Sex and Vanity

“My mother is Chinese.”

“How nice. My husband, Emerson, was hapa too—his grandfather was Australian. That makes George one-eighth Aussie, although he looks Chinese, don’t you think? But that’s why he’s so handsome. He’s like Bruce Lee. You know Bruce Lee’s mother was half German?”*3

“I didn’t, actually,” Lucie replied politely, although her mind was reeling. Did Mrs. Zao actually just say that her son was handsome because he was one-eighth Aussie?

“I think you and George have a lot in common. You two should be friends.”

Lucie could feel her jaw tighten in annoyance. What was this woman talking about? She had nothing in common with her son.

“You could be a good influence on George. He’s too serious for his age. He worries too much.”

“What does he worry about?” Lucie asked, before regretting it instantly. Why did she ask a question when she could have just made a quick exit?

“Everything! The icebergs melting, world poverty, penguins, you name it. I don’t know why, but this son of mine feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ever since his father died four years ago, he feels like he’s responsible for me. But I tell him, ‘Don’t worry about me! Go out and have fun!’ When I was his age, I was going dancing every night. My goodness, the times I had at Disco Disco or the Club 97 in Lan Kwai Fong!”

“Well, I do think our generation feels more burdened than yours. I mean, climate change, poverty, and penguins are all real concerns.”

“Yes, but there needs to be balance. You know, the middle way. Look, I’m not asking you to be his girlfriend or anything. But maybe you could…you know…be nice to him.”

Lucie felt too awkward to say anything, but it didn’t matter because Rosemary wouldn’t stop talking.

“You know, I had to drag George to this wedding. He didn’t want to come. He said he didn’t want to witness a massive waste of money.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much your son is going to like me, Mrs. Zao. You see, I don’t think this wedding is going to be a massive waste at all. Isabel is my dear friend, and she does everything with intention and heart. I think it’s all going to be wonderful!” Lucie turned abruptly and headed quickly up the stairs. She was spilling champagne along the way and knew she was behaving rudely, but she didn’t care. She was beginning to think that Charlotte had been right all along, and she was regretting the decision to accept the Zaos’ rooms. Rosemary’s words kept ringing in her ears. Maybe you could…you know…be nice to him. What the hell did she mean by that?

*1 Gramercy Park is not the real downtown, but for Charlotte downtown meant going only as far south as Buvette on Grove Street or occasionally to Tribeca back when Chanterelle was still around.

*2 Hawaiian for “half,” the word has come to mean a person of mixed Asian and other racial heritage. These days, “hapa” has generally become the most accepted word to use among hapas.

*3 Actually, she’s wrong about Bruce Lee’s mother being half German, but it was an oft-repeated myth. Bruce’s mother, Grace Ho Oi-yee, stated that her father was Chinese and her mother was English, and when Bruce himself was once asked if he thought of himself as Chinese or North American, he replied, “I think of myself as a human being, because under the sky, we are but one family, it just so happens that we look different.”

V

Da Luigi Beach Club

CAPRI, ITALY

“Valentino used to live in that villa. This is the street where all the oldest, most historic houses are,” Isabel said, pointing up the hill as she strolled with Lucie along Via Tragara. One side of the street consisted of high stone walls, imposing hedges, and ornate gates, giving only tantalizing glimpses into the worlds hidden beyond them. The other side had lower walls where one could admire the beautiful gardens and terraces of villas that looked out to the sea.

“This is my favorite street so far. I thought Via Camerelle was lovely, but then it just keeps getting more beautiful the farther along you go, doesn’t it?” Lucie remarked, trailing her fingers over the hibiscus bushes along the wall.

“That’s the thing about this island—it reveals its secrets slowly. I’ve been here probably half a dozen times and I still feel like I’m discovering a whole different island every time I come,” Isabel said.

“I’m so glad you texted me this morning,” Lucie said as she strolled happily along the sun-dappled lane with her friend, breathing in the scent of orange blossom that seemed to follow them everywhere.

“Of course! I need to have some alone time with you, before the onslaught!” The two of them had met on the terrace of the Grand Hotel Quisisana and caught up over a breakfast of croissants, truffled scrambled eggs, and cappuccinos, and now they were heading to the beach club to meet up with some of Isabel’s friends.

“It’s such a treat to have this time with you, right before your wedding. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” Lucie inquired.

“Everything’s being taken care of. Gillian’s managing an army of staffers precisely so I don’t have to stress out and can actually enjoy my own wedding. But you are very nice to offer,” Isabel replied, thinking for the hundredth time how well brought up Lucie was. She’d always had a soft spot for Lucie and felt very protective over her ever since she babysat her during the time of Lucie’s father’s death. Lucie had been only eight years old, but she was so stoic through it all, an absolute rock for her devastated mother. She didn’t cry once at the memorial service and brought the standing-room-only crowd at the church to tears when she went up to the altar and gave an a cappella rendition of Sting’s “Fields of Gold.”

Shaking off the memory of those days, Isabel continued. “You know, Dolfi and I thought that fewer people would come if we had a destination wedding, and we could do something very intimate. But we made the mistake of picking Capri. Everybody wanted to come!”

“How many guests are you having?”

“The head count as of yesterday was four hundred and eight.”

“Four hundred and eight!” Lucie squealed.