Overheard in the china room …

“Wah! Three separate dishwashers for different types of china. What a house!”

“It’s actually three town houses put together, Mrs. Zao.”

“I suspected as much. It must be the biggest house in New York, yes?”

“It’s big, but I’m sure there’s something bigger. The thing about the superrich is that they always need more space with no people in it.”

“You always know everything, Freddie. Three dishwashers! Three town houses! And here I can’t even find a simple flat for myself in New York.”

“I didn’t know you were looking for a place in the city, Mrs. Zao.”

“Now that George got a promotion at his firm and will be designing this new apartment complex in Queens that’s made only of recycled trash, it looks like he will be staying for a while. So I think I must get a place in the city for myself. I don’t want to be in that big Shittinghurst in the winter, and I can’t keep on staying with him at his apartment … How will he ever find a girlfriend if his mother is there all the time?”

“You’re a wise woman, Mrs. Zao. Sometimes it gets a bit tricky when I bring girls home. They all end up wanting to chat with my mom! What sort of place are you looking for?”

“Well, I like the older buildings here, like the Dakota one where John Lennon lived. What do you call them? Pre-bomb?”

“Prewar, Mrs. Zao.”

“Yes. I don’t need anything too big for myself—just four or five bedrooms will do.”

“You know there’s an apartment that’s about to go on sale in our building? The old lady who owned it had lived there since the thirties but preferred to spend the last twenty-five years living in Beth Israel Hospital, even though she was in perfect health. It’s beautiful, like a time capsule with all the period details intact—I got a chance to sneak in and see it last week when the realtors were taking photos.”

“Really? I love your building!”

“In fact, I have the realtor’s card in my wallet right here …”

“Freddie, you really need to get a new wallet. That thing is falling apart.”

“I know. But I can’t bear to change it. It was my father’s.”

Overheard in the pool room …

“It’s entirely eco-friendly and organic, George. It’s a self-sustaining system: the fish droppings in the koi pond fertilize the aquatic plants in the reflecting pool, which in turn create biological filters that clean the water in the lap pool.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen natural swimming pools like this before.”

“Why do I get the sense that you’re not impressed?”

“It’s very impressive, Lucie. I’ve never seen a trilevel infinity pool of such scale, two stories underground.”

“Cecil’s very proud of it. He spent a year obsessing over every detail of the pool—it was his idea to make it glass-bottomed so you could see right into the wine cellar.”

“It’s very clever. He can stare at all his pinot noirs while he’s swimming the butterfly.”

“Or maybe we can invite Viv over and you can stare at her tattoos while she does the backstroke.”

“Viv was on the Swedish national swim team. I’m sure she’d love to use this pool.”

“It wasn’t a real invitation, George. I was just responding to your snide remark. I know you don’t care for this house.”

“How have I given you that impression?”

“I see the way you’re staring at everything in disapproval.”

“Lucie, you’re being absurd. I’m staring because I’ve never seen anything like this before. There’s a Venetian canal in the living room!”

“So you like the house?”

“Lucie, you’re the one who has to live here. Do you like the house?”

“I like it, I like it a lot. So … how long have you and Viv been dating?”

“We’re not dating. She’s just a surf buddy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Overheard in the warming room …

“This is my favorite room, Cecil. I love the scent of oud and the fire pit and all these velvet chaise longues placed in a sunburst. What exactly do you use this space for—séances?”

“It’s where you relax and warm up before going into the infrared sauna or the cold plunge pool or one of the spa treatment rooms, Mother.”

“How lovely! I want to warm myself up here sometime. This party is such a success, darling. Everyone is wowed by the house, as they should be. Do you know what Mordecai von Ephrussí told me? He was so impressed by your vision that he’s going to nominate you for the Rome Prize.”

“Mon dieu!”

“And Lucie’s been brilliant tonight. Absolutely brilliant! You know, to be honest, I was a little doubtful when you said she would rise to the occasion. She’s soooo WASPy in some ways, it was hard for me to picture her without her collection of old canvas tote bags or that little black scrunchie she uses for her ponytail. But seeing her tonight in the Valentino and the Carnet earrings I lent her, I thought, That girl cleans up gooooood! She’s absolutely precious, and she’s beginning to remind me of myself.”

“I told you, Mother, she’s more like you than you think. Did you hear the raves she got for curating my new art collection? Jeffrey Deitch tried to hire her on the spot, and the Spraggs want her to redo all the art at their family foundation.”

“Yes, yes, Lucie’s a true gem. She’s like the Koh-i-Noor, a diamond that only gets discovered once a millennium. Natural and unspoiled in so many ways, but with the most polished pedigree.”

“She’s got the blood of Ming emperors flowing through her veins, mingling with the blood of Old New York and British aristocracy,” Cecil declared. “Can you imagine what our children will look like? Quarter Asians are the most beautiful species in the world—just look at Prince Nikolai of Denmark, who’s modeling for all the top fashion houses now, or that blond kid on Saved by the Bell, or Phoebe Cates, who still looks like she’s twenty-five! Our children will never age!”fn1

“Oh, Cecil, should we move up the wedding? I can’t wait to have my quarter-Asian grandchildren who will never age!”

After all the guests had left, Lucie took the elevator up to the fifth-floor master suite, annoyed with herself that she was still fixating over her exchange with George in the pool room. Why had she offered to give him a tour? Why did she press him about the house? Why did she feel like she was being judged? Why the hell did she ask him about Viv? Would he think she was jealous or something? Ugh, why did she even care at all? She wondered if she was being overly sensitive to everything because she was simply fatigued. Social gatherings like this really took it out of her, in contrast to Cecil, who seemed to be energized by them. She entered the bedroom to find Cecil sprawled on the bed, eagerly scrolling through all the Instagram posts that his friends had made from the party.

“Whitney posted a pic of himself on the gondola. And I love this picture Rozi posted on the roof garden with the both of us next to the Richard Serra. Poor thing, she doesn’t have that many followers—she only got thirty-five hundred likes.”