Chapter Eight
Friday afternoon, at Jamie’s insistence, I left work a little early for a manicure and blowout. He’d already come by my apartment early in the week to “style” me for my weekend, picking out outfits for every possible scenario. After binge-watching all of Downton Abbey and any other period pieces he could get his hands on from Netflix, he’d become pretty obsessed with the British aristocracy. The mere idea I could become a countess by marrying Gideon had him in a complete tizzy.
Alicia met me at our favorite nail salon for our manicure date. Although it hadn’t been easy, time and forgiveness allowed Alicia and me to resuscitate our relationship. She and Joshua eventually came to a mutual decision not to get married, and over the last few years, the three of us had put most of the pieces of our friendship back together again.
I stopped to pick out a color, and Alicia waved to me from the back corner. I grabbed a wine-colored red off the top shelf and made my way toward her. I had to laugh. Only Alicia would be able to multitask her way through a manicure. She was using her foot to bounce the baby’s stroller, snacking on some trail mix, and conducting a conference call all at the same time. She saw me and mouthed she’d be off the call in a minute.
Alicia had recently left her job in investment banking to work for a smaller private equity firm that agreed to let her work part-time. Part-time must have a different meaning in the finance world because she still put in well over forty hours a week. Compared to the almost eighty she used to work, though, she considered it a vast improvement.
I peered into the stroller. Sloane was sound asleep. I slid into the seat next to Alicia’s and put my rings and bracelets into the small glass bowl on the station. The manicurist asked me to roll up my sleeves and slipped my hands into Borghese moisturizing gloves.
“Okay, call done. I’m putting it on silent for the next hour,” Alicia said, putting the phone into her bag. “How are you? How was London? Tell me everything.”
“It was a good trip,” I said.
“Yeah?” she said, skeptically.
“Productive.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You saw Perry, didn’t you?”
“I ran into him. He’s seeing someone new. That ship has sailed, sunk…and is now at the bottom of the ocean disintegrating faster than the Titanic.”
She reached over and lightly stroked my arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like I didn’t know it was over, but it was a different kind of finality seeing him happy with someone else.”
Alicia turned back around to face the manicurist and pulled a nail polish out of her bag and handed it to her. “I’m sure she’s just a rebound?”
“I don’t think so. This has to be kept completely on the down low, but he’s dating Annabelle Ellicott.”
Alicia did a double take. “Annabelle Ellicott? I know her.”
“Yeah, I guess she’s pretty famous in her own right.”
“No, like I know her, know her.”
I yanked my hand out of the gloves and turned to face Alicia. “How do you know her?”
“We did that rotation program in London together a few years ago.”
This small world I’d unexpectedly found myself in suddenly felt even tinier. Did everyone know Annabelle Ellicott? “Were you friends?”
“More friendly than friends, but we hung out a bit there and a few times when she came to the New York office. We’ve stayed in touch a little bit. The occasional holiday card and email.” Alicia looked up at me. “What is it? You can’t be upset I knew her six years ago?”
“No, I’m not. It just feels like Perry’s everywhere. His picture. His show. His girlfriend. I can’t seem to escape him.”
“It just feels that way right now. It won’t forever. You need to get out there, try to meet someone new. It’s really the best way to move on.”
The slightly irritated manicurist snatched back my hands so she could finish the manicure. Alicia and I continued catching up on my trip while the technician shaped, filed, and clipped my nails. She applied two coats of color and then shoved my hands under the ultraviolet light to dry.
I turned to Alicia. “I actually met someone in London.”
Her face lit up. “You did? That’s wonderful. What’s he like?”
“He’s a nice guy, but he knows Annabelle’s whole family. He has for years. He’ll be at the royal wedding, along with Perry. It’s all just a little claustrophobic right now.”
“I read today that Victoria’s leaning toward Valentino. Maybe it’ll be for the best if she picks him, and you can free yourself from all this hoopla.”
Apparently, Gemma Landry’s PR ploy was working, and people were buying into the idea Valentino would be the chosen designer.
“Maybe,” I replied softly. “What’ve you been up to, aside from the obvious?” I glanced over at where Sloane was still sleeping.
“Just trying to figure out this working mom thing. It’s as hard as people say.”
“I’m sure. But well worth it.”
Sloane started crying, and Alicia sprang up to get her out of the stroller. I motioned for her to sit back down, walked over, and picked Sloan up. I rocked her back and forth in my arms until she stopped fussing.
“You’re a natural,” Alicia said with a broad smile.
“I’m just dry,” I said, holding up my hand to her. “Gel manicure.”
She chuckled and leaned closer to the table. “I’m happy you met someone new. You deserve to be happy.”
“I’d just like a few days where I don’t think about Perry.”
“Then don’t sit here. He’s on the cover of Rolling Stone and Vogue.” She held up the two magazines.
“Vogue, really? A G. Malone design hasn’t even graced the cover of Vogue.”
I grabbed the magazine out of Alicia’s hands before she could stop me. There was Perry, dressed as Robert Dudley, standing next to top model Chanel Iman dressed as Elizabeth I. “See what I mean? Everywhere.”
She pried the magazine out of my fingers. “Go off the grid this weekend. Turn off your phone, your TV, don’t get your mail or check your email. His face isn’t on buses or billboards in Time Square…yet. Take a Perrycation.”
“That guy I mentioned before, the one from London, he’s coming to New York this weekend to see me.”
Alicia carefully pulled out her wallet to pay. “That’s perfect. Have fun and don’t overthink it.”
“That’s funny, that’s exactly what he said.”
Alicia took Sloane out of my arms. “I like him already.”
A few hours later, I was pacing around my apartment in a Jamie-approved outfit, waiting for Gideon. I poured myself a glass of wine and picked up my phone to check my email. Heeding Alicia’s advice to stay off the grid, or at the very least Twitter, I quickly put it back down on the counter. I moved over to my drafting table, picked up my drawing pencils, and started to brainstorm ideas for Victoria’s bridal party. My mind kept drifting back to Annabelle. Beautiful, self-assured Annabelle. I thought about Jamie’s half-joking suggestion of designing something less than becoming for her and began to sketch the most hideous outfit I could come up with. Huge, puffy sleeves and a full pleated skirt that hit in all the least flattering places. I was having so much fun with my version of a “fashion don’t” I almost didn’t hear the buzzer ringing in the kitchen. I jumped up to answer it, and the doorman let me know Gideon Cooper was on his way up.
I heard the chime of the elevator door opening, smoothed out my dress, and walked to my front door to wait for him. He turned the hallway corner and spotted me, and a huge smile crept across his face. He looked adorable in a pair of fitted jeans, T-shirt, and slightly oversized gray cardigan. He was wearing his newsboy cap and had a beaten-up leather bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, you,” I said, holding the door open so he could squeeze his suitcase through. “Sorry, it’s sort of tight quarters.”
“My fault. I should’ve gone to check in at the hotel first, but I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, kissing me on each cheek.
I closed the door behind him. “You’ll check in after dinner. Welcome to my humble, and I do mean humble, abode,” I said, motioning around the apartment.
He slipped his coat off and folded it over a chair. “What are you talking about? I love it.”
“It’s a far cry from Highclere Castle or Badgley Hall, I’m sure.”
“Yes, but Badgley Hall doesn’t have a Gray’s Papaya on the corner,” he said.
I laughed. “Let me show you around. Couch. Bed. Drafting table. That’s the door to my closet, and through there is the bathroom. Around that way is the kitchen.”
“You forgot the best part,” he said.
“What’s that?”
He pulled open the blinds to expose my view of the city skyline.
“You’re right, that is the best part. Can I get you a drink? Wine, beer, water?”
He motioned toward my glass. “Whatever you’re having is great.”
I poured him a glass of red and took a seat next to him on the couch. I folded my legs under me and asked him what sorts of things he wanted to do or see over the weekend.
“I’m at your disposal. I’m game for anything you had planned this weekend. I’ll just tag along.”
“I didn’t have much planned beyond errands.”
“Market and dry cleaners it is.”
I tilted my head to the side. “I’m sure I can think of a few things more interesting than that for us to do.” I stood up from the couch. “First things first, though, dinner.”
“That’s right, you promised Chinese food.”
“And I deliver on my promises. Grab your coat. We’re heading downtown.”
Four subway stops later and we were on Canal Street, making our way to Mott. I’d made this journey dozens of times, and it still took me a few minutes to get my bearings in the heart of Chinatown. Gideon took my hand as we strolled through tiny streets filled with peddlers and merchants selling everything from fake handbags to live turtles. Gideon was riveted. He wanted to stop in all the stalls to examine the merchandise. I tried talking him out of an imitation iWatch until it became clear he could not be dissuaded.
“If it works, I just saved myself a few hundred pounds, and if it doesn’t, I have a souvenir of our first date in New York,” he said, handing the vendor forty bucks.
I grabbed a paper fan from a basket by the register and handed the same vendor a five-dollar bill. “Now I have a souvenir too. Only difference, I know mine is going to work,” I said with a wink.
We got to the restaurant, and Gideon started to climb the steps to the upstairs dining room. I took his hand and redirected him down the basement stairs.
Gideon wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips. “Where are you taking me?”
“Trust me,” I replied, leading him into the restaurant.
We slid into the red faux leather booth as a waiter walked by and threw two waters, two menus, and a bowl of noodles and duck sauce on the white Formica table. Gideon handed me a menu and napkin from the dispenser.
“So, this place is…charming,” he said, taking in the ambiance, or lack thereof. He grabbed a waiter who was rushing past by the elbow. “Can we get two glasses of Merlot.”
“I’ve been coming here with my dad since I was a kid. Best Chinese food in the city. But just down here. The upstairs dining room is a totally different experience.”
He leaned in and whispered. “You realize all the food is probably prepared in the same kitchen.”
“Then something happens as they bring it down that flight of stairs, ’cause I swear, it tastes ten times better when you eat it off the paper placemats instead of the cloth tablecloths.”
The waiter returned and set down two huge goblets of wine.
Gideon toasted to our weekend together then put down his glass. “So, what’s good here?”
“Everything. I can personally vouch for the entire left side of the menu and my father can probably vouch for the entire right.”
He handed me his menu. “Why don’t you take the lead? I trust you implicitly.”
I ordered us soup, egg rolls, dumplings, and a couple of dishes to share. While we waited for the food, he told me about his trip over and the woman who sat next to him on the flight who made no secret of the fact she’d be willing to join the mile-high club with him.
I took a sip of the wine. “How’d you decline her very generous offer?” I asked. “If you did, in fact, decline her very generous offer?”
“I thanked her for the proposition, but told her I was on my way to New York to see a girl I might be falling for,” he said.
I lifted my hands to my cheeks and felt all the warmth from the wine rise to them. Gideon took hold of my hands and drew them back down to the table. We sat motionless, staring at one another, saying nothing. Then I heard a familiar voice calling my name from the doorway.
I slowly turned and saw my parents standing behind the small crowd of people who’d gathered at the take-out counter. My mother pushed her way through and over to our table. My father followed closely behind her. I stood up to greet them.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
“Your father was in the mood for hot and sour soup,” my mother said.
My parents’ marriage wasn’t so much complicated as it was unpredictable. They’d dealt with their share of infidelities and betrayals, but at the end of the day, there was no question they’d still rather navigate the world together than apart.
“Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Georgica?” my mother asked.
“Sorry. Yes, this is Gideon Cooper,” I said. “Gideon, these are my parents, Kathryn and Mitchell Goldstein.”
Gideon stood up and set his napkin on the table. He reached out to shake both of their hands.
My mother was looking him up and down, trying to size him up. I could almost hear the internal monologue as she tried to discern if he was a date or friend.
“How do you two know each other? Is Gideon a designer friend of yours?”
I was pretty sure that was my mother’s not-so-subtle way of asking if Gideon was gay.
“I met Gideon in London last week when I was touring Highclere Castle. He’s in New York for the weekend, so we’re just grabbing dinner.”
“The food smells wonderful,” Gideon said. “I wasn’t sure what I was in for when we took the stairs into the basement.”
“Georgie knows this is the only dining room worth eating in,” my father chimed in. He pointed to the large line snaking out the front door and up the stairs. “It’s why there’s always a wait.”
“Do you want to join us?” Gideon asked. “We ordered way too much food for just the two of us.”
“We’d love to.” My mother slid into the booth next to Gideon.
My father crossed his arms over his body. “Kate, let’s leave them to eat in peace.”
“It’s fine, Dad, just sit.” I patted the seat next to me.
My father reluctantly sat down in the booth and picked up the menu to peruse it, even though he knew it by heart at this point.
My mother leaned into the table. “Highclere Castle. That must be exciting. Gigi and I are huge fans of Downton Abbey. Did you work on the show?”
“I run the Visitor’s Centre,” Gideon answered.
My mother couldn’t hide her disappointment. Compared to Perry, now gracing the covers of magazines, in her estimation, I was taking a huge step down. I almost blurted out he was a viscount, just to put her out of her misery, but decided I’d save that nugget for another time.
“There was a big mix-up with the tour groups when Jamie and I were there, and Gideon saved us,” I chimed in.
“That’s nice,” she said, dismissively.
I looked over to my father to salvage the conversation. He didn’t seem particularly interested in Gideon, but for very different reasons than my mother. In the four years we were together, he’d come to love Perry like a son. They bonded over their appreciation of classical and jazz music and British history. I wasn’t sure who took the break-up harder, me or him. I was hoping to spark some enthusiasm, so I turned the attention to Gideon’s roots.
“Dad, Gideon grew up in South Gloucestershire.”
My father took off his glasses and placed them on the table. “There’s that manor house in South Gloucestershire, the one Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn stayed in. Remember, Kate, we took a tour of it?”
My mother turned to face Gideon. “Mitchell’s taken me to more old homes than I can even count.”
The waiter set the food down on the table, and we dug in. My father scooped a heaping spoonful of Moo Shoo chicken and set it on his plate. “What was the name of the estate? Do you remember, Kate?”
Gideon cleared his throat and answered, “Badgley Hall.”
“That’s right, Badgley Hall. Wonderful place. Do you know it well?”
Gideon cleared his throat. “Pretty well, but we have a lot of notable houses in Gloucestershire. Highgrove House, Gatcombe Park. We’re also pretty proud of our annual cheese-rolling festival.”
“A cheese-rolling festival? Now, that’s something I’d like to see,” I said.
“We’ll have to go, then.” Gideon refilled my cup with tea and winked at me.
My mother caught our eyes locked together and said, “Did you get a chance to see Elizabeth while you were in London?”
I shifted in my seat. “Jamie and I were invited by Victoria Ellicott. I left after the first act.”
My mother’s eyes opened wide. “Not as good as the hype?”
“No, it’s better than the hype, actually.”
“Our ticket broker is already on alert for when it opens here. I thought we might have an in, but doesn’t look like it,” she said. “Speaking of Elizabeth, I’m sure you saw the New York Times article by now.” She lowered her voice. “It was you Perry was talking about, right? The relationship that was ‘doomed from the start?’”
I picked up my glass and gulped down the rest of the wine. Gideon put his hand over mine and I caught my mother’s disapproving sideways glance. Well, at least now she knew he wasn’t gay. The waiter came by and dropped the check on the table. My father reached over for it, but Gideon had already picked it up.
Gideon slid his credit card into the black leather holder. “I got this.”
The waiter snatched it off the table and took it to the register.
“Thank you, Gideon,” my father said.
“Yes, thank you,” my mother repeated halfheartedly.
A few minutes later the waiter returned with the credit card and a pen. “Who is Vis-count Satterley?” he asked.
“It’s pronounced VY-kownt, and that’s me. I’m Viscount Satterley,” Gideon said, sliding the black card back into his wallet.
My mother lifted her eyebrows and looked over at my father. Gideon winked at me, and with that one move, won us all over.
“Did you see the look on my mother’s face? Priceless,” I said, as we strolled up Broadway.
Gideon laughed. “I don’t use that move often, but when I do, it’s supremely effective.”
“Well, thank you. I didn’t plan on you meeting my parents so soon. Or ideally, ever.”
He shrugged. “Parents are parents. Mine are no picnic.”
“Still, I’m sorry they were so tough on you. If you couldn’t tell, they liked Perry a lot.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”
“They’re still holding out hope we’ll reconcile. My mother is anyway.”
He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “What about you?”
“We were done a long time ago. Meeting Annabelle just confirmed what I already knew,” I said.
“His loss.”
“We just met. How can you can be so sure?”
“Can I be totally honest with you?” he asked.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Sure.”
“I downloaded your entire season of Top Designer and watched most of the episodes on the flight over. I skipped to the finale.”
“Ahh, I see. And?”
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You were robbed.”
A warm rush charged through my body. I looked down at my watch. “It’s still early. Anywhere you want to go? Might be tough to trump breaking into a church, but I’m game to try.”
“I did read about this thing on the Highline I wanted to check out,” he said.
“Let’s go.”
He took my hand, and we hopped into a taxi and over to the Highline, a public park built on a historic freight rail line elevated above the streets on Manhattan’s West Side. It was a beautiful spring night, and the streets were packed. The taxi stopped as close to the entrance as it could, and we got out to walk the rest of the way. Gideon guided me through the crowds and up the two flights of stairs on Fourteenth Street and Tenth Ave to the Highline. Large telescopes were set up all along the footpath, and small groups were gathered around each one, taking turns looking through the eyepiece.
I did a full turn in my spot. “What is all this?”
“The Amateur Astronomers Association sets up these observation nights every week. That one’s free,” he said, directing us to an open telescope. “I read about it in my in-flight magazine and wanted to check it out. I’m kind of a nerd with this stuff. I’ve been into astronomy since I was a kid.”
We tried adjusting the eyepiece, and one of the volunteers from the AAA came over to assist us. The volunteer turned the telescope up and to the right. “It’s a pretty clear night. You should be able to see Jupiter and possibly all four Galilean moons.”
I stepped back to let Gideon take a turn. He squinted into the telescope, and a huge smile spread across his face. He grabbed hold of my hand, held it tightly, and motioned for me to look. I crouched down and peered up into the lens. There it was, the whole universe lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. Jupiter and the Galilean moons were shining brightly in the navy sky.
Gideon knelt down beside me. “What do you think?”
“It’s been a while since I looked at the stars,” I said, thinking back to the evenings Perry and I laid on the Great Lawn at Camp Chinooka, staring up into the night. “Living in New York City, it’s easy to forget they’re still there.”
He pulled me closer to him. “It’s the light pollution. Makes it hard to see what’s right there in front of you.”
We were inches apart, both of us kneeling on the ground, people rushing by in every direction. Gideon brushed some hair out of my eyes and kissed me firmer and more intensely than the night at St. Paul’s. He ran his fingers down my back and up my arms until he held my head in his hands. After a few more seconds he stood up, reached for my hand, and drew me into his embrace.
We’d spent these last moments observing space and all of its faraway objects, yet standing in Gideon’s arms I felt more connected and present in my own life than I had in months. I wasn’t sure Gideon was the answer to getting over Perry or even should be, but allowing myself to believe moving on was even possible seemed like a good place to start.
We spent the rest of the weekend exploring New York and learning about one another. It was so incredible, he never did end up checking into his hotel.