Freddie, Marian, and Charlotte watched in silence as Lucie put on her black-and-white bouclé jacket and walked slowly behind Cecil as he weaved expertly through the crowded room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rockefeller Center

Midtown Manhattan

After lunch, everyone dispersed in various directions—Marian had to get back to her lab at Columbia; Charlotte was off to her dermatologist for a “mole check,” which everyone knew meant that she was getting Botox; Freddie was going to meet a friend for tea at Cha-An; and Cecil had his weekly appointment with his wealth psychologist.

Lucie, who was headed to Christie’s to look at some Hockneys coming up for auction for a client, decided to walk the ten blocks or so to Rockefeller Center since it was such a pleasant summer afternoon. Freddie, who was on his way to the East Village, decided to stroll down Fifth Avenue with his sister for a while.

They walked in perfect sync, keeping the same pace the way siblings often did, Freddie texting away at warp speed, barely looking up while expertly dodging the multitude of tourists, dogs on leashes, babies in strollers, and other sidewalk obstacles that got in his way, as only a native of this island knew how, while Lucie stared straight ahead, never making eye contact with passersby.

“Ha ha—mission accomplished! Only took four texts,” Freddie proudly announced.

“What mission?” Lucie asked distractedly.

“Cornelia Guest said yes to Mom’s gala!”

Lucie stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her brother. “How on earth did you pull that off?”

An office lady walking a few paces behind them swerved around them and cussed loudly, “Fuckin’ Asian tourist,” yet the siblings didn’t seem to notice.

“I texted my friend Sloane, who texted her friend Chai who went to Brearley with Penelope, who as it turns out is related to Cornelia. And Cornelia just texted me right back. Look: ‘I am honored and thrilled!!!’”

Lucie looked at the text, shaking her head in wonder as they started walking again. “It didn’t even occur to me to use the Brearley connection. Everything just happens so easily for you!”

“It may look easy to you, but I was formulating a plan all through lunch. Remember the theory of six degrees of separation, where anyone on the planet can be connected to anyone else through no more than six different people? Like I could be connected to Cornelia if I just found the right six people to connect me to her? I looked at her Instagram and noticed that along with animals, she’s into art and fashion, so who of my WASPy fashion friends might know her? Well, Sloane interns in the Vogue fashion closetfn1 and knows everyone. I remember this story about how a big fashion shoot at the Armory fell through at the last minute and Sloane texted her mom, who made one call and was able to shut down the MoMA Sculpture Garden for a whole day so they could do the shoot. So I started with her and just got lucky, I guess.”

“See, you’ve always had that luck. I feel like I’ve never had a fraction of the kind of luck that you were born with.”

“Me? Born lucky?” Freddie snorted.

“Oh my god, Freddie, look in the mirror! Actually, look at your reflection in this window!”

Freddie glanced quickly at the Bergdorf window. “Ooh, I like that linen jacket with the bamboo print. Think that’ll look good on me?”

“Everything looks good on you, Freddie! That’s my point. You’re the perfect mix of Asian and WASP, and that’s why Granny adores you.”

“She adores you too.”

“That’s not true at all. She has come to ‘appreciate me.’ Her actual words, not mine. You know, when I was a little girl, Dad and Mom would send me down to Florida to spend summers with her, and she would spend all her time trying to fix me? I was subjected to hours of etiquette lessons, speech lessons, bizarre Victorian-era posture exercises. She would get her maids to poke and prod me till I looked acceptable enough to accompany her to one of her clubs. This frightful maid, Oonagh, would spend hours brushing out my hair till my scalp bled. Everyone thought I was having such a good time in Hobe Sound, but it was torture.”

“Fuuuck! I had no idea. Although I remember Granny would occasionally say things to me like, ‘I’m so glad you got your father’s eyes, not your mother’s.’ I remember thinking that sounded totally whack. But look who’s laughing now. You have the prettiest hair, Lucie, everyone says so.”

“Thanks, but it takes a lot of work to make it look like this, while you just roll out of bed every morning and your hair looks like it’s straight out of an Aveda ad. And besides, you were born at just the right time. You don’t remember Mom being depressed, do you? Like, not just saying she was depressed, but actually being so depressed she couldn’t even get out of bed.”

Freddie shook his head.

“You were barely four when Dad died. I had to deal with it all—I took care of you, I shielded you from everything, and by the time you were fully conscious Mom had already adjusted to all her meds, so you’ve only ever known ‘Happy Mom.’ You have no idea how lucky you are.”

“I guess I don’t.” Freddie suddenly stopped and gave Lucie a big bear hug.

“What was that for?” Lucie asked.

“For being so lucky to have you as a big sister.”

Lucie smiled. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m going on and on about this. I guess I was just a bit blown away by how effortlessly you charmed Cornelia into coming to Mom’s fund-raiser.”

They walked in silence until they reached Forty-Ninth Street.

“Okay, I’m going this way,” Lucie said.

“Wait a minute.” Freddie paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “You know, you say you’re unlucky, but I’ve never seen it that way. I’ve always seen you as the lucky one.”

“Oh yeah? Name three ways that I’m luckier than you.”

“That’s easy. You got to have time with Dad. I have his things, but I have barely any memory of him at all. And you’re an amazing artist. I can’t even draw a straight line with a ruler.”

“Okay, that’s two. What’s the third thing that makes me luckier than you?”

“Hmm … let’s see … You’re going to become Mrs. Cecil Pike,” Freddie said.

“Ew,” Lucie blurted out before she could stop herself.

Brother and sister stared at each other for a split second, and then they both burst out laughing. The two of them stood on the corner of Forty-Ninth and Fifth for a few minutes, leaning against the gray limestone wall outside Michael Kors, doubled over in laughter. When they had recovered enough, Freddie turned and continued down Fifth Avenue, while Lucie began walking along Forty-Ninth Street toward Christie’s auction house. In the middle of the block, right outside NBC Studios, she stopped, got out her phone, and sent Cecil a text, her fingers shaking uncontrollably.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tea & Sympathy

West Village

“Why did you want to meet here? If you wanted afternoon tea, we could have met up someplace more glam like the St. Regis or the Mandarin.”

“I like this place, Cecil. I love their scones, and this room reminds me of those little country cafés my dad used to take me to the year we lived in England. Plus, it’s near your house.”