I don’t know how much you’ve been keeping up with the news since you have been so busy, but I think you’ll be amused to know that Cecil’s torrid romance/international incident has been filling up tabloid space both in the US and here in the UK. He helped this beautiful Middle Eastern princess, HRH Sheika Kiza,fn1 whom he met at the Paris couture shows, escape her awful husband. Apparently she was so taken by Cecil’s knowledge of Judy Chicago and feminist art that she decided to reclaim her divine feminine power, fled in the dead of night, and was taken aboard Cecil’s super yacht, which was secretly anchored in the Gulf of Aden. They are now safely ensconced in London, where she is suing her husband for divorce and seeking full custody of their child, the little prince. No doubt she will be well protected by Cecil and his mother’s lawyers! Mordecai told me that Cecil’s tapped him to oversee a new decorating team to make his mansion fit for the princess, and Olivia is in talks with them to do a documentary about the whole situation. BTW, how is her film project going with George?

Meanwhile, the new Preppie Guru Lounge in Shoreditch is progressing nicely. Auden and I hope we can open by September (fingers crossed!) and I’ll be able to transition from full-time with Mary Berry to a project-by-project basis as I help Auden launch in London. He’s back in New York teaching a flower essence therapy class at the moment, and as much as I adore him, to tell you the truth it’s nice to have the flat to myself for a few days (the towel alignment training is still under way). We’ll know before the end of the month whether we can visit you in July. I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m trying to work around some deadlines.

I saved the best for last … I saw Cacky at the Central Park Conservancy Luncheon (wearing the most ridiculous hat!), and of course she couldn’t wait to casually drop that she has been given an audience with the pope this summer—thanks to the intercession of her new BFF Reneé Pike—and she’s bringing Granny along to the Vatican. After Rome, they want to visit you and Prince George in Capri. Believe it or not, Granny wants to spend more time getting to know George, because some Norwegian countess who’s part of her bridge club in Hobe Sound told her that he’s a direct descendant of Qing dynasty emperors! You’ve been warned.

Love,

Charlotte

From: Lucie Churchill

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Catching up!

Dear Charlotte,

I can’t believe that silly story that Cecil made up about George is still making the rounds. Is Harry Stuyvesant Fish spending my tax dollars bragging about his precious tenants over lavish diplomatic dinners at the US Consulate in Norway? If Cacky and Granny do end up coming to Capri, I’m sure George will be gracious enough to give them the royal treatment. (Not sure about me.)

Thanks for all the updates! As you know, George and I decided to quit social media as an experiment, and since I’m so rarely online now, I really haven’t kept up with any news. The days seem to fly past because most of my time is spent in a joyous painting frenzy. You’ll probably be shocked to know that my new canvases are full of color. George calls it my “rose period.”

Living here on Capri has inspired and rewarded me in so many astonishing, unexpected ways, and I’m so grateful that George and I seized this opportunity and threw caution to the wind. Of course, it was easier for him since he’d already quit his job, but for me it seemed so irresponsible to drop everything and move to a tiny island in the Mediterranean for a couple of years without a clue what I was going to do. But I keep thinking of that little framed quote from Auden’s friend Gemma Rose that hangs on his office wall in Amagansett: “When we align with the truth of who we are, all things are possible.”

George’s renovation of Issie and Dolfi’s villa is coming along splendidly and will hopefully be done well before her second baby arrives. It’s already looking so exquisite, and I’m told it will be the first LEED green-certified house on the island! Meanwhile, the top secret project that Dolfi’s parents commissioned George to design in Rome is shaping up to be something that will be a game changer for the city. Olivia has been doing a marvelous job documenting his work, though I have to wonder what kind of Jedi-level guilt trip you must have laid on her. She’s been so sweet to us, and I think she still feels like she has to atone for her ghastly film. It will be so exciting to see what she’s creating for this new project of George’s. I’m more impressed every day by George’s talent and how aligned he is with nature. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.

Speaking of happy, did you see those pictures Freddie posted? I cannot believe that after driving the Ortiz sisters all the way from China to Italy, he would deposit them at the Aman Venice and head straight back to Mongolia to go live with the eagle hunters! Those amazing pictures of him in that crazy beautiful outfit training his eagle on horseback remind me of a cross between Jon Snow and Genghis Khan! I miss him terribly, but I’m glad he’s found his true passion and seems to have found love with Paloma’s lovely granddaughter, Bella Ortiz. (She’s lasted five months, a record for him. And it can’t be easy living with Freddie in a yurt!)

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the biggest news … a gallery in Florence wants to give me a solo show in September. Can you believe it? I’m so excited but super nervous at the same time—I’m going to have to produce quite a few more works in time for the show. If you speak to Mordecai, can you ask if he has any recommendations for a good pensione in Florence? Preferably one with a view of the Arno.

Really hoping you and Auden can make it in July when Mom and Rosemary visit. The island will be at its most beautiful. It’s finally warm enough to swim in the sea. Guess where George is taking me tomorrow at the crack of dawn?

xoxo,

Lucie

La Grotta Azzurra

Anacapri

It was still pitch dark when they arrived at the steps leading down the cliffside to the entrance of the grotto. George held a flashlight, illuminating the path down to the water as they climbed quietly down the steps.

“This is crazy,” Lucie said, breaking the silence. “Tell me why we’re doing this so early again?”

“You’ll see,” George said with a little smile. “Okay, we’re at the water’s edge. I’ll dive in first. Hold the flashlight.”

George dove in, gasping at the icy cold water.

“How cold is it?” Lucie called out.

“Not too bad. Now, hand me the flashlight and dive in over here.”

Lucie braced herself, took a deep breath, and dove in.

“Jesus Christ, it’s freezing!” she cursed through her chattering teeth.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. I’m warming up already,” George said, as he swam up to her. “Okay, now follow my light.”

George put the flashlight in his mouth and glided through the darkness, while Lucie swam behind, following the bobbing light. Soon, they were at the mouth of the grotto, which was only about one meter high.

“This is the entrance where the rowboats go in?”

“It’s the one and only entrance,” George said, as he began swimming through the short tunnel. Soon, they were both inside the grotto, its towering limestone walls dimly lit by the weak flashes of light from George’s torch.