Our naked bodies fit in a tangle of arms and legs like complementary halves, like pieces of a puzzle. It felt so good to feel the texture of his skin and to have him right up against me. I wanted to stay that way forever, holding him until his worries faded and were forgotten.
The next morning I awoke and he was gone. Only a note was left.
My father called. Have business to finish. Meet me at Robert’s tonight.—ZK
57
I tore apart the bedsheets.
On my hands and knees, I crawled over every square inch of the bedroom floor. Methodically, I retraced the location of every kiss and embrace, rewinding the entire evening back to the wine cellar, scouring every corner of the villa over and over. Pacing the driveway where the motorcycles were parked, I was dumbfounded and heartbroken as I realized it was gone. Nan’s bracelet had disappeared.
ZK had left so mysteriously that it made my stomach churn. I was alone in this strange, empty house, trying to come up with rational reasons that made it okay. Everything about his sudden departure was wrong. I cast about for excuses and picked apart my own behavior. Was I too willing? Had my Jersey pedigree come through and put him off? Did his blue-blood instincts sniff me out? Or was this the reason he was a player and never stayed with anyone for long?
I called Zoya, Tabitha’s maid, and she sent Mocha, who arrived in no time. It was good to see his familiar face. As the villa faded from view in the rear window, I thought of Nan, wishing I could call her about the bracelet, but I feared she’d be too worried. My phone buzzed.
“Haven’t heard from u. Everything ok ??”
It was Jess.
“Good,” I thumbed halfheartedly.
“THEN GET YOUR ASS TO NYC !! WE HAVE A DATE !! FASH NITE OUT LIKE U SAID !! THERE STILL ENUF TIME ?!?”
I couldn’t deal with it.
I reread ZK’s note instead.
Meet me at Robert’s tonight.
The last place I wanted to go, although everyone else seemed perfectly comfortable hanging around him. Speaking to ZK was the only thing I could think about. I couldn’t leave for the city without seeing him first.
My thoughts spun like a dreadful merry-go-round, returning to last night, the rowdy dinner with so many fascinating people, the crazy motorcycle race, ZK’s museum tour of the art on the villa walls, our endless kisses, our pile of clothes, the fit of our naked bodies.
Then, falling into confusion, I thought of Nan’s lost bracelet, the way ZK was awake watching me, his self-deprecating, almost self-pitying comment. I tried to put myself in his place—his family broken by his father’s recklessness. People whispering. The grand name that once opened doors dragged through the mud.
My father called. Have business to finish.
Why a sudden call from his father? When had that occurred?
It was still early morning and Tabitha’s house was asleep when I returned. The balmy sea breeze rippled through the lush trees, swaying the branches and exposing the underside of their leaves. It was soothingly quiet by the pool.
I kept checking my phone messages, my texts, hoping for something from ZK. I started to text ZK and stopped. I felt like there was a hole where my heart used to be and it was sucking everything inside.
As more time passed, it was becoming difficult not to feel hurt and stupid that I was worried about him. But then I’d feel guilty, fretting that something terrible might have happened to his father and that I was being insensitive.
Unfinished business … what did that mean?
I rose and returned to my room to take a bath and rest and prepare myself for the inevitable visit to Robert’s.
58
As soon as the white limo drove up in front of Tabitha’s mansion, Zoya and Mocha and the entire house staff were in an upheaval. From the balcony window I saw the flurry of activity in the driveway. A tall, gorgeous man with long black hair stepped out first. His shoulders were so broad, his jaw so chiseled, he looked like Superman.
A rail-thin woman followed and required the aid of the Superman to steady her. She had strawlike bleach-blond hair and wore a floral-print, rose-colored dress that seemed inappropriately short for her advanced age. At the same time, the Peter Pan collar made her appear like a prematurely aged child. Her large, gaudy jewelry, no doubt very expensive, made her bony wrists seem even skinnier.
I heard someone on the staff whisper that this was Tabitha’s mother, Eva Eden. Tabitha said she was forty-eight years old. She looked like she was in her sixties.
Downstairs, I found Tabitha outside her bedroom for the first time in days. Already swept up in her mother’s sudden arrival, she seemed both terrified and excited.
“Did you hear? Mommy is here! She’ll be thrilled to meet you!” Tabitha said, sounding like she was fifteen. “We’re having afternoon tea by the pool. You have to join us! Mommy’s so British these days. She said she’s going to stay long enough to clear up the whole guardian situation. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I was speechless, wondering how to react. Not a mention from Tabitha of the fact that she had stayed in her room for two full days or the incident that had caused her confinement. Not a word about Robert and the police.
“You’re going to Robert’s this evening, aren’t you?” she asked excitedly. “You’ll come with us in Mommy’s tacky white stretch, right?”
“Of course,” I said reassuringly. I hadn’t seen Tabitha like this for a while, agitated, childlike with an undercurrent of desperation. I wondered if she was afraid that her mother would disappoint her. I wondered how she felt about Robert in the aftermath of her run-in with the East Hampton police.
“Come, Mommy’s waiting,” Tabitha said. We headed for the pool, where I could see that Zoya had set up a full tea service for the four of us, including Eva’s hunk.
“So sorry about the other night,” Tabitha confided in a whisper to me as we entered the pool area. “I’m sure with Mother here I can get back on track. Please don’t give up on me?”
“Of course not,” I said. How bad I felt for Tabitha. It was the only thing that made me forget how bad I felt for myself.
Eva held out her bony hand as I approached. “It’s so nice to see that Tabby has a new friend,” she said. I held her hand, not knowing whether to shake it or just let it go. It was so fragile I feared it might break.
“Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Eden,” I said. Her rag-mop hair spilled over her tiny shoulders chaotically as she gave me a huge gummy smile.
“Call me Eva—everyone does,” she said. Up close you could see the wear and tear on her face that no amount of plastic surgery could restore. As we sat, I felt her empty eyes staring at me as if she were seeing me from far away.
“I’m considerably more fun than the rest of the people Tabby hangs out with,” she added with an incongruous laugh. Zoya served caviar and toast points along with the tea.
“So tell me about yourself, Lisbeth. What is your family name?” Eva’s hand shook unsteadily as she raised her cup of tea.
“Dulac,” I said. “Not much to tell, I’m afraid. But I do have to say your daughter has been absolutely wonderful to me.” I hoped to move the attention away from myself as quickly as possible while finding anything I could say that might help Tabitha.
“Lisbeth is always too modest,” Tabitha chided. “She has a blog that has gone viral and she’s the sponsor of a very mysterious clothing designer called Designer X.” So that is how my life appeared to someone on the wealthier side. I was “sponsoring” Jess. Wonder what Jess would think of that.
“I hope you’ll tell me more,” she said. Zoya returned to pour more tea, but Eva covered the top of her cup with her hand. “Make me a vodka martini, dirty with olives,” she whispered to Zoya.