into a quiet slumber.
The other Scrabblers were wrapping up a heated game, rife with tension and placements of blithe (Julia, 14 points), zenith (Oscar, triple word score, 48 points), and whore (Henny, 12 points). Will was draped Adonis-style, feet up, on the nearby couch, reading the Financial Times, staring at Julia’s letters. He gazed at her unabashedly, but she shook off his glance, ensconcing herself in the spelling tasks at hand.
Will faux-read the stocks, but the tiny numbers blurred and danced on the peach paper as he thought of the girl on the floor. As she casually twisted a piece of hair in her fingers deciding what word to make, Will looked at her leg then looked back at his paper, and the Dow Jones wasn’t the only thing that was rising. He wondered what everyone would do if he suddenly got up, hurled the game board across the room, alphabet flying, and made love to Julia right there on the coffee table.
Across the board, Oscar Curtis watched the way Julia bit her lower lip while she was trying to craft her next turn. It was adorable beyond measure. He liked Julia. A lot. At first he had been intimidated by her beauty, but took solace in the fact that he could dismiss her as being as frivolous and superficial as Lell and Polly. He knew the gang she ran with, those bitchy gaggles of pretty, primped girls who just want to appear in party pictures and run with the jet set. But throughout the course of the evening his opinion had changed. He had to admit to himself that his criticism of Julia was unfounded. Everything about her actually seemed uncrafted and genuine, especially compared to the rest of this crowd, which he found so artificial. He was impressed with her knowledge of current events at dinner, and the way she unabashedly shared her opinions on politics. She definitely held her own, and she didn’t seem so bogged down by all the girly stuff. But what was she doing hanging with Lell and Polly? She seemed so above them. She was in danger of being corrupted. He felt protective of her, like he wanted to take her away to a safe place. He wondered what everyone would do if he suddenly spelled out I love you Julia across the whole Scrabble board.
Polly wondered where in Satan’s holy house of hell Lell and Alastair had gone; that was an awfully long trip to the cellar for more Niebaum-Coppola Rubicon.
In a heated turn where Henny was practically bursting blood vessels coming up with his word (which turned out to be young), Julia let out a sneeze, interrupting the silence.
“Bless you!” shouted Oscar and Will in unison.
“Thanks,” she said, wiping her nose. “Oh, Polly, where are the tissues?”
“There’re some in the powder room, through the pantry and the hallway, the third door on your right.”
“I’ll get them,” offered Oscar politely, jumping to his feet.
“No, no, no. Thank you, though,” said Julia, rising to hit the wallpapered labyrinth for some Kleenex.
She found her way down the botanical print–covered hall, blew her nose in the powder room, and exited to her right instead of left, ending up in the sun room. But before she could turn around to go back, she heard a giggle through the window. She looked out and, below her, in full embrace, were Lell and Alastair. Shocked, she quickly stepped back from the window so they couldn’t see the unwitting witness to their smooch. Julia darted back to wrap up her game.
Upon her return, as she plopped back down Indian-style, Will looked her over with a sly smile, which she now chose to return as she felt her temperature rising despite the crisp chilled air. And this time, she let herself enjoy the fever.
chapter 21
This was surreal, thought Julia as she rolled over in bed and lifted up the shade to check out the early-morning sky. She felt like she was in Gosford Park, or more accurately, an episode of Melrose Place. What was up with all the illicit sex or potential illicit sex that was flying in the sea air? One thing Julia knew was that this was not going to end well. The best thing to do was to just try and have a good time, and avoid Will at all costs. There was no reward to be had in joining this crazy circus. She felt like she was on Dynasty. If this was what life was like for the rich, then no thanks.
After showering, Julia made her way down the back stairs to try to sneak in a cup of coffee in the kitchen before having to greet the others. She was pretty sure most would still be snoozing, since it was only seven o’clock, but didn’t want to take her chances. As she approached the kitchen door she heard Rosario chatting away in Spanish and assumed she was talking to her husband. So when she opened the door and saw Oscar sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically relaxed and animated, you could have knocked Julia over with a monogrammed dickey.
As soon as Oscar saw Julia his countenance changed, and his face grew more serious and strained. Rosario noticed the change, and fearing that Julia was another demanding diva like her employer, turned her back to them and quickly made a dash to the flower room for a vase, leaving them in peace.
“Good morning, I didn’t expect to find anyone else awake,” said Julia. She walked over to the coffeepot and poured herself a steaming mug of French roast.
“I can’t sleep late,” said Oscar. “I-I guess it’s just a rhythm, going to work so early and everything.”
“Did I hear you speaking Spanish?” asked Julia, sliding the New York Post over to the side so she could place her steaming mug in front of her. “Are you fluent?”
“I guess. I spent a lot of time in Chile.”
“Really? Doing what?”
“I worked in international banking for a while. Before I got bored and went into the software business.”
“And as I understand it, you did really well. Didn’t you invent something?”
“I . . . yes, I invented a piece of technology that I got the patent for last year. All the wireless carriers were infringing so we sued and . . . It’s—well I’m sure you’d think it was all very geeky.”
“No, no! Geek-chic. You know, the geek shall inherit the earth, right? Polly said you invented something kind of revolutionary.”
“Whatever. It’s boring.”
Oscar looked down at the croissant crumbs on his Villeroy & Boch plate. His anxiety s
eemed to make them dance around. Julia made him completely inarticulate. He knew he came off as nervous, maybe even rude, but he didn’t know how to talk to her. If they had met in other circumstances, maybe, but what the hell was she doing here? The fact they had met here of all places completely unnerved him.
“I heard—” he started, then looked down. “That you volunteer in Harlem.”
“Oh. Yeah,” she said, looking out the window. A pang hit her chest. “I . . . did.”
“Not anymore?”
“Well, Lell wanted me more available for socializing with important Pelham’s clients, there’s a bridge game she particularly wanted me to join so . . .”
“Hmmm.”
Julia looked away. Oscar looked out the window. They sat in silence.
“You know, you’re kind of hard to talk to,” said Julia, smiling.
“You think?”
“Do I rub you the wrong way somehow?”
“You? No.”
“Okay,” said Julia, biting into a sugar-coated brioche. “I thought I’d done something wrong. Something to put you off.”
“No.”
There was an awkward pause, which Oscar finally broke. “I just don’t understand why someone like you is here with all these people.”
“What do you mean?” said Julia, feeling the blood rush to her face. “Is that some sort of class comment?”
“No, no. But . . . I just feel like all the people here are . . . kind of assholes. You don’t seem that way to me.”
“Well, I don’t think they’re assholes.”
“I guess you have to say that. You work for Lell. You have to do what she says. Quit community service, play bridge.”
“I resent that. I’m not here to kiss ass to my boss and her friends. I genuinely like everyone here, they have been totally welcoming of me. And I’m frankly having a good time.”
Wolves in Chic Clothing Page 11
