“He played it quite beautifully, actually.”
“I’m sure he did. But just once I wish someone would bust out Schoenberg or John Cage when they sit down at a piano. There’s nothing more trite than playing the Goldberg Variations, except perhaps ‘Für Elise.’?”
Not wishing to challenge him, Lucie tried to change the topic. As the waiters began ladling the steaming zuppa di pesce into her bowl, she held up her spoon. “I think this is the heaviest spoon I’ve ever come across.”
“Ah yes, the famous De Vecchi silver. Forged in Firenze in the seventeenth century, I believe. They had it flown in from the family vaults yesterday.”
Admiring the immense silver candelabra at the center of the table, Lucie said, “It’s all so grand, I’m not sure how the wedding banquet tomorrow is going to top this!”
“Well, since the Chius are picking up the bill for the entire wedding week, the De Vecchis obviously had to do something impressive for tonight. They couldn’t let those gauche Asians steal their thunder, could they?”
Lucie said nothing but thought that Isabel was anything but gauche.
Mordecai mistook Lucie’s silence for anger and began backpedaling furiously. “I do hope you weren’t offended by what I just said. I didn’t mean anything by it. I love the Asians! Some of my dearest friends are Asians, like the Chius and the Sultanah of Penang.”
“No worries, I wasn’t offended at all.” Lucie smiled, amused that he was flustered.
“I’m so relieved. I just think it’s fascinating to witness all this—a Chinese girl of immense fortune marrying into one of the oldest families in Europe, splashing her money around on one of the most decadent weddings the world has ever seen. It’s like Henry James all over again, avec le Chinois. I can see all the old Roman and Neapolitan families sneering in the corners. But there’s a new world order in place, and Old Europa better get used to it. I forget you’re partly Chinese, you see. I’m actually quite color blind—I don’t ever think of people in terms of their skin tone. I think of you as a New Yorker.”
Lucie nodded diffidently. Just when she thought Mordecai could do no worse, he piped up again. “Tell me, dear, what do you consider yourself?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“When you look in the mirror, do you feel more Asian or more Caucasian?”
“Well, I’m equal parts both…”
“But do you lean toward a particular side? It’s rather marvelous that you could pass for either.”
Lucie gritted her teeth, finally angry. “You know, I’ve never tried to pass for anything. I feel like I’m just me.”
“Very well put, young lady. Very well put. Now, tell me, are you out?”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to the cotillion and not the closet?”
“Har har! Yes, indeed.”
“I decided not to take part in all that debutante stuff, although my grandmother wanted me to.”
“This would be your Churchill grandmother? Tell me, how exactly are you all related to the English Churchills?”
Lucie reached for the crystal goblet in front of her. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but if she had to endure this inquisition for another three courses, she might as well get completely shitfaced. She gulped down the entire glass of wine, and the rest of the evening soon blurred at the edges. She was feeling super chill for a while, and then events started happening as though everything was in fast-forward, going so fast until there was nothing but flashes of moments…
…tasting an incredibly tender rack of lamb that, in the words of Baron von Ephrussí, went “improbably well with the Musigny.”*2
…trying to use Google Translate to converse with the golden-haired Italian youth seated to her left. His name was Sandro, and he was Dolfi’s seventeen-year-old cousin from Como. He liked drum and bass. And Reese Witherspoon.
…watching a dish of delicious-looking zabaglione with Venetian white peaches being placed in front of her, but not recalling if she actually ate it.
…feeling a hand on her shoulder and Isabel saying to her, “Let’s ditch this joint!”
…taking a tender to an immense, futuristic yacht moored just off Marina Piccola, where Isabel’s girlfriends had arranged the “Couture Costume Bachelorette Party.”
…putting on a gold Jean Paul Gaultier bustier top, Azzedine Alaïa cheetah-print leggings, and electric-blue eye shadow.
…gobbling down four red velvet cupcakes in a row before realizing that they were infused with cannabis.
…going to the karaoke lounge and the girls all wanting to sing 1980s hits.