Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger
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two were not friends or siblings or coworkers. And more to the point, he wasn’t volunteering any explanations.
‘Walking the dog. Getting some fresh air. You know, the usual,’ I said, realizing that I sounded more than a little defensive. For some reason my polite conversation skills had just evaporated.
‘Yeah, same here,’ he said, sounding sheepish and slightly embarrassed.
When it was clear that neither of us could think of anything else to say, I scooped Millington from Sammy’s lap, where she was obviously enjoying being stroked – how I could understand! – mumbled a good-bye, and tore off in the direction of my apartment with a speed that bordered on humiliating. I could hear Isabelle laughing and asking Sammy who his little friend was, and it took every ounce of willpower not to whip around and suggest that next time she have her doctor adjust her Botox injection so she wouldn’t have that telltale deer-caught-in-headlights expression.
So it was official, I thought, as I stood under the shower’s scalding hot water: Sammy had a girlfriend. Or, rather, I suppose it was more appropriate to call her a woman friend, since the female in question couldn’t conceivably be a day under forty. Of course he hadn’t been jealous that day in Starbucks when he’d made fun of Philip. Feeling more ridiculous with every passing moment, I quickly dressed in one of the old, navy bank pantsuits that had been relegated to the back of my closet and spent not one second longer than necessary drying my hair and applying the faintest traces of concealer.
By the time I’d arrived at the Four Seasons, I’d almost managed to convince myself that I didn’t care. After all, if Sammy really wanted to date someone with better clothes, more money, and a chest three times the size of mine, well, that was certainly his prerogative. Who needed someone that shallow, anyway? I was just working myself up to start a list of his many, many flaws (none of which were immediately apparent, but which certainly must exist somewhere) when my cell phone rang. It was Elisa, probably calling, as usual, to ask obsessively detailed questions about when, where, why, and with whom I’d last seen Philip, so I screened it and approached the mâitre d’. The phone rang again mere seconds later, and even though I switched it to vibrate, she sent a text message that read: 911. CALL IMMEDIATELY.
‘Bette? Hey, have you found them yet?’ Michael asked, walking toward me, looking haggard and slightly miserable. Penelope had told me he was on yet another huge M&A deal. All-nighters four days and running.
‘No, are we the first ones here?’ I kissed him on the cheek and thought about how long it’d been since I’d seen him. Weeks and weeks; so long I couldn’t remember. ‘Where’s Megu?’
‘She’s at the hospital. I think Pen said they might all have a private table in the back, so let’s go there.’
‘Perfect.’ I took the arm he offered and had an odd feeling of homecoming. ‘You know, it’s been forever since we’ve all hung out. What are you doing afterward? Why don’t we talk Pen into going to the Black Door for a drink or six?’
He smiled even though it looked like it took all his energy and nodded. ‘Definitely. We’re all already in the same place, and when the hell does that ever happen? Let’s do it.’
The table looked to seat about eighteen or twenty, but just as I was saying my hellos to Penelope’s father, my phone began to vibrate again.
‘I’m so sorry, please excuse me,’ I said to Penelope’s dad and bolted toward the door again to turn it off. Elisa again. Christ, what could be so important that she needed to take the full-stalk approach? I waited for it to stop buzzing and then flipped it open to turn it off, but she must have dialed again because I heard her voice emanating from my palm.
‘Bette? Is that you? Bette, it’s crucial.’
‘Hey, listen, this really isn’t a good time for me. I’m at my friend’s—’
‘You’ve got to get down here right away, Kelly’s freaking out because—’
‘Elisa, you didn’t even let me finish. It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday night and I’m just about to start dinner at the Four Seasons with my friend and her entire family and it’s really important, so I’m sure you can handle whatever Kelly’s freaking out about.’ I congratulated myself on being firm and setting boundaries, something my mother had been trying to teach me from age six.
She was breathing heavily at this point, and I heard the faint clinking of glasses in the background. ‘Sorry, hon, but Kelly’s not taking no tonight. She’s at dinner with the BlackBerry people right now at Vento and she needs us to meet them at Soho House by nine-thirty, latest.’
‘Impossible. You know I’d be there if I could. It’s mandatory that I stay here for at least the next couple hours,’ I said, hearing a waver in my voice. ‘I mean, nine-thirty is ridiculously early, and I don’t understand why, if she expected us to meet them, it has to be on a Saturday night, or why she couldn’t have mentioned it beforehand.’
‘Look, I hear you, but there’s no way out. You’re in charge of the party, Bette! They came into town early and Kelly thought a dinner meeting would appease them, but apparently they want to meet you … and Philip. Tonight. Since the party is so close, and apparently they’re nervous.’
‘Philip? You can’t be serious.’
‘You are dating him, Bette. And he did agree to host this event for us,’ she said, sounding like a bossy older sister. I saw Penelope approaching me out of the corner of my eye and knew I was being horrifically rude.
‘Elisa, I really—’
‘Bette, honey, I don’t want to pull rank here, but your job’s on the line. I’ll help as much as possible, but you’ve got to be here. I’ll send a car to the Four Seasons in thirty minutes. Get in it.’
As the call cut off, Penelope threw her arms around my neck.
‘I love your plan!’ she said, grabbing my hand and walking me toward the table. I overheard Mr Wainwright talking loudly about a lawsuit he was overseeing to a rather subdued, dignified-looking woman, and I wondered if Penelope might not want to save her grandmother from her future father-in-law.
‘Plan?’
‘Yes, Michael told me about the reunion at the Black Door tonight. Such a good call! It’s been forever since we’ve done that and’ – she looked around – ’I’ll need to drink heavily after this. You have no idea what Avery’s mother did tonight. Took my mom and me aside and presented me, quite proudly, with a copy of Fête Accompli!: The Ultimate Guide to Creative Entertaining and the entire Barefoot Contessa cookbook series. Oh, but it gets better. Not only did she highlight all of her suggestions for dinner-party themes, she also made notes by all of Avery’s favorite dishes so I may properly instruct the cook. She made a special point of letting me know that as a general rule, he doesn’t like any food that should be consumed with sticks, in her words.’
‘Sticks?’
‘Chopsticks. She said they “confuse him.”’
‘That’s fantastic. She sounds like a real treat.’
‘Yep. My mother just stood there, nodding. She did manage to comfort Avery’s mom by pointing out how easy it would be for us to find household help in California, what with the hordes of Mexican immigrants. The “promised land of cheap labor,” I think were her exact words.’
‘Let’s just remember never to allow our parents in the same room again, okay?’ I said. ‘They’d have a field day with this one. You remember what a disaster it was last time?’
‘Are you kidding?’ she said. ‘How could I not?’
We’d cleverly kept our two sets of parents from being in the same place through four years of college, but during graduation it had proven impossible. Each was curious about the other and after much prodding from both mothers, Penelope and I had grudgingly scheduled a dinner for everyone on Saturday night. The stress began with