Sex and Vanity(87)

Despite the jaw-dropping decor, the most popular attractions were the rescue animals, of course, and each of them was showcased in one of the luxurious stables—each state-of-the-art, climate-controlled stable boasted its own chandelier. Everyone oohed and ahhed over the adorable dogs, cats, and even a few miniature horses, trying to decide which ones to adopt and bid for in the charity auction later in the evening.

Cornelia had morphed in less than half an hour from country girl to fashion goddess, making her entrance into the central courtyard in a shimmering silver off-the-shoulder Oscar de la Renta gown and mingling happily with all the guests as a band of Chinese musicians dapperly outfitted in white silk tuxedos played 1930s Shanghainese jazz standards.

Lucie approached Cornelia, shyly handing her a mai tai. “I thought you could use one of the signature cocktails. You’ve been talking to so many people nonstop.”

“How sweet of you. Thanks!”

“So I understand you were friends with Andy Warhol?” Lucie began, a little intimidated, knowing that Cornelia had been good friends with Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat as well.

“Yes, he was an absolute doll to me.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I went to see the Warhol retrospective at the Whitney, and I couldn’t help but notice that out of all the iconic silk-screen portraits he did of famous people, yours was the only one that had a bit of … um … nudity,” Lucie asked delicately.

“I was topless,” Cornelia said matter-of-factly.

“Yes. Was that his intention or yours?”

“I was nineteen. It was my intention to piss off my mother,” Cornelia answered.

They both broke out in laughter.

Freddie came rushing up, looking a little disheveled. “Lucie, can I steal you for a moment?”

“Can you give me a sec? Cornelia and I were just chatting—”

“Actually, I really need you now,” Freddie said through gritted teeth.

“Everything okay?” Cornelia asked.

“Perfect!” Freddie flashed her his megawatt smile as he rushed off with Lucie.

“What’s the deal?” Lucie asked, suddenly alarmed.

Freddie took her into the kitchen, where several of the kitchen staff appeared to be hugging Cornelia’s humongous dogs.

“The animals somehow got into the kitchen, and now half the Wagyu beef sliders we were going to serve the guests have disappeared.”

“Oh, shit!” Lucie exclaimed as she burst into giggles.

“Stop laughing! I need your help getting these beasts to the smaller riding ring. Mom and Charlotte have already taken the Westie, the Chihuahua, and the duck.”

Lucie gamely helped to wrangle the big dogs, and when they had been safely ensconced in their plush indoor riding ring, she went to the ladies’ powder room in the main house to tidy up. As she stood in front of the large mirror over the sink, trying to brush off what seemed like a million dog hairs from her party dress, a tall patrician lady in her seventies entered the powder room.

“Hello, Lucie,” the lady greeted her warmly.

Lucie looked up, surprised to see her neighbor from 999 Fifth Avenue. “Hi, Ms. Ferrer.”

“My god, what have you been doing, wrestling a polar bear?”

“Actually, he was a Great Pyrenees.”

“Here, let me help you. Don’t use your hands—one of these dry towels would be far better,” Ms. Ferrer said, as she expertly began brushing off the fur caught on Lucie’s ruffles.

“Oh, wow. How did you know that would work?”

“I was a photo editor at Life magazine for more than a decade, my dear. We had to deal with every conceivable issue on our shoots.”

“It’s so nice of you to come to Mom’s fundraiser. I didn’t realize Mom even told anyone in the building about her event.”

“She didn’t. It was Mrs. Zao who did such a good job of convincing me to come out for the gala.”

“Rosemary’s here tonight?” Lucie said, quietly alarmed.

“I haven’t seen her yet, but I assume she’s coming.”

“How is her application to live in the building coming along?” Lucie knew she shouldn’t be asking, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Oh, I can’t talk about that. These applications are strictly confidential.”

“Sorry.”

Ms. Ferrer leaned in. “But I will tell you—entre nous—your mother really surprised us.”

“How so?” Lucie asked, getting a bit nervous.

“She submitted a grossly inappropriate recommendation letter.”

“Really?” Lucie felt a sudden pang of fear.

“Yes, it was the most hilarious letter, a brilliant practical joke. I almost lost my mind reading it! Everyone on the board was rolling on the floor! Who knew your mother could be so funny? Which reminds me, I still need to thank her for it.”

Suddenly overcome with the panic of not only her mother discovering her fake co-op letter, but her whole plan misfiring, Lucie found herself blurting out, “Ms. Ferrer, there are some things I think you ought to know about Rosemary Zao!”

“Oh, and what might that be?”

“She’s not the woman you think she is.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t your families very close?”