At that moment, the corgi-Chihuahua decided to bite the heel of the girl next to Lucie, causing her to squeal and let out a loud fart at the same time. A few people burst into giggles, but Lucie bit her lip, feeling embarrassed for the girl, thinking, Oh gosh, what if the people behind thought that it was me who farted? Auden gave the closing blessing as the class finally came to an end, and as Lucie opened her eyes and sat up on her mat, she turned around and glanced at the hippie guy behind her. He was kneeling on the ground, his back to her as he rolled up his yoga mat, and Lucie couldn’t help but notice the taut, muscular perfection of his ass through the thin, shiny fabric of his faded orange workout shorts. Suddenly the guy turned around, their eyes catching at the same moment, and Lucie did a quick inhale. It wasn’t a hippie; it was George. George with long surfer-dude hair. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

“Hey,” he said with what appeared to be a little smirk.

“H-hi,” Lucie stammered. He definitely thinks I’m the one who farted.

“George!” Auden yelled from the front of the room as he came bounding over and gave him a big hug. “So great to see you again! I ran into your mother last week at Nick & Toni’s and she told me you’d come to the lounge one day soon. Lucie, how great is this? It’s a Capri reunion!”

“Um, yeah, great,” Lucie replied, trying to collect herself.

“Can I treat you both to a drink at our Ayurvedic juice bar? It would be such fun to catch up,” Auden offered.

“Sure!” George said brightly.

“I, um, have to run. I have a lunch date with my mom,” Lucie said.

“Pity. Well, say hi to your mom for me,” Auden said, as he put his arm around George’s shoulders and steered him toward the door. As they strode off, Lucie could overhear Auden saying, “Your form is insane! You should be teaching my class!”

“Oh yeah? I’ve been practicing yoga ever since you turned me on to it in Capri,” George replied.

Lucie felt a pang of regret. Why hadn’t she joined them? What harm would there be in grabbing a juice with Auden and George after class? After all, it had been five years since they’d seen each other. She debated whether to follow after them but decided it would look a little pathetic to join them now. Besides, she really did need to get home to her mom. As she walked past the wall of mirrors outside the yoga room, she caught sight of herself and cringed. Her new dove-gray yoga pants were drenched with sweat stains all the way from her crotch to halfway down her thighs. Oh, how perfect. I just stood in front of George looking like I farted and peed my pants.

Driving home along Old Montauk Highway with the top down on her MINI Cooper, Lucie felt more relaxed as the ocean sparkled in the bright sun and the breeze enveloped her like a cool blanket. The fresh air cleared her mind, and she could finally think rationally again now that she was out of her post-yoga fog. She knew she would run into George sooner or later, but she had always imagined it would be at an opportune moment—courtside at the Dorset Yacht Club tennis matches, for instance, or at the Watermill Center’s Summer Benefit party—when she would be dressed to kill. Bumping into him like this had been a complete surprise. She was caught off guard; that’s the only reason she reacted like a tween with backstage passes at a BTS concert. If she hadn’t just been tortured by Auden for seventy-five minutes straight, if she hadn’t looked like she had just peed herself in these damn useless yoga pants that she was about to throw in the garbage, she would not have been so nervous. There was no reason in the world to be nervous. George was just some kid she had met one summer a long time ago. They had known each other for only a week, and they were both victims of Capri, yes, victims swept up by all that beauty and history and achingly romantic, Instagrammable moments of Issie’s wedding. Yeah, that entire hedonistic occasion was designed to seduce. She was so much older and wiser now. She was a Brown graduate, she had made Artcom’s “Thirty Under Thirty” list of the art world’s leading young professionals, and, for Chrissakes, she was engaged to Cecil Pike. Who was George Zao compared with him? Who cares if even after sweaty puppy yoga he still looked like the ultimate thirst trap while she looked like a wet hamster? George Zao was nothing to her.

Lucie pulled up their gravel driveway, parked behind her mom’s twenty-year-old Oldsmobile Bravada, and ran up the steps to the front door, wondering where she and her mom would go for lunch today. She was suddenly craving the egg-white omelet at Babette’s. She opened the front door and a distinct odor hit her like a gale-force wind. Chinese fermented fish sauce. She had known this smell only to exist at her Tang grandmother’s house in Seattle.

“Mom, are you there?” she called out as she crept down the hallway. Entering the kitchen, she was met by a sight she had not witnessed in years: her mother at the stove stirring furiously at something in a saucepan. Mary, their cook, was standing next to her, peering over Marian’s shoulder with a mixture of curiosity and alarm, ready to intervene on a second’s notice.

“See, you have to keep stirring so the egg whites turn into flowers,” Marian was saying.

“What’s happening, Mom?” Lucie asked, almost alarmed.

“Lucie!” a voice called out.

Lucie spun around and saw Rosemary Zao coming toward her, arms outstretched. She felt herself smothered in a charmeuse hug as Rosemary continued tittering away. “Look at you! Even prettier than I remember! You’ve put on weight, haven’t you? Good, good, I thought you were much too skinny before.”

“Mrs. Zao!” Lucie sputtered. What was this woman doing in their kitchen?

Marian turned to her. “Lucie! Isn’t this fun? I ran into Mrs. Zao at High Tits this morning after my run and decided to introduce myself. We started chatting about how you couldn’t find any decent Chinese food in the Hamptons, and before you know it, I decided to make lunch. Believe it or not, Mama’s gonna cook! I got out Po Po’sfn1 recipe book and I’m making corn egg drop soup and crispy flounder fillets in garlic sauce, and Mrs. Zao is going to make fried stinky tofu and noodles with beef and egg gravy, Cantonese style! Remember how you and Freddie used to love that dish when we went to Hong Kong?”

“We’re using fresh linguini, since we couldn’t find rice noodles at Stop & Shop,” Rosemary interjected. “And, Marian, please stop calling me Mrs. Zao or you’ll make me feel like I’m a thousand years old. It’s Rosemary!”

“I need to take a shower,” Lucie said, backing out of the kitchen slowly. Two Zaos in one day was too much for her to process.

Her mother called after her, “I’m almost done cooking, and Chinese food has to be eaten scalding hot! So don’t be a slowpoke!”

“Yes, don’t be a slowpoke! I just texted George, and he’s going to join us for lunch. I can’t wait for his reaction when he sees you again,” Rosemary added.

Too late, Lucie thought.

CHAPTER SIX

Outlook Avenue

East Hampton, NY

Lucie emerged from her shower refreshed and with a plan in place. Anticipating that George would be downstairs by now, she would pull her wet hair up into a high ballerina bun, and then she would put on her sleeveless white jumpsuit from The Row, the one she wore to big power meetings that always made heads swivel. It would look like she hadn’t put much effort into it, and the outfit was conservative yet alluring. It would erase the hot mess image of this morning from George’s memory forever.