The High Season(29)
“Not like that nasty upstart, bucolic.”
He smiled again, and Ruthie decided it was time to go. She was out of practice at repartee, and she felt winded. “This is nice. But I’m sorry, I have to find my daughter,” she said. “I’ll see you around.”
“That’s what small towns are for, I hear. Seeing people around.”
Ruthie turned and walked away, profoundly grateful that she now had an ass.
15
THE HOUSE ARRANGED itself around Doe as she walked in, the way perfect houses do. She’d been in a few in Miami where the space unfolded, the sight lines planned for the view. Floor, blue slate. An enormous freestanding gray stone fireplace in the middle of the room. The visual shock of just blue—ocean and sky—through enormous windows that were walls. She could happily move in here tomorrow and discover she had a soul.
Through an open archway (though it was square of course, no round forms in this house) she could glimpse the formal dining room. A long, long table she wouldn’t want to have to polish. Uncomfortable-looking chairs. Her ass wouldn’t last through the soup course. A scratchy abstract on the wall.
Facing her, an amazing Rothko, floating color, blue and that deep sad black. One of her art teachers had loved Rothko and talked about the depth of that black, of how spiritual Rothko was. He paints the abyss, he would say, but he gives us hope. Doe still felt impatient, remembering. Rothko was a master, sure, but spiritual? Overreach. His paintings were physical, color and form. Art wasn’t about feelings. If you want feelings, go to the movies. If you want God, go to a church.
On the opposite wall the predictable big Ed Ruscha. Every great house in Miami had one. Just yellow letters against blue. HAPPY MESS. Did it refer to Lark? That would require a sense of humor. Doe had yet to meet a super-wealthy person who would make fun of themselves.
It could be the most beautiful room she’d ever been in or it could be designed to make her feel flimsy.
What the fuck was she doing?
Doe turned away from her rumpled reflection in a mirrored sculpture that looked like a Louise Bourgeois. With a jolting heartbeat, she heard footsteps approaching. Nowhere to hide in a minimalist house, that was the trouble. Doe backed up, flattening herself next to the gray wall of the fireplace.
Footsteps clattered into the space. A woman in heels. How the hell did Adeline Clay get here so fast?
Adeline was too angry to see Doe. She went right to the door of the room where Daniel Mantis sat meditating and crashed it open.
“For God’s sake, Daniel. Take off the hood.”
Too good to miss. Doe slipped out of her sandals and tiptoed across the floor. By tilting her head toward the sculpture she could see the fractured reflected image of Adeline standing in the room, Daniel sitting cross-legged facing her. “I’ve been here for twenty minutes.”
No answer.
“This is ridiculous, Daniel! Take off the hood!”
“I don’t like scenes.”
“This isn’t a scene, this is me talking to you. You are being rude.”
“This isn’t ego-driven. Isn’t everyone enjoying themselves?”
“We can all see you in here! I realize that’s the point, but it’s comical.”
“Comical is this event that Lark talked me into. More farms on the South Fork? As if these people are going to knock down their houses.”
“Do we have to talk about this right here?”
“What is it with this girl and farms? She grew up on Park Avenue. I’m seriously worried. She just keeps…flitting. People ask about her and I have to lie. I don’t enjoy that.”
“She needs your attention.”
“Thirty thousand dollars to throw a party isn’t enough? Adeline, you’re my hostess. You can greet the guests for a few minutes.”
“I’m not the hostess. These people aren’t my guests.”
“Apparently one is. The guy in the Gap pants.”
“It’s Michael Dutton, he owns the house I’m staying in. I invited him with his family. It seemed like the nice thing to do. Am I not allowed to invite guests?”
“Is it just Lark who needs more of my attention?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Just so we’re clear. This was your choice. We had an agreement. You were to live here this summer. You were the one who went ahead and rented a house without telling me. In a place I can’t get to.”
“There’s this thing called a ferry.”
“I had to send you a launch. A launch and a car. Now who is being manipulative? It’s a journey to get there. You removed yourself from our plans. Without telling me beforehand, I recall. Didn’t we say from the beginning, Let’s have honesty between us.”
“All right. I rented the house. I didn’t want to be in the Hamptons, I didn’t want to go to parties like this all the time. I wanted a place to retreat to if I had to. If we don’t have an exclusive relationship, why should I give up myself for you?”
“I never asked you to give up yourself. I’m trying to teach you how to be yourself within the context of a committed relationship.”
Doe had to muffle her snort.
“Committed relationship? When you have another woman and a third in the wings?”